Three appetizers into our meal at Ruxbin, I finally figured out what was bothering me about the dishes we had tasted (apple & plum salad, octopus, pork belly). They all had the same M.O.: a scattering of savoury but generally mild elements that is interrupted with a punch of sweetness.
On the octopus dish, amid chickpeas, thin slices of radish, pickled scallion, it's the grapes that stand out. The octopus itself has a very mild flavour without char, so that any forkful without grape yields little balance or contrast, and any forkful with grape tastes of grape.
On the pork belly dish, which is otherwise quite nice, the corn cake base is so persistently sweet that it outlasts even the richness of the meat -- I could still taste that corn cake as I walked out the door, several courses later. The dish needs more acid (a recurring theme of the night), and since there is a citrus theme on the plate, why not introduce some into the cornbread to cut back the sweetness?
For me, the salad is always the litmus test for a kitchen, since the ingredients are rarely sexy, since it lacks a centerpiece (which presents a challenge for plating and for balancing flavours). The arugula salad at Ruxbin is a huge disappointment. Once you get past the rather pretty shavings of manchego and apple, you're just eating mouthfuls of arugula. The vinaigrette and the few shavings of plum do little to obscure this.
Ruxbin does a daily crudo; ours featured three preparations of oyster, of which the last -- the only warm preparation, an oyster bathed in wood smoke and served under a glass -- was the most harmonious bite, not just of the dish but the evening. It seemed as if the same oyster was used in all three preparations, and if the idea was for the dressings to bring out different aspects of the oyster, I wonder if one with more personality would have suited better. In the lightest preparation, a brunoise of apple somehow makes the oyster taste even more watery that it already was. The second preparation, which comes with a kick of sambal, really needs a firmer oyster with more body and brine to stand up to the heat.
The agnolotti, from above, looks like a Pollock fever dream, but unfortunately as a dish it's incredibly confusing. Why are all these vegetables here (there are a lot!) aside from the fact that they were all at the market? The lentils, for instance, just sit under the whole thing, contributing neither flavour nor texture. We had to dig for about ten seconds in the thicket to even find the pasta, and when we did, the agnolotti were somewhat gummy without an interesting bite, and the sweetness of the squash filling was overpowering. The most flavorful thing on the plate is the beautifully green ramp pistou, which is poured over the whole affair like some magic balsam, praying for harmony. But all it does is make the individual vegetables taste wan.
I want so badly to write well of the duck breast, partly because it was the most pleasant dish of the night, and also because complaining about every dish (not every: the garlic fries are fine) raises suspicions about a reviewer's agenda or emotional condition. So: the dish comes with a triangle of zucchini bread, nicely crisp on the outside and sprinkled with flakes of salt. It could be the base of a terrific dessert. But the duck is chewy, quite chewy, there is too much of it (my dinner companions and I shared every dish; I can't imagine how someone could eat this on their own as a main), and the whole thing is smeared (again!) with a sauce that is only sweet, just sweet. It's a technique for achieving "balance" that you expect from Chinese take-out.
I left the restaurant confused and a little sad, confused because of the food, and sad because the hostess, who was attentive and sweet, offered to remove the agnolotti from our bill when she noticed that we were sending it back half-eaten. I resolved, in that moment, never again to allow a restaurant to remove a charge for a disappointing dish (unless I've also been badly treated). Food is expensive, profit margins in restaurants are incredibly fragile, and it is a privilege to eat in them. It seems churlish to not pay for a plate simply because the balance of flavours was off.
But this doesn't change the fact that they were off. The restaurant disappointed me because everything else about it is fine: the space is fine, the service is fine (though a little distracted), the execution is fine. It seems to be the way the dishes are conceived that's the matter. But unless you get this part right, what is the use of all the rest?
RUXBIN
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