Tuesday, July 24th 2007

A friend of mine, Dave, recently treated me to dinner at an oyster house called Pacifica Del Mar. El Paseo is the Rodeo Drive of Palm Springs, but at this time of year the sounds and sights of credit card swipes and 3 Series are replaced with the dull click of traffic lights changing.

With this in mind the restaurant was surprisingly busy. We walked upstairs where the sun was beginning to set behind the mountains at bar level so perfectly that the glasses of wine and colored martinis sparkled on the bar like pieces of beach glass. I started with a glass of Pinot from Carneros while I studied and weighed the many options. The menu was packed with interesting and creative items such as Fanny Bay oysters Rockafeller and seared Sea Bass with a Miso Orange Marmalade. When Dave asked me if I liked oysters I was shocked to realize that I had never had any.

As the comment resonated I thought how absurd it was since I have spent every summer since I left home on the shores of Cape Cod. I could not believe it and asked him to order a dozen of his favorite; he chose Fanny Bays hold the Rockefeller which were baked with spinach (hence, not true Rockefeller anyway). I wanted to try them with no bells or whistles since it was my first time. So the first course was on, a dozen oysters and a seared salmon ceviche, which seemed rather appealing.

While we waited for the first tastes of Pacifica to arrive I scanned the room in my customary inspection of the clientèle. Everybody and when I say everybody, I mean with an exception of maybe 20 people out of more than 300, had on a color that matched the banquettes or a pattern resembling that of the carpet. There is a uniform of sorts that you see with the 50 to 80 something crowd of Palm Springs. When the first course arrived and the dishes were placed in front of us I gave this crowd a name, The Desert WASPS; I already started to design the logo in my head.

Something that I did pick up from living among the fisherman and having served quite a few oysters myself is that the experience is mostly the result of mixing together in one bite the shellfish and the mignonette, a flavorful little array of accoutrement like capers and fresh horseradish that accompany the gelatinous alleged aphrodisiac. I dressed my oyster and slid it into my mouth, gave it two light chews to mingle the flavors and swallowed it. I liked it, a lot.

The ceviche was a bit disappointing, not in quality but execution. Ceviche should be a light and tantalizing mixture of tomato, onion, avocado and cilantro presented cleanly and diced just at the right size where a spoon might be needed. Although this dish seemed to contain those ingredients they were very coarse making it more difficult to manage. Lastly, the salmon was cooked to about a medium rare. Hello? Ceviche is not seared! The point is the citric acid “cooks” the fish by denaturing the proteins. It would have been more accurately described as “Country Style Seared Salmon Ceviche” – but that’s just me.

For the big choice of dinner I vacillated between the Whitefish with parsnip puree and julienne veggies or the Sea Bass with the miso and orange marmalade. Dave was a bit bummed that there was no Surf and Turf. When our server began to clear the plates from course one he asked her why was there no Surf and Turf. He was hanging on the verge of sobbing. She happily put Dave back in happy land when she said that they did offer it in its traditional presentation of Fillet and Lobster Tail with drawn butter and mashed potatoes. I then thought to myself as I watched Dave’s eyes glimmer that the last time I had lobster was when I was at about 12; I ordered the Surf and Turf just for that reason. I was happy. I did although come to the conclusion that I find lobster to be quite boring and probably will not order it again in that way.

One detail I found to be quite amusing about our evening happened when Dave was on the phone making our reservation. The full extent on the humor was not fully experienced until I sat down.

Dave’s parents know the proprietor so when he called he said, “……and I am a friend of Dick’s”. I immediately thought of all those times I would take a reservation and the party on the other end would include at the end of our conversation “….and I know ____.” “Sure ya do pal, everybody does!” is the immediate response in my head and on two occasions seemed to vocalize itself.

When we arrived at the top of the stairs the man at the front asked our name and then turned to his Micros screen to look us up. He turned around almost immediately and said to us “Who’s Dave? I’m Dick’s partner Mitch.”

The way he said it, based on my years in the restaurant biz, led me to believe that this might not have been received well. Dave then explained that it was not him but his parents that had the friendship with his partner. Mitch shook his hand and said condescendingly “Here. Right here you see?….pointing at the screen, VIP” – not the best sign.

We were led to the main dining room to a two top. I took the inside seat and sat down on what seemed to be a large crack that aligned perfectly with my own. We had been seated where two banquettes merged together creating a rather uncomfortable gap of space. I began to move the table to the right when I bumped into something. It was a party of two sitting next to us; their outfits camouflaged so well that I was not able to distinguish them from the floor or upholstery. I only had to hang my crack above the crack for about 20 minutes until the party to the left departed and gave me the chance to realign my gluteus maximus. It’s good to be a VIP!

This entry was posted by Johnny on Tuesday, July 24th, 2007 at 5:46 PM and is filed under Food & Wine, Friends, Local Color & Atmosphere. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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