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Photo by Sarah Der
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The bar and part of the dining area at West Coast Provisions (Photo by Sarah Der)
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Shrimp and grits (Photo by Sarah Der)
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Tuna carpaccio (Photo by Sarah Der)
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Deconstructed pineapple upside-down cake (Photo by Sarah Der)
When I was 16, covering an arm-wrestling tournament for my community newspaper, the winning strongman told me something I’ve never forgotten: “You’re only as good,” he said, grinning, “as your weakest muscle.”
So let me begin my review of West Coast Provisions, a new fish and seafood emporium in the Far West End, and the eighth venture from chef-owner Michelle Williams and her Richmond Restaurant Group, with a little ode to, yes, a salad.
A side salad, at that — an afterthought in so many restaurants, something to fill out a plate.
Some greens and a light vinaigrette: at a glance, nothing much to look at.
But on this night, at least, so perfectly dressed, and so crisp and bright, it was every bit the equal of the very good fish tacos it flanked.
Details matter when you’re dropping money on any restaurant other than a neighborhood joint, and a place that knows the little things aren’t really little is a place to trust in.
If that side salad offered me a peek into the operational care extended even to the tiniest detail, the desserts showed me a place that understands that the final act — the last chance to impress the diner — should not be squandered on ice creams and sorbets you could easily stop off for somewhere on your way home.
Each dessert is a showstopper, a legitimate sit-up-and-take-notice event. It’s not just the color and drama of these plates. It’s that they’re conceived so thoughtfully, and carried out with such obvious, sweat-the-details love.
The pineapple upside-down cake is a deconstruction, a conceit that often is more satisfying for the chef than for the diner. Not so here. Unlike the dense, wet, cakey versions you might be used to, this one puts the pineapple front and center; it’s deeply glazed and bruleed to a fine, caramelized stickiness. The olive oil cake, meanwhile, is minimized, portioned out in airy bites. The best way to eat it is to scoop up some of the accompanying coconut gelato, bracing but smooth, pairing it with alternating spoonfuls of sticky fruit and cake.
Less ambitious, but no less intense, is the butterscotch pudding, made with actual scotch — a 10-year-aged Macallan — and so boozy and rich as to tempt you to wonder if you can manage the drive home.
Even the doughnuts are given uncommon consideration, set out on a long, rectangular white plate with ripe, fresh seasonal fruit, salted Marcona almonds, and rich swipes of perfect lemon curd — junk food as cheese plate.
The high degree of care extends throughout the operation, from the unfailingly smiling hosts to the well-drilled staff, from the superbly run bar program to the showroom of a dining room, simultaneously mod-ish and warm, that suggests Pottery Barn has expanded into the food space.
Restaurants that are part of large groups are not generally known for their mastery of detail. Williams’ places (including The Daily Kitchen & Bar) are different: tightly knitted, even, at times, seamless operations that, at their best, make you forget that there are other restaurants in the family tree.
And, to her great credit — and to our great benefit, as people who do so much of our living in restaurants — she continues to push herself.
Even after the advent of Rappahannock and its spiritual descendant, Williams’ own East Coast Provisions in Carytown, it still shocks, in a pork-centric cosmopolis, to find a menu where meat has been relegated to a low-on-the-menu sidebar.
If this amounts to a risk, it’s mitigated in large part because Williams and her chef de cuisine, Ian Boothman, who comes to Richmond by way of Morimoto and Cheu Noodle Bar in Philadelphia, both standouts, are so conscientious about the fish and seafood they bring in. All of it is fresh, of high quality, and responsibly procured — no commodity shrimp or salmon here.
And Boothman exhibits just the right touch with many of these dishes, opting for accents more than embellishments, in this way allowing the delicacy of the product to come through.
There is pleasure to be had in just a simple piece of fish, grilled and dashed with olive oil. Or a lunchtime poke bowl in which each element is treated with respect. Or the best fish tacos in all of Richmond.
But, happily, the dishes with the greatest degree of difficulty also yield the greatest rewards.
Take the tuna carpaccio, a kind of surf and turf (underneath the layers of sliced fish is a thin slice of brioche slathered with foie gras) that reveals itself gradually and not all at once, increasing in flavor and complexity with each bite. But the balance of the dish remains to the end — turf never upstages surf.
Or a reimagining of shrimp and grits that might constitute blasphemy for some Southerners, but which, on the day I had it, was a dish to surrender to: rice turned into grits, stirred with miso, stock and ginger as it slowly cooks, paired with gorgeously sweet, firm shrimp, and lightly crunchy steamed bok choy. How good is good? I would have paid decent money just to be able to eat the rice and broth.
It’s a measure of the seamlessness of the experience, and of the beauty on the plate and in the room, that the dishes that don’t leap off the plate (like the sushi rolls, with their workmanlike rice, or an overly rich crab, corn and miso soup) tend to fade quickly from memory.
Williams has topped herself. This is a charmer, and, in some ways, a stunner. There may yet be a better restaurant to happen along this year, but for now, it’s hard not to hail this as the debut of 2018.
4 out of 5 stars
301-A Maltby Blvd., Henrico
804-360-1090
