By Heather Hoch
By Eric Schaefer
By New Times
By Rachel Miller
By Eric Schaefer
By Heather Hoch and Lauren Saria
By Robrt L. Pela
By Heather Hoch
The proprietors of year-old CREW modestly describe their restaurant as a "simple, stylish American bistro," a neighborhood kind of place.
Just keep in mind that the neighborhood they're talking about is the tony tip of north Scottsdale along the Carefree border, down the street from the deluxe Boulders Resort.
Set in the second story of upscale El Pedregal Marketplace, CREW has style to spare. It's cleverly designed, from the banquettes wrapped around the sleek curving walls to the multicolored, Fiestaware-style dinnerware. The rotisserie and pizza oven behind the bar send reassuringly casual signals. But I'm not quite sure what signals the piped-in music intends to send: On one visit, the audio entertainment alternated between Buddy Holly and what sounded like East European klezmer tunes.
At most Valley restaurants, patio dining means parking-lot views and, at this time of year, frostbite. This patio, though, is fetching enough to lure even folks without thermal underwear out of doors. That's because heaters and a pair of crackling fireplaces supply plenty of warmth. And the desert vista spread out below will make you remember why you moved to Arizona in the first place.
But while I can't quarrel with CREW's claim to be a "stylish American bistro," I have a much harder time understanding its claim to be a "simple" one.
I expect a "simple" American bistro to craft dishes the same way a Shaker studio crafts furniture -- basic and sturdy, with a minimum of fuss and adornment. At CREW, however, the kitchen flamboyantly disregards the virtues of simplicity. You won't find a commitment to subtlety or finesse, either. What this kitchen believes in are lots of bold, brassy flavors, the more the merrier. After making my way through most of the menu, I left here reeling, as if I'd been repeatedly whacked upside the head by a two-by-four.
But, like a two-by-four, the food does get your attention. And several dishes do suggest a guiding intelligence, as well as a genuine talent, behind them. At times, though, the chef seems bent on showing off his skills, rather than organizing and harnessing them to better effect.
There's nothing stylish about the spongy, past-its-prime bread, teamed with the inevitable plate of olive oil. First impressions count, and this initial encounter with CREW's kitchen doesn't make a good one.
Appetizers give you a pretty good idea that the operative word here isn't going to be "restraint." Take the manila clams, done up in a broth so garlicky and winey that your head may involuntarily swivel 180 degrees.
But throwing off restraint doesn't have to lead to excess. Sometimes, it can spur creativity. That's the case with smashingly good grilled chicken sausage, paired with a plump croquette fashioned from grits, which is draped with smoked mozzarella cheese and boosted by a terrific, spicy tomatillo sauce. If you're sharing this appetizer with a good friend or significant other, it may test the depth of your relationship. Next time, I'm ordering one just for myself.
The lettuce wrap is a somewhat fanciful concoction, but it simply tastes too darned good to criticize. Four lettuce pouches come thickly stuffed with cashew chicken, snow peas and fried cappellini, moistened with an appealing sesame vinaigrette. If you've got a case of the munchies, this is the cure.
And the crab-stuffed, jumbo battered prawn, accompanied by dill-scented sliced cucumber and a dollop of caper-flecked aioli, launches its own flavor assault. It, too, hits the target.
The main dishes exhibit lots of energy, lots of flavor and lots of intensity. But about half the time, I wished the chef had understood the wisdom of the phrase, "Less is more."
Take the hibiscus-smoked rainbow trout, as lovely a piece of fish as you might come across. But who could taste it after an overpowering drenching of "bourbon apple jus"? Smoke, bourbon and apples -- this is subtraction by addition. And the kitchen compounds the fish fussiness by serving it with a scooped-out onion filled with orzo and toasted walnuts. There's a first-rate platter lurking here somewhere, but the chef may need to take a deep breath and tie one hand behind his back before he can find it.
That same brash splashiness does in the salmon. I can only applaud the decision to try to do something different with this hackneyed fish -- if I see one more slab of teriyaki-glazed, horseradish-crusted or dill-scented salmon, I may jump in the Salt River and attempt to spawn.
But CREW's salmon isn't the solution. It comes in a bowl, served over spatzle, adorned with cockles, heaped with olives and moistened by a vigorous saffron-tomato broth. There are simply way too many big flavors inharmoniously competing for attention here, and the salmon gets lost. (Maybe, however, that's the point.)
The penchant to call in a strike force of flavor even affects an otherwise straightforward steak platter. The beef tenderloin itself is okay, if nothing special. But the mashed potatoes are mixed with big hunks of garlic, enough of them to keep north Scottsdale vampire-free until the next millennium. The dish also includes an incredibly potent mushroom ragout that left me more stunned than pleased. This kitchen reminds me of a boxer who refuses to feint, jab or hook his way to victory. Instead, he's always winding up his right, looking to land a knockout punch.