We three chefs of Orient are at Opal Restaurant, and that could turn out to be the problem.
The trio comes bearing not gold, frankincense and myrrh, but sushi, Kobe beef and upscale, nouveau Asian-American dishes, all served in a dining area so soft and shimmery it fairly sways with elegance.
The three men are indeed food-wise, and well-experienced. Duy Pham, who heads the kitchen, held critics at bay while preparing traditional French cuisine with a slightly Asian bent at Tante Louise. Sushi chef Miki Hashimoto was the slicer-and-dicer of the raw goods at Japon, and sushi sous chef Jimmy Tajima is live from Las Vegas’ Nobu.
They have joined with owner Jay Chadrom, also the proprietor of the popular Club Sanctuary, who has taken what was Radek Cerny’s breezy, color-wrapped Radex and, with the design help of Sacre Bleu former owner Julie Payne, transformed it into a satin-lined jewel box to showcase the artistry and sophistication of Japanese fare with a twist.
Billowy fabrics from floor to ceiling in darker colors give definition to an otherwise white space, and the metal beads that hang between rooms and the brushed metal fixtures project the kind of softness that goes against the starker, more linear setup of the typical Asian eatery in this area.
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It’s also less graceful. At lunch, the place feels like a movie set for a Julia Roberts film: empty enough for everyone to feel like a star, but still self-consciously friendly and warm, kiss-kiss.
But that’s when the kitchen puts out such sophisticated and delicate plates as citrus-kissed, tea-smoked salmon ($12) and a five-spice pork tenderloin salad ($10) sparked with spicy walnuts and enriched with creamy blue cheese and a tangy-sweet port vinaigrette.
At night, though, things can get a little crazy, which means a lot of server bustle, quite a bit of confusion (never got the sea urchin we ordered, never got to drink more than one glass of water), and a noise level that approaches mind-numbing. Know the Edvard Munch painting “The Scream”? That was me, sitting in the middle of Opal’s dining room one night, wondering if anxiety, fear, and isolation could describe a dining experience as well as a piece of expressionist art. I think someone eventually popped a small but velvety slice of fatty tuna ($8) into my gaping mouth.
When Opal is that chaotic, though, sushi orders can back up for as much as an hour, and everyone looks a little uptight. Too bad, because the ability to relax over a platter of appetizers ($12) is what would make Opal’s three chefs make sense. Extravagant tidbits such as pan-roasted scallops atop a truffled celery-root puree, drizzled with an earthy sauce of oyster mushrooms, demand one’s full attention, but it’s hard to do when a sweaty server whacks you in the back with his rear end midbite.
But there are other opportunities to refocus. Butter-poached shrimp ($9) nestled into buckwheat noodles, for instance, or house-smoked salmon ($8) with a slip of roasted Yukon gold potato, creme fraiche and caviar, oh-so-plush, oh-so-decadent.
Where the confusion of three chefs truly becomes apparent is in the timing. Cold, shriveled edamame ($4) arrive from the kitchen long after platters of so-so sashimi and sushi ($23 to $29 for 14 to 17 pieces), which took too long to arrive anyway and were stunningly bland.
On another occasion, it was the sushi, this time chosen piece by piece ($1.20 to $16), that shone with its freshness, stunning with its appropriate flavorings and balance, while the potstickers ($6) sat in a mushroomy water and the yogurt-miso soup ($4) had much less yogurt in it, and thus less richness, than it had two days before.
Another disorienting part of Opal is the notion that it’s sort of a sushi spot, but then it also offers Kobe beef strip loin ($7 per ounce, minimum of 3 ounces), which for the smallest steak at 8 ounces is going to run you $56. Except for the most cash-heavy of customers, that’s going to leave sushi out of the equation. And we could never get a cut of the pampered beef that hit the flavor I’ve tasted elsewhere, anyway.
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The bar area at Opal |
The rest of the regular entrees average $22, and although they include such tempters as sesame-crusted black cod ($23) and prosciutto-wrapped chicken roulade with yummy roasted pumpkin gnocchi ($17), those also aren’t foods that go well with sushi. So is it an upscale fine-dining place or an upscale sushi bar?
Or is it just an upscale bar? Hate the mural in the Orchid Lounge at the back of the eatery, mainly because it is so jarring juxtaposed with the cottony-tissue comfort of the rest of the rooms. Love the cozy couches and the seclusion of the bar, though, and the ease with which one can get an inexpensive bottle of wine from the safe but solid wine list and pair it with a few Asian-style snack items. Where else in town can you have such an innovative bar meal as sea urchin done as a brulee, a tempura cigar and sashimi ($12)?
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But while these three chefs of Opal may be Westward leading with their Eastern foods, and they surely are still proceeding, they have yet to guide us to thy perfect meal.
Denver Post Restaurant Critic Kyle Wagner reviews restaurants Fridays in Weekend Entertainment. You can contact Kyle at 303-820-1958 or at kwagner@denverpost.com
