Gertrude's
Neil Elsohn is getting to be an old pro at comebacks, but this time he's learning to downsize. The 24-seat space at Gertrude's, the intimate new BYOB in Ventnor named for his mother, is just a fraction of his previously grander venues in Cape May, the Water's Edge and 1919.
The menu is still huge for such a tiny place. But dishes like those blackened scallops in ginger glaze and cashew-crusted grouper in banana-rum sauce had to stay. These were some of the eclectic hits that helped make the 55-year-old Elsohn one of the godfathers of Jersey fusion cuisine - before a bout with pancreatic cancer temporarily knocked him out. Now recovered after three years recuperating off the kitchen line, he says the old energy is back.
And I could taste it, too. Granted, some dishes now feel dated in an overdressed, '90s kind of way, with a blitz of colors and a different nut crust for every oyster, cheese or fish. But there's no denying the convergence of good organic ingredients with a passion for cooking here. Our meal at cozy-but-comfortable Gertrude's, nicely rehabbed with pale brick walls and evocative photography, was one of our most satisfying this season at the Shore.
A zestily seasoned bowl of gazpacho coarsely milled from tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers came dolloped with sweet lumps of fresh crab. Thai-spiced cocktail sauce was the perfect dip for huge poached shrimp. A superbly tender loin of grilled lamb anchored a Mediterranean plate with roasted peppers and goat-cheese mashed potatoes; it would have been perfect had the tasty pesto-demiglace not been gloppy. Most memorable, though, was the gorgeously roasted half chicken. Almost completely boned beneath its crispy lemon-garlic crust, it was a picture of elevated comfort over Madeira-braised greens, mashed potatoes and mushrooms.
And comfort is the operative word in Elsohn's comeback place, which benefits from pleasantly experienced servers and the sense of calm that comes from a more manageable space. Next up for downsizing?
"The menu," he conceded, "is a little too big. . . . "