Even perpetual hit maker Stephen Starr has struggled with the seafood concept, having shuttered the gone-but-not-forgotten Striped Bass in 2008, and now with his new Route 6 on North Broad, which I sadly found to be hit or miss. The cavernous interior, while more attractive and better designed, still reminds me of one of those enormous seafood joints at the Jersey shore that I've been acquainted with pretty much my whole life. While I don't mind this sort of dining when I'm with multiple generations of my sunburned family on vacation, it's not exactly what I'm looking for on a quiet Thursday night in the city.
During my visits to Route 6, I was pleased with my bluefish ("grilled over split cherry & white oak") and wood-oven-roasted scallops, but totally underwhelmed by the Maine lobster roll - which had better be very good if you're going to put it on a menu, by the way. And I was nearly scandalized by the Fairmount sampler from the raw bar: eight oysters, four littlenecks, 10 shrimp, crab cocktail and a half lobster . . . for $42. Yikes!
Honestly, I might not have minded the price, but the selection hardly transcended mediocrity.
After that desultory raw bar experience, I thought a lot about how tricky the proposition of a seafood restaurant must be. On its face, seafood should be simple. Buy great fish and shellfish fresh off the boat, and don't screw it up in the kitchen. But what happens, then, as the seasonal offerings wax and wane - like, say, in February when I visited?
Here's the question that kept popping up for me: Is the ultimate success of a seafood restaurant in the sourcing of the fish and shellfish? Or is it the cooking?
Making fish 'werk
