Thursday, January 22, 2015

Stunned by Stanbury - Raleigh, NC


In case you couldn't tell from my previous reviews, I might be the tiniest bit cynical. And if you really couldn't tell from my previous reviews, you haven't been reading my previous reviews. My latest reviews have been centered around my cynicism about me, but sadly, that's just the tip of the iceberg. My skepticism spreads far and wide, to all corners of the earth, especially to Raleigh, North Carolina, the city I used to call home.


I love visiting my family, but I need a pretty stiff drink to get through anything over a week. The Maple Leaf does the trick. A burly bourbon, smoothed by maple syrup and frothy egg whites will take the edge off of just about anything.


isn't a bad place, but my frustration centers around stagnation. I didn't exactly complain about being sandwiched between mountain and beach, but the chefs tend to play it southern-and-safe. I've had many a Grilled Quail, for example, but BBQ sauce didn't make for a pleasing variation. When combined with collards and rice, the dish is fine dining with a southern flair, but the BBQ overshadows the delicate quail entirely.


But sometimes better-safe-than-sorry still applies. I bake on a beautiful beach every summer, and I visit the Blue Ridge Parkway every fall because they take my breath away every time. The fall leaves are a deep autumn orange, like the butternut squash Crostini and with pumpkin that lent its toasted seeds. The whipped ricotta peaks like ocean waves, and the bread crunches like sand beneath your flip flops.

Turns out, not everything stays the same. Things have been changing slowly but surely in recent years, and Raleigh has been raising the bar. Places like Stanbury have popped up in obscure areas, and their food has started to shift.


I didn't think I'd ever see Crispy Pig Head in this pristine, white-bread neighborhood. The duck egg adds richness and moisture, and the bed of field peas gives it a little texture, a tried treasure beneath a sharp, bitter arugula.


Raleigh isn't exactly tobacco-spittin' backwoods, but I couldn't see them venturing into the risky territory of non-skeletal muscle without some push-back from the white-meat-only clan. But plenty of people go for the Braised Pig Cheeks for the tender texture, well-balanced with tart kimchi on crispy, bitter brussel sprouts and soft, chewy mushrooms.


A lot of my cynicism stops at Stanbury, but cynicism isn't my only issue. Did I mention how judgmental I can be? One dish I will always judge is Steak Tartare. I've never disliked it, but vinaigrette just isn't my thing. The steak is irreproachably fresh and flavorful, but vinaigrette gives it the look and taste of ketchup, an American tradition I detest. Plus it feels incongruent with the cilantro and crab chips.


I also easily get bored, and when I saw the entrees at Stanbury, I almost fell asleep. Seared Scallops with roasted turnips and creamed greens? Where will I ever find something so unusual? Oh wait, at every restaurant by every southern beach. But these are exceptionally seared...(not sure if that's a thing)... After one bite into a fresh, tender scallop with a taste of sweet turnip and hint of creamy green stuff, I didn't care how many times it'd been done. All I know is it has rarely been done this well.


The scenery is breathtaking but so much of it boils down to trees. Miles and miles of monotonous treeeeees. But the color scheme is always a little different from one fall to the next, and small variations of a solid theme are nothing to sneeze at. When you make a good pasta like the House Made Tagliatelle, it hardly matters that it's not original. When coated with a pistachio pesto of pure genius, and scattered with fall favorites like kale and butternut squash, this winning combination is anything but boring.


My time in Raleigh had a definite beginning, middle, and end, and I think the best part was the end. Same goes for my Stanbury splurge. The Apple Tart is a delicate, down-home comfort with a flaky crust, sweet, polished apple slices in a cinnamon-y, fruity finish.


Pig parts aside, I saw mostly southern at Stanbury and was starting to think that they could only cook country with an occasional change-up in the ingredients. After all, you can only heart "y'all" so many times before you start to reckon it ain't a real word. But then Stanbury surprised me. The S'Mores features chocolate between dense cookie-crackers and a marshmallow charred to the max, a campfire favorite with a modern, new-age spin. 

I'll never believe that people can truly change, but apparently cities can. Raleigh was always so static in my motorized mind, but Stanbury proves that a slow but steady shift is forming in the world of food. I don't re-visit Raleigh very often, but I'm excited to see what evolves now that Stanbury is leading the way.

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