Oquirrh

He said:

We picked Oquirrh for dinner tonight after reviewing the menu on their website. All the offerings sounded delicious, and the photographs on the website looked incredible. The dishes all looked like works of art. My mouth watered in anticipation as I optimistically hoped they would taste just as good.

Oquirrh serves a style of cuisine known as New American Contemporary Cuisine. I think it may be my favorite type of food. Also known as Modern American Cuisine, this style emerged in the 1980s and was subsequently popularized by various celebrity chefs, such as Wolfgang Puck. This type of cuisine usually begins with traditional American dishes, but then it fuses them with French, Mediterranean, Latin, or Asian flavors and cooking techniques. It frequently sources fresh, local, and seasonal ingredients (Farm-to-Table). Finally, New American cuisine typically features artistic presentation, ensuring that the food looks as great as it tastes. All of these elements were evident at Oquirrh.

From the description and photos I saw on their website, I expected Oquirrh to be elegant, sophisticated, romantic. It was all of those things, but not in the way that I anticipated. Oquirrh occupies an old building just a few blocks east of downtown. Its small entry room included a reception kiosk and counter seating, with a vase of fresh chrysanthemums atop the counter. Crystal goblets sat on one shelf, while a shelf above held an interesting variety of tiki and ghoulish mugs and even a few Baby Yoda ceramics. One wall held colorful paintings of tulips and daisies, while a lacquered jigsaw puzzle of Boba Fett adorned the opposite wall. What a strange mix of décor! Yet, it was all tasteful, never drawing attention to itself, and offered a unique charm to the place.

Our waiter greeted us and escorted us to a table in the adjoining dining room. Here, a vibrant wall of color greeted us, as bright, colorful acrylic paintings covered every wall. Most featured hearts, though some depicted daisies, sunflowers, or tulips. Our table was elegantly set with appetizer plates, silverware, crystal glasses, cloth napkins, a small dispenser of scented hand sanitizer, and a vase of fresh Billy Button flowers. Those were cute. I had to do a little sleuthing to figure out what kind of flowers they were.

We began our meal with the House Sourdough Bread and the Savory Peaches & Cream. I enjoyed both. The bread was thick and heavier than many sourdough varieties—hearty—but still soft and chewy with a slightly crispy crust. My first bite of the peaches was overly minty. But that’s just because the fresh mint was sprinkled on top. After that, the peaches . . . wow, the peaches were divine. They were served atop a multi-grained biscuit, which was like a firm, crunchy cracker, almost. The sweet, grilled peaches sat in a Parmesan velouté¹, which provided a sumptuous, savory creaminess, with just a subtle hint of Balsamic vinegar. I love Balsamic vinegar, but rarely do I find it used so judiciously. It was almost indiscernible. What I realized is this dish had combined a bunch of diverse ingredients in perfect balance.

From there, I moved on to the Fennel-Brined Pork Chop. I can’t even say that without immediately wanting to try it: “Fennel-Brined Pork Chop.” The pork chop had a couple of olives on top, which I thought was an odd choice. I popped one into my mouth—and immediately realized they weren’t olives. They were black cherries! Black cherries glazed with a fantastic, candy-like sauce. Fantastic! The pork chop sat atop a bright green spread of puréed Savoy cabbage, with a serving of boiled cabbage. Several dark cherries and a handful of cashews were spread above, and then topped with a cherry-mustard jus. Fresh arugula adorned the side.

Once again, I was impressed by the inspired pairing of different flavors, textures, and colors. Every bite was amazing. The chef had combined things that I didn’t realize would work together and ended up elevating the entire dish. I saw this in our appetizer, and then in my entrée. I reflected that I even saw this great balance in the décor, where the eclectic, somewhat unexpected combination of both sophisticated and down-to-earth had created an elegance all of its own.

Kathy said:

I’ll admit that on our way to the restaurant, I was being a Miss Crankypants. I had nursed a migraine all day, but I thought I was ready to go out. So, I grumbled in the car, complaining about how far we had to go. Brian, in true hubby mode, turned up the radio and tuned me out. Haha

Once we reached our destination, I was surprised to see that the Oquirrh was a small, flat-roofed restaurant built from red brick, pinkish stucco, and cream-colored, stacked stone and it boasted two large windows. All of it was rather unassuming.

Upon entering, we stood in front of a service counter that was faced with blue and white square tiles. On the wall, there was wooden, open shelving that displayed an assortment of mugs. To the right of the counter stood a refrigerated case that held canned soda, glass bottles filled with water, and other beverages. Past the fridge was the small dining area. I realized that the floor plan was shaped like a backwards L, with the kitchen in the back.

Once I was seated, I took time to look around me. I took in the wafer board floors stained a reddish brown. There were wafer board baseboards painted a deep navy blue, and similar wainscotting. But the thing about my surroundings that charmed and captivated me were all of the paintings on the walls. They were bright, vibrant, beautiful works of art in acrylic paints. There were white daisies; orange black-eyed Susans; tulips in various reds, pinks, and yellows. Additionally, there were hearts in shades of crimson, emerald, orange, yellow, lime, black, etc. They were quirky, simple, and swirly—and quite cheerful.

One painting especially caught my attention. It depicted white daisies of various sizes with yellow centers, with a grass-green foreground and a cerulean skyline. I got out of my chair to take a closer look because I wanted to buy it. All the paintings are offered for sale, the work of a local artist named Preston Wood.

Now, before I write about the food, I need to get one more thing out of the way: the restaurant’s style and ambiance were hard for me to pin down. There is a juxtaposition between the casual and sophisticated. The down-to-earth elements, combined with the décor caused me to tell Brian that everything gave me a sort of Bohemian-chic vibe.

Now, the food. As Brian already mentioned, the sourdough bread and the savory peaches were exceptional. The bread had a slightly denser texture than typical sourdough. Instead of being bright white, the bread was the color of oatmeal. The crust provided a crispy contrast to the rest of the sliced bread. A dollop of warm butter was served on the side. The peaches were superbly prepared, the slices grilled just right. The sauce brought out the faint Balsamic, savory flavor of the entire dish. As Brian mentioned, it was all perfectly balanced.

For my main course, I considered ordering the spaghetti, but I went with the trout instead. The fish is sourced from Idaho and is farmed rather than caught wild. It was accompanied by eggplant, caramelized Cipollini onion, local green beans, anchovy dressing, and smoky eggplant purée.

To be fair, our waiter had warned me that the dish had a fishy taste to it. I told him that I was an East Coast girl and could handle seafood. Um, saying that it was fishy is an understatement! My food was overwhelmingly strong with anchovies. It was so over-powering in the eggplant that I could not eat it at all. Instead, I picked the green beans out of the mound of mushy, anchovy-infused eggplant so I could eat them, along with the trout. The fish was tender, delicious, and perfectly cooked, so it was a pleasure eating it. At one point, our waiter stopped at our table to ask how we were enjoying our meal. I was honest with him, stating that I wasn’t a fan of the way the eggplant was prepared. He expressed dismay over this and offered to bring me something else. That was nice of him, but I declined. I told him that everything else was excellent.

In all honesty, a lemon-herb-infused pilaf would have really enhanced the dish. Also, serving the fish with the skin side down—and letting the pink meat face out—would have improved the food’s presentation on the plate. The manner in which it was served made the meal look less appetizing: too much gray. 😞

As an aside, as I watched the waitstaff move about amongst the other tables and patrons, I was privately amused by how they would walk through a door at the front of the premises to deliver food to each table. But when they cleared dishes, glasses, and silverware, they would carry everything through a different door in the back of the dining area. Through my amusement, it dawned on me that this system seemed to be quite efficient and ensured that servers didn’t bump into each other.

Conclusion:

For great New American cuisine in a relaxed atmosphere, head to Oquirrh.