Tiburon Fine Dining
He said:
The Tiburon isn’t much to look at. You might not even notice the low, one-story structure as you drive by. If you do see it, you might think it’s a vestige of a 60s lounge diner. However, don’t let its modest appearance scare you away. There’s much more than meets the eye.
Kathy and I arrived early for our reservation, so we took a few minutes to visit their on-site garden. Dubbed “Le Potager,” this working culinary garden spans a quarter acre and grows an assortment of fruits, vegetables, and herbs, including grapes, blackberries, strawberries, corn, lettuce, carrots, beets, squash, peppers, and countless heirloom tomatoes. This garden ensures that the chef has the freshest ingredients for great meals!
Although we were still early, the restaurant seated us without a wait, giving us a choice of inside or outside seating. We chose to sit on the patio. Half the patio has a roof overhead and half is truly open. We sat at the outer edge of the roofed area. Tall trees shaded most of the patio and the temperature was comfortable, especially as the sun set.
Our bread service consisted of a small loaf of house bread, sliced. It wasn’t that the portion was small; the loaf was simply short. I noticed other patrons received loaves about an inch or an inch and a half tall. Ours was only about half that tall. I guess we got the short one of the batch. The slices resembled bread sticks. None of that would have been a problem—the bread really was quite good—if it hadn’t been for the butter. The butter was good, amazingly so. The compound butter included bits of red pepper and green herbs. It had a slight sweetness, which probably came from honey. A great butter like this deserves a slice of bread with enough surface area to liberally spread the butter.
Then the waiter brought appetizer plates for us. I thought we already had some, but those must have been just for the bread. I won’t tattle if you mix the plates. The intended target for the appetizer plates was the Braised Pork Belly. We got a beautiful cut, seared to a golden color. I found its flavor rather mild and somewhat underwhelming, but I enjoyed it anyway. A stack of caramelized balsamic onions accompanied the pork strip, but the real highlight was the slice of St. Angel Triple Cream Brie. They could have made an entire appetizer with a brie like that, and I would have loved it.
The house salad came next, a delightful mix of baby field greens, candied pecans, Fuji apple slices, Fontina cheese, with a shallot vinaigrette. A sundried heirloom tomato from the garden sat on the side. The salad balanced sweet and tart flavors with ease.
Our dinner progressed leisurely, giving us plenty of time to enjoy each course while watching the sunset. One of the patrons at the next table had time to run home and tend to a babysitting crisis before returning for her next course. Our whole dinner lasted two and a quarter hours. We used some of that time to research Tiburon on my smartphone. The host had told us that the restaurant was named after the town in California where the owner grew up. We learned that the town was named for the native leopard sharks in the area (“tiberon” being Spanish for “shark”). We also learned that there’s a great house that we can buy there if we can scrounge up another $17 million.
A pineapple sorbet acted as our palate cleanser. That it was made with fresh pineapple (that I assumed didn’t come from the garden) was obvious, as it had woody flecks of pineapple skin in it. There weren’t many, but enough to notice, and I would have preferred their absence. Still, the sorbet was thick, sweet, and enjoyable.
My New Zealand Elk Tenderloin arrived on a plate beautifully decorated along its rim with pieces of yellow pepper and flecks of chopped parsley. The meal itself was colorfully presented, starting with a spread of the green peppercorn demi-glace and the mushroom duxelle at the base, the vegetables and meat stacked above. The vegetables included smooth, garlic mashed potatoes, a carrot slice, several asparagus spears, a bed of pureed butternut squash—like candy!—and a small yellow bulb that I didn’t recognize, still with the remnants of a charred stem. The waiter told me it was a baby summer squash, picked from the garden with the blossom still present. What a fantastic idea, made possible because of their own, abundant garden. It added beauty to the plate and delighted the palate, as well.
The Elk Tenderloin was indeed tender. The kitchen had already sliced it and I could easily cut the slices with just the edge of my fork. The vegetables were cooked al dente, tender enough to eat easily, but still possessing a satisfying crunch. The many flavors balanced just right, with nothing overpowering. The various ingredients had been layered together in an attractive way, which meant I could continually discover new flavors as I worked my way through the dish.
We ordered a slice of the White Chocolate Cheesecake to take home with us, along with its accompanying vanilla bean crème anglaise and raspberry compote. It wilted a bit before we made it home, but the flavor held up. The salted pretzel crust balanced the sweetness of the soft, creamy filling.
She said:
If any of our readers have ever wondered what a marmot likes to eat, we have the answer! While walking through the Tiburon’s beautiful garden, we encountered a humane trap that had small cut-off pieces of corn cobs suspended on strings and an Anaheim pepper lying on its base. Curious about this, I took the opportunity to ask our waiter to explain about the trap as he set our lovely, colorful pineapple sorbets on our table.
It turns out that the marmots who call Utah’s mountainous landscape home love eating heirloom tomatoes. Yep. They love chowing down on those beauties so much that the Tiburon’s staff wants to keep those luscious tomatoes out of those rascally rodents’ greedy jowls. They’ve decided that the best way to do that is to humanely capture the naughty little thieves and hand them over to the Utah Humane Society to relocate to an environmentally safe and appropriate locale.
Personally, I commend and applaud the Tiburon for not only sourcing fresh produce grown on the premises, but for also being conscientious toward animal welfare.
Now, about the rest of our experience. First of all, I’m really happy that we chose to eat outdoors on the beautiful brick-laid patio that was surrounded by tall, sprawling trees. A lovely black stone water feature was situated toward the back of the property near the fence. Strategically placed tables were covered with black linen tablecloths, white linen napkins, clear glass water goblets, and sturdy white bread plates that were set face down. As it was 7:00 in the evening, the sun was beginning to wind down, and peeked through the tree branches while a pleasant, light, warm breeze picked up just a bit.
Our table was placed under a redwood deck, and the exterior wall under this deck was crafted of beautiful, stacked slate stone upon which subdued—but lovely—artwork had been hung.
Although the exterior of the restaurant is unassuming, the interior more than makes up for it with the warm, chestnut-colored wood wainscotting; the creamy white textured walls; the stone and brick floors; the amber and chocolate swirl-patterned glass wall sconces; and twinkly patio lights. This is a chic, relaxing establishment, one that seems to be a popular and well-regarded dining destination.
Being a people watcher, I took note of all the patrons who were there to celebrate their individual special occasions: A table of ten celebrated a wedding (congrats to the bride and groom, whoever you are!). Five happy people sat at a table tucked in the corner and celebrated a birthday. At least four tables were occupied by couples, young and old, who were happily commemorating their anniversaries. The vibe was lively and festive, and the waitstaff were diligently bustling around and admirably keeping up with all of their patrons’ needs.
Brian has done a great job describing our appetizer, house salad, etc., so I’ll move on straight to my entrée.
I was in the mood for something fishy, but not spicy. The regular seafood options on the entrée menu included salmon and ahi tuna. However, the chef’s special for the night was a Chili-roasted, Pistachio-crusted Alaskan Halibut. That was a tantalizing choice. Alas, the waiter informed me that it was prepared with a lot of heat. But not all was lost! Our waiter informed me that the chef could prepare the ahi tuna without its Asian seven pepper spice and could sear it to medium instead of rare. Sold! 😋
When my plate of food arrived, everything looked positively colorful and appetizing. The tuna was perfectly cooked and was dusted with a crust of black sesame seeds that added flavor and a bit of crunch to the tender, moist fish. The pineapple fried rice was simultaneously tangy-tart and sweet, with slivers of carrots and sliced green onions. Carrots, butternut squash purée, and baby squash accompanied my nice piece of fish. Everything was absolutely delicious!
Conclusion:
Arrive early to spend a few minutes admiring the garden full of fresh fruits, vegetables, and herbs. Then enjoy a leisurely paced dinner made with the finest ingredients.