June 25, 2004
Andante: a delicious crisis of familiarity

When we went to Andante in Petoskey for dinner recently, we faced something of an ordering crisis brought on by the rigors of writing about food and restaurants.

The crisis stemmed from mid-winter, when we were compiling chefs' recipes for our new book and had extended e-mail correspondence with Andante's chef-owner Bob Stark, who was planning for a new season at the time. He lavished recipes on us, for appetizers, entrees, and all manner of marinades, grilling sauces, and vinaigrettes, and we got to know them quite well.

We tested his spicy mango salsa on mahi-mahi, on halibut, and even on walleye. We learned to make miso-citrus marinade and miso-sesame vinaigrette blindfolded. Coconut sushi rice became a fixture on our own menu, and we now keep a small bottle of the sweet-sour awase-zu that goes into it because it works so well in all manner of dishes. Stark is one fine, inventive, and complete chef, so he not only provided welcome recipes for our book, he enhanced our personal quality of life.

So the crisis arose on arrival at the restaurant, when we realized how current the recipes he'd sent us are. Almost everything on the menu was something we'd tested and enjoyed again and again at home. It was hard to find something new to us. In the event, Sherri settled for a dish from the book that we hadn't fully tested, Rioja-braised lamb shank. Graydon went for beef tenderloin medallions.

Even though the restaurant had barely re-opened for the season, we enjoyed the same personable, knowledgeable, attentive and polished service we have always found. It was mid week and the weather was grim, so there were few other diners in house, and even as walk-ins we enjoyed a table by the wide windows, looking northward across the bay towards Harbor Springs.

Our first hint that Andante had gotten quickly up to speed was the appearance of a delightful amusée of deep-fried cheese in a pair of bright sauces. And then came some of the remarkable bread Stark has always sent out, with its robustly caramelized crust and chewy, nutty, off-white mie. We also both enjoyed the salad that accompanied the entrees, a light Caesar laced with a hint of smoked whitefish and studded with thin "croutons" of breaded, toasted cheese. The pacing of all this was perfect, affording time between courses to admire the view while we swirled and sniffed and sipped a nice Burgundy from Andante's brief but satisfying list.

As to the main courses, we had something of a spirited debate on the way home after dinner. The beef, we agreed, was outrageously good, and well matched with a garnish of silky, seared foie gras, sautéed trumpet mushrooms, and a comfortable cushion of Yukon Golds mashed with wasabi. Where we parted company was on the braised lamb shank. We had no argument that it was falling apart just as God intended, and that we liked the way it was plated, with smashed sweet potato and a contrasting mix of pickled red cabbage, crispy leek curls, and a richly sauced hash of morels. The debate had to do with value: We agreed that $48 for luxurious filet mignon and foie gras is one thing, but only one of us felt $43 reasonable for what is essentially a peasant's dish; the other kept insisting that the price also reflects the service, the view, the salad and starter, and that glorious bread -- not to mention all those succulent little fresh morels.

Andante is not an economy-model restaurant, and we were eating in the menu's upper registers, so even with the salad included in the entree price, our dinners topped $90, before wine, tip and homage to Lansing.

But let us not dwell on money when there's good food to be had. The bottom line of any restaurant review is: "Would we go back?" The answer in this case is, "You bet we would!"

But next time we'll skip the lamb shank and have miso-citrus marinated, char-grilled, Chilean sea bass with that a miso-sesame vinaigrette. We so enjoy doing it at home, we can't wait to see what it's like in the restaurant.