Gingergrass Redepmtion

I didn't set out to go to Gingergrass. Actually, I was going to Red Lion Tavern to prove I felt no lasting derision against it. Wouldn't get an opportunity on this night, there was a line and the frigid wind was motivating us to get inside quickly. Frankly, we weren't looking to knock back a few beers -I was already swooning from a well established bender- we just wanted to eat hearty German food.

So we settled for hearty Vietnamese food. And when I say settled I should have said begrudglingly. I love Vietnamese food, and I especially love a Vietnamese place if they take credit cards, because thats more rare than finding a pearl in a lobster. But I had a problem with Gingergrass.

Gingergrass has so many things going for it, a minimalist space, fresh twists to standard favorites, a focus on healthy preparation and sleek presentation. The only thing going against it was the food. I thought it was tasteless.

Hmm. That's a hard one to get over. What do you do if everything else is good but the food? Well, I don't have to worry about that anymore, last night Gingergrass perfectly redeemed themselves with every dish.

There was one other problem. My problem. The thing about being a prodigious drinker living the Tiki Life is the startling loss of memory. Therefore, I left the camera at home. Actually, I had every intention of going to the Red Lion, and since I already lambasted it in another post, I didn't really see the need to tote the camera along. My bad assumptions always undermine me. I should know by now when I leave my house without the camera that will be the night I see Paris Hilton and Kevin Federline filming a homemade porno at The W Bar.



This is pretty much what the place looks like. As you can no doubt tell, it is an active, neo-hipster crowd. It is loud, with a feel that reminds me of the vibe at Border Grill. It it spartan, with one wall covered with a looming cork grid. It is open, but it doesn't feel like a concrete wasteland.

A large blackboard over the register displayed the night's specials and there it was...as incongruous as Pat Robertson endorsing Brokeback Mountain, was the most fascinating dish I've seen during the last year: Lemongrass Venison. I had to try this. Because it had the potential to go so kinetically wrong, the feverish anticipation literally had me shaking. Or was it the booze?

Oh, Gingergrass now proudly serves alcohol. I think I had a Hue (pronounced "Hue"), which has a crisp bite and gets the job done.

Just as I was savoring my first gulp of beer, they served us our first plate, the functional Asian equivalent of dinner rolls. They were puffed rice meal chips with a plum sauce. I really like the innovative use of rice cakes as a light starter.

I love the bluntness and raw honesty of an Asian menu. If the dish is cat nuts simmered in pig entrails and brown sauce, the menu will proudly highlight "Cat Nut Simmer in Pig Entrail and Brown Sace."

The Italians would just call it Gatta Coglione con Maiale Frattaglie. So regal. Anyway, our appetizer was Fried Squid. No euphamistic calamari bs.



Arriving simultaneously with the squid, were the summer rolls. Unfortunately, they really were the weakest component of an otherwise perfect meal. I know my way around a summer roll, which are usually hearty logs of fresh leaves and meat. But, these were a bit petite and, I mean this in the best possible context, gay. I'm not talking about the burly gay guys, I'm talking about the dainty ones. These whispy and frail rolls cut on a bias barely made a dent in my appetite, and merely served as decoration.



Finally, the evening's highlight came. Like I said, lemongrass venison has catastrophic possibilities, but the aroma grabbed me by the shoulders and kneed me in the groin. This dish had presence, a bold arrogance.



Presiding over a bed of lettuce and spotted liberally with red peppers, the venison was a perfect balance of ginger, lemongrass (why not use the name of the restaurant, after all), sugar and salt. The venison glistened with a dark brown glaze and melted on the tongue. Explosions of flavor are an overused sentiment, but why not throw in a cliche. It was an explosion of flavor. I tore through it like flesh eating bacteria tears through third world nations.

I was perplexed by the tenderness of the venison. Vietnamese meat usually isn't incredibly tender (pho excepted), but this was silky and rich. The waiter told me was was venison tenderloin so it all made sense. Like I said, I ate at Bastide a while ago and none of the dishes were this innovative.

My wife ordered the pork bowl.