But lately, I've encountered a different breed of chef--pleasant men and women who keep their egos in check and their priorities straight. They're more concerned with what's served on the plate than with what's written in the press; they don't throw tantrums on the line during service; and they'd prefer to cook delicious food rather than pose for a cookbook cover or bottle their own marinade.
Philip Mihalski from Nell's in Green Lake is one such chef. He proves that you can run a tight ship with flair and integrity--without being a pompous ass. On a recent evening at Nell's, during one of the most elegant yet comfortable dining experiences I've had in a long time, Mihalski's grace was on quiet display. He worked the room in a low-key manner, chatting with customers, thanking them personally, answering questions. Glimpses into his spotless open kitchen--futuristic, enclosed fishbowl-style in spotless glass--revealed not chaos or drama but calm-looking line cooks.
Even Mihalski's contemporary, seasonal menu is understated. He avoids shticky-precious descriptions, letting ingredients do their own advertising (porcini mushrooms, Black Mission figs, saffron, shaved black truffles, veal sweetbreads... this man is not afraid to flaunt the good stuff). He's the exec chef and owner of the place, but his name can't be found anywhere on the menu--another indicator of Mihalski's humility, and his reluctance to put on airs or indulge in fine-dining hype. (And this from a man with a resumé that includes the Dahlia Lounge, Marco's Supper Club, New York City's prestigious Park Bistro and River Cafe, French training, and props from the James Beard Foundation.)
And the food itself? Trust me--if you're going to throw down some cash for dinner, you want to throw it down at Nell's.
I tried a seductive white corn soup ($8), a simple recipe that tasted complex--puréed kernels of freshly shucked corn with butter, chicken stock, minced onions, and chives. The corn's sweet, true flavor came through sure and strong, with an ever-so-slight smoky finish (perhaps from lightly roasting the corn?) that I absolutely loved, and it was served with dollop of avocado mousse on the soup's silken surface, along with a simple spiral of fragrant basil oil. And oh--the parsnip flan. Can we please talk about the parsnip flan ($11)?! This appetizer deserves its own theme song. Who knew it was possible to render such a light, gentle custard from this much-deplored fall/winter root vegetable? Made with shredded Dungeness crabmeat and fresh chervil, it tastes delicate, sublime.
It's tempting to stick to the starters--chanterelle mushroom ravioli ($11), figs with Parma ham ($10), and tomato and leek terrine with herb salad ($10) all called out to me--but don't. Along with a rotating multi-course tasting menu (where you'll find treats like elk tenderloin, duck confit, and grilled octopus), Mihalski offers meats and fish with vibrant accompaniments--cumin eggplant purée, baby turnips and ruby chard with blackberry sauce, or semolina gnocchi with sautéed spinach. The free-range chicken ($19) was that deliciously frustrating restaurant chicken you just can't duplicate at home--expertly pan-seared and finished in the oven, with a crisp skin and moist meat aided by good, dark juices and clarified butter.
The beef tenderloin ($25) was also thrilling, seasoned just so. This is a smart, subtle steak, without the excessive salt crust and overpowering cracked peppercorns often found in macho steakhouses: just a rosy, tender piece of beef, with clean, honest flavor. It's a testament to the kitchen's restraint and confidence--the result of what happens when food is respected by a stand-up guy.
Nell's
6804 E Green Lake Way N, 524-4044.
Dinner nightly 5:30-10 pm.
