When a popular restaurant is sold, it is natural to wonder what changes, if any, to expect. Will the new owners close the place indefinitely for extensive remodeling? How much of the previous menu will be retained? What kind of turnover will there be in the staff?
Fortunately, in the case of the Litchfield Saltwater Grille, which closed for all of two days when it changed hands last December, those types of questions seem to have been answered satisfactorily enough. There is still a raw bar, with ocean-fresh oysters and clams served on the half shell; steamed lobsters continue to be a mainstay; and the interior, with oak wainscoting offset by pastel walls, looks much as it always has. And that’s just the way the new owners, Andy Stowers and his wife, Brook Noel, want it.
“We have to be careful, because Litchfield is a fairly conservative market,” Mr. Stowers said when I talked with him by phone after my visits. He said the restaurant was well run before he and Ms. Noel arrived, and they have kept much of the staff. The most notable exception to that is the current chef, Robert Peotter, whom the owners brought from their home state of Wisconsin.
Mr. Peotter’s skill is evident in both simple and more complex dishes. An appetizer of fried calamari hit just the right balance of crunchy-chewiness, the squid’s rings and legs delicately coated in a gossamer layer of batter, with just enough morsels provided to stoke, not stunt, the appetite. Oysters Alaska reflected a more ambitious assemblage of ingredients — dill, flying-fish roe, smoked salmon and horseradish cream sauce, all layered over oysters on the half shell (from beds off Mystic) — that hit the palate with an explosion of harmonious flavors.
Oysters Saltafeller, an updating of the Rockefeller classic, was just as intoxicating. Six agreeably plump oysters, coated in a creamy blend of spinach, artichoke and Parmesan and dotted with bits of bacon, were baked just past raw so that their inherent brininess melted into, and beautifully complemented, the cheesy, smoky nature of their sauce. And on rare sliced tuna, seared on the edges but sushi-red within, the blend of spices crusting the outside — salt, pepper, cumin — delivered an intriguing, endearing savoriness to what elsewhere has often been bland.
I loved the buttery wine sauce, accented with lots of garlic (and a dash of fresh basil), of a steamed mussels appetizer, but that enthusiasm was tempered by the minuscule size of the mollusks, which had also been steamed beyond redemption. The “signature crab cake,” ordered as a starter, presented different problems: a dense, oily panko crust and the gummy blend of crab meat and sweet potato inside. The red pepper aioli paired with it was richly flavored with roasted capsicum, but the deep pool of it amounted to overkill.
The biggest surprise among the entrees — most of which are served with a small house salad and either wild rice pilaf or some form of potatoes — was fish and chips, normally a humble dish. The Grille’s version, consisting of twin cod fillets encased in crispy pillows of golden brown batter, was moist, flaky and anything but pedestrian. And the chips (thick-cut fries, actually), dappled with sundry Southwest seasonings, were sinfully delicious.
Blackened scallops, undercooked to perfection, were dusted with a spice blend similar to the fries’, to similarly delightful effect. (Less enchanting was the surfeit of Cajun cream sauce that covered the entire plate.) I also liked the salmon crusted with spinach and artichoke, partly because of the nutty pesto lacquering its underside, partly because of the toasted Parmesan topping and largely on account of the moist, flaky fish itself. Seafood-stuffed sole, with a zesty lemon cream sauce, had a mushier texture, the thin fillet serving as a shell for a nondescript filling of crab meat, dill cream and bits of tomato.
Though its spirit may lie with the ocean, the Grille gives meat eaters a nod with its half-pound burger, an eight-ounce filet mignon and a rib eye steak of nearly twice that weight. Yet it was the chicken piccata that stunned me. The white meat, pounded flat and then charbroiled, was vibrantly suffused in a caper-dappled garlic-lemon sauce. Who knew that a chicken breast could be so flavorful?
As time passes, the owners will undoubtedly drop some items from the menu as their chef experiments with different dishes. There is certainly room for that among the house-made desserts, though I sincerely hope they retain the velvety-smooth chocolate mousse, which was among the fluffiest and more chocolaty that I’ve tasted.