At Oran Mór, flavors matter

by Peter B. Brace
Independent Writer

Nothing in this world could get me to eat Peking duck after seeing that final scene in the movie, "A Christmas Story- " the one in which brothers Ralphie and Randy Parker along with their parents are forced to go out for Christmas dinner at the local Chinese food restaurant after the Bumpus' dogs burst into their kitchen and made off with their roast turkey.

 

A whole Peking duck is served, immediately unnerving Mrs. Parker who then shrieks when the waiter chops off the duck's neck with a cleaver at their table. The beheading alone soured my appetite for Peking duck.

However, I now wish to retract my previous disdain, having recently exorcised that epicurean phobia at “ran Mór during Nantucket Restaurant Week, and I want to thank owner and chef Chris Freeman for showing me the light.

The four-course specially priced meal dared me to find out if the Parkers only got the heebie-jeebies because of this waterfowl cooked whole with its clothes on, but the extensive list of single-malt Scotch made it a much easier towalk up those copper stairs for "Spice Roasted Peking Duck Breast and Leg Confit with Quinoa, Emmer, Bok Choy and Peach Salsa" and the pleasant surprise in which my taste buds were bathed as I savored each slice of the duck.

PHOTO BY PETER SUTTERS JR.

Neither was it cooked too dry nor left too pink, and although served in what amounts to a child's serving, the irreverent hoi polloi gripe that upscale restaurants' portions are always too small found no traction in my critique of this meal. It was the flavors of the food, every edible nuance, and the skill it takes to prepare it that I was paying for, not the volume.

Proving my point further was the first course, "Tequila and Cilantro- Cured Salmon Gravlax with Avocado Fennel-Citrus Salad and Grilled Brown Bread," which again, was something I do not care for. But there was not a hint of that salmony, fishy taste in these morsels of orange filet that had cold sizzled in the acidic oven of lime juice. I actually wanted another order of them when I was done and did not need a mouthful of my Old Thumper Amber Ale to wash them down.

Served with the duck breast medallions as the other half of the second course, were two giant sea scallops in what Freeman entitled "Sauteed Sea Scallops with 'BLT' Risotto, Apple-Smoked Bacon, Arugula and Tomato." This being the first week of the recreational bay scallop season, I think my brain was prepared for a more provincial essence than what I held in my mouth as long I could. Again, though my share was a tenth of what I could easily eat, the taste - every ingredient used - echoed inside my mouth persuading me to take smaller and smaller bites.

Another in my short list of indigestible foods awaited me for dessert, "Warm Roasted Fig Sticky Buns with Brown Butter and Pear Ice Cream." Okay, anything with sugar and ice cream in the description goes down my gullet no questions asked, but figs - used to make paste for Fig Newtons - are not usually on my menu. But wait, here is a Lavagulin 16-year-old Scotch distilled in Port Ellen on the south shores of Islay in Scotland - ambercolored with a smoky, caramel taste and almost no bite to it.

Being a single-malt Scotch snob as christened by one of my co-workers, ordinarily I would not deign to sip anything younger than 18 years old. But the mellowness of this Islay Scotch offered a lesson in the subtleties of Scotch flavorings much in the same way as the duck, scallops, salmon and fig sticky bun with its mouthful of pear ice cream schooled me.

All I can say is, "Yum!" I