What They Say
Lifting The Embargo
The arrival of Roland Liccioni returns Miramar to its former Glory.
By Sherman Kaplan
It's less than half a block from Carlos' to Miramar, but for chef Roland Liccioni, it has been a peripatetic trip home. Liccioni was the chef at Carlos' before moving on to such kitchens as Le Francais, Les Nomades and Le Lan, pinnacles of fine dining by any definition.
More recently, Liccioni was doing bistro work at the Old Town Brasserie before Gabe Viti, who once worked under Liccioni at Carlos', invited him to liven things up at his French / Cuban hybrid, Miramar, in Highwood.
When Viti opened Miramar some five years ago, he revolutionized Highwood's restaurant scene. With its smoky-mirror and burgundy-banquette interior and unabashedly French menu, Miramar was an overnight sensation, a rare see-and-be-seen North Shore hot spot that captured all the seedy glamour of pre-Castro Cuba.
The good news is, the place still looks like a movie set like it was plucked off the back lot of Redford's Havana, and the menu is still predominantly French, with Chef Liccioni adopting and, at the same time, adapting the original menu. Francophiles have their sizzling steak frites, glistening skin on roast chicken and a tuna Niçoise that's better than the one I tasted watching the Mediterranean's waves roll in off the shores of Nice. Cuban ham-and-cheese sandwiches are a nod to the island's rich culinary traditions, and Liccioni also offers a rather ordinary-sounding American hamburger, complete with melted cheese, sliced tomato and lettuce.
But “ordinary” is hardly the norm. Instead of a mere crab cake, Liccioni blends together lobster, crab and scallops into a lightly crusted round set in a delicate lobster foam. Instead of traditional escargots in garlic butter, he's paired the tiny snails with a yellow-tomato coulis dotted with blue-cheese crumbles. Miramar's bouillabaisse, however, is gone, a loss I hope will soon be remedied with a Liccioni adaptation.
For something new, Liccioni brings the intensity of porcinis and creminis into a creamy mushroom soup that's so earthy and deep-flavored – the only comparison I can make is a perfectly dry wine or cocktail – it absolutely takes one's breath away.
As for entrées, short ribs and rack of lamb are combined for a meaty pairing. Roasted squab has been one of a few recent specials not on the printed menu; it's set on lentils with red cabbage. The flavor is more pronounced than a mere glance might suggest.
There's a seafood quartet on the printed menu, entrée-sized portions of salmon, halibut, Dover sole and tilapia. Chilled and shellfish combinations can also be ordered in medium or large platter portions, depending upon how many might be in your party.
As for desserts, crème brûlée, profiteroles and chocolate mousse draw on standard inspirations. Banana bread pudding is as good as it gets, and as tiny as it could be portioned. We paid $7 for a piece that yielded a couple of small bites.
As well as I have known Miramar over its five years, I come away with some clear impressions. For one, service is better than I have ever experienced it. For another, time and the economy seem to have taken a toll.
On my latest visits, the restaurant was much less crowded than it was even a year ago. This, I suppose, is a comment on the times as much as anything. But I couldn't help noticing that prices are on the high side, especially for a restaurant that remains, at heart, a bistro. A little more focus on value, I suspect, would go a very long way.
Expect to spend about $85 a couple for three courses, plus add-ons.
AMBIANCE/DÉCOR 4/4
SERVICE 4.5/5
FOOD 10/11
K/RATING 18.5/20