STIR SOFTLY

A Hotel Restaurant Whose Name and Food Show 
How to Be Both Quiet and Heard

By Catherine Jones

SPRING LAKE reminded me of the movie "Pleasantville."  Everyone I encountered encouraged me, without prompting, to move on in.  It is certainly appealing, with the main street stretching along the Atlantic as the rest of the community hugs an intimate lake festooned with ornate wooden bridges - so appealing that a visitor might miss the Hewitt Wellington Hotel.  That would be a mistake, as this lakefront Victorian, surrounded by gazebos, neatly mown grounds and lush seaside gardens, hides a culinary jewel.  The restaurant there is so decidedly special that its own name implies its desire to remain in anonymous:  Whispers

in a town where time seems to stand still, no one can linger too long at the table, for another lucky couple will gladly take your seat when your two hours is up.  Whispers is BYOB, and it could really benefit from a liquor license:  the rusting of brown paper bags upon each entry detracts from the casual elegance.

Hotel dining rooms often get away with average food but the dishes delivered by our polished waiter tasted as good, if not better, than their artful presentation.  The chef, regularly changes his menu, based on the season and the market.  While I was distracted by references to the geographic origin of each ingredient, I had little else to complain about as I pondered the menu, a study in simplicity and a showcase of Whispers' American cuisine, which despite some kinks, was truly sumptuous.

I began with the special soft-shell crab appetizer, and the meal could have ended there.  The crab was crispy, meaty and juicy, leaning against a colorful mound of diced purple potatoes, scallions and smoked salmon. Although the salmon seemed unnecessary both in flavor and texture, I could not have been more pleased.

With grilled Caesar salad, I got my first taste of what this chef was capable of:  taking a tired old dish and making it different, and better.  A stalk of romaine has been seared on the grill, which must have been stoked with wood chips, as the lettuce was both smoky and tender.  While the dressing was a little clumpy, the diced poppy-red oven dried tomatoes were delightfully cheerful.
One appetizer was a lesson in how experimentation can go a bit too far.  Oysters wrapped in spinach and smoked salmon were then baked in a crisp cumin shell.  None of the ingredients really stood out on their own.  I salute the effort but I guess I prefer them all better raw.  Also, the accompanying mesclum mix was undressed, perhaps an oversight.  The dollop of dill crème fraiche was too small and too viscous to be a dressing substitute.

A cluster of skewers loaded with shrimp and onions aggressively pierced a hunk of pineapple on the center of the plate, surrounded by wild-looking fried linguine and covered in a confetti of coconut shreds.  Although it looked like some kind of tribal ritual, the dish was bland.  Again, I unearthed a tiny dollop, this time of curry mayonnaise;  and again, a larger amount would have been welcome.

Grilled tuna arrived at the table severely overcooked, but was swiftly taken away by our waiter even before we could point it out.  The substitute was a large portion of dry-rubbed and seared meat, lightly coated in a sweet soy syrup.  Although the chef did not put an original twist on the now classic dish, it was exceptional in its simplicity, paired with a delicate ginger basmati and blanched green asparagus.

The halibut in Japanese bread crumb crust knocked my socks off.  A companion said the white flesh was as "fluffy as the finest down pillow" and coated with a crunchy shell.  The saffron beurre blanc over the potatoes were so velvety that I paid little heed to what lay underneath; unremarkable fingerling potatoes and Chinese beans.

The rack of lamb with a crust of fresh herb polenta, surrounded by succulent sautéed bok choy, a ricotta-stuffed rosti potato (goat cheese) would have been preferable inside), and truffle mashed potatoes was my least favorite entree.  The lamb should not have been sectioned into six thin slices, but instead left whole as three juicy chops, as they left me feeling more hungry than impressed.

The desserts were sinful and rich.  However, each featured item was surrounded by multiple small piles of accompaniments that my friends and I did not know what to make of.  For example, the bourbon crème brulee, fully satisfying on its own, came on a large plate where marinated diced fruit lay in a tight pile.  It was curious pairing.  The airy (as opposed to trendily dense) chocolate soufflé was surrounded by a pate sucree shell filled with chocolate ice cream and chocolate nut truffles.  As if there wasn't enough, a raspberry coulis lay underneath, studded with tiny dabs of whipped cream, both of which detracted from the chocolate celebration already in full swing.

After the meal, I stepped out onto the veranda of the Hewitt Wellington, happy to see the little town of Spring Lake again.  I don't know about taking the townspeople up on their invitations to move in, but I will certainly revisit.  It is the hidden gem called Whispers that will prompt my return.  I am hesitant to let out another peep about it.


Atmosphere: A very tiny parlor that could be a room in a country club.  No children under 12 allowed, except for on Mother's Day.

Service:  Highly polished and professional.

Smoking:  Not allowed.

Recommendations:  Soft-shell crab with purple potatoes, grilled romaine lettuce with Caesar dressing: skewered shrimp with pineapple and coconut; grilled sushi tuna with basmati rice; halibut with Japanese bread crumb crusted lamb with ricotta stuffed rosti-potatoe; crème brulee; chocolate soufflé; pecan pine nut pie.
   
Price Range:  First course, $6 to $10; main course $22 to $29; desserts $6 to $9

Hours: 5:30pm to 11:00pm

Reservations:  A must.

Credit Cards:  All major

Wheelchair Accessibility:  Accessible by ramp from the hotel pool area..