finds its sparkling place in the Monterey County culinary firmament.
Unless you're commuting during the morning or evening rush hour, the drive down
the Route 68 corridor to Salinas is a sightseer's delight, with opportunities to
glimpse rolling hills, beautiful golf courses, million dollar homes in expanding
developments where development is supposedly not developing, and that
magnificent stretch where you can see forever down the Salinas Valley and
pretend that you're riding along with John Steinbeck.
A trip to Pajaro Street Grill--which we visited at the suggestion of Robin Fagundes,
who sits on the board of directors for a multinational wine and spirits
conglomerate--is a foray into the restaurant world of Lisa and Deamer Dunn, who
opened shop in June of 1999 in a former dry cleaners (a fact they proudly
display).
The feel here is simultaneously whimsical, elegant, casual, quaint and expansive.
Everywhere are symbols, artifacts and expressions of the owners' (and others')
spiritual investment in this restaurant's destiny. Colorful, lively watercolors painted
by the chef's mother, Marian Dunn, sing to you throughout the space. Deamer's
own playful paintings and intelligent photography harmonize in the gaps. Delicate
spot lighting provides the rhythmical structure that carries the visuals along. Vibrant
music at good volume feeds the auditory hunger.
Then there's The Wall.
The right wall, as you enter, is a Feng Shui stroke of genius. When they were
decorating, the owners decided to make that wall a collection of interesting objects
given to them by different people. They artfully set beautiful tiles, bric-a-brac and
other paraphernalia--including the top and bottom to an elegant old waffle iron--into
a simple plaster wall, creating a mural of multiple spirits that supports, encourages
and enhances.
Also greeting you is the welcoming warmth of Lisa Dunn, whose gentle eyes
divulge a truly giving soul. Despite the obvious difficulties of owning and working in
a restaurant, Lisa displays all the -nesses one hopes for when entering a restaurant:
friendliness, attentiveness, happiness, kindness, effectiveness.
Service here, on the Friday night we dined, was relaxed, perfectly timed, attuned
to our rhythm, and professional without being formal. Waitperson Deidre (who for
some reason wanted to be called Debbie) engagingly negotiated the territory
between fun, friendly, down-home service and overblown, cloying
pseudo-service, with nary a speck of obsequiousness. She was delightful.
Most Noble Foods
The food, from a menu showcasing surprising diversity, propelled the enjoyment
forward. From an imaginative list of appetizers--including an antipasto-like platter,
scampi prawns and roasted pepper soup, among others--we chose the spicy
stuffed pasilla pepper. When I noticed that item, I immediately nudged Sweet
Thing to show her. Her excitement matched mine at this most gorgeous concept.
Stuffed pasillas--filled here with cheese, nuts and dates, and served with creamy
polenta, which I will go into further later--are a labor-intensive act of love.
The pasilla, which was shiny and ripe, expressed its mildly fiery spirit while the
stuffing and the dreamy creamy polenta fanned and finessed its aspirations of fury.
It was wonderful. Cooled by Pajaro Street Grill's last bottle of 1998 Scheid
Vineyards Sauvignon Blanc (which also might have been the last bottle of that
particular wine in existence), we knew we were on our way to a special evening.
Sweet Thing and I decided to share a Caesar salad and were offered the option of
adding anchovies, chicken or shrimp. We had the anchovies, which were plump
and yummy. The salad was crunchy and fresh and the dressing superb, garlicky
and rich. I could have done with less grated cheese and croutons made from other
bread (I would suggest something from the San Juan Bautista Bakery). But we
were riding in first class.
We decided to chill a bit, giving the first wave of comfort and joy time to subside.
Tempting was the homemade ravioli stuffed with ricotta and olive tapenade in a
sweet pepper cream that we could have ordered as an intermezzo, but both of us
knew we would be too stuffed to carry on and we were excited about the entrée
choices to come. Next time I'll bring help.
We got the bronzed salmon from the "Seafood" section of the menu and the
semi-boneless duck from the "Grilled and Roasted" column. The salmon--dusted
with brown sugar and Cajun spices--was cooked properly, judiciously seasoned
and very tasty. Sweet Thing hoovered that, along with the mashed potatoes and
tomato cucumber salsa.
My duck--slowly rotisseried and glazed with orange marmalade--was moist, tender
and delicious. It also carried along a portion of the creamy polenta, which reminded
me of when I was a kid and my grandmother would make a similar version
delicately prepared with butter and a little egg and whatever folks who know what
they're doing add.
A 1998 Chateauneuf du Pape from the Clos St. Michel vineyard provided perfect
punctuation to our experience. A couple of the Pajaro Street Grill folks hadn't tasted
it yet, so it was fun sharing with them. We also had the Sundae Salud, a variation of
an ice cream sundae that includes black Muscat wine and is presented in a large
cappuccino cup. Although we couldn't really eat any more we devoured it.
The cost for our three hours of enjoyment was more than fair--one of the checks I
really appreciate paying. The ride home beneath a magnificent, starry Monterey
sky completed the stellar experience.