Fish Story

We might have been tempted by a shellfish platter less grand than the $90 assortment (lobster, crab, oysters, shrimp, stone crab claws, scallop ceviche), which is the only one on offer, or raw oysters ($2.75 each), but we gravitate to more complicated dishes. True-flavored fresh sweetpea soup is one of three ($9 each) under the disconcertingly jokey heading of Lovin' Spoonfuls. It's poured from a little pitcher onto a knot of smoked ham slivers, and is enhanced with crème fraîche and mint oil. Two beautiful silvery whole Monterey sardines ($11) are lightly grilled and crisscrossed atop fried garbanzo beans, with only a suspicion of lemony bagna cauda sauce. Their category, Salads and Such, also contains alluring dishes such as fried freshwater smelts with fingerling potato salad, and local halibut with foie gras, pea tendrils, and lobster essence. My favorite dish of the starters is an invention of chef Parke Ulrich, veteran of many years at Farallon. It's two fat chunks of bone marrow, marinated in balsamic vinegar and thyme, topped with an extravagance of Dungeness crab lumps, glazed with truffle sauce. The dark, fatty, glistening marrow and the gleaming-white silkiness of the crab play against each other, both on the fork and in the mouth. Chosen from a list of ten ceviches and other starters (including Iberico ham, the only meaty one), the geoduck ceviche is a small heap of tiny frills of the chewy, briny clam dressed with Meyer lemon and chervil, surrounded by four thin slivers of artichoke heart. It seemed alarmingly minuscule.

The smallest portion of our main courses was a tiny square of seared Atlantic cod, perched atop fat butter beans scattered with parsley and infinitesimal dice of smoky and welcome chorizo. Next to it the dazzling signature dish, the rock cod "Colbert" ($29) ("our version of fish 'n' chips"), presented upright atop coleslaw, its back slit and filled with the rich butter, shallot, and tarragon sauce named after Louis XIV's minister, looked like a whale. It came with a silver, paper-lined cup full of glorious French fries and a container of aioli. An easy-to-eat plate of seared filets of sweet petrale sole ($28) came with deconstructed petits pois à la Française (a baby head of Little Gem lettuce on one side, peas on the other, and some smoked bacon chunks). The best part of the seared walleye pike construction ($29), which came with a chopped date relish and a swirl of tomato reduction, was the beautiful baby multicolored carrots — yellow, white, orange, purple, even green — upon which the square of firm, white-fleshed fish was laid. This is good food, but not dazzling enough for our expectations. We washed down our fish with a lovely Sancerre, chosen from an impressive 25-page list of cocktails, wines, and other liquid temptations.

We've long been fans of pastry chef Emily Lucchetti's work at Farallon, but we found the desserts here well executed but something of an afterthought: a nice gooey bittersweet chocolate pudding cake, a pleasant fresh strawberry tart, Meyer lemon crème brûlée ($9), and a pineapple caramel cake in which, alas, the fruit, caramel, and cake were not cooked together but introduced only on the plate.

The room had become increasingly, painfully noisy during the meal. As we left, we discovered the true appeal of the main dining room, besides its glamorous deep booths and striking aquariums: You could actually conduct a conversation here. True luxury! We realized we were in a noisy Siberia only at the very end of the evening.