New Jersey Restaurant Review
The Ryland Inn
(Restaurant Now Closed)
Route 22 West
Whitehouse, Hunterdon County, New Jersey
(908) 534-4011
By The Artful Diner
Special to New Jersey Online
3/26/01
Friedrich Nietzsche once remarked that there are no facts, only interpretations. Intimating, of course, that in the events of history -- whether global or personal, great or small -- we have a tendency to put our own unique hermeneutical gloss on things. And while this form of philosophical abstraction may not be your cup of tea, there are certain areas of life in which it appears to be valid in a practical sense as well. Restaurant criticism, for instance... where one man's meat is, metaphorically speaking, another man's poison.
And while all of this may seem irrelevant to the matter in hand, it is a necessary prolegomenon to my critique of The Ryland Inn. Indeed, since this celebrated eatery has been thoroughly anatomized, scrutinized, homogenized and pasteurized by just about every hired belly within reasonable commuting distance -- and especially positive assessments have been forthcoming of late -- I feel it completely appropriate to add my own meanderings to the already substantial critical corpus...
We are a party of seven with reservations for 6:30 p.m. on a Saturday evening; but we arrive at 6:00 p.m., eager to share conversation and cocktails in the cozy bar/lounge. This is an easy mix, three couples and a single, the women having worked together at the same corporation, the men sharing the common interests of good food, fine wines & beers and captivating foreign ports-of-call.
However, we have barely settled in when we are bidden pleasantly but firmly to table. And we learn a valuable lesson that is to be reinforced on numerous occasions during our nearly five-hour stay: The purpose of our visit is neither the enjoyment of each other's company nor an appreciation of the delightfully rustic surroundings -- it is homage. We have been summoned to worship before the culinary altar. Cuisine is the omnipotent deity... and we have been granted access to the Holy of Holies.
Am I being somewhat facetious? Undoubtedly. And yet... there are decidedly religious overtones at work here. From our waiter's somber countenance and hushed funereal tones, to the various and sundry ministrations by assorted minor functionaries... this is more than dining, it is ritual. In point of fact, there is hardly a moment when we are not in the company of our waiter or one of his minions -- pouring water, replenishing bread, replacing utensils, explicating in complete detail this bit of gastronomic esoterica, that enological intimacy. The service, once considered off-hand, has now elevated obsequiousness to a fine art.
Be that as it may, we have come in joyful anticipation of indulging ourselves in the extraordinary cuisine; and so the entire table casts its lot with
chef/proprietor Craig Shelton's magnum opus, the ten-course gourmand tasting menu ($110.00 per person WITHOUT wine). Five members of our party, my wife and I included, also opt for a wine pairing with each course at an additional $80.00 per person. (It should be noted that a second wine pairing possibility will set you back $150.00 per person.) Welcome to the high-rent district... as if you hadn't noticed.
We begin with a disappointing carpaccio of shrimp. You would think that Mr. Shelton would make a concerted effort to capture your imagination -- and your taste buds -- right out of the box, but this dish simply has nothing to offer. It is bland to both the eye and the palate and quite copious -- rather surprising, as there are yet nine courses waiting in the wings.
The steamed turbot is infinitely better, kissed by a transporting black truffle vinaigrette and surrounded by a delicate beet gastrique. And yet the fish itself arrives at table lukewarm and the stylish embellishment of Lilliputian spears of white asparagus exhibit a straw-like texture that renders them inedible.
The miniature Maine lobster tail is marvelously sweet and succulent and perfectly capable of standing on its own significant merit with a minimum of embroidery. But when this tiny island is enveloped in a sea of chestnut soup awash with morsels of chorizo, the result is entirely too opulent. One or two bites and I'm ready to move on.
These may seem like relatively minor grievances... But, at these lethal tariffs, little things add up at the drop of a fork. In point of fact, the entire evening seems to be one "little thing" after another. Unprecedented promises made... but never quite kept. Like a frustrated opera singer, Mr. Shelton dances all around the notes but never quite makes a direct hit.
The most enjoyable presentation of the evening is the roasted single rack of lamb on a delectable bed of potato purée. It is, quite literally, a mouth-watering delight. The Scottish roe venison with Swiss chard, cauliflower and clove comes in a close second, but the mallard duck accompanied by white bean purée is overcooked and chewy. Even the cheese course, usually a most civilized interlude, is somewhat ill-conceived. Blue cheese and pears are a marriage made in heaven, but a hefty spike of almond in the pear tart all but cancels out the earthy Bleu de Termignon.
You anticipate that dessert will be an angelic, ethereal affair, exquisitely light yet refreshingly redolent of flawless flavors that tantalize the tongue... But the "Venezuela Hacienda Conception" chocolate tart completely misses the mark. Indeed, after munching your way through nine courses, its heavy-handed, "death by chocolate" approach is just too much to bear. By this time, the palate has slipped off into a dreamless sleep; not even the assortment of petits fours can rouse it back to consciousness.
But there is yet another important issue to be resolved on this particular evening: Namely, the $80.00 per person customized wine pairing, which leaves a great deal to be desired. Several of the red wines are quite rough around the edges and, while obviously chosen so as not to upstage the cuisine, they are no better than ordinary... And a few of the selections are several notches below that. The 1998 Sauternes, Chateau Petit Halet, tasted remarkably like lighter fluid, and the Pedro Ximenez Sherry, "San Emilio," Lustau, which put in a guest appearance with the aforementioned chocolate tart, exhibited both the taste and the rather unpleasant viscosity of prune juice. With the exception of a very nice 1998 Hartford Chardonnay from the Sonoma Valley, none of these wines would, in my estimation, be worth seeking out. Of course, you may always have a go at the second set of wine pairings... if you're willing to shell out $150.00 per person for the privilege.
But the saga continues... Several weeks later, my wife and I return to dine a deux. We are seated in one of the intimate upstairs dining rooms set for a mere twenty-six patrons. And here we find the ambiance decidedly more romantic and the service delightfully personable and far less pretentious than we had encountered during our previous visit.
Thus encouraged, we order the traditional and vegetarian tasting menus, respectively (each comprised of eight courses priced at $90.00 per person WITHOUT wine). And our meals begin in a most auspicious fashion. The diver scallops with upland cress, steamed chanterelles and a divine curry coconut milk are seared to absolute perfection. And the loup de mer served on a seabed of cabbage and garnished with pommes salardaise and a truffle yogurt sorbet is truly an inspired interplay of flavors.
On the vegetarian side, the hot vichyssoise topped with cool potato foam and fried shallots is a velvety revelation, the leek terrine with orange-poppy seed gastrique a study in delicate restraint, and the vegetarian pad Thai with sweet radish and marinated tofu an exotic commingling of subtle spices and palate-pleasing textures.
To this point, all courses have been exquistely prepared and presented. Have I, perhaps, misinterpreted the previous culinary encounter, misunderstood the talents of an obviously brilliant chef, or simply been suffering the debilitating effects of some strange peristaltic indisposition that clouded my initial judgment? It would seem so...
But then... The warm lobster tart is not warm at all -- it is downright cool, in fact -- the taste of its succulent meat drowned beneath an all-too-ponderous potpie-like saffron sauce replete with crunchy underdone peas.
And thus begins the apparently inexorable descent from the sublime to the stereotypical. The veal medallion is utterly tasteless beneath its root vegetable crust... The risotto with black truffle is long on garlic and short on flavor, and the pungent Parmesan tuile doesn't improve matters significantly... The steak au poive, thickly sliced and served with Chinese long beans, pommes frites and a mundane green peppercorn sauce, is a heavy-handed affair that is strangely lacking in flavor... Its vegetarian counterpart, the steak au poive of portobello, is slightly on the gritty side.
Once again, denouements fall short. The best of the lot is the confit apple tart. The embellishment of vanilla ice cream is absolutely wonderful, but its sibling, a potent basil sorbet, is so strong that it mows down all else in its path. And after munching your way through seven courses, the decadently assertive chocolate soufflé coulant (with a flowing liquid center) successfully delivers the coup de grace to your already narcoleptic palate.
In our two sojourns to The Ryland Inn, my wife and I parted company with over $800.00. And, no matter how you slice and dice the numbers, that is a SUBSTANTIAL dent in one's pocketbook. No restaurant is perfect... However, given the extraordinary hype -- and the extraordinary prices -- you expect an incomparable dining experience... yet it is not forthcoming. The food is good; at times, it can be very, very good. But I have tasted infinitely better... and for infinitely less. And, despite the fact that Mr. Shelton is well known for his relentless pursuit of the culinary cutting edge, a strange sense of lethargy seems to haunt many of his self-conscious presentations. They lack that clear, unencumbered finesse and vitality that one would expect to encounter at such a highly touted establishment.
At what juncture does a chef's innovative cuisine become a mere parody of its former self, or his creativity a kind of weary cliché? At what point does a restaurant cease its devotion to the knowledgeable, sophisticated diner and begin catering to the questionable tastes of the well-heeled gastronomic tourist trade? When does the pursuit of the of the ultimate epicurean adventure become a fruitless exercise in conspicuous consumption? Given our most recent visits to The Ryland Inn, these are not questions without a profound degree of relevance.
Cuisine: Regional/New French
Hours: Lunch: Tues - Fri, 11:30 a.m. - 2:00 p.m.; Dinner: Tues - Thurs, 5:30 p.m. - 8:30 p.m.; Fri & Sat, 5:30 p.m. - 9:00 p.m.; Sun, 5:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m.; CLOSED MONDAY
Credit Cards: All major
Attire: Jackets required; ties recommended
Smoking: Smoking is permitted in the lounge and cigar-and-brandy room only.
Reservations: Recommended; necessary on weekends
Parking: Valet
Alcohol: License; extensive wine list
Price: Traditional and Vegetarian Tasting Menus: $90.00 per person; Wine Pairing #1, $70.00 per person; Wine Pairing #2, $140.00 per person; Gourmand Tasting Menu: $110.00 per person; Wine Pairing #1, $80.00 per person; Wine Pairing #2, $150.00 per person; Three-Course Prix-Fixe: $75.00 per person; Entrée prices at lunch range between $14.00 - $19.00, with a tasting menu priced at $48.00 per person
Handicapped Accessible: Restrooms are not accessible.
