April 2006
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Washington Street in Yountville is wine country’s version of Hollywood’s Walk of Fame, a short promenade flanked by vineyards and packed with celebrated restaurant names. Thomas Keller has twin billing here with the blockbuster French Laundry and its smaller, budget sequel Bouchon. Philippe Jeanty’s Bistro Jeanty still operates down the block to critical acclaim.
For a food snob strolling amid such star power, the sight of Piatti, which stood for many years on the southwestern stretch of Washington Street, could be disconcerting. A link in a high-end Italian restaurant chain, Piatti was better than the Olive Garden, but it no more belonged on this boulevard of giants than Steven Seagal’s footprints would belong in the concrete beside John Wayne’s.
Predictably, Piatti went dark, and late last fall Redd moved in. Redd is short for Richard Reddington, a richly skilled chef who appeared in a number of major productions (including Masa’s, La Folie, and Auberge du Soleil) while waiting for a vehicle of his own. His patience paid off. Redd is worthy of the street it stands on. Like an A-list actor without an ego, Redd is polished but unpretentious, an impressive but very approachable restaurant, splashy enough to have drawing power but smart enough not to fall too in love with itself.
Whether it’s due to personal taste or simply a product of having paid his dues, Reddington seems to know that there’s not much to be gained by showing off on paper. His menu is understated almost to the point of duping diners into thinking that they’ve been there and done it all before. There is French influence, but no French fussiness. There are modern touches, but nothing postmodern or tongue-in-cheek (if you’re craving truffled Pop-Tarts, try Keller up the street). As a written document, what the menu does is reveal Reddington’s global interests—interests that range from Asia to Alsace, from Madrid to Napa—without sounding like anything more exotic than what we’ve come to know as California cuisine. Among the more modestly described dishes are butternut squash ravioli with winter vegetables and shaved parmesan; avocado and blood orange salad; and roasted chicken with white beans, Meyer lemon, and thyme.
Happily, restaurants are about eating, not reading, and what Reddington delivers far exceeds the simplicity of his brief descriptions. The chef serves risotto with sweet chunks of lobster, enriching its complexion with white truffle oil while leavening its flavors with lemon confit. His potato gnocchi, hearty in taste but evanescent in texture, float like low-lying clouds on an earthy ground cover of chanterelles.
Reddington can do delicate: his hamachi sashimi drapes debonairly over sticky rice, cucumber, and edamame, lightly topped with lime and ginger sauce. And he can do hearty: New York sirloin is a steakhouse dish dressed up with unparalleled class.
Every now and then, he wanders to the brink of the esoteric: monkfish saltimbocca with salsify ragout is wrapped in ribbons of prosciutto, a pairing so delicious you might find yourself wishing all fish
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