Brique is not the same restaurant it was when it opened in June 2010. Though the dining room still boasts the same historic brick wall and large, unnecessary sign featuring the restaurant’s logo, the bar has grown from a snug five feet in a corner near the kitchen to 20 feet and extends into the dining room. Chef William Dolan has been replaced by brique’s co-owner Billy Fairbanks. And while brique retains its Gallic moniker (the French word for “brick”) and stylized lowercased name, the fancy French meals (with the matching fancy prices) have disappeared in favor of casual, Maryland-style bar fare.
The changes, says brique’s other co-owner, Thomas Inzer, resulted from feedback from the folks of Centreville who saw the restaurant as too upscale for their community. And while some may mourn the demise of fine dining in Centreville, the re-vamping of brique has proven to be a good move, one that has resulted in perhaps a less-interesting menu, but a much more consistently executed one, with reasonable prices to boot.
For instance, brique now offers a plate of fried oysters and fries rather than baked oysters with goat cheese as an appetizer. There’s also classic bar fare like peel-and-eat shrimp and a rich crab dip, as well as a heaping plate of crispy pork dumplings in a dipping sauce spiked with star anise.
Sandwiches, including hamburgers, pulled pork, even a gourmet hot dog on a pretzel bun, are served at both lunch and dinner, and the number of entrees has more than doubled and doesn’t stray far from classic comfort food. Now fish and chips share the menu with steak au poivre, a crab cake platter, and a very satisfying steak and Guinness pie. Topped with a cloud of mashed potatoes, the stew benefits from an aromatic gravy laced with celery, carrots, and onions.
If the evening we dined is any indication, the catch of the day lets the kitchen play more widely with flavors, so that a fillet of grouper is pan-seared to a light crispness, sprinkled with a confetti of corn, and finished with a light sauce with a tempered hint of coconut milk. It is bright and clean tasting, and I bet it would sell well as a regular item.
Brique retains a few holdovers from the previous menu, like the excellent Caesar salad, though the latter has lost its anchovies and fried cheese nibs in exchange for house-made white and pumpernickel croutons. Neither has brique lost its generous spirit, whether it be the size of the wines by the glass or the portions of the meals, especially the hulking slices of house-made, candy-themed “pies”—Kahlua-spiked toffee pie(!)—which look more like thick wedges of fudge than pastry. There’s also the continued warmth and patience of the servers, who split plates of salad without being asked to and check in throughout the meal to see if they can be of service.
Inzer concedes that with its less distinctive menu, the new brique might not continue to pull in the rave reviews or clientele from the western shore. So be it. Centreville is clearly pleased because the new brique is just what every community needs: a bustling, noisy dining room of friends enjoying casual and well-made food and drink.
Food writer Mary K. Zajac eats all over the Bay.
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