That’s a pretty salad,” says the white-cardiganed lady to her waiter.
“Unusual,” murmurs her navy-sweatered companion.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” exclaims the third and final member of their party (whose cardigan is lavender). “Not even in Europe!”
The server smiles, mumbles thanks, and turns away as I strain my neck to see this much-discussed salad.
It is a heart of romaine, large and ungainly, lying awkwardly across a small plate. “Pretty” it ain’t. The Cardigan Ladies grimace at me and roll their eyes, “This was not what we were expecting,” one of them volunteers, the waiter out of earshot, as she advises me not to order the Caesar.
After the ladies’ experiences, I hold my breath, wondering if I’m going to be disappointed in my dinner. Yet executive chef and managing partner Tom Pizzica’s menu, featuring what he calls “eclectic contemporary cuisine,” looks promising, and the welcome my husband, Kevin, and I received from Pizzica’s business partner and restaurant host, Joe Dolce, was extremely warm. My spirits are bolstered too, by the number of people dining out here even though this is a Thursday night; there are several tables filled in each of the restaurant’s three dining rooms.
In fact, the colonial-style rooms, with their wainscoting and intricately carved chairs, are downright stuffy compared to the menu. Our table is in one of two front rooms that look out over Chestertown’s High Street. The view of the street at twilight is charming, but the billiard-green carpet and upholstery on the heavy chairs coupled with the white walls makes the space feel more like a ladies’ tearoom than a hip restaurant.
In all fairness, though, the Imperial Hotel was built in 1903 and renovated in 1985, and, as we find out later that evening as we stroll into the adjoining room to take a peak at the new bar, Dolce and his partners are planning updates to the restaurant bit by bit. The bar is dark wood and still not quite complete (and this dining room suffers from the same green carpet treatment), but even the addition of a bar may be a step toward creating a more casual atmosphere. Dolce hopes it will make the hotel what he calls “a gathering place for locals and hotel guests.”
The stuffy green chairs are comfortable, however, and soon Kevin and I are considering tuna carpaccio and fresh oysters from the “Simply Raw” section of the menu and mulling over appetizers of corn soufflé and pan-seared foie gras as we sip aperitifs. As we ponder, three crab cake appetizers arrive for the Cardigan Ladies. The smell is heavenly, the rich fragrance of crab melding with the garlic-enhanced zing of pesto-laced pasta. My mouth waters as the ladies dig in.
Moments later, they are rhapsodizing to Dolce. No euphemisms for disappointment this time; these ladies are happy!
“These crab cakes are magnificent,” Lavender Cardigan enthuses.
“They’re not bread cakes,” White Cardigan emphasizes, “They’re crab cakes!”Turns out, there’s not even a crumb of filler in the cakes. Instead of bread, the lumps of crab are held together with scallop mousse, scallions, and a little seasoning, Dolce explains to the ladies. I must order them.
But first, Kevin suggests a plate of oysters, and who am I to say no to oysters? The Malpeques are petite but fresh and appropriately briny. They come with the classic mignonette sauce, actually a sauce “granita,” a suprising frozen version. While the taste is accurate—a tangy mixture of vinegar and shallots—the texture and temperature is a bit disconcerting. I know oysters are supposed to be eaten cold, but I’m not won over by the crunchy, frozen accompaniment.
Next come the crab cakes, which are heavenly, if a bit rich. The pasta that accompanies the cakes is almost even better (Is this heresy? If so, condemn me), and reminds me that pesto is not out-of-fashion if it is done well. Kevin, meanwhile, is digging into seared foie gras in a vanilla port reduction, garnished with fried, phyllo-covered peaches. The sweetness of the peaches combined with the savory of the foie gras is one of those magic combinations that makes you shake your head in wonder. We nibble and sample and wonder how in the world we will make room for the entrées we ordered.
When our main course arrives, the Cardigan Ladies, sipping coffee now, crane their heads to see what we’ve ordered.
“Seared halibut,” I inform them.
“Chorizo-stuffed quail with spaetzle,” Kevin adds.
Both entrées are winners. The halibut is nestled among baby pearl onions and a mix of wild mushrooms, and though the soy-based demiglace is a tad salty, the whole dish is refreshingly clean tasting, especially after the richness of the crab cakes. I think Kevin’s quail is slightly pinkish and undercooked (though he disagrees with me), but I eagerly scoop up forkfuls of crumbly chorizo and mustard-spiked spaetzle from his plate.
The Cardigan Ladies get up to leave as we settle down with coffee and a homemade apple tart and a poached pear—desserts that are as well-executed as the rest of the meal—and we make our goodbyes and wish them safe travel for their return home to New Jersey tomorrow.
I’ve heard folks say that at previous incarnations of the restaurant at the Imperial Hotel, the food was mediocre and expensive. The food is still pricey, but it’s delicious, and I really like the diverse menu offerings, and the fact that you can order heavy hors d’oeuvres and skip the entrée if you like. And Dolce, a former sommelier with the Ritz-Carlton in Naples, Florida, promises a soon-to-be-updated wine list with wine dinners and tastings planned for the future.
So stop by the old hotel for a drink and a crab cake next time you’re in Chestertown. Cardigans are optional.
Mary K. Zajac is a food writer living in Baltimore.
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