Then the tip came over the transom about a hot new restaurant in Fruitland, population 3,773, I was skeptical that such a tiny town on the “lower, slower Shore” could be the home of haute cuisine. Especially when it’s right next to Adam’s Ribs and a stone’s throw away from Wal-Mart and a dollar store. I wondered if the restaurant’s owner Jim Hughes knew what he was doing…
Thankfully, it appears that he does. A visit here is like a pilgrimage to a shrine of good taste—and good tastes. It’s an unlikely looking “shrine,” a squat storefront distinguished only by an oval frosted glass insert in a wooden door. But inside is a serene space dressed in a soft salmon, with grasscloth walls. The look is simple but elegant, with soft music to reinforce the romantic mood. The restaurant seats fifty diners at well-spaced tables dressed in white linen cloths, sparkling wine goblets, and white Villeroy & Boch and Limoges china in a swirl pattern with matching flatware. Even the restrooms are elegant, luxuriously sheathed in pink Italian marble with ebony granite sinks and equipped with nice touches like hairspray, Chanel perfume, and scented lotions.
At age fifty, Hughes has already had a lifetime of achievements in the culinary arena. A member of the first graduating class at the College of Culinary Arts at Johnson & Wales University in Rhode Island, he was hired by the Marriott Corporation, quickly rising through the ranks and serving as executive chef at luxury resorts in locations including Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and Palm Springs.
He cooked and studied under Roger Vergé at the restaurateur’s three-star Le Moulin de Mougins in Cannes. In 1994, he was recruited to establish the culinary arts program at the University of Maryland Eastern Shore’s School of Hotel and Rest-aurant Management. “I fell in love with the area,” says Hughes, a native of Princeton, N.J. “But the yen to get back in the kitchen got the best of me, and I decided to stay on the Shore and open my first restaurant.”
On February 13, 2004, he took the plunge, opening Restaurant 213 and hiring Chuck Davis, a talented graduate of the culinary program at University of Southern Maine, as his chef de cuisine. Word of this out-of-the-way Eden has spread quickly. John Trader, proprietor of the upscale Galaxy in Ocean City, brought his executive chef in for dinner one night. “One of the best meals I’ve ever had—everything was right on,” said Trader as he departed into the night.
A staff nattily attired in traditional black pants, burgundy shirts, and black bow ties seems intent on making guests feel welcome and pampered.
A demitasse cup of a rich, clear duck consommé is brought to the table for sipping as patrons luxuriate—and salivate—over the evocative selections on the bill of fare and the selection of sixty well-chosen bottles on the wine list. We enjoyed the broth while nibbling on rustic rosemary olive bread; a glass of crisply fragrant Blind River Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand and the romantic ambience reminiscent of a New York or Washington, D.C., establishment started our dinner off in fine fashion.
Restaurant 213’s menu changes every three months; Hughes eschews daily specials, taking a page from Vergé’s book, whose restaurants follow the same pattern. There is a tempting variety of first and main courses, appropriately priced to reflect their quality. Don’t be afraid to ask your server or the very helpful maitre d’ to explain the somewhat sophisticated menu. And don’t be intimidated by the multiple wine goblets standing sentry at each place. “What’s with all these wine glasses?” we overheard a fellow diner remark. “All I want is a beer.” He got it, and happily went back to deciding what to eat with one of their nine imported brews.
For starters, we couldn’t pass up Oysters 213, the traditional Oyster Rockefeller recipe featuring dill—not spinach—and aromatic greens like kale, celery, and beet tops bathed in a cream sauce that coats each oyster in its shell, prettily presented on a platter of rock salt. It was so good that we wished the shells themselves were edible.
Another celestial combination was an appetizer called Lobster Marche, Maine lobster medallions surrounded by grilled artichoke hearts and blood oranges on a tomato concassé, napped with a mushroom cream sauce and served warm. It was a heart-stopper (in a good way), as was a curried cream of carrot soup with a hint of cumin, served with miniature garlic croutons and a sprightly garnish of tender stem-on baby carrots.
Our main courses continued the upward spiral, together with a growing conviction that we were in the right place at the right time with the right chef. Grilled Muscovy duck arrived medium rare, the slices laced with a fruity pear-raspberry sauce. A pillow of full-flavored mushroom risotto topped with razor-thin eggplant slices encasing shredded scallions and roasted red peppers completed the elegant high-rise presentation and provided a veritable symphony of contrasting yet compatible flavors.
Ever since Da Mimmo’s in Baltimore’s Little Italy memorialized the mammoth veal chop, the dish has become a staple on Maryland’s fine dining menus. Restaurant 213 does it justice. Chef Hughes prepares a hefty, center-cut chop in a variety of styles. On the evening we visited, the sauce was a classic French cream-butter studded with morel mushrooms.
While the sauce was delicious, its richness nearly overpowered the delicate flavor of the meat and the potato-cream-cheese galette nestled to one side. In a subsequent conversation with the chef, he confided he favored a simpler preparation, sans sauce, inspired by his own Northern Italian heritage.
Even if you have to take home part of your main course, leave some room for Restaurant 213’s exceptionally exquisite desserts. Hughes knows how to sculpt an almond praline pastry basket to resemble an edible work of art, while contrasting its crispness with a light raspberry mousse and a luxurious accent of crème fraîche. He pulls out all the stops with a signature dessert called Cocoa Loco, a stunning presentation featuring a handmade dark chocolate cup filled with mocha mousse, served with heavenly vanilla bean ice cream and a wee pitcher of cappuccino sauce. Truly, to die for.
We spent a blissful two hours at this remarkable restaurant, lingering over Columbian Supremo coffee and admiring the gorgeous dishes served at a nearby table—among them the chef’s favorite, Niman Ranch lamb loin with eggplant flan, and the pan-seared Alaskan salmon on a black bean sauce.
As a sweet memory, servers present departing diners with an attractive gift bag containing fruit scones and a printed message that says, “After an evening of fine dining, take this home and enjoy our 213 breakfast scones.” Restaurant 213 is worth remembering—whether to celebrate a special occasion or, more likely, to make it one.
Mary Lou Baker has been a food and travel writer for more than twenty years.
Masthead Photo by