Restaurant Review: Good Catch

Greenville may be landlocked, but Rick Erwin’s newest restaurant brings us much closer to the sea and its bounty. No need to board a plane for the triangular island off the coast of Massachusetts—Nantucket Seafood Grill occupies a prime spot downtown near the recently opened Marriott Courtyard hotel.

The restaurant, swathed in dark-wood paneling and lit by wrought-iron light fixtures, possesses an old-world charm. The hostess shows us to our table via a wood-paneled hallway showcasing a glassed-in cellar where the restaurant’s well-chosen wine collection resides. We emerge in the main dining room, where tables fan out from a circular half-wall punctuated by square columns. In the center of this space, four plush demi-lune banquettes cozy up to each other. Our table is in one of the side rooms, which lack the character and buzz of the main space. Wanting to be more a part of the action, we request a table in the main room, and the hostess obliges.

Several large pots around the room bear arrangements of reedy grasses and cattails that bring to mind Nantucket’s sandy shores. Natural light pours into both sides of the room from large picture windows. A table by the north windows proffers a view of the Marriott’s pleasant outdoor courtyard, framed by a streaming water wall. A seat on the Broad Street side looks out at the neighboring Peace Center. For theater fans, the grill’s location makes it a natural for a pre-performance meal.

As our waiter explains, the day’s fresh catch tops the menu, and can be prepared to order (grilled, seared, broiled, or blackened) or in chef-designed specialties. Blue-crab hushpuppies and a cup of Nantucket clam chowder prove delectable starters. The hushpuppies are served in a paper-lined metal cone, a riff on the classic presentation of pommes frites in French bistros. Deep brown in color, these little balls of fried cornmeal are crispy outside and soft inside, flavored by shredded crab meat and studded with whole kernels of yellow corn. The only weak point is the nondescript tartar sauce that comes along for dipping. Served with a tiny bag of “oysterette” crackers, my clam chowder has a bisque-like texture—creamy but not too thick—full of tender clams and cubes of red potato. I attribute the peppery aftertaste to a touch of cayenne.

For an entrée, I settle on the Yukon River wild salmon—the first of the season, according to our waiter; my companion chooses the Parmesan-crusted North Carolina mountain trout. The waiter asks how we would like our fish prepared, but is quick to cite the chef’s recommended temperature—always a good bet.

Service is rushed, though we are not in a hurry. My aperitif is whisked away with prosecco still in the glass, and not so much as a query as to whether I am finished with it or not. Our main courses arrive mere minutes after the appetizer plates are cleared, even before our silverware is replaced.

The thick salmon filet is pristinely fresh, but a bit overcooked on the edges. In the center, however, the flesh blushes coral-pink and moist. A dab of bland rémoulade and a sprinkling of thin, crispy fried onions adorn the salmon, which sits atop a tasty summer succotash of Crowder peas, tomatoes, corn kernels, haricots vert, and a brunoise of carrots, with bits of smoky bacon. My companion’s fish is perfectly cooked; the ripe peach slices in the mild salsa that tops it contrast nicely with the trout’s crunchy Parmesan crust.

Dessert proves the most disappointing part of our meal. The blueberry and blackberry filling of the berry tart is overwhelmed by its thick oatmeal crust.
Clearly, it is simply prepared seafood that stands out here. Chef Wade McLamb has a line on some excellent fish and shellfish—with an eye on the sustainable seafood list—and the menu changes daily to reflect the optimal catches of the Atlantic and Pacific coasts. One visit, and you’ll be hooked.