Restaurant Review - French evolution
Still Indigo after all these years
If restaurants had religious beliefs, Indigo would definitely be Buddhist.
The Shirley MacLaine of Atlanta eateries, Indigo Coastal Grill will no doubt be with us for the long haul. This Virginia-Highland survivor, originally opened in 1986 by Alix Kenagy and her then-husband and business partner Dan Carson, began its life as a legendarily popular seafood shack. After Kenagy and Carson divorced, Michael Tuohy (currently of Woodfire Grill fame) took over the kitchen and kept the old school vibe humming. Then came the age of Tom Catherall (who owns Prime and Goldfish, among others), in which sushi was introduced to the mix before seafood was scrapped altogether and Indigo was briefly reincarnated as Star Steaks and BBQ. But the Va-Hi neighbors gave the meaty menu and name change a big ol’ thumbs down, at which point Catherall threw in his kitchen towel and sold the space to owners who promptly restored the illustrious name and the fishy theme. (And that’s just the Reader’s Digest version of the story.)
Which brings us to the present. Though telltale star patterns on the banquette in the dining room remain from the Catherall years, they’ve been cleverly worked into a starfish (and other sea creature) motif. The look these days, with bold colors and designer angles, is less Key West casual and more South Beach citified.
But the coastal cuisine in question is now French instead of Floridian. Chef Jean-Marc Carelle (who co-owns the restaurant with Philippe Pochet) throws in hints of the tropical, but as the months go by, the food becomes ever more Gallic, which is where the kitchen achieves its greatest successes.
Crab fritters with kiwi dressing and citrus segments ($8.50) are a nod to the restaurant’s times of yore. The clumps of crabmeat are sweet and fresh — I only wish the julienned strips of mango strewn across the top were ripe. Same goes for slightly toothsome slices of avocado in an otherwise jaunty seafood salad that includes lightly smoked salmon, seared tuna and scallops ($8.50). Fried calamari ($6) claims to be accompanied with Key lime aioli on the menu, but I’m perfectly content with the marinara and tartar sauces that come unannounced in its stead.
If mussels ($9.50) steeped in a rich brew of tomato, white wine and cream move the menu in the direction of the Riviera, then escargot (six for $7, nine for $12) lands it squarely in the brasseries of Paris. The snails are properly unctuous, and garlicky enough to give Buffy, by her breath alone, a definitive edge over her bloodsucking nemeses.
Whole-grilled fish (either red snapper or Dover sole) filleted tableside ($25.50) brings a formal touch to the otherwise relaxed and personable service. Billed as the restaurant’s signature dish, the fish is grilled to a voluptuous texture and gently supported by lemon butter sauce, though I’m not crazy about the impersonal blob of mashed potatoes or the humdrum saute of vegetables with which it’s paired.
In fact, I have very few “oooh” and “ahhh” moments tasting main courses. The entrees seem safe and rather drowsy. A slightly rubbery tuna steak ($18.50) is teetering atop mashed potatoes. Yawn. Risotto under grilled grouper ($19) is bland from too much cream. Sigh. Perhaps Carelle is striving to serve accessible, dependable food in these unpredictable times, but at these prices I’d like to see more risk and dash.
On that note, let me point out that there’s also a separate menu of sorts called “Indigo Bistro” printed on the same page with the “Indigo Coastal Grill” choices. The portions are a bit smaller, but so are the prices. The grilled mahi-mahi in a dusky roasted red pepper sauce ($11.50) is a hidden gem I’d choose over most other fish dishes on either menu. Bistro entrees come a la carte, so order it with golden, blessedly un-mashed garlic potatoes and a savory tuft of spinach ($2.50 each for sides) to round out the meal.
This bistro section is also where the landlubbers will find their non-seafood options, including duck confit ($11.50), pork tournedos with mango chutney ($12.50) and roasted lamb shank ($14.50).
When the server asks if you’d like to see a dessert list, say yes. Buried among forgettable creme brûlee ($5.50) and tiramisu ($6) is an utterly magnificent Grand Marnier souffle ($6.50). Not too eggy and studded with bits of candied orange peel for tangy contrast, my only complaint is the insipid berry coulis with which it is served. This masterpiece deserves nothing less than a silky creme anglaise to pour into its crusty, voluminous top. I’d gladly pay extra for it.
On my first visit, I figured I should pay homage to Indigo’s days of old by ordering the Key lime pie ($7). I should have known better. The graham cracker shell ain’t bad, but the filling is more dairy mouth-feel than anything else. On my next visit, the server reveals that this old warhorse is being pulled from the menu. Good call.
I sense the conversion to a predominately French menu has been gradual because the owners fear locals may abandon the place when they no longer recognize the food being served. Alas, change is the only constant, my friends. The neighborly spirit of Indigo will be preserved much more effectively by offering dishes with which the chef is intimate, rather than cranking out substandard carbon copies of long-gone favorites.