Marlin Darlin’ doesn’t take itself too seriously. That’s why I like it.
Little nautical touches reflect owner Frank Chivas’ (of Salt Rock Grill fame) commitment to a theme: spars and white vinyl deck chairs outside, lacquered wood decking and paneled walls inside. Waitstaff wear those white shirts with the flaps in the back.
And there’s more. On the left, a school of bronze fish sculptures surreally swims out of a wall; on the right is a multitude of sea creatures mounted willy-nilly, but artfully so. It’s as if sleek and modern Marlin Darlin’ is poking fun at the trophy-hanging decor of the typical seaside fish joint.
The playful attitude extends to the food.
At first glance, Marlin Darlin’s cuisine seems positively whimsical. For the first time in a long while, I have to ask what the hell a menu description means. French onion soup dumplings ($7.20)? They are doughy little balls infused with onion and herbs and topped with cheese — clever cuisine, a classic re-imagined without the fussy pretensions of chef-scientists or uptight culinarians. In execution, the dumplings are more fun than tasty, but still worth a nosh.
Same with corn dogs ($6.50), where the dog is a tiny cylinder of crabby mixture molded to a stick, coated in thick batter and deep-fried a golden brown. It’s not a great dish if you’re looking for a crab cake because the rich, sweet dough overpowers the meager filling. Some could even say that this is an unsuccessful culinary experiment. Those people are filled with hate. This “dog” is fun, different and covered in fried dough. What’s not to like?
It’s not all fun and games. There are also typical and straightforward flatbread pizzas ($9-11) with a crackling crust; wonderfully uniform homemade potato chips fried a deep brown ($4.90) and the tataki tuna ($8.90), calamari ($7.20) and carpaccio ($10.50) you can find everywhere.
Sometimes, Marlin Darlin’s whimsy shows up in presentation, like the individual servings of ceviche and fish “tartare” presented in simple spoons for $1.90. Want more? They’ll get you a bigger spoon ($7.50). The fish is fresh and the fixins — lime and onion and cilantro — are a bit more subdued than I’d like, but that shortcoming is mitigated by my amusement.
It’s a lesson for restaurateurs: Surprise and entertain your diners, and they’ll cut you a break.
Somehow, though, what seems playful with starters fades to the background in Marlin Darlin’s rather mundane entrees. Rum-raisin sauce or vanilla-rum butter is fine, but not when the mahi ($15.90) or snapper ($18.90) it accompanies is nigh tasteless and the smallest whiff of that exceedingly sweet juice overwhelms the pale fish. In fact, all the main dishes that are born of the sea seem to be muted, tired or dominated by other ingredients, especially when compared to that joyous first course.
Whole fried yellowtail snapper ($22.90) is coated in a thick crust of under-seasoned batter that tastes like a flour blanket for fish that already suffers from flavor deficiency. A liberal dollop of fruit salsa can’t rescue this crusty mess. On the other end of the seasoning scale are scallops ($16.90) liberally doused in a pungent mix of spices, each bite of beautiful translucent flesh overpowered by salt and cumin.
Even the faddish hanger steak ($14.90) is oddly understated. This cut of meat can be livery and strong, which means it pairs well with hearty and powerful seasoning. But not here. At Marlin Darlin’ the meat is essentially unadorned, with nothing to temper the rough beefiness of the cut.
There are a few fun touches left in Marlin Darlin’s repertoire: A side of nutty roasted garlic and spicy roasted cauliflower ($4.90) blended smooth is an unusual treat, as is decadent lobster mac and cheese ($4.90). The mac is made by dousing pasta in Marlin Darlin’s decent lobster bisque and adding a little melted cheese, so you may not want to bother with both that and the soup.
Wine is a no-nonsense affair, all 16 reds and 16 whites available by the bottle or by 6- or 3-ounce pours. By the bottle, prices are set at $10 increments, from $20-$50, with four whites and four reds at each price point. The wine itself? Largely well-chosen, familiar bottles priced in line with most restaurants.
Not to say there aren’t surprises: The viscous floral bouquet of the Hirsch Gruner Veltliner ($30) from Austria or the lean and bright Dr. Zenzen Pinot Noir ($40) from Germany come to mind, and there is a reserve list for anyone who wants to spend serious money.
Like beer? Marlin Darlin’s selections are much better than most fine dining spots, with boating-themed drafts — Harpoon, anyone? — and about a dozen decent microbrews to augment the usual suspects.
Marlin Darlin’ doesn’t serve serious cuisine, which is sometimes a blessing and sometimes a curse. At its best, the food is fun and tasty and different, just the thing to remove the bad taste of conformity and repetition from your mouth. That goes a long way toward excusing the more mundane and typical fare on the rest of the menu.
Brian Ries is a former restaurant general manager with an advanced diploma from the Court of Master Sommeliers. Creative Loafing food critics dine anonymously, and the paper pays for the meals. Restaurants chosen for review are not related to advertising.
This article appears in Feb 7-13, 2007.
