As you climb the stairs to the second floor on the west side of the Sundial, you’re not prepared to see a school of fish on ice. But there they are. Just inside Ingrid and chef Fabrizio Aielli’s splendid Sea Salt (a cousin to their noted Naples flagship that bears the same name), you come face-to-gill with the day’s catch.
A score of fish, with clear eyes attesting to their freshness, immediately sets the tone. The red snapper and branzini shine, but you’ve seen them before. It’s the 5-foot-long wahoo that first arrests the eye. Then there’s the enormous round Hawaiian moonfish the size of a garbage can lid. It’s hard to look away. Unless you’re a scuba aficionado, you probably haven’t been able to get up close and personal with a fish this big.
When you avert your glance, there’s an 80-foot-long raw bar piled high with every oyster imaginable, a 20-foot-tall glass wine tower and an inventory of 130 different salts from around the world.
When your party is seated, a basket of fresh, hot bread arrives. A server then pours the house EVOO (extra virgin olive oil) for you to top with a sprinkling of gourmet salt. A small white porcelain trough (with a tiny wooden spoon) displays three specialty salts that bear no resemblance to what effortlessly pours from the Morton’s box. First, there’s a special type of Indian mineral salt, kala namak (black salt). It’s finely textured and pinkish grey, rather than black, and tastes of hard-boiled egg yolks on the palate. What follows is alaea, a coarse unprocessed Hawaiian sea salt harvested with reddish clay that enriches the salt with iron oxide. Lastly, there’s a medium-grind Himalayan pink salt. These are finishing salts, adding a savory pop and some texture to the oil (or the fish yet to come).
My crowd can’t resist the white truffle fries with bite-size dots of foie gras and ribbons of Parmesan — this is how fries should be. While everyone is focused elsewhere sipping craft cocktails, I surreptitiously sneak as many of the nuggets as I can (don’t tell).
Sea Salt has all manner of offerings on the oyster and raw bar menu, with a spectrum of 35-plus oysters, both fresh and baked, along with caviar, crudo and tartare. I can’t resist the classic oysters Rockefeller, which adds crab and sweet Tomaccio raisin tomatoes to the traditional spinach with Pernod. The trio is delicious, and I almost convert an oyster-adverse tablemate, who makes a valiant effort.
Kona kampachi tartare in an old-school ring mold tower is a study in balance. The diced avocado, red onion, capers and sweet chili truffle sauce add texture and zing without overwhelming the delectable fish. Chef Aielli has clearly drilled this lesson into the entire brigade, trained to understand fish is the star. Each item we taste is a complex mix of textures and flavors, but balance rules the day, and whatever the combos, they all make the fish shine. Every element plays its part to heighten the dish without overwhelming the seafood.
Beautiful thick, shiny red slices of seared tuna support a tranche of sautéed foie gras with some wasabi-pea heat, a touch of sweetness from seaweed salad, the fresh bite of pickled ginger, and an orange-nectar glaze for spice. The result is a multilayered delight.
The same is true for the other superb entrees that enchant my table: meaty grilled swordfish with tiny lobster ravioli, or a swirl of perfect al dente linguine tossed with colossal crab and broccolini in white wine garlic sauce alongside roasted tomatoes. If you insist on eating turf instead of surf (which would be a shame given the glorious fish), they offer a splendid fettuccine bathed in luxurious Wagyu beef ragú Bolognese with fresh Parmesan, as well as three custom-cut prime beef options.
The desserts are made with equal care. It’s a hard choice, but we settle on the three-chocolate “brittle,” which drizzles warm white, milk and dark chocolate into liquid nitrogen for a modernist cuisine creation served with gelato made with Fernet-Branca Menta, an Italian herbal liqueur with a touch of mint. It’s delightful. Crème brûlée with dates and Kahlúa is picture perfect in a martini glass. The custard is lush and eggy, and the crackling sugar topping could not be improved.
I share a long history in our nation’s capital with chef Aielli, having spent blissful evenings wallowing in his sublime cooking in D.C. Now, I am happy we both chose to escape the snow, and that his particular brand of culinary joy is again at my disposal.
This article appears in Mar 19-25, 2015.