By David Minsky
By Nicole Danna
By Sara Ventiera
By Candace West
By Emily Dabau
By Doug Fairall
By Candace West
By Laine Doss
There was, of course, the time a couple of years ago when one fed-up resident shot a peacock -- it was mating season -- that had set up its noisy love nest in a contractor's yard. And, oh yeah, that scuffle over Larry Flynt's new sex-toy warehouse on Sunrise Boulevard. But other than these exceptions, this is a haven for imported gift shops, coffeehouse bookstores, and New Age emporia, of hunks lolling around poolside at some guest house or other.
And the sedate, 20-year-old Victoria Park Restaurant is in perfect harmony with this peaceable kingdom. Patricia McDonnell and Gary Boylan bought this almost impossibly long-lived French-Caribbean restaurant five years ago. They fine-tuned the menu and polished up the interior, a transformation so gradual it was like watching a cygnet become a swan. Only lipstick traces of the old place remain -- a dish of grilled Jamaican pork, a plate of Provençal escargots. They've transformed Victoria Park from a ho-hum neighborhood pit stop into one of the best restaurants in the city. Their kitchen can take a simple and modest proposal -- say, a salad of grilled pear and arugula -- and move it into the realm of the unexpectedly sublime.
People love this place. It's commonly said that eating at VP is like dining in an old friend's living room -- a friend who happens to be an uncommon chef with a terrific wine cellar... who's thrilled to ferry you plates of mozzarella Napoleon -- a fresh cheese layered with prosciutto and tomato -- and dishes of veal Marsala redolent with wine and sautéed mushrooms. A friend who picks perfect glasses of wine to accompany these dishes. With more friends like these, we'd all lead charmed lives.
Frankly, not too many restaurateurs are content to keep only a modest 12 tables -- when Boylan and McDonnell left their East Coast corporate power jobs and turned to the restaurant biz, the husband and wife were evidently serious about downsizing. Boylan, a big man with a white ponytail and a Jersey accent, used to be a senior executive at Revlon. It's hard to imagine this unassuming soul making corporate heads roll -- maybe a couple of years in Paradise have mellowed him. He's still a perfectionist; he's told me that he works to remember his customers and their preferences -- sometimes by surreptitiously jotting down notes. As a host, he's gracious and steady. If those dozen tables are full, he'll gently turn you away with a reminder to make a reservation next time; but when we were last there, he managed to accommodate everybody, much to our relief.
You sink into the pillowy banquettes or put your elbows on the starched white tablecloths here and think about what it is, exactly, that makes Victoria Park so attractive. Painted chairs, a trompe l'oeil window, warm colors, a sloping metal roof. There are also a few knickknacks. Beyond all that, it's the contented buzz of contented customers lingering over their simple, fresh appetizers and salads.
McDonnell and her brother Michael staff the kitchen, putting out a menu as petite as the dining room: eight appetizers, ten entrées, and a handful of specials in a style they call "eclectic American." Food is prepared with apparent lack of fuss but maximum flavor. The salads are spectacular. My grilled pear salad ($9) -- a grilled half of the fruit that had been marinated in port wine -- was unexpectedly, delightfully savory, not sweet. Topped with a gratin of melted gorgonzola, it was surrounded by peppery arugula. And that scattered with more of the mild, delicately flavored gorgonzola and walnuts, finished with a balanced, nuanced port vinaigrette. I've had their warm mushroom salad too ($9), and it's the gustatory equivalent of putting on a mink coat -- soft, silky, and rich; you don't so much eat it as sink into it. Sautéed portabellos and shiitake mushrooms top mixed greens, tossed with a sherry-soy vinaigrette. We also shared a perfectly prepared plate of Provençal escargots ($9) with garlic and parsley butter, sopping up the lavish juices with VP's homemade rolls.
Lately, it appears they have a yen to stuff things. There's a veal filled with gorgonzola, spinach, and prosciutto ($20.50), a flounder with crab and shrimp ($22.50), and jumbo shrimp with crab and lobster ($23.50). The special when we visited was chicken breast stuffed with wild rice and apples ($21.95). Veal Marsala ($19.50) and steak Diane ($25.50) are prepared like the classics they are, served with creamy mashed potatoes and crisp green vegetables. A couple of pasta dishes, a rack of lamb ($23.50), a grilled duck breast ($20.50). That's it.
In the interval between courses, Boylan brought us two tiny dishes of lemon sorbet, a nice old custom I haven't seen since the early '60s. And a change of flatware. You're allowed to breathe, get your focus. I don't know if the American Empire really is in decline, but we should at least be glad that the intermission with sorbet hasn't been entirely lost. While I was rolling the ice around on my tongue, it occurred to me that you'd never have to contend with customers yakking on cell phones at Victoria Park either. Boylan and McDonnell have done something to imbue this place with an air of rare civility.