If you pull up King William Wine Co.’s website, you could be excused for thinking it’s all about the vino.
The spot’s wine club, wine lockers and memberships all get headline status before any mention of food — with the exception of its bubbly and bacony brunch. Look carefully in the lower left corner of the site, though, and you’ll find a “View menu” button. What comes up is a bare-bones affair, mostly meant for online orders.
Which is both a little misleading, yet kinda true at the same time. The misleading part is that the menu does indeed have a measure of ambition, gilded though it may be by luxurious caviar service.
The kinda true part is that the wine deserves its emphasized focus.
Jill Arreguin, who co-owns King William Wine Co. with husband Juan, is in charge of the wine program, and her passion and knowledge are made manifest on a wine list that’s broad and deep enough to encompass both the zippy and minerally Etna Bianco that accompanied one evening’s dinner and the lush, white Burgundy served by the glass another night at the handsome, underlit bar.
Let’s introduce the cuisine component with the dish that accompanied that last wine: a “velvety, sherry-kissed” lobster bisque. Though an attentive waiter added drops of sherry, the texture was more grainy than velvety. Then there was that strange slice of untoasted baguette, apparently meant only as a raft for some sizzled, “sweet morsels from the sea.” A simple, small knob of poached lobster would have better bolstered the classic flavor of lobster shell embodied in the bisque.
In this amicable coupling, the Burgundy came out on top.
You can order pretty much anything from the menu at the bar, but if intent on branching out into such niceties as bread service, pâté trios and mustard trilogies, a seat in the intimate dining room is in order. Not only is there more room to spread out, it offers the best spot to appreciate the business’ darkly moody, chandelier-chic atmosphere.
I’d caution, though, that the rustic country loaf is nothing special given its $9 charge, and the accompanying butter was both too cold and its flavoring with orange and dill was odd. I’m not sure what the mustards are meant to be served with, but the selection of walnut, tarragon and stone-ground varieties is thoughtful and fun regardless, and the presentation’s stunning.
The trio of pâtés — not of the sturdy, sliced kind — is similarly attractive. The Alaskan salmon version is bright with lemon and dill, the mushroom merely woodsy, but the seductive foie gras truly is “silky” as described and only elevated by a drizzle of balsamic accented with warm spice.
Main dishes are priced from $28 to $64 and run the gamut from sage ravioli in brown butter and Basque suckling pig to beef osso buco and butter-poached lobster tail — not groundbreaking, but all good-sounding.
Only out of the two I sampled delivered on that promise.
Spoiler: it wasn’t the baked acorn squash stuffed with sage sausage, pecan and dried cranberry. Somehow, the squash itself was bland, and the stuffing needed something — even bread crumbs — to hold it all together.
But the coq au vin, a hearty Burgundian dish, may have over-delivered.
To begin with, it was a generous half chicken — easily enough to share. The meat was moist and fell effortlessly from the bone. The inimitable Julia Child’s rendition with its bacon, mushrooms and red wine may be even more winter-worthy, but the white wine used here, along with a tumble of fried Parisian potatoes, made the dish especially friendly with the menu’s three suggested wine pairings.
To be honest, all the sommelier-selected wines were a tad pricey, hence our pivot to the volcanic Etna white at a very reasonable $48. But the confidently financed should not hesitate to accept recommendations.
Mine for dessert is the almost-ethereal Saffron Espuma of Crema Catalana. This is really a crème brûlée by any other name, its torched crust sugary and brittle, its interior silky — that word again — and lightly hinting of saffron. It ended the evening on a high but subtle note.
Which brings up the following: despite feeling that the food — prepared in a “flameless” kitchen on induction burners — failed to inspire on some counts, I left King William Wine feeling that I had been well-treated by an exceptional staff, that the carefully curated space is appropriate to what the owners are trying to achieve, and that I would happily return for a modest glass of wine or cocktail at the bar.
Or perhaps even for the order-ahead and unabashedly extravagant whole suckling pig. Price not mentioned.
Sign Up for SA Current newsletters.
Follow us: Apple News | Google News | NewsBreak | Reddit | Instagram | Facebook | Twitter | Or sign up for our RSS Feed
