Dinner the night before last was sooo good the humans made reservations to return to the scene, even before the feast was fully digested. I tried to convince them to wait, carefully consider the options, and then, perhaps, next year make another reservation. After all, second acts can be disappointing (think about that guy you were crazy about after your first date with him and then remember that after the second time, you really hoped the glass of water you doused him with had caused the ink to run in his address book – or, for the younger set, shorted out his iPhone). In a thoughtful attempt on my part to prevent disappointment, I threatened to boycott the meal if the humans didn’t promise to order completely different items than the last time, thinking that if I wasn’t paying the tariff, they might not simply try to recreate a previous moment of gustatory bliss. [Stop the presses – major admission follows] I was WRONG. If anything, tonight’s dinner was more blissful than Wednesday’s.
Dinner began with the 2009 Chehalem 3 Vineyards Pinot Noir from the Williamette Valley. Smooth, a touch tart and rounded with the taste of ripe gooseberries and a medium finish, it set the right tone for the food. We began by sharing a portion of lobster spring rolls and second of grilled artichoke hearts. The lobster spring rolls were exquisite – sweet tender lobster meat wrapped in gossamer wings of incredibly crispy light egg rolls skins and served with a mango puree for the our pleasure. The grilled artichoke heart was surrounded by kalamata olives that had been kissed ever so lightly with a flame and caressed by lightly grilled shreds of Bermuda onion, sweet red peppers and a delicate dusting of parmesan cheese. The sweet lobster spring roll and the piquant artichoke heart set upour tastebuds for the salad course – and the humans cheated. They ordered the grilled fig salad again – you remember, the one with the melted cheese, balsamic honey, toasted walnuts and butter lettuce bed? I nearly had to stab the human male in the wrist to get my fair share of this treasure, despite this being a repeat.
Tonight’s fish special was a fresh, local Rainbow Runner – a species apparently related to snapper. Served with an unbelievably delicious spinach risotto and lovely rapini, it proved firm, buttery, flavorful and was set off by a local onion relish. Milady was extremely pleased with her choice and devoured it with gusto. Following my experience with that exquisite sous vide short rib the other night, I chose the Pork Trio. Comprised of a grilled skirt, a sous vide belly, and a tenderloin of wild boar – served with a fig compote, a chimichurri, asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes, it was spectacular. Each of the three preps paired perfectly (say that three times fast) with the sauces. I am at a loss to tell you which of the three was best – but I am rapidly becoming enamored with sous vide cooking. The belly was at once crispy on the outside and flowingly tender on the inside, an unbeatable combination of textures with just the right saltiness throughout. The skirt was grilled to perfection – a touch chewy under a very light char. The wild boar tenderloin was moist, pink and black and hinted at the flavor of the forest with a little chestnut for depth. {SLURP!}
Our shared dessert was a perfectly sized crepe of apples browned in cinnamon, butter and sugar, with a dollop of homemade buttermilk ice cream. It is arguably the best apple, butter and cinnamon combination since apple pfankuchen at the Old Dutch Tavern on Maiden Lane in Manhattan.
There was one disappointment – Barracuda Grill is closed for private parties on Saturday and Sund, so we will have to wait until next year to eat here again.

My unerring sense of direction suggests that locating Tom Moore’s Tavern in Hamilton Parish is right, but given how long it took last night to get into the city of Hamilton, I suspect the Parish and the City are related but not co-terminus – sort of like one can dine in New York, but actually be in Hastings-on-Hudson, no matter that some of the recent colonists look and sound like Park Slopeans. Tom Moore was an Irish poet of some reputation (see the entry for Nea Tucker in Wikipedia for additional illumination) who arrived here in 1804 as a servant of the Crown. He wrote to, and about, the calabash tree located on the property of Walsingham House which became a tavern, and as Tom Moore’s Tavern is reputed to be the oldest eating establishment on the island. Lucky for us, practice makes perfect.

We arrived after a short (and inexpensive) cab ride from our hotel ready for a casually elegant dinner even if no celebrities were expected. The house was a private residence before becoming the Tavern and is divided into several pleasantly intimate dining rooms. Neither so small as to require friendship with fellow diners, nor so large as to require outsized staffing, these rooms are just right. The staff can properly attend to each table, even when the dinner crowd is at its peak – and they do, with just the right mixture of British reserve and Bermuda warmth.

Presented with the wine list, we found one of Milady’s favorite vintners represented – the Joseph Drouhin Santenay (a Burgundy, more specifically from Beaune) was listed as a 2007, but the proffered bottle was the 2006 vintage, which was reputedly a better year. The wine was refreshing, delicate with the taste of rhubarb and a lingering finish which I believe was tobacco and anise – but Milady believes that my palate suffered damage during my fire-breathing years from which it has yet to recover, and that I am wrong (again). Milady began her repast with Tom Moore’s rendition of fish chowder in order to have a standard of comparison with last night’s offering. This was a somewhat richer flavor, with a noticeably more subdued pepper quotient, and the presence of carrots in addition to celery, onions, and perhaps a touch of smokey-sweet paprika. It was finished at tableside with dark rum and sherry vinegar, the aromas and contrasting tastes filling our nostrils with wonderful little pheromes. This version is a bit sweeter and a touch more rummy than the Barracuda Grill’s. We really need to arrange a head-to-head tasting so that we can further refine our ability to discern the relative merits. True to form, I chose the three preparations of scallops to begin my feast. The first was a panko-crusted, perfectly cooked morsel; soft meat surrounding by a shell of tasty crispness. The second expertly seared and featuring the scallops deliciousness without unnecessary elaboration. The final preparation was as a ceviche – the tequila and lime juice marinade highlighting the fresh ocean-ness of it all.
Main courses were extraordinarily fresh grilled rockfish (Milady takes advantage of every opportunity to indulge her taste for local seafood) and the beef tenderloin. The tenderloin was flavorful and presented with three perfect spears of asparagus wrapped around the middle with a girdle of toasted parmesan cheese, and a bacon crusted cheddar and potato wedge. It was reminiscent of Potatoes Anna, with mandolin-thin sliced layers of potato, spices and butter, but the crust took it to another level. {Slurp.}
One of the house specialties is a whiskey pecan tart with homemade vanilla ice cream – an irresistible temptation which I didn’t even try to sublimate into something healthy. It was, fortunately, lighter than its Georgia cousin, but clearly shared a common anscestry. Dessert for Milady was a perfectly prepared and presented vanilla souffle with strawberry sauce. The vanilla perfumed the air and the strawberry coated the palate with just the right amount of syrupy sweetness, making it a wonderful finish to a wonderful meal.

Celebrity watching is a popular pastime for many humans, including Milady, so I should not have been surprised when she decided we should dine at the Barracuda Grill. Dragons can rarely be swayed in their dining preferences by mentioning that Mike Bloomberg or Michael Douglas is a regular client – though sometimes the mention of Catherine Zeta Jones has had an effect on the weaker-minded (predominantly male) individuals of the species. Still, Milady usually bases her dining decisions on rational preferences, like the food being served. Dining anywhere in Bermuda is an enlightening experience; one increases one’s culinary horizons while simultaneously lightening one’s wallet – or as Dragosaurus once put it, “The perceived light at the end of the meal may be headedness, purse poundage, or both.” The taxi fare alone is not a recommended contemplative item for the faint of heart, and taken with a good bottle of wine, the tariff for a first rate dinner in Hamilton makes the rent for Manhattan studio seem entirely reasonable. Now that I have made it clear that dinner was pricey, were the tastes encountered in this eatventure worth it?

We began most auspiciously with a Williamette Valley Pinot Noir (Eagle Creek 2011) that presented ripe strawberries, opened into succulent Bing cherries and finished with fresh spearmint. Given that everything arriving here (and that’s any wine) is expensive to ship and heavily taxed, it was a relative bargain – but more importantly, it was delicious. Our waitress was properly impressed by our choice, and her efforts to improve our experience were successful. Milady was torn between the fish chowder (a widely offered and highly competitive Bermudian favorite) and panko-encrusted shrimp as starters. Upon hearing that I would be having the tamarind-glazed and seared scallops, she recommended the shrimp to Milady with the chowder to share. I had ordered the grilled figs with melted feta and balsamic honey over butter lettuce as a salad, and in a brilliant move, our waitress served the chowder and grilled figs simultaneously. The peppery soup with onions, celery, potato and shreds of fish contrasted stunningly with the sweet figs, funky honey and soothing lettuce. {SLURP!} We feared momentarily that the shrimp and scallop dishes had been forgotten under a heating lamp in the kitchen, but they appeared as the chowder and figs disappeared. By rearranging the order, our waitress created two perfect courses from potentially unreconcilable, however delicious, sets of flavors. The mild crunchy shrimp heightening our appreciation of the piquant tamarind glaze on the briny scallops. Milady chose grilled local rockfish as her main dish, served with beautifully prepared bok choy knobs and sweet sticky rice, it was deceptively simple in presentation but sublimely complex as a whole. I chose the Beef Duo. A small charbroiled filet and sous vide short rib presented on a plate divided by a line of parsnip puree. The filet sat on a bed of pureed potato and was topped with a “yolk” of flash-fried bernaise sauce. Tasty and inventive, the only drawback was the filet was a tad overdone. The sous vide short rib sat on spinach done to perfection. The rib itself was a marvel of crunchy exterior with the tiniest hint of juicy fat peeking through the crust, and meltingly soft meat below. The pairing was so good I had a hard time deciding which meat to finish first – I wanted each set of flavors to sit on my tongue at the end of the main course.

Milady chose, with the help of our waitress, the “cheesecake”. This version is so light and delicate it really deserves another name. It was somewhere between a mousse and a soft pudding and served in a tall squarish pot, but it packed an intense flavor. I foolishly allowed my passion for ginger ice cream to overcome my common sense – two scoops of ginger and one of chocolate were nice, but nowhere near the incredible cheesequake experience.

We made our way to taxi-stand vowing to return later this week and confirm our suspicions that Barracuda Grill may be one of the best meals we’ve ever enjoyed. Unfortunately, taxis were in shorter supply than great food – so it took a while to get back to the hotel and put eInk to ePaper, but it was worth it.