You might balk at paying $8 for a bottle of sparkling water, but at least Nômade knows how to serve it. Which is to say, lightly chilled, with a separate glass full of ice, wedges of both lemon and lime and a long silver spoon. Customized bubbles if you will.
Much else is customized at this year-old, rip-roaring success of a casual, all-day restaurant, which has won plaudits in Westport, including the welcome by name. “Now you have a nice time,” our host said, greeting me by the name I had booked under and offering me and my guest a choice of seating areas – main dining room, covered terrace or bar. I didn’t know if “have a nice time” was a behest or a command, but I assured her we’d try our best.
I loved the customized look of this place, too, by which I mean characterful. Two bars you can eat and drink at, two fireplaces, random books, hidden corners, cozy inglenook tables and more exposed ones for the exhibitionists among you. Plus, the plushest banquettes you ever did park your derrière on, soft caramel leather with great support cushions and even headrests behind. Add in old brickwork turned white, seriously old and thick wooden beams, assorted carvings, plates, blankets and tall funnel-shaped African woven baskets and you get the picture.
The menu is customized, too, or perhaps I mean nomadic, wandering even. A bit of this, a bit of that – retro throwbacks like chicken liver mousse; garlicky mushrooms; fried brie (come back 1993! All is forgiven!) and those ubiquitous deviled eggs, which I’ve seen on four restaurant menus in as many weeks. These are also more contemporary dishes like avocado with truffle, crispy rice and an innovative chicken gumbo and, in the main courses, a halibut “collar,” cooked in the traditional manner of skate wing, with capers and herbed (rather than “black”) butter.
Dishes we particularly enjoyed? A daily special of comforting leek and potato soup; that chicken liver mousse, served with cornichons and a roasted, buttered baguette; a (lunchtime only) prime Bronx-cured ham and triple cream Brie sandwich and a terrific plate, or rather wooden board, of fish and hand-cut chips, with coleslaw and a tangy homemade tartar sauce. The three generous pieces of Icelandic cod were beautifully crisp if just a touch greasy in their India Pale Ale (IPA)-battered crust. And we loved those top-notch fries, a mountain of them served in grease-proof paper.
And let’s hear it, too, for the Seafood Boil, a miscellany of steamed and poached Pei mussels, Manila clams, Gulf shrimp and more besides bathing in a cilantro broth, which in spite of its rather off-putting name (“boil” conjuring up all manner of things, but none of them especially appetizing) turned out to be a remarkably fine dish.
Food allergies I should mention are taken seriously at Nômade, as they should be, with allergens clearly listed for each dish by way of a numbered legend. But I must admit to a sardonic moment reading through the numbers that are given to each dish, which started to look more and more like a “Give the next number in the sequence” Mensa IQ test than anything related to food. Indeed, getting our order successfully taken for a dish of duck fried rice (3, 4, 5, 6, 10, 11, 13) felt more like cracking the Enigma code than simply asking for a bowl of rice.
Low points? The bread – four slices of an overly floured baguette, which looked like it needed another five minutes in the oven, served with butter pre-whipped with honey and paprika. Perhaps I’m the exception but these sweet butters don’t quite do it for me, especially at the start of the meal when I want to get into savory gear. Let’s hear it for a return to cold, hard butter preferably unsalted please – and I say this as a salt fiend. And service, while generally smooth, had the odd, unimportant wobble. I think we all had to suppress a smile when a very young and evidently nervous runner placed a bowl of soup so near the edge of the table it practically toppled off. I’ve been there myself, believe me, waiting tables. Serving can be nerve-racking and not only in the early days when you’re still learning on the job. So, no matter, Nômade. We still love you.
Let me close by saying how much I’ve enjoyed “talking tables” with you in 2023. Meanwhile, happy nomadic dining and here’s to another year of great eating in 2024.
For more, visit nomadewestport.com.
