Perhaps it’s the bright orange shirts worn by the troika of valets to whom I relinquish my car keys, but as I pass through the wrought-iron bar gates which mark Hotel Zamora’s underbelly, I can’t help but think of Orange is the New Black (OITNB). Then I note the black-and-white painting of charging bulls (talk about pressure) in the interior anteroom as I await the elevator to whisk my party up to the 2nd floor lobby. When one of the orange clad gents steps in for our ascension, the OITNB image sticks.
As we move past the bar at the restaurant’s entrance, with three flat screens dividing what seem like hundreds of bottles of distilled spirits displayed on ever-rising steps, I note the long, sweeping bar with a dozen animated patrons in myriad poses on a row of high-backed orange stools. It’s a handsome place, with modern furnishings also dotted with orange pillows.
As we take our seats, I note the high-backed leather booths that caress the patrons in pale orange luxury. Soon, our server descends with a small, round loaf of fresh, warm sourdough bread. It’s light in texture and is served with its own long, wide, rectangular “reflecting pool” filled with orange liquid. I break off a piece of the bread and dip. The infused olive oil has a pronounced orange flavor, with some tomato powder and a backbone of pimentón (the wonderful smoked paprika that is a staple of Spanish cuisine). It’s then that it dawns on me: Pimentón is the springboard for the color scheme.
Also, the view is lovely. The dining room is dominated by a wall of huge floor-to-ceiling window arches, each the size of a car. They look out over a lanterned patio to the calming waters of the intracoastal waterway, which serves as a reminder of the menu’s contemporary Mediterranean influences. How about some oysters or mussels or scallops or tuna or crab? Maybe calamari?
I opt for Maine lobster ajillo — a garlicky wonder. Lobster, especially cooked the low and slow sous vide method, is a delicate meat that plays a background role with such an assertive sauce. That said, I enjoy it immensely. The coral-hued crustacean swims in a bright red-orange sauce the color of Christina Hendricks’ hair. Pimentón again plays a major role with caramelized sweet onion, Serrano peppers and a welcome splash of Chablis, with its minerality and crisp acidity. Huge grilled focaccia slices lean against the bowl; they’re an appealing garnish meant for dipping. And dip I do ... again, and again, and again.
El gigante albondiga is indeed the meatball that ate St. Pete. It’s a tennis ball-sized 8-ounce of house-ground lamb and beef seasoned with cayenne and pimentón for a balanced kick. It sits atop a mushroom-sherry cream sauce dotted with English peas and asparagus bits. While it looks a bit like a preschooler was let loose to play in the mud, see beyond the monochrome and you’ll find a delicious combo that is hardly the small plate that you expect with tapas. This could be your meal.
A pile of tender black grouper cheek nuggets is separated from tomato caponata by a crisp fan of Serrano jamón (ham). The tiny tomatoes are stewed with yellow and red bell peppers, and dotted with briny grey-green capers and a chiffonade of fresh basil, plus some vinegar to make it pop. Juxtapose that with creamy avocado to provide richness balanced with the bright flavors of kaffir lime and you’ve got a great dish, even before you add in the mojito vinaigrette accent.
One of the great applications for sous vide is short ribs. Because you vacuum-seal the protein in a plastic bag and cook it in a constant low-temp water bath, a dish like short ribs is a miracle. Flavorful, but tough cuts usually demand braising in liquid for long periods to tenderize. The taste is great, but the meat by definition is well done. This method allows for cooking over days, not hours, and still produces medium-rare beef. Chef Ted Dorsey’s version shines. They’re fall-off-the-bone tender with an unexpected coconut curry glaze, and tasty julienned chayote squash with heirloom tomatoes. The single short rib looks like it came from a mastodon, and the leftovers make a great lunch.
The desserts are complex affairs. We skip the jumbo choco taco, with mezcal liqueur-infused caramel and fried ice cream. But when it arrives like a small Viking ship at the adjacent table, I’m jealous. However, the guava and apple empanadas dusted with cinnamon and sugar are filled with soft Fuji and grapples (a Concord grape-infused apple) accompanied by banana-mole pistachio gelato. The gelato is fragrant with bananas but is out of balance on the mole side, the hit of cayenne on the finish overwhelming the other flavors. The flan cheesecake is a scrumptious hybrid of assertive candied orange caramel, with touch of guava gastrique and mint oil just for fun.
The promised rooftop bar isn’t open yet; seems someone forgot a dishwasher at the top. Oops! I’m assured this will soon be remedied and I can’t wait. Castile has made its mark and we’re the lucky ones. PITNB!