40 WEST

An evening at 40 West is a great escape from the mundane: Soothing gray walls. Great jazz played over a good system. Nice lights. Plenty of open space and wood. A waitress. A jug of wine and thou in the wilderness might have been swell when I was young and gay. Now, I’m a lot older than I used to be, and I like a comfortable chair and a sense of being taken care of.
40 West isn’t standoffish or fussy, though there is a great sense of style. It managed to keep a sense of fun going from the slender grissini “bouquets” in blue glass vases on each table through the powdered sugar stenciling on my lemon tart that I just could resist rearranging into a new shape.
Thomas and I arrived before almost anyone else. The waitress offered to seat us “upstairs” and never batted an eye when I said “Great.” She spent the rest of the night climbing a small, rather steep staircase, but she really made me feel like it was just great that I was there, wherever we sat, as long as we were happy. And so we were.
The upstairs dining area looks out over the downstairs bar and three or four tables; one, a table for four, is wedged under the stairs near the door to the kitchen. The super-comfortable upholstered blond-pine chairs (leopard-print downstairs, maroon zebra stripes upstairs) as well as the muted green-grey walls exude an air of cool languor alongside the rustic knotty-pine wood floor and exposed beams that frame the room. A bank of windows runs along the rear wall upstairs, seming to open up the space into the surrounding treetops.
There was enough time to read over the menu, and reacquaint ourselves with grownup food that comes “cumin-dusted.” I opted to try two appetizers: Stoneground polenta griddle cake with wild mushroom fricassee ($6.75) and duck confit spring rolls ($7). Thomas selected “cumin-dusted grilled shrimp” with chipotle mashed potatoes and black bean and sour cream “spiderweb.” ($16.50) and ordered a salad as well. Salads are $5.50; dressing choices are balsamic vinaigrette and Stilton. and told the waitress to please just bring them to me in whatever order they occurred.
The wine menu was presented as we were seated.. Prices ranged from $15-$48 with most bottles in the $25-$35 range. The list is dominated by American and Australian wines, with two local offerings, Millbrook Vineyard’s Chardonnay and Pinot Noir. Wine by the glass are not listed on the wine menu, but when I asked, our waitress never missed a beat as she recited a list of about seven wines available by the glass that day. We both decided to have the Rosemont Sauvignon Blanc (Australia, $5 a glass). (Wines by the glass range from $4.50 for house wine to $6.50.
Our salads arrived. Mesclun greens—and it was real mesclun, and not some random mix of small (but not baby) greens—were tumbled onto the plate, punctuated with two spears of endive. Nestled in the spears was a tangle of marinated sweet/sour red onions. The greens were clean, delicate in texture and flavorful but not overpowering. They were not dressed with the Stilton dressing we had both decided upon. Instead, the dressing came in a miniature champagne coupe (of the sort said to mimic Marie Antoinette’s breast).
Do you like to eat with your fingers? Ever had the urge to “rummage” through an especially nice blue cheese dressing on a salad bar to fish out the big chunks of cheese? I got my first real thrill of the night when I realized that I could dip things in my dressing, eat with my fingers, savor a little bolder of Stilton and it was all okay! I don’t know if that was the intention. I do know that I was smitten.
Now, the two appetizers arrived together, along with Thomas’s entrée. The duck confit spring rolls are served on a large gleaming black plate. It seems as if nearly everyone likes their spring rolls cut on the bias and standing up like miniature skyscrapers. No matter;it looks good. Two wasabi style sauces had been squirted onto the plate in a pleasing, but not precious pattern—golden yellow and pumpkin orange, they stood out on the plate. What’s more, they really pack a flavor wallop. The spring roll itself was encased in a wrapper so deftly fried that the wrapper shattered into bits with my first bite. Duck confit may seem an unusual choice for a filling, but the unctuous, not-too-salty duck was tender and moist.
Stoneground polenta griddle cakes were hot, with a little bit of a skin from cooking on the griddle. The sweet, almost crunchy cornmeal was a revelation, not at all an ordinary dish of cornmeal mush fried up in a round cake. This is cornmeal. It was topped with a creamy ragout of assorted wild mushrooms A swirl of basil chive oil framed the cakes and gave a touch of shimmer to a humble but well-executed dish.
Now, I have to tell you that Thomas took longer than usual to select his entrée. Apparently too much time spent dining with children under the age of 10 has dulled his appreciation for anything that isn’t covered with mozzarella and served with drinks in lid-topped paper cups. He wavered and wondered. Even when his plate arrived, he seemed unsure. Not me. I pounced first on the potatoes, then snagged a shrimp (fingers are an option that I like to exercise!). Chipotle peppers suffused the earthy puree. They aren’t firehouse hot, but they linger, filling the mouth and the nose with their perfume. The shrimp were dusted and not doused in cumin. Finding a nice balance point between “Where’s the flavor?” and “Quick, give me some water to clean out the dust bowl in my mouth!” is something that the chef managed with aplomb.
As our table was cleared, the dessert menus were laid down. After-dinner drinks? Choice from a selection of Port, single barrel Bourbons ($5.50 to 8), single-malt scotches ($6 and 8), dessert wines (half-bottles, $20 and 28), and dessert drinks. I had to try The 40 West ($5.50), a hot drink of rum, molasses, lemon and hot water. Lucky for me the floor isn’t carpeted. I felt so warm inside and the spice was just enough that a little nap on the floor to savor my inner peace might have been too hard to resist.
I also indulged myself (after all, I only had appetizers and a salad, right?) with a lemon tart. A cool, but not cold, wedge of a zest-flecked tart waited for me on the right-hand side of an oversized shiny black plate, dressed with a dollop of whipped cream and a pluche of mint. The rest of the plate was given over to a rustic stencil of a crescent moon and a star. I ate my tart, every bite of lemon, every crumb of tart, all the while still enjoying the sugar stencil. Thomas felt compelled to drag a finger through the still-white powdered sugar. I wanted to restore it, and eventually, the crescent moon looked like a sturgeon in the starlight. And the waitress, many blessings on her! saw the sturgeon, smiled at me, and never ever (even if she really did think it) made reference to the fact that perhaps, just perhaps, I should find something to do with my life instead of making sturgeons out of confectioner’s sugar.
I do have something to do with my life, of course, and as I went through the workaday part of it the next day, I couldn’t wait to tell everyone about the elegant, do-it-yourself, have-it-your way meal I’d just had at 40 West. Owners Tom Turk and Wesley Dire and their staff have conspired to produce a dining experience that is worth repeating.