It’s hard to say why the Fireplace is so much more satisfying than Five Seasons, the post-macrobiotic bistro that preceded it in this Washington Square space. Although the Fireplace serves red meat, it has kept some vegan dishes, and even does a similar fruit cobbler. It could be the smells, which come from the eponymous fireplace, but also from a variety of grilling equipment, a real rotisserie, and a wood-fired oven. They know how to use that stuff, too. It might be the cream and butter. It might be the time of year, or just the timing, since this kind of comfort food speaks to us in the fall and winter, and especially since September 11.
It’s not that all the food is perfect or that it’s cheap or that the service sets a tone, but some of the food has a depth of flavor that pulls all of the above into a pattern. The owners may have known that Five Seasons also was jammed for some months after opening, but didn’t hold the crowds. They’re shifting the menu frequently, so you might not find everything mentioned here. But some general themes have been consistent.
Our meals began with a triangle of focaccia-like biscuit, flavored with cheese and bits of olive, but without the extra oil of the traditional focaccia. Our best appetizer, hands down, was a plate of Wellfleet oysters (seasonal, $2 each). These were the plumpest Wellfleets ever, impeccably served on a platter of crushed ice with lemon, horseradish not yet blended into chili sauce, and a cup of peppery vinaigrette — none of which I used. The Fireplace also offered two other kinds of oysters and some clams, and seems quite committed to the raw bar.
" Maple roasted squash soup " ($5 at lunch) gets some of its creaminess from, well, cream. But the brilliant garnish of roasted pumpkin seeds and fresh scallions makes every spoonful sing. A shrimp skewer with marinated-fennel salad ($16) is really two appetizers or a light dinner, since the dish comprises two skewers of nicely grilled shrimp with a fine, unconventional salad that is full of surprises like cranberries, cherry tomatoes, julienned vegetables, and large pieces of scallion, topped with ribbons of anise-y fennel root. Caesar salad ($7) leans toward home-style, with fresh, buttery croutons and a dressing built more on fresh lemon juice and virgin olive oil than cheese or excess garlic.
A special dinner of duckling ($25) showed what the rotisserie can do, as the skin was caramelized and delicious, while the meat was juicy and flavorful. The underpinnings were very garlicky spinach, a rich cake of potatoes, and slices of celery root in cream sauce. Grilled salmon ($18) was certainly grilled; the skin was perfectly crisp. It was, in fact, a little over-grilled, and flaking. But the underlying vegetables, such as chunks of roast parsnip, beets, and shiitake mushrooms, made the platter fully successful.
The " maple roasted heirloom pumpkin " ($16) is quite similar to a roasted acorn squash I had at Five Seasons, but instead of slamming the squash in the middle of the plate like a steak, this new restaurant uses a tiny sugar pumpkin and stuffs it with barley and something stimulating and acidic. Vinegar, perhaps? The actual pumpkin meat tastes not so much maple-roasted as maple-poached — the maple flavor is pervasive and very good. Super-buttery kale is the most remarkable accompaniment, although more shiitake mushrooms — this time in a kind of sauce — supply the " meaty " flavor element very well. I can’t remember a better vegan platter since the lamented Cena.
On the other hand, a side-dish order of yellow and green beans ($5) is just crunchy, with even less flavor than you can get at home, where you can use garlic. The side order to get is hand-cut French fries ($5). They’re nice and brown, crispy, and fabulous. We also had them at lunch with the Fireplace burger ($8), a superb piece of ground beef, well put together on a large-enough bun with lettuce, tomato, bacon, and cheddar or blue cheese. Add the French fries, and the Fireplace will always have customers, even when the bistro thing is as dated as crêpes or fondue. The rest of lunch is really brunch, although I’d have New England seafood sausages with poached eggs and creamy cornmeal ($10) for dinner anytime. The sausages are uncased burgers of mostly salmon flavor, with real lemony hollandaise on top, plus nifty poached eggs and a very good salad of arugula. Crispy cornmeal waffles ($9) are (fortunately) light on the cornmeal, but crispy enough and covered with maple butter and strawberries. The only weak dish is johnnycakes ($12), which are dry lumps of yellow cornmeal served greasy.
The wine list is good, interesting, and way too expensive to drink in a place that smells like smoke (from the oven and fireplace). A good list of half bottles and wines by the glass eases some of the sticker shock, but our 1999 DeLoach merlot ($8.50/glass) was just as soft and fruity as wines half the price elsewhere. It might be a real knockout in a quiet room with some hard cheese, but not here. On the plus side, tea ($3) is served properly at dinner, in a china pot with leaf tea. Decaf coffee ($2) is some of the best I’ve had all year, strong and slightly bitter.
There are only three desserts, but they are solid. The star is the warm apple tart with roasted pear ($6), featuring excellent pastry, apples spiced delicately (in the manner of pear spicing), and a mellow, ripe pear on the side, along with high-quality vanilla ice cream. " Chocolate chocolate cake " ($7) — is there an echo in here? — is a good, strong chocolate cake with walnuts around the side and more of that vanilla ice cream. A cranberry-apple cobbler ($7) is mostly berries, rather tart, but luscious with the ice cream. No one missed the tofu cream from the former restaurant.
The room, which was always pretty, has been redone in orange wood with cherry-stained panels and wrought iron, real kitchen antiques and fake ones, and clear-cut sculptures. It’s also loud, with the open kitchen, lots of windows, and packed tables. In between, you hear a lot of Beatles and jazz. The service is good, a little chatty, and there are pauses. It always helps when the server can bring such tasty platters. The restaurant has a policy of not taking same-day reservations, and leaving many tables open for walk-ins. We were able to walk in both early and late without difficulty.
The pseudonymous Robert Nadeau has a cookbook, The American Ethnic Cookbook for Students (Oryx, $32.50), published under his real name, Mark Zanger, available in bookstores and online. Robert Nadeau can be reached at RobtNadeau@aol.com.
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