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Six Plates

I had to write a restaurant review for class, so I checked out Six Plates in Durham. Here, the review for your reading pleasure.

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I struggled to keep my feet on the floor and not curl up in my squishy armchair with one of my glasses of wine. Fortunately I was not seated on one of the couches; I highly doubt I would have managed to keep myself vertical in the dimly lit Six Plates dining room. The wine bar and small plates restaurant at Erwin Terrace has the vibe of what I a imagine a hip lounge would be like, because darkness and straight lines are probably hip and run-of-the-mill dining room tables and chairs are probably not.

The atmosphere and service at Six Plates might best be described as BYOFun. There wasn’t anything to complain about—it was comfortable, nothing was lacking, but the restaurant’s modus operandi did not include extensive involvement of wait staff or a particularly manicured aesthetic. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so decidedly neutral about a space. They provide everything you need to get comfy and be with the people you came with, without distractions (it’s a fantastic place for a date—or, in my case, triple date). Given that we came in on a Sunday night, it’s unsurprising that the place was not bustling. The six (it would have been far less satisfying to go with any other number) of us were surrounded by one other group and a few couples, all likely under 30, supporting my assessment that the place is where cool people go.

One mysterious, tall, dark, but not particularly handsome man (I’ll call him Atticus, an appropriately hipster name) served us throughout the evening, lingering near the bar, awaiting our approach to put in a food or beverage order, and appearing later with our plates as they became ready. He was no-nonsense, only faltering to make what I have come to assume is an obligatory comment people make when shown an ID that shows a person has turned 21 in the past three months or fewer (this time: “Freshly minted!”). But he answered my questions and brought us our food quickly, so again, he fostered neither ill-will nor longing for a friendship beyond the restaurant’s walls and did not distract from the important things: my company, and—yes—the fantastic food.

Ingredients and preparation were on point throughout the evening—chef John Eisensmith seems to have settled in nicely since taking over in 2010. The menu, which rotates weekly, was clearly in full autumn-mode, full of squash, earthy mushrooms and classically Thanksgiving herbs. Our first plate, for example, was a wonderfully crispy flatbread with a polenta spread, Italian sausage from Farmhand Foods, dried cranberries, grana padano, and crispy onions. Nearly as satisfying as the dish itself—which was piping hot, savory, delicately spicy from the small coins of sausage, and punctuated by sweet ruby-red cranberries—was the fact that it was sliced into six pieces.

Truffle fries are a staple on Six Plates’ menu, and were not one of the proffered six plates for the week, but they meshed nicely with the cozy, fall-flavored meal. The expertly crisped skinny fries (my favorite kind, because thick-cut fries too often end up mushy and bland) were, according to Atticus, tossed in truffle oil, topped with microplane-grated pecorino and chives, and served alongside sublime apple cider vinegar ketchup. The truffle fries could have been more evenly coated—I was hit with one or two umami-filled bites, and then went a while without a trace. Luckily, the fries themselves were so good, they satisfied nonetheless, and were aided by the sweet, tangy ketchup that I would have loved to slather on a chicken sandwich or roasted sweet potatoes or just eat with a spoon (I found myself dipping my finger in the small metal cup long after the fries had disappeared).

The first two dishes were hits; the third was definitely not a miss, but could perhaps bet be dubbed a “meh.” Although the scallops were tender and perfectly cooked, they lacked flavor, and the dish’s other components, which included corona beans, mushrooms, and escarole, were pleasant but did not make for a particularly memorable unified dish. My experience with the mixed greens salad was similar—although six slices of flatbread was the perfect amount to share, approximately six leaves of lettuce made it difficult to really enjoy the dish. It’s difficult to pull of a salad in a small plate, since it usually takes a few bites to experience all the components. The rosé pears, though, were delicious and packed with flavor.

The final two dinner plates that arrived were grilled bavette steak and mussels, both of which I chose to enjoy alongside the recommended wines, a Sangiovese and a sauvignon, respectively. The steak was an impossibly tender and flavorful medium rare, but for me the stars of the plate were pumpkin-rosemary fritters (fancy autumn hushpuppies) and kalamata olive chevre, which was an unexpected combination of briny and tangy, the likes of which I had never tried but wanted to take home with me in bulk. Where the plate fell short was its size—my dining companions (particularly the male ones) balked at their portion of steak, which ended up amounting to about a half-inched cubed piece per person.

The mussels were juicy and not fishy-tasting, and swum in a ridiculously decadent cream-based sauce that featured butternut squash, sage, shiitake mushrooms, chorizo, and sage. The bowl was the climax of the already rich and autumnal meal; it’s lucky it was served with a crisp and light white wine to offset the heavy, cozy, hug-like flavors. All that lacked was more bread beyond the two small crostini to sop up the creamy sauce with (a problem I always face when I order mussels).

I would have liked to stay in Six Plates for a few hours to have time to cultivate a full-fledged little party space between the six of us, but Sunday evening duties only allowed for a quick dessert before continuing a sleepy assault on homework. We opted for the week’s dessert plus two truffles (blackberry-lavender and pink peppercorn-sea salt). I resisted the urge to lick the dessert plate, which housed apple spice cake with caramel, an almond phyllo pastry and lemon cream cheese ice cream—another seasonally appropriate creation that was bolstered by the moistness of the cake and the unique tang of the ice cream. The truffles went ½: the peppercorn proved overpowering truffle itself too dense for my taste; however, the blackberry lavender chocolate was silky and creamy and delicate and reminded me why I adore the culinary use of lavender so much.

Perhaps returning to Six Plates on a weekend night or allowing ourselves to settle more thoroughly into our comfortable seats would have made for a more notable atmosphere, but where the restaurant left us scratching our heads over ambience, it made up for it with food. Eisensmith’s experience and careful attention to preparation and seasonal ingredients shone through; his highs were very high and his lows were still well above neutral.

Go with good company who is prepared to liven up the atmosphere—the food and wine are ready and waiting.

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