Going Overboard

Under Chef Gray Kunz, and now Christian Delouvrier, the restaurant Lespinasse in New York’s St. Regis Hotel set a new standard for hotel dining. It follows that the debut of a new, built-from-scratch St. Regis at Monarch Beach would raise the bar for dining in south Orange County.

The new establishment, though, seems to prove just how difficult it is to clone the allure of either a world-class hotel or a successful restaurant. Against the somber elegance of the St. Regis New York, the St. Regis Monarch Beach comes off as a nouveau riche cousin. The architecture has the bluster of Las Vegas casino-hotels. And rather than try to duplicate Lespinasse, the St. Regis invited Michael Mina, chef/owner of San Francisco’s Aqua, to install another Aqua in the $240-million Monarch Beach resort, with Executive Chef Chris L’Hommedieu in charge. Alas, the new Aqua doesn’t live up to the hype.

The decor is grandly theatrical and definitely luxe. Lavish burgundy taffeta curtains sweep down to the floor and champagne damask banquettes curve up at the corners like a medieval wimple. Tables are set with Bernadaud porcelain candle covers with coral reef scenes, platinum-trimmed plates and Spiegelau stemware. Hotel restaurants have always offered the luxury of space, but the oddly configured tables for two may offer a touch too much of that. The long, narrow tables hold would-be romantic couples at arm’s length.

Aqua is, of course, a seafood restaurant, and the proprietors are so serious about it, there’s practically nothing else on the menu. Not a steak. Not a lamb chop. Not a roast chicken. The closest thing to meat, in fact, is the whole roasted foie gras, which is meant to be shared by the entire table. But if you love seafood, you’ll revel in the range of choices, and you can start with caviar served from a handsome blond wood and chrome cart.

Torn between the traditional caviar service with the fixings on the side or Aqua’s signature parfait, I choose the latter. The server carefully spoons your choice of caviar onto a perfectly round creation of crisp potato pancake topped with layers of finely chopped egg, creme fraiche and heavily smoked salmon. The myriad flavors compete, powerfully, with the caviar, and I wish I’d ordered the least expensive fish eggs instead of osetra. It’s showy, but does it make sense?

Unfortunately, I find myself asking the same question again and again over several meals at Aqua.

Three of Mina’s dishes merit attention. His full-bodied mussel souffle carries the sweet, rich flavor of mussels in every bite. An ochre saffron Chardonnay sauce sets off the dusky souffle beautifully. Lobster pot pie is served table-side with much ceremony. The waiter carefully removes the buttery short crust and arranges the crimson lobster pieces, wild mushrooms, potatoes and other vegetables--chiseled like jewels--on the plate.

One night we order Chilean sea bass marinated overnight in miso and sake. (“Now we’re getting serious,” our waiter whispers.) I’m no fan of Chilean sea bass, but this is one of the better versions I’ve had, perhaps because the fish is so fresh. The sweet funkiness of the miso, which caramelizes when cooked, and a spicy Sichuan broth with shiitake mushrooms and bok choy give the neutral-tasting fish another dimension. Unfortunately, not enough of the menu works on this level.

Some dishes that sound intriguing in print just don’t deliver on the plate. When you order ahi tuna tartare, the server steps up and, like a mother cutting up food for her toddler, starts fooling with the pile of shimmering sushi-grade tuna on your plate, murmuring that he’s mixing serrano oil, mint chiffonade and pine nuts into the tuna. This fishy take on tartare is fascinating for about two bites, but not enough to sustain anyone’s interest through the dauntingly large portion of raw chopped tuna.

The perfect little cylinders of Dungeness crab cake are phenomenal, but the crab filling lacks flavor. Setting the hot cakes on bland celery root remoulade warms it up when it should be cool for contrast. The fussy garnish--tiny dabs of lemon aioli, coins of blood orange syrup and microscopic amounts of green chive oil--isn’t enough to perk up the dish. Aqua too often values photo-ready looks more than taste.

An infatuation with sweet sauces undermines some of the other dishes, among them the whole roasted Hudson Valley foie gras, which we order one night as a middle course for the table. Our waiter brings it over and shows it off before he serves it. Roasted on a bed of sliced Granny Smith apples, it is masterfully cooked, rosy at the center--truly a gorgeous piece of duck liver and so rich it could easily feed six or eight. I understand the concept of sweet with foie gras, but does it really need a caramel sauce that tastes as if it belongs on a tarte tatin?

Foie gras is also an element in Aqua’s single most famous dish: seared ahi tuna stacked impossibly tall with seared foie gras. I’ve eaten it at Aqua in San Francisco and Las Vegas, and now here, and it has never been anything but awful. The minute you try to take a bite, the whole structure comes tumbling down. Aren’t we over tall food yet? The combination of warm fatty duck liver with lean, virtually raw tuna is gimmicky at best, and not enhanced by a sticky Pinot Noir reduction.

At dessert, you can luck into ordering the gently spiced sticky rice with cool, luscious mango or lose out by ordering the sugary root beer float with scoops of root beer sorbet, a grown-up version of the soda fountain classic. A better choice might be the straightforward ice cream sundae with three flavors of ice cream and three sauces (caramel, dark fudge and butterscotch) presented in Chinese porcelain soup spoons. A citrus tasting plate includes a lovely lemon meringue tartlet and a refreshing grapefruit ice inset with chunks of pink grapefruit.

While Aqua strives to give top-level service, the result is too often awkward and intrusive. No one appreciates it when the hostess tries to seat you at the worst table--the one near the door, even though it’s late and the restaurant is only one-third full. Some servers seem as nervous as Julia Roberts at her first fancy meal in “Pretty Woman,” laying down each piece of silver reverently, double checking to make sure it’s correct. Others patronize you, waiting for the expected oohs and ahs after every course like stand-up comics waiting for a laugh. Every time you get up from the table, even before you’ve ordered, your napkin is surreptitiously replaced. I know they do it in three-star restaurants, but here it’s simply ostentatious.

How can you take a restaurant seriously when you’re poring over the wine list and the waiter leans over to say, “Amazing, isn’t it?” It’s amazing, all right. Amazing how expensive everything is. Some bottles are marked up four times. One night our server proffers the bottle of wine we’ve ordered with a flourish: “Cellar temperature!” In fact, it’s too warm. The sommelier, on the other hand, is cordial and informative.

At close to $150 a person before you get out the door, should a diner have to endure music such as a New Age siren wailing against a background of droning chords? It’s loud enough not to be background, and when we ask if it can be turned down, we’re told it means someone must go down to the floor below with a security guard to adjust the sound. Finally, when the restaurant has emptied, we plead for it to be turned off. Nothing happens. It’s simply not addressed.

Sad to say, while the room is elegant and the appointments grand, Aqua Monarch Beach is not anywhere near a premier dining destination for Greater Los Angeles. At these prices, the service and the food should be first-rate, and they’re not. The menu seems mired in the ‘90s and could use some updating, too. Aqua Monarch Beach has some serious catching up to do.

Aqua at St. Regis Monarch Beach Resort & Spa

1 Monarch Beach Drive

Dana Point

(949) 234-3325

Cuisine: California seafood

Rating: *

AMBIENCE: Grand dining room with French doors opening onto terrace; silk banquettes and widely spaced tables. SERVICE: Awkward and intrusive. BEST DISHES: Mussel souffle, lobster pot pie, miso-marinated Chilean sea bass, ice cream sundae, sticky rice and mango, citrus tasting plate. Appetizers, $13 to $30. (Caviar service, $75 to $145). Main courses, $29 to $80. Five-course tasting menu, $75 per person. Corkage, $50 per bottle, two-bottle maximum. WINE PICKS: 2000 Cuilleron Condrieu, Rh0ne Valley; 1998 Hitching Post Pinot Noir, Santa Maria Valley. FACTS: Dinner and lunch daily. Valet parking.