A Fresh Updating of Surf ‘n’ Turf

By my definition, surf ‘n’ turf restaurants are where your fish-hating dad took your mom when she felt like seafood. There, over a cocktail or two, she ordered some heavily breaded fried seafood--probably shrimp, scallops or clams--while he could have his steak, all in a funky nautical setting.

And so peace reigned in the family.

Though I never went to the old Cannery on Lido Island, I gather it was this sort of place before it went out of business several years ago. It seemed destined to be knocked down or turned into offices until Ron Salisbury, owner of the El Cholo restaurants, came to its rescue.

The Cannery, which was once an actual cannery, reopened in February after a thorough face lift of the decor and the menu. It still has a charming, lived-in feeling, with bare wood floors that are either well-worn or made to look that way, and there’s still that lovely marina view outside the windows. Dangling from the ceiling are colorful glass lanterns shaped like whimsical cartoon jellyfish. The booths, tables and other fixtures are all new. From what I’m told, the place is a good deal more comfortable than it was in scruffier days.

Reservations are a good idea Fridays and Saturdays. You’re likely to see a fairly long line spilling into the parking lot those days, but don’t take the throng as a sign that you’re necessarily in for a long wait. A lot of people will be heading for the enormously popular sushi bar/watering hole upstairs from the restaurant.

I’m going to call the Cannery’s current menu surf ‘n’ turf for baby boomers, and I mean it as a compliment. Chef Felix Salcedo is adept at coloring just far enough outside the lines to make eating there fun and interesting. He uses Mexican and Asian flourishes but basically keeps things simple with no murky clutter of fusion.

The shrimp cocktail is a fine example. The shrimp are the size of a fat man’s fingers, but the cocktail sauce is spiked with habanero chile--just enough habanero to make you wake up and take notice.

Likewise, the scallop ceviche, which has a twist. Instead of being chopped, as they usually are for ceviche, the scallops are cut in thin slices, pleasingly soft to the bite. I suspect this way of cutting helps them absorb the marinade of citrus juices, red onion, tomato and cilantro too.

Skip the calamari; they’re fried to the point where there’s no flavor left, just a crunch. A better choice is panko-crusted crab cakes. They come in a “mango beurre blanc” that is not what you’d expect--at least, in so far as you’d have any expectations for something called mango beurre blanc. Kind of risky, but it works; the sauce turns out to be just tangy enough to tango with the crab.

The spinach salad is wonderful and unusual. It incorporates flakes of smoked salmon and chunks of bacon, and the light Stilton dressing goes well with it all. The sweet-corn lobster bisque is good too, with hunks of lobster meat floating in it, though it could use something to play off its sweetness.

The entrees are a little less even. The Colorado rack of lamb is tender and cooked medium rare, but I taste some sort of voodoo with mesquite going on here (a fellow diner agrees with me). If there’s no mesquite involved (the menu doesn’t mention any), it sure tastes as if there is, and to my taste the mesquite flavor makes lamb seem acrid and mutes its mellower attributes.

However, the side dish, sweet-pepper-shiitake chilaquiles, is an interesting gambit. I don’t find much evidence of the mushrooms, but the corn tortilla strips smothered in salsa find a nice balance between sweet and sharp.

The wood-broiled sea scallops seem to prove that scallops are the winning number here. They’re served in a sweet chipotle sauce that could use a little more fire, but the scallops are perfectly seared and it works.

The “bicoastal” salmon (meaning the restaurant doesn’t commit to its origins) is similarly well turned, and though I can’t quite decipher what the menu means by the “caramelized dried apricot-balsamic beurre rouge” that accompanies it, it’s a fine dish, elevating an ordinary piece of fish to something special.

The menu doesn’t say how large the rib-eye steak is, but it’s a big one. The marbling is uneven, though, and as a steak it’s more impressive for size than quality.

Overall, the Cannery’s food justifies its prices, but at these rates I’d expect sharper service. The young waiters are pleasant but inexperienced and spread a bit too thin. All in all, though, the Cannery is a cozy place serving good food with flair.

*

The Cannery, 3010 Lafayette Ave., Newport Beach. (949) 566-0060. Lunch 11:30 a.m.-3 p.m. daily; lighter menu 3-5 p.m. daily; dinner 5-11 p.m. daily. The Cannery is moderately expensive. At dinner, appetizers are $8.75 to $12.50 and most entrees $16.95 to $29.75. Full bar.