A friend who eats an average of nine meals a week in restaurants asked, what really makes the day for a restaurant writer? I may speak for others as well as myself in saying that finding a restaurant I can’t wait to get back to does it for me. Double the pleasure when it is a neighborly and small enclave whose attractiveness and very interesting food make it a place where I can totally relax and pop in often just to rescue my own jaded spirit.
Plums in Costa Mesa is a rejuvenator of esprit for me of late. This stylish, very San Francisco-ish restaurant is tucked in the corner of one of 17th Street’s many block-long mini-malls. It has resided there for several years and has had a decent reputation for some time, but since a recent remodeling, there’s a joie de vivre in the mood and menu that makes you want to cuddle close to the table.
It started out as a location for the catering business of owner Kim Jorgenson, who still is heavily into that trade. Along the way, the restaurant was born as a cozy place to have morning coffee and easy food and an interesting bite for lunch. A tidy but underwhelming demeanor sufficed.
The recent makeover resulted in a curvy, soothing, very modern design. There’s a patio entryway that’s decked out all around in enough potted evergreen trees and stands of bamboo to make it feel like a mini-forest. Inside, lovely blond-wood tables and chairs perched on thin-lined black metal frames sit beneath a large circular stainless-steel lighting fixture dropping from the ceiling of the 60-seat room. One wall of used brick exudes warmth. A couple of massive paintings bookend the dining room. Behind one rounded wall is a partial view of the vast stainless-steel, state-of-the-art kitchen. Along the back of the room on one side is a small dining counter and a display case with a few enticing pastries begging to be taken home. Colors are bright and lively without being brash. It is, in total, now a place where I want to linger longer at the table, and a place both Patrick and I look forward to being in again and again.
The food is anything but ordinary. Coffee drinkers like me revel in the big European cups filled as often as you like with delicious coffee, whatever time of day. The breakfast menu is a two-page affair of intrigues. A French rolled omelet is stuffed with saut & #233;ed wild mushrooms and shallots. Two eggs, cooked any style of course, come with a choice of apple-honey sausage, Oregon pepper ham or Oregon pepper bacon. The ham and bacon are cured with a coating of peppercorns on the outside, and both are delicious. The ham (two large, thick slices) is especially pleasing with its smooth texture and barely salty taste. The sausage is good, but too bland for my taste. The omelet with crab and fresh asparagus is an item of royal bearing (served at both breakfast and lunch). Most entrees come with a big helping of lovely skin-on pan-saut & #233;ed potatoes.
They serve one of the best breakfast items ever created,yet seldom found,a Dutch Baby pancake. Whenever it is delivered to my table, everyone around stares and several ask what that beautiful golden brown thing is. It is a high-flying cross between a souffle and a pancake when removed from the oven. However, in the short walk from the kitchen, the center collapses leaving a crusty brown, high edge and an eggy, smooth-textured center. The server brings along a plate with several lemon wedges and powdered sugar to sprinkle on it. They are the traditional accompaniments. Few things are so satisfying.
Oatmeal, caramelized on the top, br & #369;l & #233;e-style, comes with brown sugar and bananas. Eggs Benedict have a Southwestern accent, thanks to the chipotle hollandaise sauce. French toast takes on a tropical-island personality, with its coconut crust and papaya and bananas on the side. Be sure not to miss the hash made with alderwood-smoked salmon accompanied by two poached eggs.
Visions of a real down-home breakfast emerge with the fried Idaho trout sided with eggs. There’s an Italianesque frittata of eggs scrambled with fresh vegetables. The field greens on the side are a nice touch. Pancakes are of the buttermilk persuasion. The waffle is topped with Granny Smith apples, Calvados-scented whipped cream and a sprinkling of hazelnuts.
The truest English scone is served here. A rosemary-studded one, rich and crumbly, comes with the soup, but you may want to order it a la carte should your menu choice not include it (or take home half a dozen to savor with tea).
Sandwiches are extraordinarily good. Fillings include Black Forest ham with nutty-sweet Emmenthaler cheese, albacore tuna with mixed vegetables, grilled Tuscan chicken with sun-dried tomatoes, roasted Mediterranean vegetables, and a whole new take on what we generally consider a club sandwich. The latter, on nine-grain bread dressed with cilantro mayonnaise, is stacked with slices of freshly roasted turkey, avocado, tomatoes and lettuce, and that good Oregon pepper bacon.
As for salads, two are terrifically interesting. The first is the fresh spinach with sun-dried cranberries, apples, red onion slices and toasted walnuts. The second is Asian accented, with shredded chicken, red and white cabbage and five other vegetables, all in a honey-ginger dressing highlighted with a bit of sesame and soy flavoring.
Clever and interesting lunch entrees abound. I love the grilled lamb burger topped with feta cheese. Medallions of prime filet with a melange of wild mushrooms, grilled fresh salmon on a bed of fennel, and the Idaho trout that now has wild rice and field greens on the side are favorites of mine. There’s always an enticing pastry or two for a finale. And, one more cup of that great coffee, please. Of late, I’m dining here with business associates, friends I don’t get to see as often as I should, and many times with Patrick, the patient husband extraordinaire who is as enthused about Plums as I am. Refresh your spirit in this seriously interesting restaurant.
