Wine and Duck - Front Royal
Wine and Duck (117 E. Main St., 540-636-1000), which opened for lunch and dinner just months ago. The menu, an all-day listing that includes burgers and other sandwiches for $8.50 along with elaborate entrees, was appealing. And the food? Terrific. One of two duck choices, juicy seared ovals of duck breast with vermouth-infused tamarind butter, served with chilled spinach and daikon radish salad ($23), was rich and ample enough to share. Praise, too, for Thai-inspired sea scallops with a spicy peanut sauce and roasted garlic ($19). Had this been dinner, we might have added any of four appetizers or three desserts, all of which sounded interesting.
NVM Review
http://www.northernvirginiamag.com/restaurants/info/968/the_wine_and_duck/
(February 2010)
By Warren Rojas
The first person I encounter as I stroll into the Wine and Duck is a beefy fellow with multiple piercings and a Misfits tattoo peeking out from his forearm.
This is my kind of place.
General manager Phillip Schuyler (he of the horror punk ink) is a jack-of-all-trades who knows his menu by heart, spins yarns about the restaurant’s food/decor/special events with genuine enthusiasm, and even educates guests about how/where to shop to duplicate the culinary feats paraded before them (a la the gents who seemed hard pressed to find Serrano chilies or crystallized ginger in rural Virginia).
And that’s exactly the type of community bonding self-taught chef/owner Paul Bakos was hoping for when he opened in March 2008.
Bakos nurtures that dream with approachable, seasonally inspired cuisine and an enviable beverage catalog.
He’s herded together around two dozen highly prized craft brews, including: Chimay Blue, Franziskaner Hefe-Weisse, Abita Turbo Dog, Leffe Blonde and Dogfish 90 minute IPA. The wine list features about a dozen by-the-glass options, including lots of West Coast and Eastern European standards—but, curiously, just a single local pour (2008 Glen Manor Sauvignon Blanc)—all for under $11.
The 2006 Maison Bouachon “Les Rabassieres” lavished the senses with lush red fruit and food-parrying tannins (very Cotes-du-Rhone). A 2005 Columbia Crest blend proved utilitarian, spreading cherry across the palate and rounding out every mouthful with spice.
Meanwhile, Bakos plans to up his wine carte (eyeing another half dozen pours) and streamline his menu.
Pepper-coated prime rib (the menu says 12 ounces, but one cut looked to be a pounder, easy) arrives planted atop a bed of mashed potatoes dressed with thick-cut bacon, red onions and a sheet of melted cheddar.
Tender slices of duck doused in tamarind-Vermouth sauce (quite tangy) are escorted by chilled spinach and vinegary batons carved from daikon radish (translucent ribs add real bite to the dish).
An Italian-born tiramisu—“It just tastes better because of the unpasteurized ingredients,” Bakos says of his lone commercial concession—delivers moist cake sprinkled with cacao and dripping with liqueur.
