On the beach Yarmouth's friendly and open SeaGrass Bistro BY ANDY KING
	SeaGrass Bistro SeaGrass Bistro 30 Forest Falls Dr, Yarmouth | 207.846.3885 | Open 5 pm-close Tues-Sat | www.seagrassbistro.com

My experience with sea grass — the real stuff, not the restaurant — has always carried with it a certain sense of loneliness. I’m typically not a beach guy, due to an early childhood viewing of JAWS, and an overwhelming realization that as soon as I’m above my head in salty water, I drop to pretty much the bottom of the food chain.

Seriously, a herd of plankton could take me out while I tread water.

So, I stick to the beach itself, with my T-shirt still on, and I listen to the noise the wind makes as it whips through the sea grass on the dunes. Maybe I bury my hands in the warm sand, maybe I just squint at the sun and think about how warm the car is getting. But I’m usually doing it by myself, and that’s just fine with me. When everyone else gets strained though some Right Whale’s baleen with all those plankton that were trying to sneak up, I’ll have a front row seat.

So, to tie my own memories of a beach-grown plant into a recent dining experience, I’ll have to make a couple of tough stretches, or rethink my impressions of the words "sea" and "grass." This is because SeaGrass Bistro, the seven-month-old restaurant just off of Route 1 in Yarmouth, is not lonely, but rather a friendly place. It’s not as placid as a windswept beach, due to a lack of padded or upholstered materials resulting in the din of folks supping and laughing, but the servers smile and Chef Stephanie Brown oversees the dining room from her gleaming open kitchen.

On slower nights, expect her to stop at your table to say hello. If you’re so inclined, have questions ready — she’s ready and willing to talk about food philosophy.

Hers is one of guidance. Not, according to her Web site, the kind that tells her to lead the wayward diner through her menu. She wants to get to know her patrons so well that she can eventually craft meals with fresh ingredients specifically to each diner’s tastes. A lofty goal? Hell, yes. An unattainable goal? Hell, yes. A noble goal?

Well, sure. And a refreshing one at that.

She’s earned her chops all over the country at a series of inns and large hotels over 16 years; this is a slightly smaller affair. The menu clearly reflects her passion for Asian, French, and Italian cuisine. Two items were not available when we dined there: a French-styled bistro steak with pommes frites (loosely translated, "Freedom Fries"), as well as a pan-seared Peking duck breast. The menu changes every three weeks or so — making the review of the following items slightly obsolete, as the menu is changing over as you read this, literally — so there are no nightly specials.

We allowed our server to pretty much chauffer us through the menu, taking his suggestions at every choice. It should be mentioned that Chef Brown’s influences do not only come on an international level; Nonnie’s Manicotti, an appetizer filled with spinach and ricotta and surrounded by a tomato beurre blanc, is her mother’s recipe, and the single manicotto was rich but not overwhelming. The grilled Romaine lettuce with capers and kalamata olives, fresh basil, and toasted focaccia, juxtaposed a smoky grill char with crisp, if not slightly oily, salad green. The salty accompaniments chipped in as nice changes of pace, and the whole plate was arranged beautifully to look like a still life subject.

The Grilled Chicken was glazed with brandied plums (a puree of them, actually) resulting in a darkly bittersweet skin coating. The grilled Yukon potatoes also had a slightly black coating (the strictly bitter kind), but the wonderfully cooked and seasoned haricot verts more than held up the sides. Similarly, the Pan Seared Scallops, Mahogany Clams, and Grilled Shrimp in light tomato sauce with angel hair pasta had the sweet, rich, smoky profile that was quickly becoming my mind’s "SeaGrass Bistro Flavor Reference."

My dessert choice was more of a gut reaction, a nicely portioned brownie sundae with house-made spearmint ice cream — they’re usually huge and sickening (and I get them every time anyway), this one put on the brakes a bit. Also, a splash of lemon in the blueberry sorbet brought out the fruit’s subtle flavor, and was a wonderful final course suggestion by our server.

So we were led through the meal; perhaps next time we’ll do the leading, as is the Chef’s goal. Either way, it all worked out. And I got to eat the seafood; not the other way around.

’ROUND HERE: Chef Stephanie Brown uses more local product on her menu than most other restaurants use in an entire year, including: New Leaf Farm, Laughing Stock Farm, Mainly Poultry, Wolfsneck Farm, Sunset Acres, Harbor Fish, and the Ferry Village Bake Shop.

Andy King can be reached at dinnerwithandy@yahoo.com