Anvil in Rockwell Gives Comfort Fare the Chef Josh Boutwood Treatment

(SPOT.ph) Where some might not see the point in a pop-up that's open only for a short time, this business model seems like it’s here for the long run, so one might as well ask the question.

For chefs like Josh Boutwood, the temporary nature of it can sometimes be the point. Anvil, currently running at Rockwell's Balmori Suites only until October 13, seems to be the right name for what he’s going for, in that it’s a mark of an evolution of style.

Also read: What's Next for Savage BGC, From Chef Josh Boutwood

Anvil by Josh Boutwood at Balmori Suites, Rockwell

Given Boutwood’s other endeavors—all very snappily named as in Ember and Savage—it’s no surprise that there is a running theme in his food, the essence of which is the fine but deathly crucial line between “making the most of” and “making do”; in a way, every project he’s touched carries the singular mark of pure instinct, and knowing the difference minutely.

He does not often pull punches, but those familiar with his work will find the blow softened with the bread and cheese. The generous loaf of Sourdough accompanied by a smokey-smooth butter carries with it all the tang, aeration, and shine that can only be crafted by a lover of the simple—seen also in The Test Kitchen—and most deeply appreciated by freaks like this author. Pairing it with the Burrata comes naturally; it’s like the last wisp of summer on a plate, without the desperation of a fading tan line. The bite of both the bread and the balsamic are a kind of zingy bass note to the fresh (not heavily poached, which we thought was an interesting choice) peach and just-gooey, locally made cheese.

If there’s a good Hamachi on the menu, you’ve got to go for it; rarely will you experience such a firm yet buttery fish. At Anvil, it shares the stage with a black olive purée and chili oil, topped with a cilantro-onion salsa that’s almost like a bright bow on this rich, tender present. We loved rounding this out with the lightly savory Wagyu Tartare in emulsified mustard, herbs, and garlic—the cured egg and shredded potato gave this a lot of body—and the Mushrooms in 36-month comte and white wine, enriched with cream. Is it everyday food? No. But you don’t go to Chef’s Table for everyday food.

Instead, you get the kind of flavor bombs that make you stop in your tracks, like the Seabass. Again, longtime fans of Boutwood can tell you that there is no timeline in which he does not do this well, but the addition of a light yet punchy lobster bisque, pillowed by a cauliflower purée, and brightened again with dill—and made both visually and texturally more intriguing with a tapioca chip—sends both seasoned and novice diners on a bit of a ride. 

Anvil also has a lot of classics turned up to 11; this isn’t new and it isn’t trying to be. No one here is trying to reinvent the wheel or change the way anyone cooks, but what Anvil does seem to be saying is, “When you’ve got the time to make it great, make it great.” This is best exemplified in the Roast chicken with corn and lemongrass; it’s a lovingly made Sunday summer lunch that eloped with your nearest inasal joint, and in the best way, with popped sorghum and the brightness you can only get with Japanese sweetcorn. It’s hard not to pair this with the traditionally English Cauliflower cheese, but who said you couldn’t mash two great comfort foods together? 

Speaking of comfort, some of you might be wondering where the pasta is—well, fret not. The Rigatoni with nduja and guanciale speaks to the rom-com heroine in all of us, and if you know, you know; this is the highest praise we can give to a pasta dish. The funky Calabrian salume with the cured pork jowl of Roman fame together may sound like they just up the salt factor, but mostly, they blanket everything in a satisfying meatiness, topped—of course—with parmigiano reggiano. Is it tempting to dollop some of the ultra-creamy Mashed Potatoes on a forkful? Weirdly, yes. Do we care that some might worry about the ‘carb overload’? Unsurprisingly, no.

But there’s no shortage of protein at Anvil—not that you should ever expect a shortage, really, but this one’s a doozy—and the Lamb Shank is a good place to start. It’s tender, accentuated by a decadent mint sauce, and brought to new levels with two smokey purées made of charred cauliflower and sunchoke, respectively. There’s something earthy and grounding to this; the side of Beef Rice makes it feel like yet another, equally cozy version of a Sunday roast, at someone’s granny’s winter house.

And the cozy continues with both the Pork Chop and the T-Bone; we told you there was protein aplenty. The pan-seared chop gets that extra-woodsy, peppery kick from fresh sage and a light mustard jus, but retains an indulgent feeling with the generous smattering of pecorino romano. But the beef (oh, the beef) goes with just about any side, and almost any other dish. You’d think it’d feel repetitive or heavy, but it doesn’t; the expected garlicky herbaceousness can be found, but the twist of a café de Manilla butter sauce adds a funk and a universality that this dry-aged slab of gratification didn’t know it wanted. Listen, if you don’t plead with the waiter to keep some sourdough on the table for you to mop everything up with before dessert, are you even eating? Hello? Do you deserve dessert? 

It’s almost what you hope will happen in a fine-dining moment: that if you squint, if you breathe deep enough, if you sip your wine just right in between courses, if you take in the crunch and chew inside of your own mouth, you’ll somehow gain a sort of food-related synesthesia and see new colors. And while that seldom happens outside of a Pixar film, Chef Boutwood and his team always do enough to strike the balance between truly enjoying your meal and almost cornering you into rethinking your food and how you enjoy it. Whatever your expectations may be, you’ll walk out of Anvil the way all metals do: at least a little bit changed.

We only have two little nuggets of advice: Book a table yesterday, and always get the ginger ale. It helps to make room.