Imagine a family potluck at which everyone contributing is a stellar, inspired cook. An aunt supplies a creamy potato-chunked scallop chowder, perfumed with basil oil. An uncle brings pork belly with a ginger–soy sauce glaze. Your cousin contributes dessert, a citrus-tangy ricotta tart.
That’s basically dinner at The Preston—except instead of Uncle Bert’s rathskeller, the setting is soothingly dark and luxurious. Oh, and cocktail alchemy’s a nightly occurrence, at a comfortable bar that manages to be both hip and elegant.
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Small plates—most are small main courses—make up the potluck mélange of dishes. Expect to order at least a couple for each diner; sharing is ideal. A leisurely pace is encouraged; ordering one’s way through nearly two dozen possibilities is a lovely way to pass the evening.
Begin with the bread platter, starring some jalapeño-spiked biscuits and pretzel croissants, the latter ethereally flaky. Or consider the cheese plate, bedecked with a trio of artisanal fromages and a nubbin of honeycomb.
After that, select from the menu at random. Delicate pink slivers of duck breast are fanned atop a creamed celery root purée with a tangle of fettucine. A couple of credit card–sized branzino fillets, presented with a roasted–red pepper sauce, are outstanding. The fragrant grilled crust of lamb T-bones conceals a juicy pink interior; they arrive with wild mushrooms in a rosemary jus and—oh yes, goat cheese spätzle.
At The Preston, orders appear attractively composed and swiftly—which presents a problem with the small-plates dining approach. Here’s a platter of mussels in a pungent red curry broth. A beet and arugula salad dressed with a champagne-vanilla vinaigrette. By the time the veal ragu in rigatoni arrives, it’s like a high tide of plates. Sharing involves throwing more elbows than a Blues–Blackhawks game, and in light of the modest table sizes, it’s possible that the port-braised short ribs or warm kale salad will end up on the floor. Pace yourself and arrange with care.
That citrus-ricotta tart finishes things nicely. A too-much-woodsmoke infusion distracts from an otherwise delicious panna cotta; the chocolate “sphere” is exquisite, a fiendishly rich and delectable science experiment. In addition to the extensive cocktail list, the wines are worthwhile and well-priced.
Preston Bradshaw designed The Chase Park Plaza in the Roaring ’20s, and the place is a St. Louis icon. So it’s fitting that this new eatery has his name—and the potential to shine in such rarefied surroundings.
