Review: Yellowbelly offers a taste of the West Coast in the Central West End

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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Kumamoto oysters and Michelada cocktail pearls served on a bed of seaweed

It’s Sprite and cranberry juice,” replies our server at Yellowbelly when we ask what the cook is sipping from a plastic jar. May we try it? It’s not bad—pairs nicely with a cinderblock-size wedge of coconut cake for dessert.

The staff probably needs a sip or two of sugary sustenance; the place is bustling, filling fast on a frigid evening. To stay ahead of the rush, we have starters on the way. Hot beef fat performs magic on an overloaded cup of salty hand-cut fries with a ranch-inspired dip. Flaky biscuits with a satisfying crumble and opulent orange marbling of melted cheddar arrive with a ramekin of butter, whipped with enough sea urchin roe to provide a delicate iodine-tinted seaside tang. A certain seafood chain’s gained fame for its biscuits, and these are the ultra-deluxe model. If you’re just in the mood for a snack, camp at the bar with an order of biscuits and a Negroni.

Speaking of the bar, it’s long and roomy, separating the kitchen from an airy high-ceilinged dining space with department store–big windows that offer views of the invariably amusing Central West End. Metal chairs (booths have padded seating) and a cement floor lend an impersonal feel, but it’s belied by the warm, friendly service. Cocktails are expertly mixed in both “Old” and “New” versions. It would be a worthwhile goal to work your way through the extravagant cocktail menu, with its startling array of temptations, over the course of a year. Puerto Rican and Jamaican rums dominate the drinks, which have been given such intriguing names as Crop Circles and Brass Knuckles and are enlivened with such seasonings as chili flakes and turmeric.

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Whole branzino Hanoi-style, with Vietnamese salsa and Hanoi dipping sauce

There’s also a lot of play with the dish names and ingredients. Wu-Tang Clams, for instance. A gurgle of Chinese wine adds a licorice smack to the broth, served with sweet clams, Swiss chard, and nubbins of Portuguese sausage. The accompanying crusty bread is a must for sopping it all up. Delectable as those clams are, Yellowbelly’s must-order dish is a more substantial helping of seafood: a whole grilled branzino. The cavity’s stuffed with basil, coriander, and ginger; the aromatics beautifully perfume the white flesh. What distinguishes the branzino, prepared “Hanoi style,” is the crispy flame-roasted skin. (Keeping that succulent skin from peeling off on the grill requires a skilled touch, and someone in the kitchen has it.) The magnificently grill-branded fish sits atop a bed of shredded emerald miyeok seaweed tinged with sesame oil. It’s among the best seafood dishes in town.

Also, uh, dramatic in presentation is a “bone-in tuna chop.” A beef rib bone is “meat glued” (sounds yummy, no?) to a slab of tuna steak that’s easily hefty enough for two. What’s impressive is that the steak, thick as a meaty brick, is roasted so it’s done yet still juicy, splendidly flavorful. The bone? Purely for looks. We had the odd sensation of feeling embarrassed for the tuna. It’s a noble fish; a pasted-on beef rib is like Androscoggin College awarding Stephen Hawking a posthumous degree: utterly unnecessary.

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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Tuna prime rib with Swiss chard, sausage, and bone marrow butter

If you are in need of cow, go with boneless Wagyu steak, sliced and marinated in a Korea-inspired slurry of soy sauce, garlic, and sesame seed oil. Outrageously tender and beefy, it’s buried under an avalanche of those French fries—a unique, delightful take on a bistro steak frites.

Reinforced by that rum-rich cocktail list and tropical theme mural, the menu has a sort of Polynesian/Asian vibe. It’s vaguely expressed in places, as with a “passionfruit mustard” dip for crab fritters; it’s more pronounced in others, such as the tuna-loaded poke bowl. That tuna chop isn’t the only foray into the gastronomically gimmicky: Fresh oysters are presented with rosy “pearls” of cocktail sauce, blasted with nitrogen into spheres that instantly melt when popped in one’s mouth with the oysters.

Having delivered the Sprite-and-juice, our server explains Yellowbelly’s name. The nearby Retreat Gastropub is a sister eatery: Retreat. Yellowbelly. Get it?

Cowardly connotations notwithstanding, the place is unafraid to take some chances. Nothing is bland; little is predictable. The menu has been evolving since the place opened last year. A lilikoi pie has at least temporarily vanished from it, prompting considerable regret. More fried rice dishes have appeared, including some with Spam; they offer a real (if upscale) taste of Hawaiian home cooking. 

The savvy diner should be compelled to make multiple visits to check progress—and sample the list of cocktails…including that Sprite–and–cranberry juice pick-me-up.