The Green Revolution

Hip, cool, and green: It's Burlington...and it's The Green Room

Story and photos by Benjamin Pomerance

Think Burlington. Think cool. Think green. Think left-leaning, forward-thinking, progressively-moving, actively-protesting, environmentally-improving, always-open-to-something-new small city. There's a vibe throughout downtown here, a pulse every bit as noticeable as the aura of New York, Los Angeles or Palm Beach, an atmosphere that radiates from every sidewalk crack, building window and seems to land squarely in the mind of every passerby. Every block seems to scream "Cool!" Every sign seems to yell "Yeah!" every sight and site you see seems to holler "Go for it!" For visitors and residents alike, it seems as if no place could epitomize progressivism at its core than the half-urban, half-small town, all-active locale of Vermont's largest city.

This, from a social perspective, is what really makes The Green Room a perfect fit. Strolling down St. Paul Street some night in search of a place to go, you might stop before a small sign announcing the establishment at #86, wedged snugly among a parking garage, a Kaplan test prep center and other non-eating establishments. Pausing in front of the brick facade bathed in the soft green light radiating from the slightly tinted windows, you might even take the time to glance over the menu. Confronted with an extensive list of dishes of varying size and style, many of them made from the most unusual assembly of ingredients imaginable, one of two thoughts are likely to run through your mind: "Cool!" or "Run!". As the pulsating techno beat from the interior stereo makes its way through the glass entranceway and into your ears, chances are your thoughts are likely to evolve in one of two ways: "Very Cool!" or "Run Faster!" So, from a personal perspective, here's a bit of advice. If you are of the former mindset, gung ho at the chance to experience a dining revolution in one of Burlington's trendier spots, trust your instincts and go on in; if the latter, more reticent school of thought fits your perspective, ignore the mental voices telling you to run, put a smile on your face, and go inside. No matter which preconceived notion applies to you, you'll soon find that an evening at The Green Room is not exactly what you expected.

Most restaurants can be attached to a label of some sort: French, Italian, Asian, Contemporary, Nouvelle Cuisine, and the like. As far as eateries go, however, this is the mongrel of the pack, one with bloodlines from the best of breeds but with no exact species fully applicable to it. It's "hip" enough to be hip with its various dining options, dimly lit interior, pulsating background music (which often gives way to a DJ as the night goes on), unique menu and night-owl hours. Still, for a person interested in a more formal, elegant dining experience, The Green Room can also be the perfect fit. Only the freshest ingredients and most cutting-edge culinary methods are used in the meals prepared at this eatery. Prices tend to be reasonable, and portions almost always are ample. Then, the menu, with options from stuffed quail to Asian tuna medallions to duck confit quesadillas gracing the remarkably varied list, is anything but mundane. The moral: no matter what your taste buds and mental expectations are calling for on any given night, all signs point to you being able to satisfy them at The Green Room.

My most recent visit to 86 St. Paul Street, a sort of last-minute excursion with my parents, exemplified The Green Room's ability to exist as a sort of culinary chameleon. Arriving around 5:30, we were escorted to our table by the all-black-clad waitstaff, typically young in age but very professional in their service. Upon entry, diners at The Green Room face two choices for their dining pleasure: the chance to sit on overstuffed sofas and enjoy large, family-style plates of food in the small lounge area, or the option to sit at more traditional tables and select individual portions from essentially the same menu, the choice my parents and I picked on this particular night. After sitting down, more choices arrive, the challenging decision of what to order off the menu. In addition to a nightly list of three or four fish, meat, and game specials, customers are presented with a long list of options that can either be shared by the entire table or ordered as a separate personal plate. Three categories of choices fill the green-tinted menu: small plates ($8), medium plates ($12), and large plates ($16), each compartment filled with a long list of possibilities that sound shockingly strange in preparation...but almost always are delectable in taste.

After lengthy deliberation, my parents and I decide to share a large plate as an appetizer. Taken at face value, our selection was anything but interesting: two small burgers, baked beans, cole slaw and potato salad, the typical fare of oh-so-many summertime backyard barbecues. Suffice it to say, The Green Room's preparation of this dish wasn't quite so ordinary. The potato salad, served with a side of Dijon mustard, was one of the best I have ever tasted; the baked beans, made with just a hint of that legendary Vermont maple syrup, were delicious; and the slaw was composed of shitake mushrooms and other lightly marinated vegetables, each one fresh and crisp to the taste. The centerpiece, however, was without a doubt the two mini-burgers on the plate. Not hamburger but venison graced the interior of the homemade, lightly toasted buns, grilled to perfection -- not quite rare but definitely not so well-done as to become unpleasantly tough -- and absolutely heavenly on the taste buds. As the juice from our carnivorous delight ran down our cheeks, all three of us agreed that this substantial portion --billed on the menu as "venison sliders" -- would be a more than worthy choice for a main meal on our next visit to the city across the lake.

For our main course, my parents and I each selected one of the three specials of the evening, although several other possibilities on the menu tantalized us and competed for our attention. My mother finally settled on a cut of fatty marlin, a fish named not for its obesity but for the juicy, flavorful quality of its meat. Brushed in pesto, a tasty mélange of basil and pine nuts, and accompanied by sautéed greens and a crispy circular piece of eggplant, this harmony of flavors left all of us singing its praises. Following what seems to be an increasingly popular trend, The Green Room tends to build their meals from bottom to top, as opposed to spreading the food across the plate. As a result, the dishes appear deceivingly empty when first delivered to your table, but a few bites prove that this first impression can be quite deceiving. With the marlin special, for example, the base of this leaning tower of culinary art was the crispy eggplant, followed by a layer of the cooked greens, and then the marlin itself at the pinnacle.

My father's meal was built in much the same way. Whipped potatoes and sautéed greens made up the bottom of his stack with the top crowned by one of the most delicious cuts of beef any of us had ever tasted. Wrapped in bacon and drizzled with a white truffle demi-glaze, this filet mignon -- like the venison on our burgers -- was perfectly cooked, mouth-wateringly tender from first bite to last. Dad had ordered his meat medium-rare, and it was exactly how he got it, not too rare but just shy of medium; a beef lover's dream come true.

Like my father, my meal also was formed from a base of whipped potatoes and sautéed greens. The main attraction of my dish, however, was a delectable Canadian breast of duck, perfectly enhanced by a stimulating cranberry-cider sauce. Then, laced on a thin, lightly grilled slice of toast was that paragon of gourmet foods: foie gras, carefully sautéed duck liver, the kind that melts lusciously in your mouth with every bite.

With such a substantial meal literally under our belts, we scarcely had room for dessert, yet the menu delivered to us by our attentive server sounded so good we decided that we simply had to "force" ourselves to try something. We settled on a trio of sorbets, brought from the kitchen on a plate with each scoop representing one point of a triangle and the middle filled with whipped cream and pieces of fresh fruit. All three flavors -- raspberry, kiwi, and blood orange -- were delicious, although I think the general table consensus was that the blood orange may have been the best. Vibrant and lively with each small spoonful, the sorbet assortment cleansed our palettes beautifully, leaving us feeling light and refreshed at the end of what could only be characterized as a truly wonderful meal.

As we departed The Green Room a little after 8 p.m., the night was clearly still young at the downtown eatery. Almost every spot in both dining room and lounge was full, customers of all ages talking, laughing, and clearly enjoying the friendly atmosphere around them. The lights were now even dimmer than when we had first entered, and we heard rumors that a DJ and his "loud music" were set to arrive in the lounge area around 10 o'clock. Still, such talk didn't discourage us in the least, nor would it have probably dissuaded us from staying even if we had arrived at a later hour. When in Rome, do as the Romans; in Burlington, do as many of the Burlingtonians do...and The Green Room, a place as elegant as it is "cool", depicts that classic Burlington atmosphere in a nutshell. Whether you're after a rollicking good time or a cozy fine dining experience for two, The Green Room is your place to go, from its creative cuisine to always welcoming and always professional ambiance. A Green Room green revolution of sorts is in full swing in the kitchen at 86 St. Paul Street, and joining it, as any Vermonter would tell you, is strictly up to you. If I were you, I would find that brick building with the soft green light spilling into the street, put any pre-conceived assumptions out of my head, and jump in. You won't be disappointed.                      

Have you ever dined at The Green Room?