Originally Published in The Weekly Dig, 2006

OM RESTAURANT & LOUNGE
Meditations on a martini
LEX MARBURGER
57 JFK St., Cambridge 617.576.2800 OMRESTAURANT.COM Mon.-Sun., 5 PM-1 AM

3 out of 5 sporks

“Edible art” is a dubious term. It emphasizes presentation over palate, style over substance; it evokes American Psycho concoctions, in which gleaming arches of crystallized mango infused with tree oil teeter precariously on a beveled-rhomboid china shard.

Then again, in the right hands, even an artless dish can become a vehicle for expression; even the most seemingly simple dish can offer a complex exposition of flavor. OM chef Rachel Klein has the right hands—sometimes.

OM Restaurant occupies the Harvard Square space where the sadly defunct Other Music once stood. (Other Music. OM. Hmm.) I had been fretting about eating in the same place where I used to hunt for old Crime and the City Solution records, but the feeling passed as I opened the ornate wooden door and came face-to-face with a wall of running water and blue light. To my right was a lounge straight out of Sex and the City, with luxurious furniture tastefully arranged beneath the gaze of a benevolent Buddha in an enormous mural. Beaded curtains offered glimpses of semi-private rooms further back, but we were quickly ushered upstairs to a table overlooking Winthrop Square, surrounded by yet more tasteful Asian art. The décor may seem heavy-handed at first, but the persistence of its aesthetic eventually forces you to see things OM’s way. After all, you need to be in the right state of mind to order an "Aromatheratini" with a straight face.

Now, I’m no stranger to the world of spirits, and I’ve had my share of bizarre cocktails. But the idea of putting essential oils in martinis to enhance their scent? Well, it could be a good idea, or it could be a complete travesty. Of course, I had to try one. Or three. I started with the highly improbable Essential Martini ($11), a combination of vodka, scotch and jasmine oil. I know what you’re thinking: “Forget the jasmine—vodka and scotch?” Surprisingly, though, the splash of scotch provided a mellowness vodka lacks. The jasmine, unfortunately, was too subtle to notice among the more aggressive alcohol aromas. Another head-scratcher on paper, the Art Basil ($11) was an unexpected winner on the palate. Slightly sweet muddled basil brightened the smooth vodka, while a disc of lime sharpened the whole; I took each sip in anticipation of the next. In the same vein, the Rose Maya ($11)—a blend of gin, cucumber, dill and rose oil—smelled for all the world like some high-end salon face mask, but nonetheless went down smoothly, with a palate-cleansing linger.

Now that I was liquored up, I could turn my attention to the menu—which brings me back to edible art. OM seems to deal in deconstruction—breaking down a dish into its component parts for you to mix together yourself, as with the De-Constructed Caesar ($12). I’m not sure whether this approach is supposed to improve flavor or simply turn the plate into a canvas, but I’m suspecting the latter. Striking juxtapositions of ingredients are also prevalent—take the truffled parmesan popcorn served before an amuse bouche of curried cauliflower soup in an espresso cup.

The torched tuna tartare with Korean lime vinaigrette ($14) was likewise artful: The chopped fish, mixed with pine nuts and currants, was packed into a tight cylinder under a crème brûlee-style crust. Accompanying it were a mild pomegranate-and-ginger gelée and an amusing hibiscus spritzer in a shot glass. Light, sweet and refreshing on the tongue, it paired well with the tuna. By contrast, the duck confit ($12) over grilled escarole was fairly straightforward—but a garnish of pine-nut brittle added some whimsy.

The entrée “Steak and Eggs” ($34) featured a breaded, deep-fried, truffled egg perched atop a filet mignon beside asparagus spears stacked like Lincoln Logs; a bordelaise sauce brought all the elements together. It was an interesting experiment, but for me, the flavors simply weren’t there. And I don’t mean they didn’t work, I mean they simply weren’t there. For all the conceptual excitement and visual creativity (not to mention the high price), the end result was surprisingly bland. Of more interest was the Surf and Turf ($28), which consisted of lightly seared sliced tuna paired with Tibetan momos (steamed beef dumplings), clementine aïoli, and a stack of rutabaga planks with shaved radish. It was in this dish where I really saw the kitchen catch its stride, as the rich, spicy flavors of the momo complemented the elegant, lightly seasoned fish.

Still, it’s the Aromatheratinis that will lure me back to OM. One might say the aromatherapy worked, but I’m convinced it’s the alcoholatherapy that won me over.