16 July 3rd-July 10th, 2024 phoenixnewtimes.com PHOENIX NEW TIMES | NEWS | FEATURE | FOOD & DRINK | ARTS & CULTURE | MUSIC | CONCERTS | CANNABIS | Toum with a View Sam Fox’s Thea makes a mess of Mediterranean cuisine. BY DOMINIC ARMATO I ’ll say this. Sam Fox knows how to make a splash. Phoenix’s cheesecake-funded über-restaurateur didn’t secure a third of a billion dollars for his empire by quietly going about his business, and his latest venture, The Global Ambassador, is anything but quiet. Surely, you and The Global Ambassador have met? Since late last year, the ritzy epicenter of Phoenix’s upscale social scene has shifted to Fox’s first foray into the hotel business — a bustling, traffic-snarling glit- terati magnet touted as a “restaurant-first” destination for the international jet set. The Global Ambassador’s press page drips with honey-scented accolades, and though I’m no hotel critic, the praise seems warranted. The facade of Fox’s Parisian- inspired edifice strikes me as a little less Paris, France and a little more Paris, Las Vegas, but inside it’s a swanky, luxurious joint where I’d gladly spend some time. My primary interest, however, lies in the phrase Fox uses to describe his latest opus. ‘Restaurant-first’ Author & Edit Hospitality, Fox’s hotel company, has crammed four restaurants within The Global Ambassador’s white walls, and set the fifth — its gleaming, Mediterranean-inspired crown jewel, Thea — on the roof. Rolling out a reproducible restaurant chain is one thing, but anchoring a top- flight luxury hotel with international ambitions is another. Thea is ostensibly designed to serve a different clientele with different needs — needs for which Fox’s usual dressed-up everyman schtick seems exquisitely ill-suited. Is there anything a true sophisticate hates more than a faux sophisticate? Still, business acumen, gumption and a giant pile of money can produce just about anything, if you know how to delegate. Delegate, Sam Fox has. Fox is reportedly very hands-on with The Global Ambassador’s restaurants, but he’s brought on longtime local fixture Dushyant Singh as the hotel’s director of food and beverage and he’s imported New York semi-celeb chef Eric Kim Haugen as “head of culinary creative.” All of this leads one to wonder who has the most fingers in the pie, but I’m not sure it matters so long as the pie tastes good. The pie is pretty The Global Ambassador is always a scene. On Friday and Saturday nights, it’s a zoo. Finding Thea means pushing through a crowd of supermodels and supercars before navigating multiple layers of bouncer-patrolled velvet ropes en route to a hidden bank of elevators that whisks you to the rooftop deck. Whether or not you get off on this kind of performa- tive exclusivity theater, it’s tough to deny that the patio is stunning. It’s a vibe up there, as the kids say, where the well- heeled wildlife sips spritzes and skinny margaritas and gazes down upon the Valley, lounging on giant puffy sofas and wiggling to a disco funk remix of “Rock the Casbah” in a scene that would probably kill Joe Strummer if he weren’t already dead. Said spritzes are a little lightweight but appropriate to the setting and deftly designed by beverage director Sean Traynor. They’re easy to drink and nothing that makes you think too hard. That’s good, because the menu is kind of a puzzler. Mediterranean in name only At most restaurants, “Mediterranean” is either a euphemism for Arab cuisine or a failure to commit. At Thea, it’s a collection of diverse, overlapping culinary traditions sharing common threads that could potentially be woven together with skill. The problem is that they aren’t. Great grilled octopus requires nothing more than fire, lemon, salt and a nice, lusty olive oil. Sure, you can dress it up if you like. But it doesn’t need to hide. The octopus at Thea is hiding — dull, re-warmed seafood whose shortcomings can’t be disguised by throwing on buzzy condiments like zhoug, toum and a smat- tering of fresh herbs. Calamari is solid enough, battered and fried and served with a chunky, undersea- soned tomato sauce. But I think of all the brilliant ways calamari is prepared throughout the region, and somehow the best Thea can come up with is the kind of appetizer that would feel more at home alongside bottomless salad and breadsticks. Thea’s signature appetizer sampler, the “Goddess of All Dips” consumes a hefty chunk of menu real estate, complete with flowery illustrations, and the sextet is a mixed bag. Baba ghanoush fails to capture eggplant’s natural sweetness while deftly highlighting all of its more astringent, bitter qualities. And why they’ve topped it with a blob of dank pesto Genovese is anybody’s guess. Muhammara is watery, underpowered and overly sweet, but the artichoke dip is creamy and flavorful so long as you don’t catch a tough, stringy leaf between your teeth. Ricotta whipped to a textureless fluff with honey and figs might as well be dessert, while crispy chickpeas and a nice spice mix add some welcome zip to otherwise unremarkable hummus. My dining companions agree that it’s a fun spread to pick at with bread and crudites, but when I ask which of the six they look forward to ordering on its own, the table goes silent. Like a cheap buffet, once the wide-eyed appeal of variety and excess is stripped away, the dish that remains tastes better at my corner gyro shop. The metaphors keep coming. Flaming out Flaming saganaki trips and faceplants before it even leaves the kitchen. A timid facsimile of the explosive Chicago-Greek classic, it perfectly — and quite literally — encapsulates Thea’s lukewarm take on the cuisine. Rather than firing it tableside in a searing hot pan, Thea’s flambeed kasseri cheese is first cooked in the kitchen, transferred to a barely warmed skillet, then splashed with a bit of booze your server lights in a cup and gently pours over the top. There’s fire, yeah, but where’s the kaboom? The showmanship of the original has always been kind of corny, but more than that, it’s functional. Without that scalding metal pan, Thea’s cheese gets “THERE’S FIRE, YEAH, BUT WHERE’S THE KABOOM?” Top: The food at Thea might leave you wanting, but the view is lovely. Left: Thea’s saganaki is a flop, failing to capture the fun and flavor of the original dish. (Photos by Dominic Armato) ▼ Food & Drink >> p 18
