17 July 27th–Aug 2nd, 2023 phoenixnewtimes.com phoenix new Times | cONTeNTs | feeDBacK | OPiNiON | NeWs | feaTuRe | NighT+Day | culTuRe | film | cafe | music | The signature porterhouse is a 48-ounce monster, and it isn’t a bad piece of meat. But it’s completely devoid of salt, and a shaker of Morton’s iodized just isn’t a substitute. Moreover, Durant’s charges top dollar for its steaks. At $79.50, a 14-ounce New York is one of the priciest strips in town. The argument is that Durant’s steaks come with a salad and side, but how much value does a handful of spinach with raspberry vinaigrette and a cup of stiff mashed potatoes really add? Aha! I found the salt. All of it. It’s in the prime rib, both the meat itself and its bouillon-heavy jus. If you order it, be sure to hydrate. Consistency, as always, is key. On a good night, the steaks can (barely) hold the line, but step off the beaten path and things go downhill very, very quickly. The wheels come off Salmon is carefully prepared, even if it’s cooked to a temperature that’s more 1985 than 2023. But the glaze is a belligerent, cloying mess that tastes like a bottle of Mae Ploy Sweet Chili Sauce mixed with mango jelly. Meanwhile, an investment of $84 nets you a pair of bready hockey puck-like crab cakes made with pasteurized backfin, heavy on the filler and bell pepper. If anybody upends a table at Durant’s, they’re probably from Maryland. But the chicken piccata is where the kitchen’s shortcomings are laid brutally bare. I know we like to use the word “taste- less” in a colloquial, pejorative sense. But in this instance, I mean it in the most literal way possible. This spongy, saucy chicken breast has no flavor. There is nothing there. Even the capers taste like nothing. How does one strip the flavor from a caper? One of my tablemates takes a bite, pauses, glances up nervously and says, “Do I have COVID?” I manage to land a couple of tasty dishes. The fried shrimp are plump and juicy, encased in a delicately crisp panko coating. And whoever seasoned the steaks could learn from whoever seasoned the lamb. It arrives admirably cooked and imbued with a gentle herbal scent. But even this win is the setup for a punchline. Next to that lovely serving of lamb sits a glistening, emerald deposit of jiggling mint jelly. There’s retro and there’s performance art. Best pretend it isn’t there. Desserts are a strong point, which is to say they’re solid, and the key lime pie is a particularly lively standout. But this is the point of the meal where no amount of sweetness can raise my spirits. A steep price for nostalgia One needn’t grow up with Durant’s to grasp how special it is. That much is self- evident the moment you walk through the door. But Durant’s is no longer selling food. It’s selling nostalgia. And $150 a head is awfully steep for nostalgia, even if it comes with salad and a baked potato. I look around and I see a moment frozen in time, a living historical document, some- thing precious that demands to be treasured and protected. Then I look down at my dinner and I see a mediocre, aging steak- house charging top dollar for dull, poorly prepared food. It’s hard for me to reconcile those two without feeling cheated, not because I’ve overpaid, but because the euphoria I felt when I walked through the door has dropped dead on the plate. This isn’t a call to modernize. Heck, don’t even reprint the menu. Make a few tweaks, improve the sourcing and sharpen the execution, and the very same dishes could live up to the promise of the beau- tiful, timeless space. Durant’s could be such a stunning classic restaurant, and I can only guess who’s holding it back. Is it the owners? Kitchen leadership? Regulars who mutiny at the faintest whiff of change? Whatever the reason, I hope the kitchen finds its stride, because here’s another story you’ve heard before: Everyone sees a crowded dining room and assumes it will stay that way forever. But how many unassailable Arizona insti- tutions have suddenly vanished over the last decade? The Stans grow old and the Dans move on, and one day we’re all shocked to learn that a beloved piece of history has closed its doors for good. That’s a story I hope I never have to write. Durant’s 2611 N. Central Ave. 602-264-5967 | durantsaz.com 4 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. Wednesday through Sunday Appetizers $19-$39; Entrees $46- $157; Sides $15-$20; Desserts $14. The Durant’s Dilemma from p 15 Top: The red-hued dining room has remained largely unchanged for Durant’s 73-year lifespan. Bottom: Durant’s popular strawberry shortcake. A little heavy handed, but a solid dessert. Dominic Armato Dominic Armato
