Sunday, June 1, 2014

The Cull House

Is there anything better than a spontaneous early dinner on the water on a beautiful, sunny Sunday? I think not. not today anyway.  We started out in search of outside furniture and ended with dinner at The Cull House in Sayville.



The Cull House started out in 1977, originally by the marina in Blue Point. Owned by John Casey, then and now, it moved to Sayville, if memory serves, (and I think it does, since some close personal friends may or may not have been involved in putting up signs announcing the move in the dead of night one night) in the mid 80's to it's present location at 75 Terry Street in Sayville.



The menu is not in the least overwhelming, with the dinner menu also available through lunch hours. There are enough options to satisfy any welcome customer, seafood lover or not. We opted for seafood because, well, we live on the South Shore and that's just what we do.

Upon walking into The Cull House, we were immediately greeted with live lobsters and a welcoming bar. We were seated almost immediately and requested to be seated outside--which was the best choice we could have made for a day like today. We were seated in the garden next to a stone walled miniature waterfall, surrounded by seemingly casual landscaped gardens. The view could have been straight out of Home and Gardens magazine, and there was a surreal zen from the trickling water in the pond. The gardens were randomly adorned with artfully decorated nautical-themed things. It was combination of nature meets seafare.

Pond and rustic seating


Complete with hand painted buoys!


Garden: Straight ahead!



As if the nautical induced serenity wasn't enough, we then looked at the menu. It was double sided, and  had well-known seafood dishes, all with a Cull House twist. The prices weren't outrageous for the food or proportions we received, and was all in all a good deal. Our server was absolutely adorable, and was tipped extra just for all of the times she thanked us. Everything we needed was already at the table, neatly arranged in a timeless metal bucket in the center of the table--including oyster crackers and hot sauce. The plastic utensils were perfectly fitting for waterside dining. 

Katie
It seems that at every seafood restaurant I visit, my go-to is always crab cakes. In my opinion, you can always gauge how good a place will be based on how they cook their crab cakes--and the sauce that is served with them. I ordered the South Bay Crab Cakes with Hot Smoked Paprika Aioli. The variation I had served in front of me ten minutes later was one I'd never had before. There was one perfectly proportioned crab cake (easily split between two people, and it was), with a pale orange sauce, two lemon wedges, and a perfectly browned bread crumb exterior. It's rare that you bite into a crab cake and get such a perfect crunch that the person sitting across from you can notice it audibly, and it was the ideal accompaniment to a smooth, real crabmeat claw inside. The combination was delightful, and the Hot Smoked Paprika Aioli was just the topping on the--well--crab cake. It was not spicy at all, and its smoothness complimented the slightly crunchy, slightly sweet and delicate crab cake inside. It was a wonderful beginning to what was soon to be an early dinner.



Instead of getting a starch or vegetable, I ordered a salad. A mix of romaine lettuce was soon brought to me, with a side ramekin of Peppercorn Parmesan dressing. You know that a salad is about to be bright and fresh when you can actually see ingredients in a super thick dressing, as I presume this was homemade. And if it wasn't, you could have fooled me. The dressing was dimensional and full of parmesan flavor with a hint of ground up peppercorns, which was not overwhelming by any means. It was comparable to ranch, but much, much better. It was a good palette cleanser after the crab cake, and a fabulous precursor to the genuine delight I was about to encounter.



For my entree, I ordered Crabmeat Stuffed Shrimp with Buerre Blanc (drawn white butter), Parsley Crumb, and Lemon (notice a trend here?). Saying it was perfection would be an understatement. The buerre blanc was not heavy as I'd expected for a butter sauce, and was incredibly smooth and creamy, for being a butter-based sauce. There was a hint of lemon which we all know compliments shrimp extremely well, and you could tell that the stuffed shrimp had been cooked on the platter it was served on. That alone made me feel as if it was a specially presented dish coming directly from the chef to me, and after taking one bite of the light, fluffy crabmeat stuffing, I wanted to thank the chef personally. The shrimp was butterflied open laid flat with tails in the air, four to a serving, and the crabmeat was laid on top. There are not many things that I can say other than the crabmeat stuffing was divine, and the shrimp was cooked to perfection--anyone who has cooked shrimp, as I have, knows that this is not always an easy feat to accomplish, especially when adding additional layers such as a stuffing. Sometimes things are better explained and summed up in one sentence: my food was perfection and mouth watering all squeezed into a two-inch bite of lovely seafood. All five of my foodie senses were pleased. This dinner ranks among one of my favorites as far as seafood goes, which is saying a lot coming from a born and raised South Shore girl!

I drool all over again just looking at this.

Tess

Much to Katie's chagrin, I started out with a dozen oysters on the half shell. It's what I do. I was pretty much raised loving seafood, and oysters or clams on the half shell are a way of life in my world. They came, twelve glorious half shells, on a bed of ice, with a mildly spicy cocktail sauce, and another vinegar-based topper. I prefer a dab of cocktail sauce on each, it makes the slurping a bit less messy (and everyone knows oysters and clams are to be gently slurped in order to coax them off the shell).
Seriously, I drooled.
It's rare to get through a dozen oysters (or clams) without getting at least a sliver of shell. Even more rare to find a place that understands that the oyster (or clam) needs to be detached from the shell in order to facilitate the perfect slurp. I got not a bit of shell sliver and, amazingly, got through the entire dozen without having to yank the poor oyster. They, as the saying goes, slid right down.
Best. Ever.


I, too, opted for a salad rather than starch. Mine was fresh greens, cucumbers. grape tomatoes and shredded carrot, with an amazing white balsamic vinaigrette. The dressing was thicker than your average vinaigrette, with a smooth balsamic taste with maybe  a hint of citrus. The dressing was served separate from the salads, and was more than enough to accompany the greens.

Dinner  is served



I have cooked scallops once or twice. I know how easy it is, especially with bay scallops, to over cook them, and how quickly one can do just that. The scallops set in front of me were golden, tender, cooked to succulent perfection. Clearly broiled on the plate they were served on, they looked delicious, and proved to be just that, melt in your mouth fabulous. The taste was pure scallop; the butter accented rather than overpowered. There was just enough, between the scallops and the salad, to fill without feeling stuffed.

Every summer we go to The Cull House, because, you know, summer, south shore, down by the ferries and all that.  We really need to remember that they're open year round, and we can enjoy a little bit of summer in the dead of winter. To any south shore natives, we recommend this restaurant over and over again. To visiting beachgoers, we recommend this south shore seafood experience as an absolute must!


Tess & Katie



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