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 Hugo O'Conor's Launches A New Conquest. By Rebecca Cook THE FOLKS AT Hugo O'Conor's are quick to tell you what the restaurant is not. It's not a pub. Well, not really. You see, that was the initial idea, but they'd originally envisioned a pub in the European sense, not the more familiar classed-down American interpretation of that kind of establishment, and there was uncertainty as to whether Tucson commoners would comprehend the difference.
One thing's clear: To dine at Hugo O'Conor's is to experience a piece of Tucson history. The restaurant is named for the colorful Irish expatriate-turned-Spanish military commander who founded the Tucson Presidio in 1775. The Manning House, where the restaurant is located, has been home to a Tucson mayor as well as the local chapter of the Elk's Club, and the new owners have spared no expense in restoring the building to much of its turn-of-the-century grandeur. The interior redwood paneling has been stripped of decades of paint and buffed to a rich-grained radiance. Plush, large-print floral carpeting stretches throughout, except in the lovely circular atrium patio, where midday diners are seated around a bubbling fountain amidst incandescent filtered light. Stained glass was commissioned for many of the windows and borders, and it did not go unnoticed that the pattern of the china matched the color and design of some of that glass. Given the attention to so much other detail, the dining room furniture can only be described as an aberration: Immense wrought-iron chairs that come with a warning that it's better to lift up when trying to move them or they tip, potentially leaving the petite diner with legs a-dangling. Even the more statuesque may find the height at which torso meets table requires a slight but persistent body tilt while dining--which by evening's end can become mildly uncomfortable. The modern, gray marble-topped tables not only give an otherwise warm dining room a slight chill, they take on an icy-slick peril when trying to carve a nice juicy steak.
So...what is Hugo O'Conor's? It's a work in progress, intriguing and engaging on many counts, but with some significant kinks to be worked out. The owners and staff seem so genuinely interested in making the place fly that it could be just a matter of time before they secure a spot on the register of local culinary landmarks. In its current state, there's still much to admire at the fledgling restaurant. Executive Chef Robertson Reid, formerly of the Arizona Inn, brings an innovative elegance to the kitchen, reflected in dishes such as the tower of roasted vegetables with roasted pine nuts and tomato-basil sauce. Two soup specials are offered daily, one chilled and fruity and the other warm and hearty. A hot, mulligatawny was exceptionally good, with a velvety, curried base surrounding bits of chicken, carrots, onion and potato. A basket of warm bread (French baguette and a delicately herbed multigrain) was the ideal accompaniment to this first course. Dinner salads also transcend the mundane with an exotic mix of mesclun greens and colorful splashes of julienned golden and watermelon radishes. Both dressing choices piqued our curiosity: a citrus vinaigrette with a dominant orange influence, and a creamy cucumber-dill with a generous crush of fresh garlic. A grilled mushroom flan served with a burgundy truffle sauce fell short of its potential as an appetizer, lacking the intense chanterelle flavor I'd anticipated. Nevertheless, the entire portion gradually disappeared. The fresh fish of the evening was a grilled salmon fillet delicately seasoned in a deceptively simple beurre blanc, which beautifully allowed the taste and quality of the fish to take center stage. Such was not the case with the seared loin lamb chops, which were cooked to a succulent medium-rare perfection but were overshadowed at times by the pungency of a rosemary goat-cheese stuffing. The red chile pesto accompanying the dish didn't help matters, congealing unpleasantly soon after its arrival and maintaining a coarse, floury edge. The pot roast was also disappointing--tasty but a bit too tough to qualify as anything near the epitome of the dish. The baby vegetables that came with, however, were wonderful, especially the petite red beets, which lent themselves nicely to the meat's gravy glaze. All entrees are served with a variety of side dishes, ranging from feathery potato croquettes to an enormous spear of tender-crisp broccoli served with a red hollandaise sauce. You certainly won't be wanting for portions at Hugo O'Conor's. Luncheon entrees are more modest in scale, and feature more sandwiches and salads. A healthful vegetarian sandwich consisting of provolone cheese, mashed avocado, sliced tomato, red onion and cucumber, on thick slices of whole-wheat, sun-dried tomato bread smeared with cilantro mayonnaise, was surprisingly dull given its tantalizing ingredients. A bowl of linguini with shrimp, scallops, sliced mushrooms, artichoke hearts, loads of fresh lemon and a touch of garlic was a far more appealing noontime option, replete with the flavors of the sea and a vibrant splash of sunshine and citrus. Dessert constitutes a short list, but one well worth a look. Possibilities are a dense chocolate torte with a cinnamon-laced truffle center, served on a pool of blackberry sauce; and crisp almond tuile tacos packed with a scrumptious mango mousse and an assortment of fresh berries. Curiosity seekers will be happy to know that tours of the building are almost always available. If possible, be sure to include one in your visit.
Even with a few wrinkles, Hugo O'Conor's at the Manning House
shouldn't be missed.
Hugo O'Conor's Restaurant at the Manning House. 450 W. Paseo Redondo. 770-0651. Open 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. Monday through Saturday. Closed Sundays. Full bar. Major credit cards accepted. Menu items: (lunch)$4-$12, (dinner) $4-$25. |
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Hugo O'Conor's is not your typical upscale fine-dining experience,
either. A few of those pub-type dishes seemed too good to abandon
completely, and so have been retained on the menu, creating profound
shifts in terms of price and items featured on the daily menu.
Perhaps there's some metaphoric significance to the fact that
pot roast and filet mignon rub shoulders on the same menu, but
I haven't quite discerned what that might be.
Had I not been in similar straits, I might have found the tribulations
of the woman across the way entertaining as she delicately tried
to saw through the meat on her plate, which persisted in sliding
every which way, while she gamely tried all the while to maintain
her lover's gaze.
