OUR REVIEW OF OCEANAIRE

You know the world has turned a few times when the best new seafood restaurant to hit our stretch of Gulf Coast in ages hails from Minnesota. Yet in this era of global seafood, it’s actually far less important that you’re close to an ocean than that you know how to reach people who are. Once the system is in place, dayboats pulling into Hawaii or Chile are as close as the chef’s cellphone – and in some cases, ready to fly you fresher fish than some guy on a dock just 100 miles away.

The Oceanaire Seafood Room, landing in the Galleria’s new Restaurant Row during the holiday shopping rush, has pretty much mastered the fish-by-cellphone thing since its beginnings up north in 1998. It brings to local tables an established rep it has no interest in losing, a comfortably elegant décor with the just the right touch of 1930s Art Deco ocean liner, and a commitment to celebrating the greatest traditions of American seafood cookery. With a delicious bit of irony, most of the classic recipes from which Chef Jeremy White takes his cue were invented in days that saw seafood served only along America’s coastlines. In many cases, his hyper-fresh updates of the classics not only take these traditions far from the coasts of their origin but make them better as cooking in every conceivable way.

Take Oceanaire’s rendition of Lobster Thermidor, for instance – as tired and moldy an old dish as can be imagined, now terribly dated with its all-encompassing glop of cream, butter, breadcrumbs and too much cheap sherry. Chef White seems to have deconstructed the dish into its flavor components and produced a fresh, zippy, surprisingly light but lush spin that’s all about chunks of sweet lobster and lump crabmeat. The other elements are held back, applied strategically, a splash here or there. A dish no one needed to try has become a dish everyone needs to try, a transformation that proves to be emblematic of what the new Oceanaire in Houston is all about.

In keeping with its concept and seafood’s global shipping lanes, each night at the restaurant produces a dated chalkboard list of what seafood is in the house. While certainly showbiz plays a part in such lists – showbiz being another word for what restaurants like to call presentation or the “complete dining experience” – it also is a kind of guarantee. Nothing is served that’s less than perfect just because it’s listed on some printed menu. On the night of our recent visit, the chalkboard listed 25 fresh items, from finfish like Block Island swordfish and Carolina white trout to New Zealand “green lip” mussels and Jonah crab claws. Interestingly, there’s a strong sense of wine-like “terroir” in Oceanaire’s treatment of seafood. Fish, it seems, really are what they eat, so it matters deeply where they come from. This geography fetish carries over bigtime to the Oyster Bar, where you might enjoy a bevy of bivalves from Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, Maine and Massachusetts. Cold water is a must here, it would seem.

For appetizers at Oceanaire, the number of promising choices can overwhelm. Best bets we’ve sampled include Baked Oysters Creole with a bit of andouille crust, Topneck Clams Casino (that Sinatra-like Italian-American classic) and the quite different, much lighter Ahi Tuna Tower, with avocado, mango and jicama pico de gallo. In some dishes, it’s all about the crunch. Oldtime faves like Shrimp de Jonghe, Escargots and even a 95-cent “Tomato Juice Cocktail” turn up, but so do newtime faves like Crab Cake (hewing the current party line of lots of crabmeat, almost no breadcrumbs) and the Thai-spiced Red Curry Mussel Stew, memorable for its coconut milk and basil. Chef White’s cookbook collection seems as global as his seafood – a Houston thing indeed.

In addition to the option of fresh items simply grilled or broiled with sea salt, lemon juice and extra-virgin olive oil, there are no fewer than 15 entrees listed as Oceanaire Specialties. In addition to that glorious Lobster Thermidor and the wonderful swordfish from Block Island (up by Rhode Island, which is much smaller than Texas) served with garlic essence and herbed crimini mushrooms, we like the Monterey Bay Fisherman’s Stew (bouillabaisse gone to Sicily, in much the style of San Francisco’s cioppino) and the Whole Fried Arctic Char, an Asian concept from the start with its citrus-soy glaze and crunchy daikon sprout salad. Among the main courses built around shellfish (in case you haven’t had enough by filling your table with great shellfish appetizers), we prefer the Massachusetts diver scallops with braised salsify and a garlicky gremolata glued together with melted Asiago.

Make no mistake: just as any modern steakhouse must appeal to seafood lovers, any modern seafood house must do the same in reverse. A couple of great steaks are offered, along with high-end know-their-home-address chicken, pork, veal and lamb. And when all the entrée plates are cleared, you will want dessert whether you’ve “saved room” (what a quaint concept) or not. All the expected things are done well at Oceanaire, from Key Lime Pie to Baked Alaska, from Tres Leches (now there’s a dish that came out of nowhere) to Crème Brulee. Classics all. Yet you might just let your server set the Super Caramel Brownie at the center of your table. More like a mammoth slice of chocolate cake than a brownie anybody’s Grandma ever thought about making, this one comes with whipped cream and a generous ladling of both chocolate and caramel sauces. Let the feeding frenzy begin!