Description
At Son of a Gun, Shook's and Dotolo's new seafood restaurant near the Beverly Center, the plates are smaller than ever, Neil Diamond rules the stereo and the chef is still always right. But it is hard to imagine what alterations you might want to make to a dish of smoked steelhead roe, maple-flavored cream and razor-thin shards of toast, which tastes like an extreme deconstruction of lox and cream cheese on a pumpernickel bagel. Or to a single Santa Barbara spot prawn, barely cooked, with a drop or two of melted butter; to seared albacore drizzled with ponzu or a few dimes of raw, sliced geoduck with olive oil and sea salt; to a chunk of the season's first Alaskan halibut garnished with sugarsnap pods, a taste of earliest spring, or grouper in a broth that tastes like lemongrass-spiked Vietnamese pho. Each of the plates is exquisite; each is about the heft of a tiny plate of sashimi. (What is the seafood equivalent of pigs' ear? Maybe the alligator schnitzel.)
