Murphree siblings celebrate five years at their creative Murfreesboro eatery

A few weeks back, I posted on the Scene's food blog, Bites, that New York Times food writer Mark Bittman was speaking in Murfreesboro about his book Food Matters and I needed a place to take him to dinner—a spot that was both convenient to the MTSU campus and representative of Middle Tennessee fare. I originally leaned toward Martin's Bar-B-Que Joint in nearby Nolensville, but when push came to shove, the jaunt to the Joint was a little too lengthy. Other top suggestions included the Slick Pig—just down the road from MTSU's James Union—where we could have treated the "lessmeatarian" cookbook author to a feast of smoked wings he surely would never forget. But in the end, we felt our way to Five Senses, where sibling team Mitchell and Mollie Murphree are celebrating their fifth anniversary this month.

There's a lot of pressure when it comes to selecting a dining locale for a culinary luminary who lives in the epicenter of the food universe. After all, what could we show vegan-before-6 Bittman in Murfreesboro that he couldn't find any night of the week in a New York restaurant? To be sure, Five Senses lacks the polish and drama of New York's—and even Nashville's—finer establishments.

For one thing, we found him a table, even though we didn't have a reservation. But Five Senses has a lot more going for it than just available seating. The Murphrees have created an easy-going room, anchored by an open kitchen, where they deliver a creative seasonal repertoire. Since closing their 2-year-old pizza restaurant—Tomato, Tomato—earlier this year, the team has redoubled efforts at Five Senses, expanding to serve lunch during the week.

A spray of candied sage leaves tantalized us from across the open chef's bar as we awaited our meal. Resembling tiny leaves of lamb's ear, the crystal-coated foliage accompanies an appetizer of polenta cakes with mushroom ragout, truffle oil, beurre blanc and goat cheese.

Beurre blanc and goat cheese also appear on the beet salad, made with an ever-changing array of local beets—candy cane, golden and chiogga, among them—sliced thin and fanned in a velvety puddle of the buttery sauce. Plated with crisp mâche and almonds, the salad arrives with a puffy sidecar of deep-fried pizza dough stuffed with molten goat cheese.

Like the beets, the greens on the local lettuce salad come from nearby 4K Farms. The fluffy haystack of tender leaves is tossed with subtle honey-cider vinaigrette and topped with crisp pear slices, walnuts and salty crumbles of soft blue cheese.

Tender deep-fried oysters in cornmeal coating arrive with a salsa of grilled red onion and diced avocado, as well as a playful signature of remoulade served on the half-shell. A generous plate of fried potato skins layered with smoked salmon, dill, horseradish sauce, capers and red onions made for another easily shared appetizer that put a welcome spin on the sturdy cliché of spuds with cheese and bacon.

In the duck-confit crêpes appetizer, a brace of thin pancakes encasing slow-cooked duck could serve as an entrée for a modest appetite. However, as it was served—with cranberry coulis ladled generously over the top—the overall impression was overbearingly sweet.

Entrées run the gamut of surf and turf—ranging from a hulking pork chop to delicate seared scallops. Meanwhile, the flavors crisscross the globe, from Mexican mole to risotto Milanese.

A quartet of plump seared scallops lounged on a bed of risotto infused with veal stock and saffron. Finished with a bright garnish of mâche and a drizzle of truffle oil, the composition deftly balanced crisp and creamy textures, sweet and earthy flavors, and cool and hot temperatures. By comparison, the monolithic grilled pork chop was a heavy-handed meat-and-two, anchored by mountains of mashed potatoes and vinegary braised greens.

More interesting was the pair of enchiladas stuffed with sweet potatoes and lathered with a light mole of chocolate, chiles, cinnamon, nutmeg and tomatoes. Finished with candied pumpkin seeds, the inventive dish fused the tradition of Mexican mole with the familiar flavor profiles of American Thanksgiving.

Pastry chef Dylan Mackin echoed the seasonal theme with a sweet potato ice cream plated with homemade marshmallow and cranberry molasses.

According to Bittman, the highlight of the evening was the 'Boro bean soup, a smooth and cautiously salty marriage of ham broth and 10 kinds of beans. (He also left with a wreath of housemade cornbread and honey butter for breakfast the next morning.) When I called the restaurant later to tell the Murphrees their signature bean soup had earned kudos from the author of How to Cook Everything, Mollie accepted the compliment graciously, explaining, "Mitchell and I grew up in the country ham business, so we do a lot of stuff with country ham." (Their grandfather founded Clifty Farms country hams.)

But when I told her the Scene was running a review of our charming visit to Five Senses, the Paris, Tenn., native sounded slightly deflated. "I thought," she said with half a laugh, "we were going to get a review in The New York Times."

Five Senses serves lunch Monday through Friday and dinner Monday through Saturday.

Email arts@nashvillescene.com.