Out of the Wilderness

If you are a real estate agent specializing in Bellevue, it’s time to send a fruit basket to Dave Wachtel III, Justin D. Tatum and John David Crow. The owners and chef of the new Wildwood Oak-Fired Kitchen are doing more to lure folks to 37221 than has anything since the completion of the Natchez Trace Parkway. In fact, it wouldn’t be surprising if locals started giving directions to the venerable Loveless Cafe in terms of its proximity to Wildwood. (Once you pass Wildwood on your right—it’s in a strip mall, along with a Hollywood Video and a Subway—go southwest another 1.09 miles.)

The scenic drive toward Wildwood—past grazing horses and the meandering Harpeth River—leads to a surprisingly cosmopolitan dining experience, where beef carpaccio and seared duck dot a menu of local products and global influences, the wine list offers unexpected value, and the green trend of pouring purified water has already filtered down.

Call it a welcome side effect of suburban sprawl, but the encroachment of upscale dining into the rapidly developing countryside reflects a maturing of Nashville’s culinary appetites. Few people have been better poised to observe that shift than Wildwood founder Wachtel. The son of veteran restaurateur Dave Wachtel Jr., Wachtel the Younger got his first glimpses of the dining industry when his dad led the Shoney’s and O’Charley’s chains. Wachtel III later helped develop or expand Logan’s Roadhouse, Uncle Bud’s, Mère Bulles, The Merchants and Santa Fe Cattle Co.

Since his days as a dishwasher at Western Sizzlin, Wachtel has seen Nashville’s appetites expand—and, inevitably, contract. As much as Wildwood represents an expansion of tastes toward more sophisticated flavors and combinations, it is also a response to the backlash among diners who avoid chain restaurants in favor of unique, locally owned places. Armed with the experience of building large chain concepts, and sensitive to the desires of diners to eat locally, Wachtel has set out to create—wait for it—a chain of locally focused restaurants, with Wildwood as the prototype.

The model is straightforward: a compact shotgun of a store with a bar and open kitchen in front and booth seating for about 100. Copper ceiling tiles over the kitchen, dark woods and a black ceiling with a constellation of lights above the tables add warmth to the strip-mall unit, while lever-pull corkscrews affixed to the booths add a no-nonsense utility to the decor. Shelves stocked with spice jars and other ingredients lend transparency to the cuisine, as if to underscore that the chefs are grabbing for some of this and a dash of that rather than accessing prepared foods from a corporate commissary.

A graduate of Culinary Institute of America and former chef at the Space Needle restaurant in Seattle, Crow has crafted a menu that is at once approachable and creative, with items such as pork chop with chestnut spaetzle and roasted Indonesian chicken with peanut sauce promising a fresh twist on comfortable favorites.

A majority of the menu centers around the brick pizza oven from which the restaurant takes its name. For now, a chalkboard of chef’s whims supplements a printed menu, as Crow susses out what products are available locally and what his audience likes.

Let’s hope his audience likes carpaccio, because Wildwood delivers a gorgeous wrap of raw beef stuffed with peppery arugula and drizzled with a creamy Dijon sauce, truffle oil and capers. The buttery meat was thicker than in many preparations, but the flavors were delicate, and the unexpectedly large serving—topped with shaved Parmesan—never became overwhelming.

We also enjoyed the Penn Cove mussels in a rich broth of cream and wine, flavored faintly with fennel and garnished with tangles of finely shredded carrots.

On one of our visits, Crow tested a playful riff on jalapeño poppers, which were actually croquettes of goat cheese, chorizo and serrano chilies dredged in a mixture of potato flakes and flour and deep-fried. Deliciously molten and served with a side of shaved Granny Smith apples and fennel greens, Wildwood’s version of the popper put the standard bar food to shame.

Likewise, Crow’s simple Caesar salad shattered the cliché of the over-dressed bowl of shredded lettuce. A plump half-bulb of crisp romaine—thrown on the grill and served with pancetta, Parmesan and a whisper of dressing—picked up smoky flavor without losing any leafy integrity. The combination of warm and cool was unexpected and delightful.

Duck spring rolls of pulled meat and shredded vegetables served with a plum sauce have earned an early following. Piping hot and crispy on the outside, the spring roll is large enough to share among several people—and a great place to start an evening at Wildwood.