It was virtually impossible to avoid the rumors, gossip, the publicity materials and the hype that surrounded the opening of Trilogy, the restaurant. It was chronicled and talked about in detail, just like everything else connected with the life of Naomi Judd.
Along with her husband, Larry Strickland, Naomi—the mama portion of country music’s most publicized mother-daughter love-hate relationship—is the owner of Trilogy. Even before the doors actually opened in mid-December, the restaurant rumor mill had been churning for months. “They’re not opening on time.” “She’s spending millions on the interior.” “Everybody’s fighting.” “There are nude paintings!”
The whispers rose to a crescendo with the hiring of Boris Keller, the talented but temperamental chef whose career at the Wild Boar ended in a tangle of unfortunate immigration problems. The immigration issue was settled by the time Keller started whirling his whisks at Trilogy, but apparently not all was peaceful.
About a week after the grand opening, Naomi was plastered across the cover of the country-music tabloid Country Weekly, declaring, “I don’t have to do the dishes.” Inside, six pages were devoted to Trilogy—Wynonna and Naomi displaying a tray of hors d’oeuvres, Naomi and Wynonna with The Mavericks’ Raul Malo, Naomi holding a spray bottle of Windex while supervising a crew of three people cleaning one French door, Naomi in the kitchen, decked out in an apron—though not doing dishes—with Boris.
One week later, Keller was gone under somewhat curious circumstances. He was replaced by sous chef Michael Martin, whose credentials include a stint as executive chef at the U.S. Embassy in Prague. Reportedly, Trilogy is a much happier place to work.
Trilogy’s smartest move, in my view, was hiring Ray Rivera as general manager. A 20-year veteran of the restaurant business, and most recently a fixture at Sfuzzi, Rivera is as professional as they come. If he is given the wheel, he should be able to steer the Trilogy love boat through even the most treacherous waters.
Still, the reports on Trilogy were mixed: “It’s beautiful.” “It’s overdone.” “We had a fabulous meal.” “The food was inedible—we sent it back.” “The service was terrible.”
And indeed, on my first visit—as a civilian invited by a business associate—everything possible went wrong. But I was eager to try again, so I gathered a group of five people who couldn’t name a Judds song at gunpoint and made reservations—under their name—for 8 o’clock on a Saturday night.
We were seated in the Wynonna Room, where the big marble fireplace with its flaming logs made for an especially nice touch. The room, even with its notorious seminude paintings, was warm and inviting. Our first waiter delivered menus, presented the wine list, recited the specials, and served our first bottle of wine. He was doing well enough, but after Rivera peeked into the room we suddenly had a new waiter, Scott, who provided professional, attentive, but not overly solicitous service throughout the remainder of the evening.
The wine list was reasonably priced and extensive, even if there was a lack of meritages. (Perhaps this state of affairs will change as more Nashvillians discover the pleasure in these merlot-cabernet blends.) We were able to find just what we wanted, whites and reds, all in the $30-per-bottle range.
The menu, one of our party noted, is reminiscent of Wild Boar, though not nearly as pricey. Another diner was reminded of Cafe 123’s menu, though the Trilogy offerings seemed less inventive.
Among the appetizers, we favored the veal tenderloin, stuffed with three cheeses, breaded and sautéed. Accompanied by a soup or salad, it could easily have served as an entrée. In fact, hearty portions seem to be standard-issue at the Trilogy kitchen.
Among the other appetizers, we also loved the farfel, with its robust roasted-duck confit, and the smoky grilled portobella mushroom with shaved parmesan. Avoid the buffalo mozzarella and Roma tomatoes—at least until it’s tomato time in Tennessee again. The grilled kirsch chicken, which sounded so good, turned out to be bland and badly in need of a chili pepper sting.
Moderately priced pastas are offered—another nod to Boise, we decided. But if the rotini is any indication, Trilogy’s noodle offerings are best avoided, unless you’re on a budget.
I loved my pan-roasted chicken, succulent with pan juices, its crispy, golden skin crusted with fresh herbs. It was accompanied by a mound of garlic mashed potatoes that won good reviews from everybody. The beef tenderloin with carmelized shallots, sage and balsamic vinegar reduction was a melt-in-your-mouth triumph. And the rack of lamb, served on a savory—but not bitter—eggplant caponata, was a delight to the eye and the palate. We requested that the grilled ahi tuna be cooked rare, but it was delivered well-done. A second try did the trick:The tuna was seared to a perfect, glistening pink.
When salad time arrived, we immediately fell in love with the seared Romaine with warm goat cheese, sundried tomato vinaigrette, and diced prosciutto. I’ll go back for that alone. The Caesar was, well, a Caesar, but the spinach salad—with walnut-crusted goat cheese, sliced grapes and maple-walnut vinaigrette, was a handsome invention.
Trilogy’s desserts all shine. Tarts, crèmes brûlées, tiramisu and dense chocolate indulgencess are all given slight twists that make them memorable and worth the calories. But, once again, beware—the portions are huge. If you share, you’ll be doing yourself a favor.
Lunch was another ballgame. Our party of four requested a table in the courtyard, where, if you’re a music-industry insider, you will feel right at home. Power fairly reverberates in the room.
We liked the artichoke, goat cheese, bacon and plum tomato pizza; the tortilla soup had a nice kick to it; and the penne with roasted chicken and a garden of fresh herbs in a dark chicken broth was terrific. The serving was so generous, I took half of it home for dinner.
The tab for dinner for six, including six bottles of wine, was $531. Lunch for four (no wine, thank you) was $58.40.
Trilogy has already established itself as Music Row’s new power-lunch hangout. I am predicting that dinner will be problematic.
The decor, especially at night when lights are low, seems planned for the special-occasion crowd—birthdays, anniversaries, rehearsal dinners, graduations and promotions. The prices, in spite of the press material touting Trilogy as moderately priced, will require some deep pockets. The accoutrements—linens, stemware, silver and china—are first-rate.
It is not, as one of my guests observed, the type of place where you’d simply drop in after having cocktails at a friend’s home. The cuisine and attention to detail appeal to an upscale, slightly with-it set, the very types who will be turned off by Trilogy’s other potential diners:the Judds’ fans and (even though I hate to say it) the Judds themselves. Country Weekly covers and the promise of Judds on rotating duty will inevitably attract the Fan Fair/Grand Ole Opry crowd. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I just don’t know if all these people can fit together in one 8,000-square-foot restaurant.
