The history of F. Scott’s restaurant is footnoted with a directory of some of the Nashville dining industry’s most influential members. Even the most astute observers of the scene will probably be as surprised as I was to learn that it was Daisy King—most famously of Miss Daisy’s Tea Room, better known for yeast rolls and chicken divan than haute cuisine—who originally opened F. Scott’s in December 1986 in a small strip center behind the Green Hills Kroger.
In May 1987, Randy Rayburn (Third Coast, Sunset Grill) took over and hired Anita Hartell (Third Coast, Tin Angel, and now her own soon-to-open restaurant in East Nashville) in her first stint as chef. Rayburn ran the place for 30 months before his partners sold in late 1989 to Hoyt Hill (Julian’s, Wild Boar, currently Market Wraps) and Z1 Corporation (Wild Boar). Hoyt brought Josh Weakley (Loews Vanderbilt Plaza) into the kitchen as chef.
In a 1993 expansion, Kroger swallowed the adjacent strip center, and F. Scott’s moved to its current location on Crestmoor. Hoyt sold out to Z1, which hired Emile LaBrousse (Arthur’s, currently at Magnolia in Franklin). In November 1995, Louise Branch emigrated to Nashville from California, where she had worked at Stars in San Francisco and Bikini in Los Angeles. She assumed the position of executive chef and hired Margot McCormack as her sous chef.
In September 1996, Allen Fiuzat (who had served as F. Scott’s GM under the Z1 ownership) and Ben Robichaux, who had been running Granite Falls for about four years, purchased the restaurant. When the time came, they did not renew Chef Branch’s contract; instead, they elevated McCormack to executive chef.
Quite the roller coaster. Yet despite the changes in ownership, management, and the kitchen, F. Scott’s has remained consistent throughout its 13-year history in one important respect—it has long been regarded as one of Nashville’s best restaurants.
Still, while I appreciate its reputation and commitment to culinary quality, I have never fully embraced F. Scott’s as one of my personal favorites. Much of that had to do with the decor. The cold Art Deco influences, the garish colors, the awful paintings, and the stained glass turned me off, so much so that the inarguable delights on the tongue did not outweigh the outrages to the eye. I also remember the old F. Scott’s behind Kroger as being far livelier. The F. Scott’s on Crestmoor was, in my view, stiff, imposing, even a little bit pompous. The clientele was older, staid, and stuffy.
Robichaux and Fiuzat were well aware of these conflicts when they purchased F. Scott’s. “I used to come in there to eat,” Robichaux says, “and was struck by how quiet it was, almost whispery. There was no laughter; it didn’t seem that people were having fun.”
Transforming an established restaurant is no easy task—for staff or customers. In a smart business decision, the pair kept the name, but embarked on a three-point plan to reposition themselves as a restaurant that serves exciting, quality food in a lively, warm, and welcoming atmosphere.
The first part of the plan was the food. They charged McCormack to create a new menu of familiar foods, prepared with flair and creativity, at a moderate price; then they pared down the 30-page wine list. The second part was adding more live jazz to the small bar. (The restaurant’s namesake would certainly have approved.) Finally, they redid the interior, closing for three days in January 1997 and reopening with natural colors, a more sensuous texture, and new art on the walls.
Nearly two years after their purchase, Robichaux and Fiuzat and their team deserve to pat themselves on the back, because their plan has succeeded admirably. Live jazz spills from the bar seven nights a week, injecting energy and verve into the two main dining rooms. Servers—knowledgeable, professional, and solicitous—are uniformly turned out in smart attire. The new decor imparts an inviting warmth of casual sophistication. And McCormack’s style in the kitchen has proven to be right in tune with the rest of the players.
The Nashville native did some cooking during her college years at UT, then returned home and worked around town before heading off to The Culinary Institute of America. After graduation, she spent 10 years in New York, honing her skills in various kitchens before settling in at Danel, a small French restaurant with an open kitchen. She liked the intimacy there, getting to see and know the people she was cooking for.
All chefs share a passion for food, but each is driven by a different motivation. There are the flashy show-offs, the Top Guns of the kitchen, who see their diners as an audience whom they are compelled to amaze with their impressive skills. And there are the nurturers, who see their customers as friends or family, for whom every plate is an act of giving. The former is capable of great delight and amusement, but is as fleeting as a one-night stand.
Like many female chefs, to make a sweeping generalization, McCormack is a nurturer. Her food is stylish but not intimidating. Her plates are clean and uncluttered, accessible and user-friendly. “I like to make food people can grasp, that isn’t contrived and complicated,” she says. Menus, which she changes four times a year, reflect an intimacy with the season and an unwavering insistence on quality ingredients.
Currently, you’ll find a wealth of fresh tomatoes, squash, fruits, okra, corn, and sugar snap peas complementing the basic repertoire of fish and shellfish, meat and pasta. Fresh peaches show up in a piquant chilled soup, counter a pleasantly salty pan-seared pork chop, and pile atop a fresh pound cake with whipped cream. A cucumber salad offers crunch to an appetizer of silky tuna tartare. An heirloom tomato salad with several varieties of the fruit fanned atop arugula and dotted with goat cheese is divine simplicity, sublime in its plucked-from-the-garden spirit. Slim ribbons of squash, zucchini, and peppers present a colorful tableau of seasonal harvest in the surprisingly good vegetable carpaccio.
More robust sensations are found in the bruschetta of eggplant caponata with roasted peppers and white beans; the fabulous Moroccan spiced lamb chops with grilled vegetables; and the pan-seared duck breast with sweet corn pudding and precious little halved-pods of grilled okra. Perfectly grilled gulf shrimp encircle a mound of cheesy mashed potatoes; a chunky sweet-potato gratin snuggles up to the brawny aforementioned pork chop. An intense molé sauce was an unexpected but quite winning partner for the excellent beef tenderloin. Purists will love, as I did, the linguine in an elemental wash of garlic, herbs, and white wine, ringed by a dozen or more briny Prince Edward Island mussels. The steamed halibut is a little too subdued, in my view, but it’s just the thing if you’re on a restricted diet. If not, go for the grilled salmon ingeniously paired with fresh spinach, bacon, and a spicy chili vinaigrette.
McCormack loses her reserve and inclines creative whims on the daily specials; we were rewarded with a rich scallop appetizer and a red snapper with fennel, radicchio, and spinach sauté.
All desserts and breads are made in house. The cr&232;me brûlée is a superior rendition; the chocolate pot de crème is dark and rich. And the strawberry rhubarb pie is a tangy closer.
These days, F. Scott’s is humming with a buzz that is undeniably infectious. The restaurant has a nonchalant self-confidence that the Jazz Era writer himself would have admired. With Robichaux and Fiuzat counting off the beat out front and McCormack holding the notes in the kitchen, F. Scott’s is in a groove. It’s the kind of dinner party you don’t want to miss.
F. Scott’s, 2210 Crestmoor Rd. 269-5861. Dinner served 7 nights a week from 5:30 p.m. until 10 p.m. Sun.-Thurs., until 11 p.m. Fri.-Sat. Starters $4.95-$8.95; entrees $12.95-$24.95.
