New Haven's nine-square grid once bordered Long Island Sound. Its proximity to the water established New Haven as a flourishing harbor community and one of the finest ports in New England. But the area between the Green and the Sound is now covered with buildings and factories, and given the city's history, it's surprising that downtown New Haven contains not a single seafood restaurant.
To recapture the Elm City's maritime past, we had to embark on a treacherous journey through blizzard conditions to Long Wharf Drive, home of the Rusty Scupper restaurant. Like a beacon on the tarmac, the Rusty Scupper comes into view a short distance off of Interstate 95. The restaurant is situated on the Sound, a few turns from the off-ramp. Its glass walls face the harbor, allowing the soft glow of candles and recessed lighting to reflect off the water, giving the isolated spot an inviting charm.
The interior did not disappoint. Inside, mirrors provide captivating views of the harbor; the restaurant's intimacy is broken only by the occasional headlight glare from the nearby highway. The Rusty Scupper even provides a piano player. His renditions of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and "Chariots of Fire" added an odd, but humorous tone to the meal. Unfortunately, the dining itself did not deliver all that the ambiance promised.
The appetizers were an accurate indicator of what was to come. We started simple-fried scallops. But when they arrived, the tiny scallops were almost invisible in their bed of curly lettuce. The gumdrop-sized pellets were so small, they were dwarfed by the wedges of lemon. The pita chips appetizer platter presented cheese-topped wedges of fried pita surrounding a heap of crab and artichoke dip. The dip had all the flavor of warm, chunky Hellman's; if there were artichokes or crab in that dip, we certainly couldn't taste them. "Cajun crawdads" and fried calamari were over-fried and over-breaded, but came in generous portions. The abundance of the fried corn-batter prompted one diner at our table to eat the decorative kale, in the hope of maintaining some adherence to the tenets of the food pyramid.
Platters-which we split, due to the restaurant's steep prices-started with a bowl of New England clam chowder: a conglomeration of tough clam bits and a gummy broth. Enjoy the accompanying saltines, for they'll be the only grain product offered throughout the evening. This tasteless soup is only the beginning of the bland.
The shrimp and scallop brochette platter was fine, as far as skewered fish and vegetables go. Though tender, the scallops lacked the flavor to complement the charred pepper and mushrooms. Overall, the platter presented a masterful composition in butter. Around an entire bowl of the liquid stuff, the mushy vegetables and the rice pilaf were smothered with even more butter. The wait staff's failure to provide bread to soak up some of the overflow left us swimming in golden pools.
The bro-chette's lack of flavor was more than made up for by the odd spicing of the crab-stuffed shrimp. Finally identified as nutmeg, the spice content in the little casserole was so excessive, we worried about an overdose.
Those looking for a meatier fare can order the Deluxe Burger. But, if you order rare you might get more than you ask for. The plate comes with a thick beef patty crushing a puny bun. Luckily, there are tasty fries provided to sop up those juices. The kitchen apparently specializes in frying, and the fries are indeed good. We didn't have to search for more fried goodies; the menu matched them up for us. The french fries were paired with a pile of Cajun shrimp that were as far from the bayou as you are from an airport. Our consensus was that the Rusty Scupper is overpriced and not worth the trek for bland seafood and a week's intake of butter. Food aside, the ambiance is great: an outdoor eating area promises enjoyable summer night dining. Perhaps if we'd sampled the restaurant's towering ice cream sundaes or had a run at the bar, the butter might have been more palatable. But as it was, our meal at the Rusty Scupper was an overpriced disappointment.
Copyright 1996, The Yale Herald, Inc. All rights reserved.
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