Simply put, Nutshell is defined by what it serves, not what
it doesn’t. It seems that most vegan and vegetarian restaurants bow to
an unseen pressure to do whatever it takes to make their key
ingredients taste as close to meat as possible. Granted, faux-meat
dishes can be fun, and a handy method to help ease the transition from
carnivore to leaf-eater—but by constantly aping a category of
food that is the polar opposite of one’s own, the herbivore genre grows
stagnant and doesn’t naturally evolve.
Of course, there are numerous exceptions to this rule: Blossoming
Lotus’ menu is both inventive and healthy, while Veganopolis does a
stellar job of wooing the downtown business crowd into eating a
cruelty-free lunch. Now it’s time to add Nutshell to that list. The
recently opened all-vegan restaurant by the owners of ten01 and Tabla
flourishes under the wild imagination of Chef Sean Coryell.
While Nutshell is exclusively vegan, you wouldn’t know it from their
menu, as the “v” word doesn’t make an appearance. Not that it matters,
as the menu is absolutely bizarre, if not a bit overwhelming. Meat and
potato diners and longtime vegans alike will be unfamiliar with almost
every dish offered, as Coryell’s kitchen creativity borders on pure
madness. This is compounded by the fact that Nutshell offers a separate
bread/salt/olive oil menu. Throw in the wine menu as well, and a table
for two is covered in more paperwork than an accountant’s desk on April
14. The bread menu can be absolutely baffling to comprehend, so either
consult the staff for help, or just throw caution to the wind and order
randomly. It’s bread/salt/oil—how could you go wrong?
The appetizers are less confusing, but only because there are just
two options. The impressive poblano-sorrel fundido is a hearty
starter—think a less-restrained hummus with a whole lot more
flavor—served alongside Coryell’s 100-grain bread. (If you doubt
the triple digit ingredients, he’ll bring the list to your table.) On
the other end of the appetizer spectrum is the Tunisian brik, which
sounds like street slang for heroin—or at the very least, sounds
heavy. Instead, a light phyllo crust surrounds spinach that has been
slow-cooked over three days, accompanied by a generous dollop of
harissas sauce.
One highlight of the entrée menu is a raw living lasagna,
which is an inventive dish where a hearty and thick heirloom tomato is
the “pasta” centerpiece surrounded by a pinon ricotta and delicious
pistachio pesto. Is it like traditional lasagna? Hell, no. Is it great?
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you, I was too busy frantically licking
every last delectable morsel from my plate. Similar to the lasagna in
panache is the Jamaican barbeque. It’s a mighty plate that nearly
capsizes with an abundance of options, from fried okra to a stunning
yam-stuffed orange and Coryell’s “homemade jerk.” Much like the
lasagna, it’s far from authentic, but in and of itself, the dish is a
flamboyant meal that borders on being a work of art. That dish alone
describes the appeal of Nutshell—it might not be loyal to any one
cuisine or any particular lifestyle, but food this imaginative and
unique needs to be experienced by all.