Cafe Reviewed: Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Style and substance: 62 Main’s beef tenderloin will melt in your mouth. (Photo by Vishal Malhotra)
62 Main
Sautéed scallops
Wood-oven-roasted Texas quail
Village Elder

At 62 Main in Colleyville’s
insta-downtown, David McMillan dishes out tasty American fare.


62 Main
62 Main St, Colleyville. 817-605-0858. 11am-2pm Tue-Sat, 5-9pm Tue-Thu, 5-10pm Fri-Sat. All major credit cards accepted.

David McMillan is a chef with what rap stars and foodies alike refer to as “street cred.” We’re talking a serious, award-winning, European-trained, eats-five-stars-for-breakfast kinda rep. McMillan has helmed such highbrow bite-shacks as The Peninsula Beverly Hills; L.A.’s critically acclaimed Legacy Restaurant; and, most recently, the revered Nana, atop the posh Wyndham Anatole hotel in Dallas. So why did mega-hot McMillan choose to leave the lucrative Nana gig and open his own in eatery in Colleyville? Well, for starters, there was that commute — McMillan and his family live in Tarrant County. Second — and no surprise — running a five-star hotel restaurant is a tad, y’know, stressful. Cut to McMillan’s new American bistro, 62 Main, where he gets to flex his culinary muscles in an atmosphere that’s anything but pretentious, just stylishly comfortable.
“Pretentious,” of course, is a relative term when talking about the Village at Colleyville, where 62 Main is located in the space that formerly housed the short-lived Urban Tapas. The glorified strip mall evokes Old-World grandeur in very New-World style. McMillan’s restaurant occupies two floors of a prime corner spot. Guests enter on the street level and can either take the stairs or be whisked skyward by an elevator to the main dining room. McMillan plans on eventually transforming the ground floor into a casual spin-off focused on pizzas made in a wood-burning oven. Space next door to 62 Main is also vacant, and McMillan hopes to soon turn it into a full bar and lounge for 62 Main.
McMillan’s ambitions are matched only by his skills. Case in point: the appetizer of sautéed sea scallops paired with fresh springtime morel mushrooms in a sweet corn purée. The mix of sweet dressing with the perfectly tender, buttery orbs was a flavor symphony. Aside from superlative taste, the presentation also revealed McMillan’s swanky-hotel background — utterly minimalist.
However, the beginner of roasted artichoke stuffed with garlic, bread crumbs, and olive oil, accompanied by a small bowl of rosemary aioli for dipping, was not as superbly orchestrated. The aioli added a nice tang; without it, the slightly overcooked artichokes were too rough to enjoy.
A trifling fault, though, compared to a couple of entrées sampled. The hearty, wood-oven-roasted Texas quail, which arrived with deliciously sugary roasted yams, was extremely succulent. Its decadent juiciness was grounded by a robust, salt-of-the-earth accompaniment of duck bacon and surprisingly tender baby okra. And the beef tenderloin was a knock-out. Pink, perfectly seasoned, and tender enough to cut with a fork, the meat nestled in a rich pool of port shallot sauce and charred Vidalia onions along with potatoes drenched in olive oil and melt-in-the-mouth sesame carrots, perfect for soaking up every beautiful ounce of liquid.
Another chink in McMillan’s armor at 62 Main may be dessert. In the raspberry cobbler, the warm, buttery fruit couldn’t have been any fresher, and the crust was appropriately flaky, but if you’re asked whether you want to add sweet cream or ice cream, go with the sweet cream. The ice cream is plain old Blue Bell — fine for a Blockbuster night but not for the type of special evening that 62 Main obviously promises. Even less inspiring was the almond tart. A round, flat rhubarb served with a scoop of Blue Bell and sprinkled with powdered sugar, the dessert was described by one guest as “Little Debbie-esque.” Ouch.
True, the restaurant opened just a couple of months ago, and perhaps mediocre desserts and the occasional bland appetizer are a small price to pay for outstanding entrées from one of North Texas’ true master chefs. But we can still hope for more.

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