The Crossing at the Cooper: A Menu in Need of Salt
There are few better ways to investigate an ambitious new restaurant than with two extraordinary chefs at the table. For my first visit to The Crossing at the Cooper, I had the privilege of dining with two of the best chefs in Charleston, along with their wonderful partners. In other words, I brought expert witnesses.
Let me make one thing clear at the outset: I had a wonderful time. The company was exceptional, the conversation was lively, and the evening itself was memorable. My disappointment was not with the experience of gathering around that table. It was with food that never quite lived up to the promise of the menu.
The Crossing occupies a handsome, modern space near the waterfront. The seating was comfortable, the room was attractive, and the menu promised a polished Mediterranean experience built around raw seafood, dishes cooked over coals, and elaborate preparations intended for sharing. Unfortunately, the food rarely fulfilled that promise.
We began with the crudos. The hamachi was fresh, but it needed salt. The ahi tuna arrived with red bell pepper, lime leaf, and pink peppercorn. That sounds intriguing, but the sauce was oddly sweet, tasted only of bell peppers, and needed salt. It overwhelmed the fish rather than enhancing it.
Seasoning would become the central evidentiary problem of the evening: virtually everything needed salt. Eventually, our table commandeered a salt grinder from the kitchen and began seasoning its own food. When a table that includes two of Charleston’s finest chefs must conduct remedial seasoning at the table, something has gone seriously wrong.
The Mediterranean Octopus was properly cooked, with a tender texture that demonstrated genuine technical competence. It sat over mashed fava beans that were acceptable but unremarkable. The menu also advertised lamb belly with this dish, yet none of us could detect any sign of it. This would not be the only time an intriguing dish component described in the menu failed to materialize on the plate.
The Young Rabbit Mantı was ordered without its Aleppo-walnut crunch (largely because I did not fancy a trip to the ER instead of dessert). The filling was oddly tough and dense, particularly unfortunate in a dumpling that should have showcased the delicacy of the rabbit. The lemon-yogurt sauce then overwhelmed what little rabbit flavor remained. Instead of highlighting a subtle protein, the dish buried it.
The Golden Halloumi actually pissed me off. Halloumi is already an excellent grilling cheese. Properly prepared, it develops a beautiful golden exterior while retaining its distinctive, satisfying texture. For reasons known only to the kitchen, this version was breaded and fried, reducing a wonderful cheese to something generic. The menu promised blistered grapes, honeyed verjus, oregano, and Aleppo. There was no apparent sign of the grapes. This tasted like a salty mozzarella stick soaked in hot honey. I am still angry about it.
The Ancient Grains salad, made with freekeh, bulgur, farro, pine nuts, tomato water, and squash blossom, was good. It also needed salt. That borrowed salt grinder was destined to become the seventh member of our party.
The beverage program suffered from a similar gap between conception and execution. The cocktail descriptions were interesting, but the people drinking them found the finished drinks merely okay and generally underwhelming. At prices ranging from approximately $18 to $25, “okay” is not a compelling verdict. I tried the $16 zero-proof Pomegranate and Basil, described as pomegranate, basil, lime, and tonic. What I received tasted primarily of pomegranate and tonic, with a basil leaf contributing more decoration than flavor. The lime and basil complexity promised by the menu never developed. Happily, the restaurant served unsweet tea.
For the larger plates, we ordered the Whole Grilled Branzino and the Mediterranean Grill with the additional half lobster.
The $105 branzino was under-seasoned and slightly fishy. The menu specifically described the fish as delicate, mild, and sweet. At that price, it should have been impeccably fresh, clean-tasting, and properly seasoned before reaching the table. It was none of those things.
The Mediterranean Grill was better. Once again, the octopus was properly cooked, and the hanger steak was good. The shrimp were overcooked and slightly too spicy. The lobster was only a little overcooked, but it lacked flavor. Its accompanying butter was supposed to carry Aleppo flavor but tasted like ordinary butter. The loukaniko was overwhelmed by fennel.
The Whole-Roasted Cauliflower was acceptable, although slightly undercooked. Its harissa and saffron-yogurt sauce was flavorful and gave the dish some needed character.
The Greek potatoes were nicely crisp and did taste of the promised lemon.
The greens, once properly salted at the table, were the best part of the savory meal. That sentence is both sincere praise for the greens and a fairly damning assessment of an expensive dinner.
Dessert was considerably better.
The Black Sesame Sundae combined black tahini gelato, sesame tuile, black raspberry, and toasted marshmallow. Once the marshmallow was removed, because marshmallow remains my enemy, the sundae was good.
The Orange Blossom Cake had the correct citrus and floral flavor profile, but the phyllo crust was unnecessary. The dish already knew what it wanted to be. The additional pastry merely complicated it.
The loukoumades were simply wrong. Rather than being dipped or soaked in honey syrup, they were rolled in sugar. They may have been pleasant little doughnuts, but they did not deliver the sticky, honeyed quality that defines loukoumades.
Then came the surprise of the evening: the Chocolate Torta with apricot compote, black cardamom anglaise, and brown-sugar crisp. The torta was exceptional. The black cardamom brought depth and complexity without overwhelming the chocolate. It was not merely the best dessert, it was the best dish of the night. I promptly ordered a second one for the table.
Service was acceptable, with several staff members attending to us. The restaurant graciously comped a champagne toast, the tuna crudo, and one dessert. Still, one strange omission persisted throughout the meal. Although we were plainly eating family-style, no serving utensils were offered and no spoons appeared available in the restaurant until dessert. We had to use our individual forks to divide and distribute shared dishes. That is awkward, unhygienic, and inconsistent with the level of service suggested by the restaurant’s pricing.
The restaurant was not full, yet our party was seated directly beside the kitchen. The placement was not part of a designated chef’s-table experience. It was simply where they chose to put us despite ample open seating. From there, we had an unobstructed view of members of the kitchen team drinking with increasing frequency as the evening progressed. I will not speculate beyond what I observed, but it was an unusual backdrop for a meal already suffering from inconsistent execution.
The Crossing at the Cooper is not devoid of skill. The octopus was properly cooked each time it appeared. The hanger steak was good. The grains, greens, cauliflower sauce, and several desserts showed promise. The Chocolate Torta was genuinely excellent.
But promise is precisely the problem. The menu reads beautifully. It is full of specific ingredients, sophisticated combinations, and confident Mediterranean references. Too often, those advertised components were missing, muted, or overwhelmed. Expensive seafood lacked freshness or flavor. Delicate ingredients were buried. Nearly everything needed seasoning.
None of that changes the fact that I had a genuinely lovely evening. I was honored to dine with two of the finest chefs I have ever known, along with their wonderful ladies. They were gracious in the extreme, the conversation was outstanding, and I thoroughly enjoyed the night.
The company more than lived up to the occasion. I only wish the food had done the same.
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