I am in Jupiter, Florida, near Palm Beach, visiting my parents and my sister and her family. I’m cooking a lot — this morning I made some cornbread, and a pot of pinto beans is simmering on the stove. Those two items, with a glass of buttermilk and perhaps a tomato slice on the side, make up one of my father’s favorite meals, something he’s been eating since his childhood. I’ve always had an appetite for fermented food — sauerkraut, kimchi, kefir, and buttermilk included — and imagine that it was passed down to me from my father’s ancestors.
On a recent evening, Angela and I made a reservation at Stage Kitchen, a restaurant whose chef, Pushkar Marathe, is from India. Nagpur, to be exact, which is in the state of Maharashtra. He attended culinary school in Switzerland, and worked under Dean Max, as well as in restaurants in the Middle East, the Caribbean, and the United States.
We are here to help my family navigate a stage of life that often comes with growing older, one that involves moving my father into a care facility and assisting my mother as she prepares for hip replacement. The only constant is change, and that is a verity made very real when a parent begin showing signs of cognitive dysfunction. So I am cooking for my parents and carrying out other errands and chores.
The way I see stage is like it’s a big tree. The branches are my travels all over the world, but the roots are deep in Inda
Pushkar Marathe
When I am not cooking, I make a reservation at a restaurant, to get a sense of the area’s food. A friend had mentioned Stage when I asked her about places to try in the Palm Beach region, and I trust her palate, so we added it to the list.
“Fusion” is not a word I use freely, and I was glad to see that Marathe has no use for it either on the restaurant’s website. Instead, he speaks of travel and diverse experiences and global culinary traditions. I never fail to sense when food I’m eating was made by someone possessing a broad and open palate and mind. It’s more alive, honest. It carries no hint of trendiness. This is Marathe’s food at Stage.
He serves a naan filled with spicy cheese, and while it is unlike most naan I have eaten, it is a bread I would order every time I dine at Stage. Crisp exterior (two naans, one placed over the other), dense interior filled with a peppery cheese whose piquancy lasts. Marathe’s naan is served fresh from the tandoor, and you’ll see that it is not dissimilar to a grilled cheese sandwich. But it’s much better than the average grilled cheese. (We took some home with us, and it was just as good reheated at lunch. No stale fat or butter taste, nothing but satisfaction.) Marathe also makes garlic naan and a black truffle naan.
We began with oysters, a half dozen Malpeques, from Prince Edward Island, served with turmeric and a truffle-yuzu mignonette. Our selections had the characteristic combination of brininess and sweetness that rewards one when Malpeques are on the table, and the mignonette was tangy and rich, with a touch of spice. The 2019 Butterfield Station Chardonnay from Sebastiani Vineyards we were drinking was good with the shellfish.
The restaurant, which opened in 2019 and was then forced to close by COVID-19, is located in a mixed-use development off of a busy street in Palm Beach Gardens, a community between Jupiter and West Palm Beach. Its open kitchen is a focal point, as is the bar, situated at the right rear of the spacious interior. A long, high communal table that seats 16 or so diners is directly in front of the pass, and behind that table, toward the front of the interior, is a wall of tables that also offer primes seats for all the cooking action. Booths and outdoor seating are in the mix at the large restaurant, which was mostly full on the evening we were there.
Masala Dosa. You know what that is. Marathe’s version would not surprise anyone, at least not in a bad way. It looks good, crispy and shiny — though my dining companion did say that it had been slightly overcooked and was dry in some spots, a verdict with which I agreed after several bites of it — and it was filled with potatoes, peas, and cauliflower, all cooked well, neither too soft nor too hard. A creamy, piquant tomato sauce, specked with fried cumin and mustard seeds, rounded out the dish.
Angela wanted to try the White Truffle Mushroom Karanji, and that was the next item to come to the table. A karanji (also known as gujia, gujiya, pedakiya, and gughara) is a sweet deep-fried dumpling made with either semolina or all-purpose flour and filled with milk solids and dried fruit. It’s fried in ghee. Marathe’s version eschews sweetness and goes for savory, with mushrooms and truffle. The sauce is thin enough to run slowly when you cut into the crisp empanada-like shell, but thick enough to hold all of the ingredients together, meaning each bite of the dish is equally satisfying.
Lamb is one of my favorite proteins, and the kebab at Stage is definitely one for lovers of the meat. The mixture Marathe uses is light and tender in the mouth, and the masala combination sings. At one minute cumin leads, then ginger, followed by coriander. I love ground lamb prepared in this manner, and Marathe’s is one of the best I’ve had this year. The pickled red onion and mint cilantro chutney served with the dish complete it well.
When deciding what to order next, Angela and I knew we wanted to share something, and narrowed the choices to peri peri chicken and local grouper. The chicken won out, mainly because shrimp and mussels had featured in some of our recent home-cooked meals.
Peri Peri sauce is a good way to go with chicken, and this rendition left nothing undone. The skin of the bird (half a chicken) was blackened well by the flames, and the meat, both dark and white, was moist and full of smoke and peri peri flavor. Patatas Bravas and a mixture of scallions, cashews, and black sesame seeds nestled alongside the main course.
We arrived at Stage at 6:30 that evening, and an hour or so later the place was completely full, and lively. Some might find it noisy — high ceilings can wreak sonic havoc — but the flavors of the food should pull your senses away from the sounds.
Dessert was all that remained, and it was Garam Masala Cheesecake. I wanted more spice, but the peach compote was a revelation. Bracing, acutely acidic, and intriguingly approaching sweet, our final course, while making us remember Thanksgivings past, was a fine close to the evening.
The wine list at Stage is small, but includes a few solid bottles, such as Son of a Butcher, from Y. Rousseau, and Diatom, from Brewer-Clifton. Corkage is $25.
Marathe has plans to open a traditional Indian restaurant in the area, and based on the flavors he’s creating at Stage, it should be embraced by the area’s diners. Until then, they’ll have to settle for his current body of work.
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