For our big Parents Weekend visit at Rutgers, I made a reservation at Le Malt Lounge for Saturday night. I fully expected this to be the marquee meal of our trip. For Friday’s adventure, though, I texted Aaron to ask him if he wanted to go anywhere special. He didn’t express a strong opinion, but reiterated his interest in the Frog and the Peach, so I made a rez.

It was more expensive than Le Malt Lounge, and decidedly better–casting no shade on Le Malt, but there it is. It’s in a newer development that put me in mind of the Naval Yard in Baltimore: cultivated, consciously developed, and oddly quiet for such a busy city. There’s nothing kitschy, accretive, or quirky about the neighborhood, Hiram Square, in the same way that a McMansion development often appears, and like the Navy Yard, it bears its share of social scrutiny.

Rhonda and I each ordered the Black Manhattan, which added Averna to the classic cocktail. I’m often suspicious of substitutions or additions like this, but the herbal, licorice flavors paired superbly with the drink. It had an inky blackness I appreciated in both the title and the presentation.

For apps, Aaron tried the bone marrow, which didn’t surprise me. I expected a couple of cross-cut shins, with a spoon to scoop out the marrow. Instead, the bones were cut longitudinally, such that the marrow (and the mushroom stuffing) was easily accessible. I can’t say that I preferred it with the stuffing to straight gelatinous and umami-rich marrow, but it was still good. It came with bread for serving.

I had the oysters, which were billed as from nearby Fishers Island. They were briny and delicious, up there with Sweet Amalia oysters in my opinion. I don’t need mignonette with oysters when they’re good. The muddy Delaware Bay ones we often get in South Jersey require a flavor boost, but not these.

Rhonda had the the pumpkin ricotta gnocchi as an appetizer. These were fantastic, with only a hint of pumpkin (and not the cloying “pumpkin spice” version of things that assault the senses around this season). They were clearly hand cut, varying wildly from pillow to pillow in shape. They were firm for ricotta dumplings. The garlic mushroom broth and escarole added great flavor and texture. I adored my bite. Sadly, I neglected to take a picture.

Aaron and Rhonda both ordered the duck breast; they had steak on the menu, but it was eye-wateringly expensive (as was Le Malt, to be fair). This was an excellent preparation, cooked perfectly, and the baby turnips, almond spatzle, spicy duck sausage, dried cranberries, and a balsamic fig puree, which, composed, added a ton of flavor and textural contrast.

I have an fulsome appreciation for the humble monkfish since my college days, when I swore off meat but ordered (and prepared) fish as often as I could. The tightly wrapped loins evoked the over-worn comparison to lobster tails, but I can’t crow about that: their lightness was emboldened by the prosciutto, which imparted a nice salty crust to the delicate fish. The shaved squash offered a ribbony pasta texture and chew without adding unwanted carbs, and the lemon in the sauce was nicely balanced with a touch of fat. Monkfish and a glass of Sancerre… perfect any night.