Jax Fish House & Oyster Bar will delight shellfish aficionados

Two flavors not usually synonymous with the Kansas City dining experience? The bracing tingle of saltwater brine, and the subtle, fleeting kiss of a campfire’s smoke.

And that’s understandable: We are, after all, far from oceans and not all that close to the Rockies. Nevertheless, those flavors best describe my experience at Jax Fish House & Oyster Bar, a Denver-based chain that bills itself as “Bringing the Coast to the Coastless.”

Step inside the modern, glass atrium, and you’re facing an impressive raw bar, where brilliant orange king crabs sprawl on a trough of shaved ice and oyster shucking takes place to the syncopated beat of the cocktail shaker.

If you’re an oyster fan, it’s hard to resist a raw sampling, concocted from eight to a dozen choices nightly. No matter what you try or the time of year, be sure to order the Emersum, the seafood chain’s own proprietary oyster, sustainably raised on the Rappahannock River not far from the Chesapeake Bay.

Jax is known for its sustainable seafood, as certified by the Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch. One side of the menu is devoted to the message of sustainability and seasonality, a notion that has received widespread play at farm-to-table restaurants but is less top-of-mind with diners with regards to seafood. For freshness’ sake, if no other, it’s wise to keep in mind that Nantucket Bay scallops are in season in November and that Bluefish and walleye are at their prime in May.

The shucked-to-order oysters floating in their own liquor were dressed up with a traditional mignonette, cocktail sauce, lemon and Saltine crackers on the side. I squeezed the lemon wedge only and inhaled deeply. As I lolled the sea flesh on my tongue, I was transported to a California coastal camping trip we took as a family when I was a child.

On that trip we discovered the teeming life hidden in tide pools and even spent an afternoon prying mollusks off rocks for dinner. I was only disappointed when the powerful raw flavor did not match the tins of oily smoked oysters piled precariously atop a Saltine cracker that, until then, had been a standard camping appetizer.

It wasn’t long before I realized several other dishes at Jax were pulling me through the waves of memory. The Maine lobster roll — a decadent take on the standard tuna fish sandwich with aioli and flecks of bacon mounded onto a toasted, butter house-made hoagie — reminded me of a friend who introduced me to her college-town favorite on a trip to Boston. The plastic bibs the waiter brought us as I cracked a pound of sweet-fleshed snow crab and a quarter pound of king crab with drawn butter felt nostalgic, even if I can’t place exactly what shore that bit of deja vu washed up from.

Even a side of hush puppies managed to transport me to another time and place — and there I was, reeling in salmon, rainbow trout and catfish with my dad and younger brothers. Although in all fairness, the upscale hush puppies were somewhat foreign, more similar to a prim croquette rather than the roughly hewn cornmeal discs that Dad made. Jax’s version are served on a white plate sitting on a pool of pepper jelly with brown butter “dust” and microgreens instead of doled out haphazardly on paper-towel-lined paper plates to soak up the excess oil.

Both nights I dined at Jax, the bar and dining room were full, and both times our waiters read the vibe of our table perfectly, letting us bob on the tide, guiding us at times but mostly letting the table float along on the whims of desire. The Jax menu is wide and varied, and a meal is not inexpensive. But that’s why you’re here: to eat the freshest and the best. It is important to savor such a luxury.

The space in the new Polsinelli building is both compact — boisterous when full — and casual, down to the paper on the tables and the supply of crayons. Despite my nostalgic state of mind, I was relieved there was no hokey Red Lobster-style decor. A modern mobile of stained-glass fish, an artistic take on the hull of a mythic boat, pillars embellished with discarded oyster shells, and an aquarium room divider gave a slightly oblique and more sophisticated nod to a nautical-themed design.

Corporate executive chef Sheila Lucero is based in Denver. Locally based chef de cuisine Duane Walker keeps things in order here. Dishes are revamped seasonally and, studying the menu from the Colorado LoDo, Glendale, Boulder and Fort Collins locations, vary subtly. But there is a continuity, even if the regional and seasonal ingredients that embellish the fish dishes come and go.

For example, the kale salad with goat cheese, smoked almonds, golden raisins and a tangy verjus vinaigrette that I craved in winter has been recently replaced with a spring salad with goat cheese, pickled onion, sunflower seeds, rosa catilla beans and champagne vinaigrette.

If you’re a seafood purist, order heavily from the “on ice” and “from the steamer pots” sections. I would focus on the fruit de mer salad; the silken seafood chowder rich with plump mussels, chewy clams and shrimp in a sea of cream studded with bacon and pickled okra; or a bowl of steamed mussels with a sumptuous panang curry with coconut milk. I was slightly less enamored of the classic chicken and crawfish gumbo, which was hearty if not truly memorable.

If you’re a fan of rare tuna, don’t miss the ruby red benne-crusted ahi tuna, which toed the line between buttery and firm, and was accompanied with chili garlic aioli, Carolina gold rice, napa cabbage and romesco, and finished off with a handful of earthy grilled shiitakes and locally grown wood sorrel. The Arctic char with leeks, favas and sunchokes also do not disappoint, but I was less impressed with the grilled swordfish, a fish that almost always seems dry to me.

The strawberry-rhubarb panna cotta with almonds provides a light and seasonal finish, but S’Mores Torte is fast becoming a signature for pastry chef Kelly Conwell, formerly of Bluestem. Admittedly, Conwell’s creation looks nothing like my slightly singed campfire creations of yore, yet the chocolate ganache and graham cracker wedges rising like peaks nestled next to puffs of toasted marshmallow and studded with pecans made for a finish that tugged at my heartstrings and sent me floating once more down memory lane.

This story was originally published June 2, 2015 at 6:00 AM with the headline "Jax Fish House & Oyster Bar will delight shellfish aficionados."