A very sad night

Friday night was date night at the Neuman/Buzinover residence and we took the opportunity to yet again test the waters of Spokane’s burgeoning food scene. Overall, I’ve been pretty pleased with the restaurants and service section of the Lilac City, but I was disappointed with what we found at a newer South Hill eatery specializing in small plates.

First off, the physical location is very small and was absolutely slammed with customers. We went to dinner fairly late, but a table for two was still 20 minutes. The ensuing time was filled by an extremely pleasurable cocktail interlude. If there is one saving grace of this joint it was the expertly prepared drinks and snappy bar service. My pomegranate-gin concoction perfectly accentuated the herbal qualities of the Bombay Sapphire without mucking it up with a lot of goopy syrup. The lady’s infused mango vodka was equally tasteful.

Dinner was another story. Continued … Our waitress was flustered, constantly re-asking us what we’d ordered, and service was uneven. Food was decent at best. Whereas the drinks possessed an ethereal, light quality, the dishes were as heavy-handed as they come. Not that the flavors were poorly chosen, just overdone. I might recommend the Nytimes’ minimalist-in-residence Mark Bittman to the chef.

Although we liked it, pasta with ham was overcooked and smothered by drenched in a pepper jack goop. Lemon chicken, a favorite of my companion, was left almost untouched by her. The biggest failure was a stuffed portabello mushroom that came to our table as pile of risotto with a mushroom completely buried beneath it. I actually asked the server where the stuffed mushroom was that we had ordered. The risotto stuffing – cooked long beyond the proper al dente texture and doused in cream – was absolute paste more closely resembling mashed potatoes than a grain.

The coup de grace was leaving the restaurant to see one third of the kitchen staff in the parking lot leaning on the dumpster and laying (flat on their backs) on the ground while smoking cigarettes. Now, I know that kitchen crews are a hard living sort of lot (see “Kitchen Confidential” A. Bourdain, 2000) but this sort of behavior is supposed to be conducted OUT of sight