R Bar Has Ups and Downs

It's not often that I'm as excited about a restaurant opening as I was when I heard about R Bar. Few people seem to have heard of it so far. It's hidden down in the west bottoms across from the Golden Ox, near Kemper; an area I'm hoping will become revived in a more soulful way than was P&L.

Stoking my excitement, owner Joy Jacobs brought in Alex Pope, former Executive Sous Chef from The American, one of this area's most heralded restaurants, to run the kitchen. I'd been to The American and found some of the high-end menu's items to be rather unsuccessful (like a horrendously salty pumpkin gelee), but others to be exciting and decadent.

What I found at R Bar was a promising, but somewhat perplexing restaurant, showing some of the service issues that new restaurants almost always do. I left R Bar utterly conflicted about how to rate and describe it to others.

From the building's outdoor facade to the inside's decor, it was everything, visually, I was hoping it would be. Cozy, rustic, and a little Western in personality. Fitting, considering the West Bottoms' heritage as a massive, successful cattle stockyard in the late 1800's and early 1900's. The interior was designed by the same designer who put together one of my favorite bars in town - Harry's Country Club in the River Market. If you know Harry's, which looks like Johnny Cash as a bar, R Bar is more like Johnny Cash shaking hands with Cary Grant; Western-meets-early rock n roll, with an added dash of class.

The floors are hard wood and that old hexagonal white tile that has so much character. A beautiful, huge wood bar is offset with shiny bottles and mirrors that sparkle in the otherwise low-lit room. The star of the decor, though, is the giant metal letter R on the North wall, lit with small bulbs. A cool touch which, conincidentally, reminds me of my first apartment - a loft in the River Market - because very similarly, I had a giant letter N on my exposed brick wall. I'd found it at the Asner scrapyard there in the bottoms, and lined it with Christmas lights (wonder if that's where the R came from). For sentimental reasons, R Bar gains a half-napkin upgrade with that feature alone, whether fair or not.

If intimacy is critical to your dining experience, there are four booths in the back of the restaurant you may like. Otherwise, you're out of luck, because 95% of the rest of the seats are the bar and the tables that run along the north wall, where diners sit elbow-to-elbow and sharing conversation is common. Twice during our dinner we chatted with our friendly neighbors about the food but were then annoyed that we couldn't tune them out as they blathered about everyone they knew and exactly how much money they had and where they got it.

Having underestimated R Bar's popularity, we unwisely arrived with no reservation, and after a brief wait were lucky to grab two open seats at the bar. The drink menu is martini-heavy. Not being a big fan of martinis, but wanting to experience one of their signature drinks, I ordered the Corpse Reviver No. 2. The fact that I was still a little hung over from festivities the night before may have led me to this cocktail made with gin, cointreau, lillet blonde, fresh lemon juice and then a tiny drop of absinthe. It was crisp and citrusy, but I didn't need another.

On to dinner we went. Everything on the menu sounded good and deciding proved a difficult adventure, so we were delighted when the free appetizer was delivered. Not an amuse bouche, but a true starter-sized funnel cake, topped with an orange (from paprika) goat cheese sauce. We heard the materialistic neighbors scoff that it had been lambasted in some local critic's review, but we enjoyed it. Could have stood another 25 seconds in the fryer, as it was a tad too soft, but tasty nonetheless.

A light salad next: romaine with savory, smooth bacon vinaigrette, soft, sweet roasted pears and orange rectangles of crunchy butternut squash. Couldn't have been better. A great start.

Next up was the cassoulet slaw, and that's when things took a weird turn. I know cassoulet to be a classic, hearty French dish of beans and salty meats. I always pictured it being like a French version of pork n beans, classier and more complex in flavor than the simple canned American chow. However, Chef Pope takes some rather unexpected liberties with his interpretation. This dish is 90% slaw and 10% cassoulet... if you can consider a simple bean puree to be cassoulet. The off-white cannellini shmear was topped with the heaviest, most over-dressed slaw I'd ever eaten. Its creamy dressing was a promising sounding truffle creme fraiche, but it overpowered the other flavors involved and was an awful combination with the cannellini bean puree; the two earthy flavors together were muddy. Yuck. Moreover, there was just too much creaminess involved. The creme fraiche turned the cabbage into a globby blob, so the whole composition smacked of regurgitation on the tongue. The sage sausage was barely noticeable, and if there was any confit chicken, it was exceedingly well hidden. Overall, a real stinker of a dish that made me wonder what the chef thought he liked about it.

Wiping the "what the heck was that" look off our faces (and drowning it with some delicious yet inexpensive Leaping Lizard 2007 Chardonnay), we moved on to our entree. A seasonal, plump breast of turkey came presented naked as a baby's bottom on a celery root puree and pad of stuffing, with bay leaf gravy and pickled grapes. The odd look of the plain turkey breast was, if not flat-out gross, confusing. Some parsley or even just the gravy and black pepper over top would have made it more comfortable to look at. I have to admit, though, it was easily the most moist turkey breast I'd ever eaten. I had to use my phone's flash light to inspect the inside to convince myself it wasn't undercooked - and it wasn't - so it was truly delicious.

A square, crusty cake of stuffing lay in the gravy, under the turkey, looking almost like carpet padding, but no one ever said stuffing was supposed to look good. I'm not sure of the cooking method, but I believe the stuffing, once cut into its square slice, was perhaps pan fried. It had a much needed courseness that offset the moist bird and creamy puree and gravy just right.

The star, though, was the celery root puree. I am currently obsessed with the stuff. There's a big hairy celery root sitting in my cupboard right now, waiting for me to locate a good recipe that I think will allow me to produce a similar puree of my own. If you haven't had celery root puree, think of mashed potatoes, but instead of the background flavor being that of, well, dirt - like you get with mashed potatoes - CRP leaves a more complex, cleaner flavor on the palette. It was so good, yet so simple, I was dizzy eating it and screaming , internally, for more. MORE!

A garnish of a few split grapes were necessary for cutting the rich, savory components of the dish, but not as successful as I'd hoped. The fact that they were allegedly "pickled" was silly. Grapes have a tight, non-pourous skin and it didn't seem as though their flavor or texture had been affected by the pickling process at all. They were merely halved grapes that fell short of their duty in the composition.

Our other entree was a more enjoyable mushroom tart - a beautiful crust with cheese filling and dark, caramelized shiitake mushrooms on top. It was wonderfully simple in comparison to the other dishes, making the turkey and cassoulet seem over-thought and silly. Had I eaten salad and this entree, only, I'd have beena little disappointed with the portion, but I suppose it was reasonable. (I'd have needed dessert, though.)

When this meal was over, I was almost relieved. The food was a little too much of a roller coaster for me that night, but with such a fantastic vibe, had I not already done so much partying that weekend I could have sat there for another hour and half, splitting a second bottle of wine and enjoying the live music and  atmosphere.

Given the pedigree of the chef and the fun ingredients used throughout the menu, I'm actually eager to return to R Bar. It may have a couple bombs on its menu now, but I think there's some greatness there, too. And I want to see what the spring menu will entail.

But for now, I'll have to think of it as a three napkin restaurant with a two napkin rating, because the fantastic atmosphere fell victim to that god-awful cassoulet mess. I hope Chef Pope keeps editing.

Rating: two napkins

Blanc Addiction

Sometimes I go on a kick of eating at the same restaurant many times over the course of a few months. As someone who enjoys reviewing area restaurant both new and old, this can be a guilty pleasure... I always feel a responsibility to try restaurants I haven't visited yet. But I just can't get Blanc Burgers + Bottles off my brain!  This is how I know it's a truly outstanding restaurant.

On a recent Saturday night, finally coming down from a period of busy weekends out with friends and family for our birthdays among other things, we had nothing planned come 7 o'clock. The night, and our dinner plans, were a destiny of our own choice and it took no debate, no consternation, no time... to decide on Blanc.

Blanc is a small burger joint in the heart of Westport - 419 Westport Road, to be exact. The decor upholds the name; a white bar top with white bar chairs and white liquor cabinets greets patrons upon entering, as does a fantastic beer selection. Nicely organized by beer type, there are lots of beers from which to choose, including Boulevard's smokestack series, which is tremendous fun for pairing with food like gourmet hamburgers.

On our trip, the polite hostess unfortunately forgot about us until about the time we were down to the last sip of our beers (Left Hand Milk Stout for me - creamy and soothing) but more than compensated for the slip by generously offering to purchase an appetizer for us! We morphed that into two more free beers (strong ones - Unibroue's La Fin du Monde, 9% ABV) to pair with our dinner.

The last thing I need in my diet is more red meat - I try to limit my intake to once a week but go over that allotment often - but it's hard to resist when you're at a hamburger joint. If one does venture out of the cow zone, there are several options available. The pork burger is very tasty and I do recommend it. But I think that was a one-and-done thing for me. It's the red meat that's so exceptional here.

Beef burgers are made with a combination of premium, yet fatty, meats including Tenderloin, Ribeye and NY Strip (the best parts of any cow!). They're thick yet tender. One can tell the meat is not only top quality, but handled properly and by that I mean not handled too much at all.

On this trip, however, we went back to the fabulous Bison burger. Generally speaking, bison is a lean red meat. Somehow I think they choose very rich pieces of bison to grind into this burger, though, because it's just as juicy and tender as the cow-beef burgers. Not a hint of gaminess to it, either, just succulent and delicious. Topped with pepperjack cheese, deliciously sweet peppadew pepper jam, butter lettuce, onion and mayo, it's amazing. But with the perfectly over-medium fried egg built into the equation that our waiter so skillfully recommended, it's an absolute killer.

Burgers come with a sweet, homemade pickle on the side. I never used to be a fan of sweet pickles, but have completely changed my tune after a few of these. It's a great contrast of texture and flavor with the rich burger, with its crunch and zing.

The other available sides, the ones you pay for, add to the phenomenon that brings this place back to mind so frequently. The beer batter on the Boulevard Pale Ale onion rings is that smoother, crunchier batter... a casing completely encompassing the sweet, thick-cut onions rather than a bread crumb dusting that flakes off and coats your fingers when you pick one up. Perfect. For those looking for the utmost in high fashion grub, there are the superb truffle fries. The earthy, unctuous potato sticks can be smelled throughout the restaurant, giving the whole place an air of mystery and richness that lets you know it's more than just a greasy spoon.

True gourmands downplay the use of condiments, especially ketchup. I happen to love Heinz 57 and French's yellow mustard on burgers, fries and rings, but they're unnecessary at Blanc. Diners receive small portions of ketchup and aioli with their orders, but don't go asking for the server to bring you a bottle of ketchup. If you do, you're not paying attention to the quality of the food you're consuming. Burgers all come topped with thoughtful house-made condiments and the sides are so impeccably made, they just shouldn't be soaked in anything before they reach your mouth.

I struggled mightily with what rating to give Blanc. For what it is - the coolest burger spot in town - the menu and quality of food is nothing short of perfect. The vibe is great. The service is good enough not to stand in its way. But my mental tussle revolved around my feeling that there are so few comfortable places to sit in this little place. Overall, Blanc's square-footage is very limited and the wall separating the kitchen from the dining room makes it so that the majority of the seats in the house seem to have just barely been squeezed in. This layout does something to me psychologically... it makes me think of Blanc as a first stop on a weekend night out. It could never be the crown jewel my evening. But while that criticism may have deducted a napkin from many restaurants, I cannot fault Blanc for it.

Blanc's a burger joint. Burger joints, by nature, are meant to be in-and-out (or literally "In-N-Out"). But Blanc has a great combination of excitement within a reasonably comfortable setting. It's the perfect jumping-off spot for a great night out on the town. It was created with a singular vision in mind and delivers 100% on that vision. I love it, and for these reasons, Blanc is a four napkin restaurant.

Rating: four napkins

The Pizza Bar - Just Another P&L Bar

The few people I know who were able to make it to Vinino, the Italian restaurant that occupied one of the primo spaces across from the Sprint Center when P&L first “launched”, said that they actually liked the food. It just wasn’t the right type of restaurant for that location. Too fancy-shmancy. Too close to the loud buzz of the raucous sports and concert crowds at McFadden’s, Raglan Road, PBR, and the like. 

Taking a page from its P&L success stories, Cordish closed Vinino and transformed it into The Pizza Bar. Walking in, I was expecting something more in the vein of its predecessor, but Pizza Bar is not dressy affair. It’s just a jumbo-sized pizzeria, replete with a few bars, video games and TV’s on every wall. On the Saturday afternoon when we made our trip, it was nearly a ghost town. Only one or two other small tables of patrons occupied the cavernous restaurant. The scantily clad hostess was lazily hanging out at one of the bars, paying no attention to the front of the house. When the manager on duty noticed we were standing there, unattended and slightly bewildered, I saw her eyes roll in frustration at the poor service she knew her team was exhibiting. We seated ourselves at her request.

Our server was a bench-warmer. He didn’t care about us or whether we were having a good experience. No smiles, slow service (though we were his only table), drinks never refilled… nothing to offer.

We ordered half our pizza with their meatballs (cut into thick slices) and the other half with Scimeca’s Italian sausage, peppers and onions. There are no choices of size – if you order a pizza, you get a rather large (16”, perhaps) pie with thin crust. The crust wasn’t bad,.. it was somewhere between “nothing special” and “not great”. But I was expecting a lot more from this single-minded establishment. When pizza makes up half of your menu, you ought to have something more impressive than this crust up your sleeve. 

I don’t care whether a pizza is healthy or not, but the amount of yellow grease standing on top of the cheese was off-putting, both visually and digestively speaking. I blame the excessive grease on head pizza pie-man, Salvatore DiFatta’s method of using raw sausage on the pizza, rather than pre-cooked sausage. All the fat and juices from the sausage end up sitting on top of the pizza when it comes out of the oven and onto your table. It doesn’t taste good, it just tastes like grease.

Our experience at The Pizza Bar was nothing short of terrible. I’m sure I could enjoy the place for what it is – a roomy sports bar with decent pizza – after taking in a game and a few beers at the Sprint Center. But as a restaurant, this place has nothing to offer. Don’t make a special trip down to the tough-to-stomach P&L district just to try The Pizza Bar.

Rating: zero napkins