A taste of The Table

Most places I review, I go in cold. I might know a little history about the place, maybe I've heard of the chef or the owner or read a press release or two, but that's about it. Each visit is a surprise, restaurants standing or falling on a couple of live experiences.

But occasionally that's not the case. Sometimes, restaurants have such a big rep that there's a level of expectation already in place. Sometimes, I've eaten at a restaurant in the past and those experiences blend with my review visits, for good or ill.

When it comes to The Table, a new addition to the Central Avenue dining scene in downtown St. Pete, my familiarity is huge. The restaurant is an offshoot of an already successful place in Sarasota, where I have happily had a dozen fabulous meals. In 2006, I named that location Best Restaurant in CL's Sarasota paper. It's one of my go-to spots when I'm in the SRQ.

Sadly, at this new version of The Table, expectations can be a bitch. Not because the dishes are the same old same old. No, that would be a pleasure. It's just that the food, which ranges from competent to drab, doesn't come close to my experiences at their place down south. And because of those experiences, I know the place can be so much more. Sigh.

This new outlet is pretty, to be sure, with a main dining area that seems more an extension of the long lounge area than a separate space. There's a lot of black and metal, with warm, creamy walls to wear the edges off the modern design.

If you're looking for something more secluded or romantic, you can head to the back of the restaurant and canoodle in a curtained nook stocked with bed-like couches, or try one of the tables set back from the throng behind beaded metal strands. You'll want to avoid the odd extra room across the hallway to the left -- it's not decorated as coherently or nicely as the main restaurant space and seems, in these early days, more suitable for private parties or meetings.

The menu is indistinguishable from the original in Sarasota, heavily loaded with fresh seafood in a variety of forms, all of the dishes layered with Latin and Caribbean flavors along with a healthy dose of Mediterranean ingredients. That's the signature blend -- they call it "Atlantic Rim" -- that has made chef/owners Rafael Manzano and Pedro Flores successful enough to open this second location.

And with two chefs, you'd think they could maintain consistency in just two different venues. But then fish soup ($5.95) comes to the table simultaneously over-seasoned and bland, a sea of entirely acceptable but unexceptional saffron-laced broth with chunks of white fish. Stuffed oysters ($9.95) are better seasoned, but the manchego pretty much destroys the flavor of the moist shellfish hidden in the sea of cheesy filler. And mussels with chorizo ($9.95)? Well, that combo always tastes the same, no matter where you get them -- like chorizo and pretty much nothing else.

OK, I think, maybe I'm a little nitpicky on the first course. At another restaurant, I'd probably feel that the food was, well, fine. Let's call it almost three stars, so far. I take a deep breath and vow to ignore my prejudices and approach the entrées without expectation.

Good thing, too, because even with lowered expectations they can't make the cut. Diver scallops ($24.95) are oddly dry and fall into sections when cut, tasting as though they were previously frozen and poorly thawed. The gloppy, stilted pumpkin purée they sit on doesn't help a bit.

Fish and chips ($22.95) is lent a little excitement by the addition of shrimp and mussels to the mix of golden, battered goodies, but I can tell them apart from the fish and yucca only by texture. That batter, and the seafood underneath, is unseasoned and well-nigh tasteless, turning the dish into a bowl of featureless fry. Pork tenderloin ($21.95) is the best of the bunch, but that's primarily due to the zing of a chile-spiked yucca mash that gives the boring meat and bland sauce a little oomph.

Huh. With my expectations in place, this was an entirely unsatisfying meal. Even with no preconceived notions about how good The Table could be, I'd still be walking out underwhelmed. Better give them another chance.

A couple of weeks later, this time for lunch, I do manage to catch a few glimpses of The Table's potential. A layered stack of goat cheese and prosciutto between thin slabs of watermelon ($11.95) is gorgeous, the bright, sweet and rich flavors meshing perfectly with a mustardy vinaigrette. Skirt steak ($14.95) is meltingly tender and topped by scallops that have escaped the problems of my first visit. And the mojitos and capirinhas are as exquisite here as they are down south.

But what happened to the poor short ribs? In Sarasota, dishes made from this slow-cooked beef, like eggrolls positively packed with the stuff and short-rib entrées doused in gingery barbecue sauce, were what originally converted me to The Table. At lunch in St. Pete, the meat crammed onto a short-rib sandwich ($9.95) is a dry, chewy imitation that makes a mockery of those great dishes.

That's what finally does it. I know the extent of The Table's potential -- I've tasted it. Not only do I expect a certain level of competence because of that, I also want to keep giving them extra chances to get things right. But after tasting those pale short ribs, I'm not sure I want to return any time soon.

I guess I'll have to head to Sarasota whenever I want to experience the joy of eating at The Table.