Second Chances

Many moons ago, one of my girlfriends slept with some random guy, told us all how horrible it was, and then went and did it again. When we asked her why on earth she would do that to herself, she responded, “I just wanted to be sure.” Yeah, okay.

With that response in mind, I went out to dinner with two friends last week to, you guessed it, my much maligned new restaurant: Tasteology. And I’m thrilled to report that we had an absolute blast. Yep, you read that right.

For a multitude of reasons, the entire experience shifted enormously for me. The barren cafeteria-like seating now is flanked by potted “plants” (they’re actually bamboo-like sticks artistically placed but my lame description doesn’t do it justice – they really do warm the place up!) and, more importantly, you no longer have to order at the counter. There is now tableside wait service and Ben, our server, was as sweet as could be. In addition, they’ve added an organic wine bar (where the walk-up counter used to be), there are jazz bands scheduled to play throughout the week, and the side room is slated to become an art gallery. Honestly, it is not-so-gradually taking shape into a fabulous place to spend an evening out.

The night we dined there, the restaurant was hosting a “Culinary Smackdown” where two teams of local high school kids were competing in an Iron Chef-like competition. As such, the atmosphere was light and festive. If only we could have sampled their creations! And our food? I daresay it was good. I, of course, being risk-averse, ordered one of the dishes that the owner said was his favorite (i.e., the Southern Charm) and it was delicious. Mind you, at 12 points on Weight Watchers it’s much healthier than the calamari I had at JoJo the week before but also 2X what I should have ingested on my diet. Next time, I plan to share! My girlfriends’ meals were also good but one felt hers, the Panang Panache flatbread, was way too small (i.e., the calories appear to be in the peanut sauce that’s drizzled over the top) and the other thought hers wasn’t nearly as good as ours (i.e., the Sizzology – which was the best meal we had at our table last time oddly enough).

But the best part of the evening was when the owner stopped by to chat and treated us all to a glass of wine. He was a hysterical combination of extreme politeness (i.e., taking notes on all of our “ideas”), self-deprecating humor (“I can’t do that; I’m much too tired”), and complete honesty. He shared some of the many challenges they faced upon opening and how they promptly dealt with them. And he talked about how he takes all of his customer feedback, both good and bad, to heart. He is attempting to perfect the model before expanding/franchising too quickly and, in my opinion, he’s doing a fantastic job.

With that said, I actually look forward to going there again. Yikes. What’s next? Armageddon hungry.

Haste-makes-wasteology?

Until last night, I sincerely believed I was the easiest person to please food-wise. I’m equally as content dining in upscale restaurants as I am gorging myself on cheeseburgers at Tom Wahls. And, in my humble opinion, Kraft Macaroni & Cheese – the powdered kind lest there be any confusion – is better than “gourmet” Mac & Cheese any day. On the flip side, I can’t find a suitable tuna anywhere since I had killer sashimi years ago at the Market Street Bar & Grill in the Hyatt at the Reston Town Center. Alas, my hunt continues.

In recent weeks, I’ve enjoyed a fabulous Chilean sea bass at Max of Eastman Place, shared a delicious plate of Cajun calamari with my girlfriend at Bistro 135, devoured a heavenly breakfast empanada at Juan and Maria’s in the Rochester Public Market, and even found a little slice of yum with the Triple Chocolate Meltdown at our neighborhood Crapplebee’s. Really, it doesn’t take much.

Welcome to Tasteology: Rochester’s very own introduction into branded “health food.” With a clever concept, fabulous mission (the passionate pursuit of great food and inspired customers) and a CIA-trained head chef, what could go wrong? Oh, I wish you hadn't asked. The poor execution of an overstated brand promise, that’s what.

If you like dining at the Ikea Café sans the deliciously fattening Swedish meatballs, this is the place for you. Picture an oversized, nondescript dining room with Pergo-like flooring, colorful green painted walls and what I possibly remember to be plastic chairs —devoid of any warmth—and voila, try to make yourself at home on a chilly, wet, November evening. And feel free to ignore the woman being filmed in the kitchen and broadcast on a giant screen toward the back given that you cannot hear a word she's saying and the top of her head is cut off.

But really, lack of ambiance and technical difficulties aside, we were there for the “great food.”

I ordered the Parrilla touted as “grilled Argentinean style barbeque beef with chimichurri herb sauce, fire roasted tomatoes, chiles and Spanish cheeses (on a flatbread)” and sold to me as “really spicy.”

I received what tasted like sweet, barbequed, pulled pork over chunky Ragu on a flatbread. Being the good friend that I am, I kindly gave pieces to each of my friends. “Try this! No really, I insist!”

Being the good friends that they are, they offered samples of their meals in return. The noodle bowl I tried, to me, tasted like vomit. My girlfriends didn’t mind it nearly as much as I. One commented sadly that she could easily make it at home. Me too! If I stick my finger down my throat . . .

With all due respect, the Sizzology (i.e., stir fried beef, broccoli and cashews with black bean sauce, cinnamon roasted sweet plantains and sesame basmati brown rice) was the best item at our table. Hearty flavor with a hint of cinnamon sweetness. If there’s ever a next time, I’ll be sure to order it. I don’t want to venture out of my comfort zone here ever again! And I'm not naturally risk-adverse.

Thankfully Brio is next door. The minute we finished our meals, we walked (make that ran) next door, grabbed a bottle of wine and sunk into the leather couch and seats by the bar. Surrounded by candles and floor-to-ceiling curtains, we then proceeded to relax and stuff ourselves full with two fairly large bowls of spicy snack mix.

Goodbye health food. Hello Frito Lay!

Please, Tasteology, do us a favor, take some more time to perfect your recipes before going to market. We really do want you to succeed.