All vocations have their pitfalls. Here's one in my line of work: Jerks like yours truly tend to fall all over the innovative, even when those flashes end up landing squarely in the pan. So when yet another meat-and-potatoes joint appears on the scene, critics tend to yawn them off, forgetting -- or is that ignoring? -- that uncomplicated, all-American fare is what the vast majority of Minnesota's dining-out public seeks out on a regular basis. Lesson learned.
What sets the Loring Kitchen & Bar apart from its considerable pack of competitors are its good looks and its front-and-center address. Located on a prime ground-floor corner of a slick new apartment house on the eastern edge of Loring Park, the restaurant's urban and urbane surroundings (the work of Shea Inc. of Minneapolis) are several cuts above the cheap window dressings that are often associated with this dining genre.
It's a long, shallow, window-lined rectangle of a space, and each comfortable seat -- right down to the last stool at the bar -- seems oriented to maximize its park views. Not that we need another reason to hope for an early spring, but here's one anyway: The room is edged on two sides by a four-season portico that, in warmer weather, embraces the outdoors better than any other dining establishment in the city. Looks-wise, the restaurant reminds me of what I imagine a cafe at home furnishings retailer West Elm might resemble, and at night the soft lighting is more flattering than the "evening" setting in the changing rooms at J.Crew.
Yeah, it's a looker, and for a while that attribute manages to compensate for the fact that I could rattle off a list of dozens of Twin Cities restaurants serving similar food. Sliders? Check. Pizzas? Check. Iceberg wedge salad? Check. Not that there's anything wrong with that, to borrow from a "Seinfeld" rerun I caught the other day.
Variations with a twist
Despite the familiarity, chef Eric Strathy is cooking with integrity. He's putting out an awesome fried chicken: four big pieces sporting crispy, well-seasoned skin and juicy meat. More fried chicken -- plus a pert cole slaw -- finds its way on top of an offbeat but delicious pizza. The switched-up Caesar salad utilizes grilled romaine and its dressing replaces anchovies with crowd-pleasing smoked salmon. There's a perfectly satisfying grilled beef tenderloin that's priced right ($20) and that same cut, dressed with horseradish and sweetly caramelized onions, livens up a pair of sliders.
Those on the lookout for he-man portions should know that the LK could double as the commissary for the House of Large Sizes. What looks like an entire walleye is rolled in crackers and baked (not fried, a welcome touch), and a stuffed double-bone pork chop is the size of a brick. The burger is a half-pound monster, and side dishes, including fries three ways -- potato, sweet potato and zucchini -- are mountainous. Some dishes ought to be chucked altogether -- a misguided tuna ceviche and a dreary shrimp shepherd's pie, for starters -- while others, including overcooked pasta with overcooked clams and the too-salty soups, would blossom with some TLC. Desserts are passable but forgettable.
Naturally, my attention automatically turned to the "Temptations" menu, a winning but too-brief roster of seven small, affordably priced noshes that nudge the kitchen past its comfort-food comfort zone. Two or three can easily constitute a meal, and when they're good, they're terrific: a nicely seared scallop perched on round slices of gold and red beets, or meaty, melt-in-your-mouth baby back ribs glazed with a captivating sweet-hot sauce.
