Dining: Tapped out

Uptown's newly opened Lyndale Tap House seems to exist not so much as a casual pub-grub eatery, but as a middle finger extended toward Danny Schwartzman of Common Roots Cafe, whose eco-everything establishment does business just down the street. Despite having "Tap House" in its name, only two of the Lyndale's 17 draft beers are local (three if you count Leinie's). The fish and chips is made with Atlantic cod, which rates an all-caps red AVOID on the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch. And the atmosphere is a too-dark, too-loud typhoon of "dude brah."

In fact, the Lyndale Tap House has, in the few short weeks since opening, already developed an atmosphere as toe-tappingly cretinous as that of Cowboy Slim's. This is no doubt a tribute to the business plan for this restaurant, which seems to be a sound one in principle -- pack 'em in, crank the tunes, dim the lights and keep the beer flowing.

That said, the food -- which varies wildly in quality -- has a number of high points. House-made pretzel batons ($5) may be the best thing on the menu, and that's no knock. They're presented like flowers in a vase, served with an overly sweet mustard and a ravishingly creamy cheddar-ale dip. They've got a great crispy-chewy exterior, a balanced level of salt and a nice, substantial interior crumb. These are carbs of a truly higher order.

The Tap House hamburger ($8) is also surprisingly solid: a harmonious balance of meat, bun and toppings, decent char on the meat, a bit of pink in the interior. Overall, an unpretentious, old-school bar-food dinner experience.

But for all the hubbub (prime menu placement and online chatter) about the Baltimore-style Pit Beef ($9), the sandwich itself is disappointing -- it's not a big step beyond typical roast beef. If you're sold on the Pit Beef mystique, a better move is to order the Philly (also $9); the addition of cheddar cheese sauce and grilled red peppers brings a great deal of needed zip and interest.

Ale Chicken was a $14 disaster that our waiter was kind enough to remove from the bill. A topping of dry, limp coleslaw did nothing to rescue a dry-as-a-bone interior and damn-near-flavorless skin.

Lyndale Tap House could easily go a couple of ways. It could straighten out and fly right, emerging as a chic bar/eatery resembling the glory days of the Bulldog N.E. ... or it could wallow in its status as a pricey off-campus student bar for nitwits, conveniently located near the condos of Uptown. A basic understanding of entropy suggests a tragic outcome, but hope springs eternal.