I thought my cover was blown when the Malio's Prime bartender told me my next round was paid for. Instead, the free martini comes courtesy of a gentleman called Big Jim, who bought a round for the entire bar. Considering the price of Prime's cocktails ($15 for a hit of Woodford Reserve bourbon and $13 for a Sapphire martini) and the packed bar on a Friday night, it takes some deep pockets to be so generous.
So deep, in fact, I'm suspicious. Could it be a managerial gimmick to revive some of the aura of the old Malio's, when athletes and millionaires and guys who looked like characters from The Sopranos would throw money around? Nah, Big Jim turns out to have an imposing gut, stringy hair and wears Bermuda shorts, a sort of disheveled Santa Claus on vacation. He's much too real to be a gimmick.
Truth is, little of the old Malio's has made the transition to this thoroughly modern steakhouse. Sure, Malio Iavarone and son Derek are owners — along with Jason Fernandez, another restaurant vet and part owner of Bernini in Ybor — and Malio still gladhands through the room occasionally, but Prime has a very different feel.
Some of the food did make the transition, enough to add a slight familiar touch of the old joint to Prime's otherwise standard steakhouse fare. Like linguine that comes with hunks of sweet blue crab and a boring bit of garlic and olive oil. At $22 a plate, it seems destined to be revamped. Maybe bring back the "princess" sauce? Please?
Shrimp "Theresa" (named after Malio's sister, $14) is a more comfortable throwback to the old days, the plump shellfish barely breaded and sautéed with a more assertive blend of garlic and butter than found on the pasta. Do you remember the good salad that everyone upgraded to at Malio's? That's still around. Nothing fancy, just greens and tomatoes with some crumbled gorgonzola, but the vinaigrette is as bright and balanced as it always has been.
Beyond that, Malio's Prime has the same menu as any big-city steakhouse, the kind of generic selection that is so familiar and mundane that nothing about the food can be determined until the plates arrive.
Let's start with the meat of the matter: Steaks at Malio's Prime are stellar. The rib eye ($37) is a gorgeous slab of glistening seared flesh, with a curving bone scarred by heat that juts across the plate like a reminder that this is flesh and bone we're eating. It's overcooked — in fact all of the steaks at Prime come one level more done than we ordered — but the meat is intensely beefy and so rich that I honestly couldn't care less.
Same with a New York strip ($34) that is more tender than any strip has a right to be, with a salty crust that crackles in my mouth to accent to the soft, rosy flesh of the interior. Cooked a little less, it would be ideal. As it is, this is still an incredible steak.
I'm surprised by the strong flavor of a simply grilled salmon filet ($26). That's not a complaint. This is a fish that has been mass-produced into bland farmed protein, with taste sacrificed long ago to price. Prime's fish tastes like, well, salmon. Fatty. Briny. Intense. And it's cooked better than the steaks. So is lamb ($32) ordered rare, the bare chops infused with that tiny hint of rustic gaminess that makes lamb worthwhile.
The meat may be the focus, but all big-city steakhouses need the aura of an exceptional wine list. Prime's isn't bad, and it even has a sommelier to help you decide on the best vino-vittles pairing, something Bay area restaurants need more of. In the end, though, the guy had to spend a few minutes perusing the wine list before he came up with a suggestion and, well, he wasn't exactly convincing. I could have done that.
Elsewhere in the service realm, waitstaff and food runners scramble but more than manage to keep up with the packed restaurant, even after just four weeks of practice. The only serious problem is the noise. All those towering windows and earth-toned pillars add up to a lot of hard surfaces to reflect sound. When almost full on a Friday night, it's a strain to hear across the table. According to our server, they're working on it.
No need to work on the family-style steakhouse sides. We fight over wedge-cut French fries ($6) that have an airy, fluffy interior. They share the plate with onion rings that aren't too thin or too thick, coated in a cornmeal-laced crust with a profound crunch.
Creamed spinach ($7) is fine but forgettable, while creamed corn ($7) — the little kernels cut right off the cob — is accented by tiny bits of lively, herbaceous jalapeno that adds freshness with minimal spice. Smoked cheddar is rendered into a luxuriously smooth sauce that permeates classic mac and cheese ($7). It's gone even before the fries.
Does any of this sound like the original Malio's? Nope, doesn't really feel like it either. Despite being linked with a local restaurant legend, the new joint has a long way to go before it comes close to the mystique and tradition of its namesake. In fact, Fernandez has said that he would like to franchise Prime across the country, just like any ambitious steakhouse-chain owner.
Nevertheless, dinner at Prime is impressive. Small hiccups seem unimportant, little things that will likely be ironed out after the restaurant has a few more months under its belt. Which is a good thing, since it seems likely that Prime's location in downtown Tampa's beer can building will alone draw crowds while the rest of Tampa's riverside plods toward redevelopment.
Even after the gloss of "Malio's" return wears off, though, this new place has the moxie and chops to keep dragging people to Tampa's quiet downtown scene.
Editor's Note: This is a corrected version of the review. When it first appeared, it incorrectly identified the name of the restaurant in Ybor co-owned by Jason Fernandez.
This article appears in Jul 11-17, 2007.
