Seven 17 South had a great conceit — Italian and Pacific Rim cuisine, blended together on the same menu, if not on the same plate. Clever, but nothing new, actually. Some of the classic fusion places — the ones the term fusion was created for in the 1980s —were Italo-Asian. Maybe Marco Polo is a big role model for chefs?
At Seven 17, though, that mixed marriage can be a bit of a yawn. The menu is laid out in a strictly segregated manner, the fold acting as an impermeable barrier for any cross-pollination between the two styles of cuisine. Could we let a little influence trickle over? Maybe let some cilantro fall into a beef soup, or accidentally drizzle balsamic vinegar across some spring rolls on its way to a salad? Two great tastes that taste great together?
No such luck. Seven 17's menu is a dull read filled with typical monoculture Italian and vaguely emasculated, uh, I mean "Westernized" Asian fare. It's a shame there's no crossover, but that doesn't mean the food's bad.
Sesame crusted tuna ($11) is the perfect example. Sure, you're tired of it. You can find it on half the menus, Asian-inspired or no, across Tampa. Seven 17 cooks it almost perfectly, the thin slices of beautiful bright ruby tuna framed by a sliver of pale seared flesh and a dusting of black and white sesame seeds. Brilliant? No. But it tastes good.
Same with crispy wontons ($9) stuffed with crab, scallion and cream cheese or egg rolls ($8) packed with ginger-scented ground pork. They're about as good as the versions you'd find at your favorite Thai or Chinese place, albeit with some fancier sauces, like chunky pesto made with cilantro or chili sauce fortified with soy. Yet again the dishes are tasty, but I can find both of these elsewhere, better and for less cash.
The shrimp cocktail ($11) does reach for a tiny bit of culinary innovation by marinating the plump guys in miso and sake. The result? Shrimp that are perfectly cooked and slightly sweet from the sake but still require the spicy bite of cocktail sauce to liven them up. You see my problem? So far, the most interesting dish on this cross-continental menu is the shrimp cocktail! And it isn't all that interesting.
The Italian side of the starter section is graced by calamari, escargot and baked brie. Sigh. We settle on sirloin steak ($11) coated in espresso powder, and a ricotta and grilled veggie cheesecake ($7). Just the tiniest hint of bitter coffee graces the red slices of ideally rare steak; it's a good dish and turns out to be the best thing we'll eat all night. The cheesecake is noticeably burned on the outside, crumbly and dry in the center, and rather bland. Shucks, I had high hopes for that one.
Our server has a habit of narrating as he works: "Oops, forgot to refill those waters, I'll do it now," "Let me go talk to that table, then I will bring out some more bread," or "I'll get those desserts in, punch in that table's order, then get your coffee working." A little annoying —— I'd rather he just do the things instead of telling us about the process — but it humanizes the guy and he does end up doing all the stuff he talks about.
I know I'm jaded, so I rely on my companions to ground me. The strategy doesn't work here at Seven 17 South. When it comes time to choose our entrées, I can't get anyone to order from the Italian side. "It's too boring to choose," complains companion Rick. "You pick for me."
Alright guys, I'll order the lasagna ($17). It's just as you'd expect, heavy layers of pasta and ricotta, with a profound amount of good sausage to give it some oomph. It fits better at lunch, where an almost equally sizeable portion can be had for $10. $10 is about right.
Steaks are cooked with the skill I've come to expect, with good crusts and correct temperatures throughout. But it's hard to see how a dish like seafood manicotti ($19) could be saved by anyone. With a mess of cheese and rich cream sauce overwhelming them, the crab, shrimp and scallops become mere textural speed bumps for your mouth, their mild flavor lost in a sea of salty fat.
Seven 17's signature Asian-y entrée is a daily fish special cured in miso and sake. Tonight, the fresh catch is corvina ($24), which may be the blandest fish ever served in a restaurant. It's usually used in Peruvian ceviche dishes, where the lime and cilantro give it life. Here, a buerre blanc with a hint of kaffir lime leaf just buries this dull fish.
Pot roast ($19) is better, especially after I scrape the cloying pineapple and mango glaze off of the fork-tender cube of beef. Judging by past reviews, as well as eyewitness reports from friends who dined there, Seven 17 used to be bolder. Now, wasabi mashed potatoes — a staple side of Seven 17 and fusion restaurants everywhere — fail to tickle my nose or pores. They're supposed to have some punch. Whazzup wasabi?
I don't think Seven 17 is living up to its potential. Robert Masson, chef since 2003, is of Korean and Italian descent, but he isn't doing any culinary crossbreeding in the kitchen.
Maybe we need to share the blame. According to General Manager Tammy Williams, Chef Masson rarely changes the menu, only occasionally replacing dishes that don't sell. Maybe innovative cuisine isn't what people want, and they're voting with their wallets.
In any case, four years after this dual cuisine experiment commenced, the two-headed kitchen seems more gimmick than culinary exploration. You want Pacific Rim and your date wants Italian? Go to Seven 17 South and you'll find adequately constructed, well-cooked dishes that fit both cuisines. Just don't expect to get too excited.
Brian Ries is a former restaurant general manager with an advanced diploma from the Court of Master Sommeliers. Creative Loafing food critics dine anonymously, and the paper pays for the meals. Restaurants chosen for review are not related to advertising.
This article appears in Oct 11-17, 2006.