The restaurant industry is full of amateurs, people who feel that they can cook or serve food just as good, or better, than the rest of the joints out there. Sometimes they're right, but most often the daily grind of the business wears them down until they realize that cooking, or serving, isn't the only talent they need.
Michael Wuliger — owner of the new Bin 27 Bistro on Kennedy in Tampa — had a little more self-knowledge than most. Although his dad owned restaurants back in Texas while he was growing up, Wuliger wanted a crash course in the biz before opening his own place. "I cut my teeth at Café Dufrain, kind of doing an internship for 18-19 months," he explained. "I knew I'd be able to get a lot of experience. They just took me under their wing."
Even so, Wuliger needed a lot of help to turn Bin 27 into the capable and comfortable destination it has become since opening around the first of the year. His mom's an interior designer and she put her touch on the — let's call it rustic — space formerly occupied by Café Con Trey. Bin 27 is now sleek and cozy, with low ceilings, modern décor and the small space you might associate with a New York-style eatery.
And, thanks to the economic downturn and an ad on Craig's List, Wuliger nabbed a fine chef in Jason Cline. "I got 100 resumes for chef," said Wuliger, "and narrowed it down."
After graduating from Johnson and Wales in south Florida, Cline ended up with showy gigs at a couple California restaurants, before heading back to his stomping grounds here in the Bay area.
And it's Cline's food that will make or break Bin 27 in this economic climate. The menu shows little flourishes of Latin-American and international influences, fused together in dishes like decadent butternut squash soup ($6) seasoned with bright lemongrass and heady cumin, or tuna tartar ($12) laced with apples and wasabi crème fraiche.
Cline's technique could use a little help — that tuna is ground into tender bits that get lost in all the textures and seasonings — but the flavors are there.
None more so than in Bin 27's wings ($7.50). Cline elevates these simple bits of chicken with a tart citrus and pungent fried garlic mojo glaze, and a subtle layer of smoky chipotles. In a period of Super Bowl excesses, it was by far the best bar food — heck, the best food food — I had all week.
Cline's technical issues are more apparent with entrees, like braised beef ribs ($22) that never achieve the luscious texture and unctuous flavor that the cut of meat can reach. Under a perfectly pink pork chop ($19), there's also an odd bread stuffing laced with blue cheese and vinegar — two flavors that take serious work to appreciate once you get it in your mouth.
But sea bass ($24) — replacing a sold-out snapper — is ideal, crisp and moist with just a hint of the fish's natural butter showing through, and a restrained hand with Cline's normally generous seasoning to allow with the natural flavors on the plate to shine. The simplest and cheapest entrée on the menu — a $14 bowl of ropa vieja — is just as unfussy, and just as tasty.
Desserts aren't Cline's strong suit and seem a barely adequate postscript to the meal. Service can also be an issue: Our energetic gentleman took pains to explain every aspect of what's gone wrong with the meal in a way that subtly undermines confidence in the restaurant — for instance, detailing how a wine is unavailable because the entire case was damaged by heat during storage.
That's especially tough when the wine list is as uninspired and basic as that at Bin 27. I'd entered the restaurant thinking that the "bin" was a common reference to wine storage, and was disappointed when I saw the limited selection. According to Wuliger, he just liked the conceit, and the number "27" just kept popping up during the restaurant's construction.
Get past that and a few other shortcomings, and you'll find a young restaurateur and a young chef working the kinks out of a fine-dining spot that's already good enough to prompt people into return visits.
This article appears in Feb 4-10, 2009.