UPDATE: As of Nov. 24, MJ's has let go of chef Domenica Macchia and changed the direction of the restaurant. Read this for details.
Tapas-style dining has overrun our restaurants. Instead of concentrating on a short menu of well-executed dishes, modern chefs and restaurateurs feel the need to offer the extensive choices, lower-priced options and smaller portions that diners increasingly seek out. I understand. Problem is, most restaurants don't know how to make a small plate of food.
That's what hits me first when a plate of sliced hot dog and baked beans ($9) lands on my table. I'm at MJ's Martini Jazz and Tapas Lounge, where the lights are low, live jazz-lite comes from some dudes on the stage and middle-aged Pinellas folk are enjoying a fancy beverage after work. But I only have eyes for MJ's version of beans and franks. The dog — half a dog, really — is Kobe beef, but the brick-red slices look like any other nitrate tube. The beans are wee little things, puddled under the meat. Two little dabs of grainy mustard dot the edge of the plate. Before I even taste it, though, I know: MJ's chef Domenica Macchia gets it. She understands the small plate.
The dog is spectacular — a little crunch to the casing, the interior a seamless mesh of fat, beef and spice — and the tender beans are a perfect blend of sweet molasses and unctuous pancetta. Get past the Kobe tag on the menu, and there's nothing remotely deconstructed, reconstructed or fucked with in this dish. It's just damn fine beans and a damn fine frank, likely the best low-budget childhood supper you've had in your life.
The secret here is that Chef Macchia's small plates aren't extended appetizers or hacked-up entrees — they're miniature meals all by themselves. Just as much thought has gone into every $10 tapas at MJ's as goes into any entrée at the finest restaurants in Tampa. More, in most cases.
Simplicity is another watchword for small plates, exemplified in Macchia's jumbo shrimp sautéed in chili oil ($11). There are three hefty shrimp, each showing crispy edges from a searing-hot pan, each glistening with the slightest hint of red oil. They're cooked and seasoned perfectly, and there's no sauce except whatever chili oil managed to cling to the shrimp from pan to plate. That's perfect, too.
MJ's diver scallops ($12) are tiny things, and there are just two of them, but the sear and seasoning are just right. On the other side of the plate is the real bonus here: a few tiny sections of sticky, smoky, sweet nirvana known as bacon brittle. Sure, I could eat a pan of it all by itself, but that sugar and fat also sublimely meshes with the unctuous, sweet flesh of the scallops.
There are some dishes that are merely tasty and executed well — like sections of nicely herbed rabbit sausage ($11) with strands of caramelized peppers and onions, or a pile of tiny lamb riblets ($11) that fall off the bone. Even those are smart, the lamb ribs chopped into bite-sized pieces that make eating with your hands suitable in a fine-dining setting.
Macchia transforms simple, baked halibut ($11) into a crusted, salty, buttery piece of joy, with roasted tomatoes to add a sweet, bright punch. The only discordant note to the tapas is MJ's braised shortrib ($12). The meat is rich and flavorful, but overcooked, leaving it more like great pot roast than the expertly cooked piece of meat I've come to expect from Macchia.
There is some monotony when it comes to accompaniments. Since the menu items are complete, albeit tiny, meals in and of themselves, they all come with a side. Mostly the same side, actually, a silky smooth blend of mashed potato and mascarpone that's tasty from the first plate to the 10th. But with Macchia's obvious skills, I'd hope for a little more variety.
You can dip into the "accessories" menu for some of that variety. Homemade chips — either dipped in saucy gorgonzola ($7) or laced with truffle oil and grated parmesan ($5) — are excellent bar food, and a portobello mushroom cap ($6) topped with a restrained amount of goat cheese and breadcrumbs can act as a tasty side. Even better are simply roasted spears of bright green asparagus ($8) topped by a poached egg; yolks are nature's perfect sauce.
Macchia's desserts have technical problems, although even there the flavors are spot on. Cobbler ($6) is watery, the apples swimming in loose liquid under their crunchy coating. Dabs of cannoli filling ($8) — surrounded by fried dough doused in sugar — is incredibly dense and almost overwhelmingly rich.
There's a perfect solution to that — just order more tapas plates. You'll likely need three or so just to make a meal, but you'll want more. Why not have meatloaf for dessert?
Pricing for the small plates is almost as sharp as the food itself. Order three plates and you'll pay about as much, or less, as you will for an appetizer and entrée at another restaurant. And the food, with few exceptions, is better here at MJ's.
Drinks are another story. MJ's signature cocktails roll in at a hefty $13 or so, compared to a more standard $9 for their regular Grey Goose martini. And wine, especially by the glass, is at the high-end of restaurant mark-up. Hit the happy hour between 5 and 7 p.m. if you want to enjoy several libations with your stream of small plates.
MJ's is nigh hidden, a block off Fourth Street behind an abandoned Bennigans. That might be fine for a low-down jazz club dragging people in for touring acts, but I'd hate for the poor setting to cause this restaurant's exciting, talented chef to start singing the blues.
Interested in making bacon brittle for home consumption? Check CL's online food section later today for our recipe, as well as a primer on making bacon brittle outdoors.
This article appears in Oct 22-28, 2008.