Mortar & Pestle
3 out of 5 stars
6310 N. Florida Ave., Tampa. Appetizers: $10-$14.50; entrees: $15-$25; desserts: $9-$10; beer, wine & cocktails: $5-$12. 813-773-0909; mortarandpestlefl.com.
After you’ve counted your blessings at the ample Mortar & Pestle parking lot, you can’t help but be struck by the decor. The new Seminole Heights restaurant’s crisp white walls are hung with blackboard graphite engineering drawings, and the wrought-iron tables and stools are outfitted with giant gears. There’s comfortable oversized leather, and a row of giant, glass, gravity-fed laboratory devices that slowly drip with cold-brew coffee.
I can picture a Pixar film where the interior comes to life after hours and transforms into a giant steampunk factory. It’s quite delightful.
A huge blackboard lists the 32 beer and cider selections by price, ounce and ABV, plus small pours available as flights for comparative tastings. The restaurant also offers kombucha and five craft sodas (we delight in the black cherry with tarragon), and it’s conjured three yummy specialty cocktails. We skip the tawny port Manhattan for the lighter two of the trio.
Blue’s Clues starts with blueberries muddled with mint simple syrup and a splash of lemon, which brings brightness to the mix of sake with refreshing house-made cucumber water; a finishing champagne float adds welcome bubbles. More assertive is the Spicy Boy, another sake concoction with a kick from jalapeño simple syrup complicated with house-made cucumber-ginger water and lime. This one gets topped with ginger beer for some fizz. Both gain from the synchronicity of their components.
On my first visit, we share a stunning allspice mango tea poached shrimp that is strikingly beautiful and scrumptious, but was removed from the menu on my second. The purple potato torte starter is another complicated affair with confit tomatoes and white balsamic foam on an attractive dark ceramic plate that sadly hides the visual impact of the ingredients. The same is true of the the roasted tricolored carrots and beets — well conceived and executed, but hard to see in all its glory. That’s not the case, however, with perfect sautéed asparagus accented with portobello demi glacé and white balsamic foam dotted with bright orange edible petals.
With all the attention to beauty in the surrounding decor and plating, I’m at a loss to explain the braised pork cheek entree with activated charcoal gnocchi, which is soggy and unappealing.
Sous-vide pork belly is much better, but lacks the sigh-inducing lushness that this ingredient can produce, despite the presence of a curried squash purée. The crispy five-spice duck breast slices are a bit too well done, though the Anson Mills piccolo farro is a good match. That being said, the juxtaposition of savory matcha gelato strikes me as an odd choice.
Seared crispy octopus sits on a perfect stripe of spicy squid ink topped with creamy, flavorful black lentil purée and pretty romanesco broccoli buds that add a bit of crunch. Unfortunately, the gorgeous, delicate lemon pearls and nori glass (modernist techniques pioneered by Ferran Adria) don’t register. A touch of citrus-sharp acidity would be most welcome; the chorizo powder helps.
The trends continue with dessert. The flourless chocolate bar is plated with a rectangle — glazed with a hard shell of dark chocolate — that’s lighter than most cakes of this ilk, which are usually notable for their density. Adjacent to that is a swirl I thought was the chocolate foam listed on the menu. Instead, it seems identical to the bar, and the glaze needs to be cracked with a knife. That’s topped by a timid berry fluid similar to some cute berry gel discs that dot the plate along with puffed wild rice, adding unneeded texture and no real flavor enhancement. I’d prefer more of the few dots of coconut crème fraiche as the main grace note. The chocolate marries so well with the hazelnut ice cream that the modernist cuisine elements are annoying. Less is more.
Much more successful are the huge mango meringue cookies sandwiching white chocolate creamux, vanilla mango gelee and mango fluid gel fillings. It’s joined by tropical mango sorbet, cookie crumbs and a few pretty, red-veined sorrel leaves. The fillings don’t pop, but it’s a light, attractive and well-crafted confection.
For me, many dishes need editing. Every component should elevate or provide a surprise. The star ingredient should shine, enhanced by the surrounding players. Clearly, lots of attention is paid to presentation, yet some of the beautiful ceramic tableware is the same color as the food, so visual appeal is compromised. Even modernist techniques can be tricks instead of useful tools if the flavors don’t excite. Perfect the taste before allowing it on the plate.
While Mortar & Pestle reminds me in style of Rooster & the Till or The Restorative, the dishes are less focused. And when you only offer 25 items, it’s disconcerting when one fifth of the menu is scratched for the night. On my two visits, the cobia crudo, heirloom tomato salad, begonia pasta (the lone vegetarian entree) and raindrop cake weren’t available. At least one other dish was absent each time. Our server tells us the lineup’s still being tweaked on the second go ’round, but with the sophistication of desktop publishing, there’s no excuse to list them in print or online.
Still, I admire the reach, even if it so far exceeds the restaurant’s grasp.
CL Food Critic Jon Palmer Claridge dines anonymously when reviewing. Check out the explanation of his rating system, or email him at food@creativeloafing.com.
