I've written about the rebirth of the downtown Tampa dining scene for years now, from the struggles of the long-standing islands of light in the otherwise desolate urban landscape a few years back, to the addition of more appealing downtown mixed-use developments that have brought new energy and, more importantly, more people to the streets after dark. Let's just go ahead and say it: downtown Tampa has pretty much arrived. Again.
Now that places like Fly, or TAPS, or Pizzaiolo Bavaro have blazed a path, it makes it easier for other restaurant entrepreneurs to take the leap. Lunch needs to be part of the business plan — there are still more people in downtown Tampa during the day than at night — but it's doable.
Because the process has gotten easier, perhaps, it also means that some spots that open will do so without much of a hook, or a gimmick, or even much that immediately recommends the place to folks looking for a place to eat. Like Metro Restaurant and Lounge.
This new restaurant on that block of Franklin self-labeled "restaurant row" has a vibe that matches the food. The interior is pleasant, if unexceptional, with a generic color palette of browns, brick and crimson. Overstuffed booths and cushy chairs fill the space, with a loft that overlooks the main dining area.
The bar area is small, but big enough for a downtown restaurant, and Metro hosts live music on occasion, although the size of the place means it's a battle between people who want to enjoy a nice dinner and folks interested in tunes and drinks.
Metro's food has the same unexceptional and unobjectionable feel as the décor and design. The menu is a litany of the usual apps and entrees that typical unthemed restaurants carry, from crab cakes to pasta, with a vein of New Orleans-style dishes that attempt to impose a seemingly random focus. Problem is, even those dishes have trouble sticking to the theme.
Like gumbo that's light and brothy, tasting so much like standard vegetable soup that the chunks of dry chicken you find hidden inside are always a surprise. There's no roux at the base of this soup, no foundation to make it a real gumbo. As vegetable and chicken soup goes, however, it's not bad.
Same with Metro's pork stew, another innocuous specialty of the house. The pork itself is tender and rich, but the sauce and veggies with it have a tinny flavor that's accentuated by the piles of overcooked white rice underneath. That same mushy rice taints Metro's otherwise adequate dirty rice, the conglomeration of green peppers and ground meat turned into a bland paste.
The more straightforward items are usually a better choice at Metro, although even those rarely rise above the everyday. Lasagna is dominated by the kind of dried oregano you find in jarred sauces, crab cakes are cooked right but overloaded with crab that's been reduced to a soft paste, while lentil and spicy pork soup has the same vegetal base as the gumbo with little spicy punch.
Maybe instead of criticizing Metro, I should hail it as a sign of downtown Tampa's health. Now that the formerly deserted downtown has a more vibrant nighttime scene, one of the accoutrements the scene brings with it — along with crowds of hungry revelers — is unexciting workaday fine-dining food in an innocuous and bland space.
