Sheer red curtains start somewhere out of sight and flow like a breath of summer over the long windows. The dividers between the booths are reminiscent of the thin screens used in Japanese homes. Maybe the ornate, reproduction European chairs are overbearing, but they work with the sleek walls, luxurious ivory table cloths and sparkling china: It's an effective fusion of styles.
The food is the same way. Think spring rolls — Eastern — or Boursin cheese — Western. Think sashimi — Eastern — or chocolate lava cake — most definitely Western. Ginger ponzu and hunky buffalo, charred on the grill. Chef-owner Peter Tanhnavong and executive chef, Robert Huffnagle, meld it all together so well. The food is inventive, with varied touches of Chinese, Japanese, Hawaiian, Thai, Laotian and American influences.
Tanhnavong, who immigrated from Laos in 1979, opened the restaurant in 2000. In 18 years as a chef, he tinkered with different cuisines until he came up with the unique fare he prepares at Pacific Wave. He worked in Boston at Wylus, a small Asian restaurant, and then at Arigato Japanese Steakhouse after he moved here in 1997. He was joined in 2000 by Robert Huffnagle, who has migrated across the U.S. during a long culinary career that culminated at St. Petersburg's Redwoods and The Garden.
The first time I visited, it was late on a Saturday. The place was jumping with the surprisingly young, hip crowd that has taken up residence in St. Petersburg. (Fellini-esque Factoid #1: St. Petersburg, for decades the statistically oldest city in the nation, has yielded the top spot, as the average age of its residents has declined from 48.1 in 1970 to 39.3 years in 2000. Fellini-esque Factoid #2: Clearwater now is the statistically oldest city in the U.S.)
Every seat at the bar and every booth was occupied. The dining room buzzed with chatter and laughter, a relaxed insouciance that says the regulars are at home there. A band played over the din. Clearly, Pacific Wave has developed a following, even though it sits at the high end of the price scale.
I wasn't very hungry, but others in my party wanted to eat. They downed drinks while I sipped a modest glass of Penfold Merlot ($7). When I felt ready to eat, I tried the pot stickers ($8), dumplings stuffed with sesame chicken and steamed, then seared in the wok and doused with kaffir lime beurre blanc and kabayaki glaze, sort of a Japanese version of barbecue sauce. They were delicious, and like everything at the restaurant, benefited from an unusually beautiful presentation, which racks up points with any diner.
Another of our party wanted only salad, and she was suitably impressed when it arrived: It was the freshest baby spinach ($9), perched in a fancy, edible Parmesan cup that was delightfully chewy. It was topped with goat cheese terrine, kiawe wood-smoked bacon and toasted pine nuts, and dressed with passion fruit balsamic dressing. Its varied textures and flavors were like a big, noisy party to which every last one of your taste buds was invited. Perfect for a light snack.
Someone else ordered an entree featuring a mixed grill of shrimp, scallops, and fresh Hawaiian fish served with chipotle grits and three sauces ($24). I thought it the best dish of any we tasted in two visits to the restaurant: fat, fresh seafood, a memorable smoky-tasting pile of grits and three superior sauces (smoked tomato beurre-blanc, lobster fondue and kaffir lime).
I went back another night when I was hungry enough to eat a whole meal. I chose an authentic, chilled Laos spring roll ($8) with grilled tiger shrimp marinated in miso, Thai basil, and mango. I loved it because, as I ate, it came apart like a blossom — shreds of iceberg lettuce, slivers of mango, carrots spilling from the wrapper. Its sauce, served in a side dish, had oomph and flair — a kicky, spicy sauce made with bird's eye chilies, finished with chopped cashews.
My companion ordered buffalo ($34), a special that night (Fellini-esque Factoid #3: Ted Turner, who has lost billions to the vicissitudes of the stock market, is launching a restaurant chain with buffalo meat as its featured dish). It was a little dry, not because of anything the kitchen did; it was ordered medium well, and buffalo meat, because it is leaner than beef, retains its juices better when it is cooked rare or medium rare. My pal did not seem to notice, and he ate it all.
For dessert, I could not resist chocolate lava cake ($8). It was gooey and satisfying, but too loose, as it fell apart in a puddle on the plate. A better dessert was the delicate passion fruit flan ($6), airy, molded into a star shape, set with strawberries and a cone of white chocolate. It was a classy way to end a heartily satisfying and gastronomically inspiring meal.
Food Editor Sara Kennedy dines anonymously, and Weekly Planet pays for her meals. She can be reached at sara.kennedy@weekly planet.com or 813-248-8888 ext. 116.
This article appears in Oct 23-28, 2003.