Just before sunset, the Maseratis and BMWs and 'Vettes start lining up outside the Salt Rock Grill. Valets quickly zip the pricey cars away as their owners pile into the restaurant, overflow into its classy bars and occupy the patios overlooking the water. The restaurant is probably prettiest once the sun has actually set, its rich orange glow burnishing the palms across the street on the beach, touching with gold the mangroves lining the inland waterway. From the tables in the main dining room, it's quite a sight to watch the almost-imperceptible cooling of the day through huge windows that stretch nearly floor to ceiling. Night falls suddenly, dramatically, while you're still contemplating the appetizer.
Oh, if only the food were as fabulous as the setting and the service. This is not to say the food is bad — it is not: It is invariably fresh and well presented. But it lacks ravishing creativity; the culinary fare is almost too simple. When they say "grill," they mean it — seared over a wood fire and set on the plate. I found Salt Rock Grill too predictable to be very exciting.
We did enjoy the service: Due to unavoidable exigencies involving registration for the Gasparilla Classic road race and horrendous, rush hour traffic on I-275, we arrived almost an hour past the time of our reservation. Since it was the weekend before Valentine's Day, and the place was already jumping, I wasn't sure we'd even get a table.
But the unruffled hostess smiled away our apologies, and within a few minutes managed to come up with a table. The waiters were equally friendly and efficient, and in the time it took to set down our handbags and settle into the comfy chairs, two cold glasses of wine sat daintily upon the black tablecloth to help us recover our serenity.
We were surprised to find the handmade, fresh and crusty bread served in a homey aluminum kitchen colander. Along with it came herb-infused olive oil, followed by the house salad and a Caesar salad, both of which were crisp, cold, and quite satisfactory. (All dinners are served with bread, salad, and a pasta or potato.)
We moved onto the coconut shrimp appetizer ($6.95): big, fresh shrimp rolled in coconut and fried, and served with a pale, too-sweet sauce. My dining partner ate every bite of it, happily; she was in the same frame of mind as the crowd of diners all around us — it's OK, we're not complaining.
I was taken with the room's polished travertine interior — a native form of limestone formed in Florida springs, which is paired with deep wood paneling to endow the place with its unusual, elegant sheen. Salt Rock is good-sized, seating nearly 400, and spellbinding with a rich interior, lovely, changeable view out the window, and the always-fascinating spectacle of sleek, well-dressed diners laughing and toasting.
When the tuna sashimi ($10.95) appetizer arrived, it was also respectable, but it was not a dish I would remember for very long. It came carefully laid out on the plate, with an unruly pile of Japanese sesame seaweed salad and pickled ginger. Again, its dipping sauce was forgettably mild and uninspired.
We were having trouble picking an entree, so our affable and very efficient server tried to help us, patiently explaining each dish. What comes with the planked salmon? What color sauce comes with the pasta? What is the catch of the day? My dining partner settled on crusted, seven-bone rack of lamb ($20.95); I was curious about one of the specials, the "school of fish" ($25.95).
When the waiter explained that the "school of fish" was a plate that featured several types of seafood, I took the opportunity to gently tease him. "It's really just a highbrow "Captain's Platter,' isn't it?" I inquired. He blushed, speechless for a moment, and acknowledged that, yes, it might be described that way — except the seafood was grilled rather than fried.
We had some time between courses, so I took a spin around the patio decks overlooking the water outside the two main dining rooms. Despite the cold, people smoked and joked at the outdoor bar, and lounged at tables on the patio, facing an inland waterway.
The night air and the water's clammy chill invaded my clothes, and I was glad to re-enter the warmth of the building, where I dawdled near the big, open, wood-fired grill, with its assembly-line of cooks preparing the food. On my way back to the table, I found the well-stocked, 600-plus bottle wine cellar, set at the rear of the dining rooms.
When the entrees arrived, hers was a hearty rack — cut from the lamb's rib section, and then cut again into chops, marinated in basil and chervil, and touched with the fire's hot fingers, sporting a smoky, garlicky crust. It was accompanied by a healthy mound of creamy, garlic-flavored mashed potatoes, which oddly, I considered the evening's best dish. The meat was fine, acceptable — but nothing extraordinary; ditto the timid mint sauce in a cup on the plate.
My order, the "school of fish," entailed a nice assortment of seafood: salmon steak, bay scallops, mahi-mahi and tuna steak. Fresh, but unremarkable. The fruit salsa that accompanied it needed more flavor, heft and heat; and its side dish of orzo pasta, flecked with fresh peppers, was downright boring.
By dessert, I was still hoping for something startling or surprising, but found the hot apple crisp pie ($3.95) overly gooey and undistinguished, and the Key lime pie ($3.75) just so-so, its crust slightly limp, and its filling too bland.
Still, it's clear the restaurant has a devoted following. If, to you, the kitchen's creativity is less important than the restaurant's lovely beach location or its breathtakingly stylish look, the Salt Rock Grill can certainly provide a pleasing evening.
Contact food critic Sara Kennedy at sara.kennedy@weeklyplanet.com or call 813-248-8888, ext. 116.
This article appears in Feb 20-26, 2002.