Some dishes are so salty that you find yourself guzzling water the way you might after running a marathon. The crab bisque, a waste of cream and crab, and the thick, pancake-size potato cake from the tapas menu both suffer from a sodium overdose. Anyone who had tasted either dish back in the kitchen should have spotted the problem. Other dishes need just a bit of tweaking to upgrade them from coach to business class. A wreath of soft onions, yellow tomato slices and dark olives kept us occupied as we lamented the overcooked chicken breast it decorated.
Service comes in and out of focus, too.
Not once in three visits was there anyone to welcome us at the door, and help seems to disappear just when you need it, even when the place isn't busy. The wine list is a tease that repeatedly promises more than it delivers. Dessert gets the same Rodney Dangerfield-like respect accorded the rest of the menu. The cloying baklava can only be cut with a steak knife, and our request for creme brulee is met with a long explanation about how the kitchen torch isn't working. A chocolate mousse torte smacks of something Hostess might have whipped up.