I have found the dining room door by now. A clue: As you enter the orange vestibule and see yourself coming, you are walking toward a floor-to-ceiling mirror. Stop short before you reach yourself and turn right. And I now know that the bathrooms are to the left of the mirror behind the curve of the bright orange wall divider with all the holes in it. Sometimes a waiter will stick his or her head into a hole to check on the progress of one of their tables. It's a pleasant visual joke and likable. Also agreeably funny are the row of round security mirrors -- the kind you see at Walgreens -- mounted on the back wall of both dining areas. Less likable and after awhile distracting is the rectangular bank of round lights above the kitchen that fades in and out of all the colors of the rainbow about every five seconds.
The small bar that awaits you (after you have found the doorway) is crowded but friendly. Bar stools are few but there are about four tables where you can sit pleasantly and either wait for your table or just have a few courses and a drink. The hard-boiled eggs on the bar in the round stainless steel wire container that looks like a ferris wheel and is reminiscent of French bistros are to nosh on -- no charge -- with drinks. You might crack one casually while looking up at the double bank of bar lights hanging above. They are the longlife bulbs wrapped in pastel material of some sort and suspended in what looks suspiciously like IV or plasma bags.
The crowd is young and hip and happy. The middle-aged contingent is in the minority, and one night when I and a companion were seated at a two-top near the kitchen, the fifty-something party next to us was making unhappy sounds. At MOD. you can't help but overhear conversations at adjoining tables because the noise level is so high when the restaurant is at full capacity that everybody turns up their volume. "Young people don't mind it so loud that they can't hear what they're saying because they have nothing to say anyway," the disgruntled diner complained. The young people I have seen at MOD seem to have plenty to talk about, and their ears seem to be in good working order as well, a possibility not considered by that middle-aged misanthrope.
Our servers on all occasions were pleasant and likable. One night when the server couldn't pinpoint the sauce underneath the platform of thinly sliced lemon (the menu calls them white) cucumbers that supported two tender diver scallops and a tempura battered, crisply fried Chesapeake Soft Shell Crab($8), he straight away got the information and came back to the table with it. The sauce was sunomono style, or traditional Japanese style dressing. Sunomono means "vinegared things" in Japanese and these dressings are thin and tangy, based on rice vinegar, and usually dashi (broth), soy sauce and sugar. The flavor boosters are what make the sauce so singular, and rather than send our waiter back for an ingredient list, I let my palate do the guessing: maybe red pepper flakes? ginger? At any rate, delicious. The cucumbers' sweet seedless flesh was robed in the thinnest of yellow skins, one of Chef-partner Kelly Courtney's finds at Midwest farmers' markets which she haunts. Our second first course that night was an off-menu special: Heirloom tomatoes drizzled with an olive oil dressing. The plate held five different kinds of ripe summer tomatoes, artfully arranged: yellow, green (very sweet), orange, red and purple. It was simple and completely soul-satisfying. The edible garnish was a lightly battered deep-fried zucchini blossom stuffed with a goat cheese mixture.
Courtney's love of fresh food started in childhood, hunting and fishing with her father, and living in a farming community in Florida with her mother where freshly harvested food made a short trip from field to table. After taking summer seminars at the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, N.Y., she worked in restaurants in Atlanta, Santa Fe and Seattle. In San Francisco she served as sous chef under renowned chefs Joyce Goldstein at Square One restaurant and Jeremiah Tower at Stars. Back in Atlanta as a restaurant consultant and executive chef for a multi-restaurant group, Courtney met Terry Alexander (of Tizi Melloil, Mia Francesca, Soul Kitchen and the former Okno fame) and as she says, "We knew immediately that we should open a restaurant together." Along with Steve Ford, Quay Tao and Alexander's fiancée Kristin Skrainy, they did just that.
Every section of the menu has its "retro" offerings, which are anything but retro. For example, among the first courses is Ham and Eggs($8), not toast and fried ham and eggs but a slab of crisp ciabatta (the traditional Italian slipper-shaped flat bread) crostini topped with thin prosciutto and a large poached egg with its own pedigree "Swan Creek egg." The whole is drizzled with an excellent olive oil. The salad section offers the nostalgic Iceberg Wedge($5.50), but this lettuce is organic and consequently full of flavor. It's draped in Roquefort dressing and texture is provided by crouton chips. King of the retro entrees is the Texas Truck Stop Beef Ribeye Chop($26), with English stilton fondue, torpedo onions, and exotic mushrooms. It's a far cry from truck stop fried steak, onions and mushrooms. The steak is aged, and the meltingly rich blue cheese fondue is made for dipping steak in. Torpedo onions (before they are cooked or subject to the chef's knife) look just like torpedoes and explode with flavor. The mushrooms apparently change from oyster to chanterelles or whatever is good and in season, in accordance with the chef's philosophy. Her mission is stated on the menu under Pure and Simple: "Whenever feasible, my priority is to bring our guests both locally grown produce and naturally raised, artisanal products from producers worldwide. By sustaining the balance of these relationships, we all benefit. Enjoy!"
Nancy Silver (formerly of Okno, Alexander's previous restaurant which he closed earlier this year) is pastry chef and two of her retro desserts are dynamite. Remember Baked Alaska, that rectangular slab of yellow cake topped with a rectangular slab of ice cream, slathered with sweet meringue and baked in the oven long enough to brown and set the meringue but not melt the ice cream? Silver's Baked Alaska($7), comes out of the oven looking like a little beehive. The dome of delicate golden brown meringue hides a scoop of banana-caramel ice cream and an intense little disk of chocolate-espresso cake. And the MOD. Tropical Split($6.50), is not your soda fountain banana split. It comes in a deep stainless steel bowl and is filled with scoops of passion fruit and gianduja ice cream, coconut gelato, and is scattered with crisp bits of macadamia nut brittle, and thinly sliced bruléed (caramelized) bananas. Passion fruit caramel sauce completes the decadence. Two of Silver's other non-retro desserts we sampled were superb. Oven-roasted Nectarine Shortcake($6.50) with rosemary biscuits topped with sweet mascarpone cheese was heavenly -- intense nectarines, sweet aromatic biscuits and mascarpone even richer than whipped cream. Likewise her almond paste and Swan Creek Organic ricotta tartlet($8) was a sugary puff-pastry like confection stuffed with sweet ricotta and topped with a scoop of blackberry crème fraîche sherbert.
The menu changes frequently. That's a good thing, because there is always something new. And that's a bad thing, because something that you fall in love with may not always be there. I fell in love with the Orzo in Farm Butter($15) topped with shaved summer truffles and drizzled in truffle oil. It is the most luxurious, indulgent first course I have enjoyed in a blue moon. But I bet it won't be there in a few months.
I hope the Mussels($7) remain. They are a first course, and are roasted and served on an iron skillet. The texture is perfect, tender and juicy, and the flavor is sweet and smoky. The night we feasted on this ample first course they were dressed with Meyer lemon butter. More and more of us are learning to love these incredibly sweet and juicy thin-skinned lemons that grow, thus far, mainly around San Francisco. (And, of course, it was Alice Waters at Chez Panisse who is credited with being the first put them on her menu.) They are uncommonly fragrant and not nearly as sour as the supermarket lemons we've grown accustomed to, most of which are either the dependably tart Eureka or Lisbon variety.
Other fine dishes sampled at MOD. include a first course of crispy fried Blue Lake Green Beans($6.50), with two sauces. The tender, slender green beans are tempura-battered and fried, and served with two dipping sauces. One evening our waiter offered us two serving alternatives to the whole oven-roasted New Zealand Rainbow Snapper($23) with artichokes, fingerling potatoes and some other crisp and braised vegetables. We could have it with the head and tail on, or off. My dinner companion chose to have it beheaded and detailed. I would have had it whole, especially after getting a forkful of that sweet, flaky fish.
The menu usually has only one pasta and if the Orchiette with Eggplant and Tomatoes($15) that I had one night is any indication, it is probably special and delicious. This pasta was perfectly cooked -- zuppa-style -- and the brothy sauce was studded with flavorful vegetables. The waiter asked me if I wanted freshly grated Parmesan for the pasta. Of course, I said yes. The waiter asked me if I wanted another piece of bread for the pasta. Of course I said yes. A thick slab of dense, chewy country bread is served when you are seated, and a little puddle of green olive oil is added to the square white plate. I have yet to see anyone dining at MOD. leave any of that bread on their plates.
The wine list is moderately priced, small but thoughtful; the wines selected compliment the food. There are enough by-the-glass selections to change wines with every course. And the Sweets Menu has a corresponding Post MOD. beverage menu with four brandy-cordials, three eau de vie, two pastis (a nice change of pace, and a genuine digestif), three Ports, two sweet dessert wines and six fine Scotches.
At the meal's end, a whimsical sweet touch comes in a large cup that looks as if the spun sugar it holds is foaming out. MOD. is an odd juxtaposition of decor and cuisine -- garish retro with contemporary fresh market cuisine. But it's a breath of fresh air, and the food is as fresh as it gets. By all means go if you love good food, if you are young, or if you are young at heart.
