Restaurant Review - Sweet submission

Haven’t been to Midtown’s Spice lately? In the hands of venerable chef Paul Albrecht, it’s worth revisiting

The block of Juniper between Fifth and Sixth streets plays host to Midtown’s hotbed of S&M restaurants: Spice and Salt, Mitra and Mulan. Gastronomic masochists can head straight to Salt or Mulan - meals at both places are notoriously spotty.

The only torture typically inflicted on customers at Mitra involves waits on the weekend. Chef Gerardo Ramos has kept the rhythms of Mitra’s menu, dominated by Latin flavors, on tempo. And the restaurant’s whip-smart dining room, ablaze in reds and oranges, still gives off a feisty, tropical tingle.

But, games aside, what about Spice?

Opened more than four years ago, Spice is a veteran of Atlanta’s “what’s hot now?” wars. It had its glamour-soaked moment when the trendsetters descended en masse. They made snagging reservations a bitch for months. They blocked the slim valet driveway with sports cars and SUVs. They lingered in the illicitly lit bar, with its glowing back panel that suggests perpetual, indigo twilight. They chowed on busy food with overly long descriptions (like beef tenderloin with caramelized onion-stuffed potato and horseradish-mustard-creamed spinach).

Then the pretty pack moved on to the next sizzler. And this waning hot spot was left with a crisis: Morph or become a fashion victim.

After several rapid-fire changes in the kitchen staff, owner Bruce Patterson made a savvy move: He lured Paul Albrecht, the “Paul” of Pano’s and Paul’s who’d left the venerable flagship of the Buckhead Life Group in 1998.

Spice now possesses a mellower cosmopolitan vibe, and it suits the space. The steady crowd is wonderfully diverse yet notably mature. Perhaps as a nod to the grown-up clientele, they finally did away with the ridiculous billboard across the street that displayed a disrobed female with a scarlet chili splayed on her midriff. In its wake, you can better appreciate the poignant landscape of trees and skyscrapers out the restaurant’s panoramic windows.

Several friends I brought on my visits plopped down in their seats and exclaimed, “I haven’t been here in years!” I’ll admit my lingering impression of pre-Albrecht Spice didn’t leave me clamoring to return, either. But “Chef Paul,” as the staff refers to him, has been in the kitchen for more than two years, and most of the food is way more polished and consistent than when the restaurant first opened. Whadya know.

The unwieldy menu, divided into numerous sections, can take some work to read through, so here’s a strong tip right off the bat: Albrecht is at his best with seafood. That means you’ll want to hone in on starters like the lumpy crab cakes with a tidy tuft of wilted spinach and lime vinaigrette, or the mussels steamed in a lush lemongrass-coconut broth.

A splurge on the $18 batter-fried lobster tail appetizer renders an epiphany. When I tried the signature fried lobster tail at Pano’s and Paul’s last year, I didn’t get the hype. The meat was chewy and the breading bland and thick. At Spice, it clicks: Under a sheer cloak of tempura-thin batter, the lobster meat is delicate, and a jicama-Asian pear slaw on the side draws out the crustacean’s buttery nature.

Albrecht’s primary strength may be his uncommon sense of composition. His entrees have a lot of stuff on them, but the jumble can come together brilliantly. He pairs grouper with roasted red pepper grits, fried oysters and broccolini. The quintessential American flavors play well off one another: The oysters’ saline gush enlivens the creamy grits, and the broccolini satisfies the need for something cleansing among the richness.

The stuffed pork chop is a mental mouthful. Crammed with a mixture of andouille sausage, shrimp and Granny Smith apple, the chop is then garnished with bacony swiss chard, fried green tomatoes and cranberry relish. Oh yeah, there’s a mustard jus drizzled on top. It sounds like culinary histrionics, but each component is produced with integrity. Approach it like an overfull plate of Thanksgiving food - with relish and abandon.

“Lamb 101” demonstrates what can happen when an assembly of ingredients doesn’t quite coalesce. The meat on both the lamb chop and shank is too fatty, and it throws things out of whack. A cascade of creamed spinach and a pool of braised Belgian endive become unappealing. Everything’s overcooked and flabby. I suddenly want to nibble on carrot sticks.

A lovely special of whole loup de mer comes with a fresh relish of citrus and capers to brighten the fish’s gentle nature. Too bad a pile of Israeli couscous on the side has an unpleasant sour note. And it would have been nice for our server to tell us the extra side of stuffed poblano pepper we ordered was filled with the same couscous. She pulled a similar trick at dessert time, actually. We ordered strawberry crepes and a special lemon dessert, which turned out to be covered with - you guessed it - more strawberries.

And one visit, we tiptoe into a strange section of the menu labeled “Raw” and order lava soup, an unlikely combination of uncooked carrot juice, mint, ginger and avocado. It was weirdly astringent. But it did taste good as a sauce on an otherwise dull app of short rib strips. (Yes, lava soup inspired us to play with our food.)

So, the trick to Spice is to order smartly. But here’s another surefire tip: The restaurant’s well-chosen wine list is half-off on Tuesdays. Some of the list’s usually pricey selections, like a chocolate-cherry Martinelli Pinot Noir or a buttery Louis Jadot Chassagne Montrachet, soften any disappointments you may encounter during your meal.

After all, it’s always a good idea to fortify yourself with pleasure if you’re potentially facing a little pain.

bill.addison@creativeloafing.com