The Write Ingredients

Not really much to crave...

We met the Parents today for lunch at the new restaurant in the Galleria, called Crave. I read a review a couple weeks ago, can't remember exactly where, but I remember that the writer wrote that the restaurant was "safe." Meaning that they menu was diverse, with nothing too strange. Crave took over the old Sydney's location, and I have to admit it is an improvement. Owned by a local "restaurant" family, the space is stunning. There's a large bar on one side of the room and an open kitchen across from it. Dividing the main dining area from the bar is a floor to ceiling wine "rack" which reminded us the breathe-taking wine display at Wild Rice just outside Bayfield, Wisconsin. (It also reminded us that we need to get back there.)

The menu was as promised, and listed everything from pizzas, pastas, salads, and sandwiches. The sushi menu was also long, and even listed a walleye roll that contained smoked walleye and mayonnaise. The Parents are not fans of sushi, so we started with an order of the spring rolls. Spring rolls are not hard to make, and are a delightful way to start a meal. I've even made them, so I can speak from experience. The rolls that were delivered to the table were loaded with soft rice noodles and little else. They were loosely wrapped and as soon as a bite was taken, the rest of the ingredients plopped out onto the tiny appetizer plate at each setting. Mom was surprised to see a sliver of shrimp on her plate among the noodles. The dipping sauces were slathered into the corners of the plate and were difficult to dish up. I hoped the entrees would be an improvement.

Dad asked what the fish of the day was and our server told us she wasn't sure, but would check. Okay, so we met at noon, meaning by now it was probably at least 12:15. The restaurant was at least half full, and nobody had asked about the fish? She came back a few minutes later and said the kitchen had not yet decided. Dad made a joke about still catching the fish, which I found appropriate. This isn’t Boston, it’s Minneapolis. You either have the fish or you don’t.

He decided on the pistachio-crusted salmon, Mom on the margarita pizza, which our server promised wasn’t too large. Husband ordered the Mango Chicken Wrap and I went with the Grilled Vegetable Sandwich. Forty minutes later, our food arrived. The salmon was by far the best looking meal, and I was surprised that it wasn’t oversized like so much of suburban food is. The pizza, however, fulfilled that role nicely. It was over a foot across, barley fitting onto the plate. Husband’s wrap was also large, but stuffed primarily with baby greens. And the vegetable sandwich was sparsely loaded with a portabella mushroom and roasted red peppers. The house made root vegetable chips were delightful. (I could have skipped the sandwich and had a whole basket to these.) They were light and crisp, and actually tasted like the vegetables they had once been.

The service continued to be slow. Our plates were not pre-bused (a term from my serving days), and I had to ask for our check. Only then did were our plates cleared. Will we go back? Maybe for a glass of wine if we’re shopping in the area. Will we Crave it? Probably not.