Our dinner kicked off with potato chips—hot, fancy
potato chips. Eyeing the sprinkle of fresh rosemary, sage, and
tarragon, we eagerly dove in to the first of several tapas we’d ordered
at lolo, NE Alberta’s newest—and, with the demise of the Alberta
Street Oyster Bar & Grill, arguably most
upscale—restaurant.
Half a dozen chips into the sizeable portion, however, and we were
forced to back away. Too salty, my dining companion declared after her
first bite. I suggested she’d stumbled upon an inadvertently oversalted
chip, as the first one I’d tasted was in the running for perfect snack
food. With my second bite, however, I discovered I was wrong: The chips
practically burned our mouths with excessive salt.
Next up, a saffron onion soup was creamy, rich, and an intensely
sunny yellow. A frizzle of crispy onions piled on top, however, were as
oversalted as the chips. I pushed the garnish around to get at the
interesting, mildly tangy soup, leaving most of the crisps in a soggy
heap at the side of my bowl.
Our three generous Cod cakes were perfectly breaded, and the fish
inside had the delicate consistency of fluffy mashed potatoes. Things
were looking up; I could overlook the chips.
My pork albóndigas—meatballs of ground and cured
pork—were a high point, accentuated nicely by oven-dried
tomatoes, but the ricotta gnocchi and almond sauce filling out the
plate were bland and forgettable. The Draper Farms chicken
entrée left a much better impression: The leg was tender, with a
well-seasoned crust, and the rich chickpea puree sauce melded nicely
with wilted spinach and spears of salsify.
Lolo’s culinary unevenness extended to other parts of the
restaurant, where several elements were slightly off. A long, narrow
window between the dining room and the kitchen is a great idea, except
here it’s placed two feet too high, so all you can see are the tops of
cooks’ heads. If the window were a touch lower, you could see the cooks
in action, adding a dramatic element to dinner.
From the conversation one table over, at least one tapas dish
wavered from the quality a pair of regulars expected: “This was better
last time,” a woman told her companion as she nibbled on a sardine. And
the dining room is nearly all hard surfaces, creating a din of echoed
conversation as the room fills.
To be fair, my mixed feelings are based on one visit to the
restaurant. Classic review rules dictate multiple, paced out visits
before rendering a decisive verdict. After all, it’s entirely possible
we stumbled into lolo on a night when one cook, carrying a bag of salt,
tripped and drenched part of the kitchen in the stuff, leaving none for
things like ricotta gnocchi.
But in reality, new customers make a judgment based on a single
meal. Had I approached lolo as an average customer, the assault on my
tongue would have long overshadowed lolo’s brighter
points—exceptionally friendly service, a delicious and savory
pumpkin bread pudding with pomegranate seeds and caramel sauce, or the
beauty of the food’s bold colors.