ENTERING CARMELITA requires walking through an absurd gauntlet of glowing reviews that have been blown up to gigantic proportions and posted in the doorway. Odd, we thought. This type of signage would look more at home at the neighborhood convenience store, where similarly oversized posters announce big savings on malt liquor and cigarettes. But as the welcome mat to a supposedly elegant restaurant? Such high-profile placement hardly makes sense, particularly with the throngs of adoring diners seated within. Perhaps, we surmised, such a decorating faux pas might be explained by the historic defensiveness of vegetarian cuisine.
Carmelita 7314 Greenwood N, 706-7703 dinner Tue-Thu 5-10pm, Fri-Sat 5-10:45pm, Sun 5-10pm MC, V; beer, wine
After two recent visits to the venerable Greenwood vegetarian establishment, we came away dispirited. Having been fans of the whimsical yet substantial fare of previous chef Ericka Burke, we returned anxious to see what tricks newcomer Johnathan Suskind (late of the Dahlia Lounge) had up his sleeves. Both times we left with shoulders slumped, gazes fixed downward, and a cloud of doubt hanging over our heads.
After wading past the giant reviews, we were greeted silently by the hostess, who slowly moved her cold, doe-eyed gaze back and forth from our faces to the seating chart for what must have been 60 awkward seconds. This would not be the last time we would be on the wrong end of this look.
Design changes in Carmelita’s large, boxy interior have attempted to soften the room’s factory-style ambience, partially succeeding with the addition of partitions, curtains, wall hangings, and a textured ceiling. Ironically, the formerly intimate and romantic bar has been transformed into a bright (naturally, of course) and more exposed nook opening onto a large outdoor seating area. Funky recycled wood panels are reminiscent of a sauna, resulting in our urge to take our clothes off and sit on a towel. Had we done so, our food would have undoubtedly come more quickly.
On our initial visit, a respectable field greens salad ($4.50), brimming with crunchy organic wild greens and glistening with a punchy red wine-shallot vinaigrette, left us anxiously anticipating subsequent items. This cheer came to a quick halt, however, with the arrival of the soup of the day, pur饤 chestnut, celery root, and apple, topped with a floater of sunflower oil ($3.95). Eager to sample a dish that sounded like either a medicinal potion or baby food, we tried a cup. Carmelita had produced a truly evocative melange—evocative of canned cream of mushroom soup—heralding a parade of ambitious and wildly inconsistent items to follow. This soup clearly characterized the unpredictable Carmelita mathematics, where one plus one plus one can equal negative four.
Certainly the menu includes some undeniable winners, particularly with the salad and appetizer endeavors. The bruschetta of the day ($6.95), one of many vegan offerings on the menu, showcased garden-fresh leeks, seldom-seen ramps (wild onions), and tomatoes saut饤 and served cold (?) on crostini. Our ensuing debate over the kitchen’s decision to serve saut饤 onions cold could not tarnish our fondness for the dish and its seasonal appeal. Grilled potato wedges and bread salad ($8.95), another laudable starter plate, featured full-bodied fava beans, tiny, flavorful tomatoes, woody endive, and a light touch of chevre with lemon-tarragon vinaigrette.
Unfortunately, the evening’s entr饳 would undermine any momentum begun by the top-notch salads. Portobello mushroom roulade is a popular dish, probably because it’s one that makes even the most apprehensive diners think they’re going to get enough to eat. Blanketing French green beans, roasted red peppers, and caramelized onions, the fat mushroom rested atop a potato leek cake served over mushroom demi-glace ($14.95). While the architecture of the dish was either impressive or ridiculous (it resembled a giant insect), it disguised a limp fungus coupled with a mushy and bland potato cake. Paparadelle with spring peas, lemon, and feta cheese ($15.50) offered a thin, bitter-tasting sauce. We skipped dessert, choosing to flee rather than wait another 45 minutes. We would regroup and return, yearning for better results and hoping that we had just caught them on a rough night.
VISIT NO.2 led off with a home run, hinting at Carmelita’s promise with Suskind’s golden beet tartare with horseradish cream ($8.50), a pretentious-looking little stunner molded into the popular cat-food can shape. The accompanying matzoh crackers were unusual in their dense crunchiness, stopping just shy of causing dental fractures. With the teasing punch of horseradish (most commonly seen as an accompaniment for meat), Suskind playfully toys with fleshy traditions of “tartare.” We were on a roll.
Then we waited 40 minutes for a pizza.
At last, a lovely looking pie arrived. Sadly, it was not the pie we ordered. This is no crime; serving an incorrect item is inevitable (particularly when the server doesn’t write down the order), wholly forgivable, and must be dealt with maturely and with kind words. That being said, however, our server’s blank and defensive stare, followed by a terse and almost-whispered “fine” as she removed the errant pie, only intensified the sting. When our chosen grana, fontina, and wild mushroom pizza drizzled with honey ($12.50) did finally arrive, its vitality temporarily lifted the gloom from our table. Chomping our way through the generously portioned and smartly constructed pizza, we began to wonder (again) if we had been all wrong about this place.
Then came our overcooked potato latke ($13.95). Dark brown from excessive frying, our latke sat lifeless, a little burned ball rimmed with the black and flaking ash of equally scorched greens. Selected from a special Passover menu, the high price tag seemed inordinate for a latke, absurd for a dish that wouldn’t have made it out of the kitchen in most greasy spoons. Was this an attempt at a Cajun take on the Jewish classic? An assassination attempt? Had there been a fire in the kitchen?
Perhaps Carmelita’s proclaimed role as a “special event” venue explains the staff’s sluggish pacing. On our first visit, we spent nearly two hours, much of it twiddling our thumbs as we waited for long periods between food items. With the usual weekend throng, we chalked it up to being busy and returned on a weekday evening, only to find the identical pacing, absent the crowd. Again, over an hour after our arrival, we sat and waited. While the staff appears to be striving for an unobtrusive style, an air of neglect prevails instead.
Celebration dining can provide uplifting and even spiritual sustenance. Ericka Burke succeeded in creating lofty and rarified food capable of such nourishment. So what gives? It is precisely this history that makes Carmelita’s current state even more exasperating. Suskind’s tenure at the steering wheel has been brief; maybe time will allow for improved execution of interesting ideas.
