Tano is a No-No

Friday night date night once again.  Decided to try a new restaurant in historic Loveland, new to us and relatively new to Loveland.   Called Tano, it had been written up in the Cincinnati Enquirer and made to sound amazing.  They gushed over the food and ambiance, touting it as the hot new happening dining spot.  Perfect for a person like me, amazing. 

 

First view, a maître 'd just inside the entrance, asking us the proverbial, "do you have a reservation?"  We did at six but forgot to come on time.  Oops.  However, we got here at seven and the place was about half-full.  They seated us at a deuce by the kitchen door (we found out later, as people traipsed by, the restrooms were also located behind the door leading to the kitchen.  Weird.)

 

We began with oysters on the half-shell.  Five for $ten.  Such a deal, right?  And they were flown in all the way from Connecticut.  They were perfectly chilled, absolutely fresh and a real delight, after so many months of an oyster-free culinary existence.  The cocktail sauce was right out of a bottle, and not a very good one.  No zing, no pizzazz, a breath away from Heinz ketchup.  Very disappointing.  But that's ok, the entrée will amaze!  Right?  The Cincinnati Enquirer said so!

 

Having started with oysters and a very delightful glass of Malbec, I ordered the scallops.  Described as "chipotle linguini, spinach, rock shrimp, tomatoes, champagne beurre blanc", it sounded delicious.  Yes please!

 

You can see by the photo that indeed, the plate did contain all the requisite items as outlined on their menu.  Unfortunately, there was also a little bait and switch going on.  Not bait and switch in its pure form, yes, those are scallops, and yes, those are rock shrimp.  But, have you ever ordered scallops as an entrée and only received THREE puny, overcooked scallops?  Me neither, until this night.  The rock shrimp were mighty shrimpy as well, all five of them.  Three snuggled together atop the linguine, trying to convince me of their massive shrimpiness!  Keeping company with the shrimp and three puny scallops was the full plate of slimy, oily, over-buttered linguine.  And let us not give short shrift to the three strands of deflated spinach.  All in all, the appearance hinted at the less than stellar dining experience to come.

Others have raved about Tano, I will not.  First time and neither I nor my companion was impressed.  No reservation = table by the kitchen/bathroom.  Ok, next time, we will make a reservation.

 

Portion size was fine, but for the entrée that arrived, it should have been priced around $24, not $27.  We are in a suburb of Cincinnati, not downtown!  Not only that, the scallops were small and without flavor, the shrimpy shrimp tasted like they came out of the bag of Kroger shrimp I keep in my freezer.

 

The Chipotle linguine was an interesting concept, the heat came through in a mild undertone, but the oiliness of the linguine overwhelmed in the end.  It was truly disgusting to look at, and to eat.

 

My dining companion ordered their special of the night, Fluke.  Right, Fluke?  First of all, to the uninitiated, it is a white, mild-flavored fish.  The waitress told us everything she knew about it.  That was pretty much it.  So I quickly googled it.  Fluke is a relative of the flounder and is often called the Summer Flounder to distinguish it from the standard, Atlantic Flounder.  (Who would be able to know the difference?  Maybe other Flukes and Flounders.)  I took a taste of the Fluke.  It was beautifully presented on a bed of mashed garlic potatoes, surrounded by a moat of roasted corn off the cob.  The Fluke was lightly dusted in batter, then sautéed in butter.  should have been at least tolerable, but the fish itself was not a tasty consistency.  It was dry, but not flaky, dry, but not full-bodied.  Just dry.  Just unpleasant, almost as though it had spent time in someone's freezer, in 1972.  It tasted just ok, but overall - a fail.  Garlic mashed potatoes were perfect, but hey, even Bob Evans has that dish nailed.  the "fresh off the cob" corn had a spicy blend of chiles and peppers with popped against the fresh corn taste.  Sadly, it was the best part of both meals.

 

Will we go again?  Yes.  I don't like to judge a restaurant on just one meal (or in this case, two meals).  But next time I will try a meat or veggie dish.  Will keep you posted!

In A Malbec Kind of Mood

The Malbec grape originated in France, but Argentinian Malbec wines are quickly coming to the red wine forefront.  At dinner a few weeks ago, my host ordered a bottle of Malbec, and I tried it for the first time.  It reminds me of Merlot, but it is much more intense, complex and full of flavor.

I gave up Merlot several years ago. The ones I tried had become too sweet, too mellow, too bland and too uninteresting.  I still think Merlot make for an easy introduction to red wine for the novice winedrinker, but overall I've not found one with the rich complexity of a Cabernet or (now) a Malbec.

Tonight's wine comes from the vineyards of Finca La Celia, a Mendoza winery that has been around since 1890.  Though I didn't know that little tidbit when I bought the wine, that's got to count for something right?  Longevity in the wine business generally means quality (unless it means really, really cheap).  At any rate, what really convinced me to try this particular wine was the "Oak Aged" note on the front of the label. 

In France, the Malbec grape has gone into somewhat of a decline.  Even though it is one of only 5 grape varieties that can be blended to make Bordeaux, its susceptability to various blights and a killing frost in the 1950's really set it into the background, behind Merlot and Cabernet Franc grapes which are hardier varietals.  Argentina embraced the Malbec grape.  Many Argentinian vineyards from a planting or two taken from France.  Now, it has practically become the national grape of Argentina.  Argentina's highest caliber Malbecs come from the high altitude Mendoza region, which coincidentally, is where Finca La Celia winery is located.

The Malbec grape produces a deep red wine.  The La Finca 2011 is so richly red, that if you hold up a glass to the light, you will not be able to see through it.  When you get to that last tablespoon of a sip, hold it to the light  and you will be rewarded with a beautiful, deep ruby shine.  But then, you should go ahead and enjoy that last sip.

The La Finca greets you with an intensely spicy vanilla aroma. The secondary smell you'll get is a rich, black currant, making for a delightful combination on the nose.  On your first sip, you'll experience a lovely smooth ripe fruit on the palate, with a warm finish.  The tannins are silky, not harsh, and combine with the oakiness for a nice, subtle richness that is delicate at the same time.

Locally, this can only be found at Trader Joe's, so you may not find it in even your best grocer's wine shop.  It's modestly priced, and I would recommend for any meat or red sauce pasta dish.  It would also be nice for sipping around the patio with friends, on a cool evening.