This is a restaurant that looks like it has worked hard to conceal any kind of eccentricity while still maintaining a studied eclecticism (a paradox that is the hallmark of 1980s design): creative light fixtures, curtains inside the dining room hung from curling wrought-iron bars, big upholstered club chairs, banquettes shielded from each other with overflowing greenery--not particularly relaxed, but not particularly elegant either.
The menu, too, occupies this middle ground between home cooking and what we vaguely call cuisine, with all the good things (roasted chicken, braised lamb shank, grilled salmon, lobster) that are unlikely to startle anyone, gussied up just enough to remind you that you're eating out. It's not surprising that many of the people eating there both times I've visited seemed to be adult children dining with their parents; the food at Meridian is unlikely to start arguments.
Critics have been unkind to Meridian because, I think, it doesn't knock you over the head with a palette of flavors, a theory about food, a manifesto--nor does it have the carefree nonchalance of cheap eats. But the surprise is that once you wade through your ambivalence about being there, much of the food is quite delicious, and this is its real personality.
My most recent visit to Meridian was hampered by the kind of service boondoggle that feels like you've dropped through a black hole into a parallel universe where values have flipped and time slows to a crawl. I hesitate to tell you about it, because I've also dined there when service was perfectly prompt, efficient, and correct--but still. Still! Everything... took... forever. And this was not the unfair impatience of hungry diners, but the unreasonable span of something like 45 minutes before appetizers (or bread) arrived. And our waitress, while a lovely woman, was not particularly creative about attending to my food-allergy-ridden husband, suggesting (in lieu of dairy-laden appetizers) mussels steamed in water. Now, I'm no restaurant chef, but you could, without undue strain, throw a little wine, a little garlic, a little parsley in there to liven things up.
However, the mussels steamed in water ($9.95 with as-advertised lemon, cream, and garlic) were very delicious--perfectly steamed, creating a corollary to the Min Liao "Mussels Don't Need a Frickin' Entourage" theory: mussels, properly cooked, need nothing at all. I was across the table eating Manila clams steamed in a lovely, balanced concoction of butter, white wine, and lemon ($10.95), thinking I'd take mussels over clams any day.
The wait for our entrées was similarly... leisurely. We were in a corner of Meridian's vast and fairly chilly dining room, hungry, feeling abandoned, and full of self-pity. But I was mostly mollified when my braised lamb shank ($17.95) arrived, meat falling perfectly off the bone in an almost unbearably rich and tangy demi-glace, with a generous pile of mashed sweet potatoes. My allergic husband was not so lucky; his Halibut Cheeks Athena (usually served over spinach, with a kind of Greek-salad side of olives, tomatoes, and feta, $14.95), deconstructed to accommodate his particular needs, turned out to be unseasoned halibut, although tender and mild, over a pile of rice with overcooked green beans.
Well, we had turned into the nightmare table where nothing could go right. They probably just wanted to get us the hell out of there. Nonetheless, the staff was tremendously polite and apologetic about everything, and comped us our appetizers. It's mostly enough to undo anyone's righteous indignation.
Meridian Restaurant and Bar 1900 N Northlake Way, 547-3242. Lunch Mon-Fri 11:30 am-5 pm; dinner 5-9 pm (Fri-Sat 10 pm); brunch Sunday 10 am-2 pm.
