50Plates

• Restaurant website
• Location: Pearl District
• Price to dinnerize two people: About $75 with tip

First thing I thought when I opened the 50Plates menu: “Whoa! These guys have figured out how to charge $10.50 for a bowl of chili.” Second thought: “It better be bloody good chili.”

I didn’t taste it, so I can’t say. I can say that the other food’s pretty good and the prices aren’t. And that this is a restaurant that needs to make up its mind: Is it a kitschy Americana diner, a trendy Pearl District eatery with a twist (i.e., the tapas are American), a down-home Southern kitchen, or….?

The concrete, stainless steel and chunky marble tile (Ann Sacks, unless I miss my guess) fit right into the Pearl District ethos, as do the cheap cafe tables set on the loading dock for those of us who want to eat outside. The waitstaff is attentive, service is fast and there’s an inventive (and expensive) drinks and wine menu.

The music is a little too retro for my tastes, mostly early 70s popcharts stuff. The menu talks about the concept of surveying great American foods, but unless you read 50Plate’s lengthy online rationales about why particular diner foods made it onto the menu, it’s hard to find the rhyme or reason to it. 50Plates just seems a bit too self-conscious to really be fun.

Still, Robyn and I gave it a shot tonight. I ordered a hot sandwich that closely resembled a Miami Cubano. Robyn got the BBQ brisket, $19.50.

The brisket arrived with mashed sweet potatoes, drowning in a molasses BBQ sauce. Both were pretty tasty, although the brisket had a bit more fat than strictly necessary.

$10 or so didn’t buy a huge sandwich, nor was it as pressed flat as the Miami version, but it was good. Despite the “concept,” I wouldn’t call it diner food, especially since it came a la carte–no potato salad, no tossed salad, no bag of chips, nuthin’ but a dill pickle. It looked kinda lonely, there on a big white plate. I added the “chopped salad,” at $6.50, and it was very good.

We ordered dessert to celebrate Robyn’s anniversary: Rhubarb crisp and Key Lime pie. Both were good. The Archies played “Sugar, Sugar” in the background, and a couple got up and danced while we toyed with our sweets. The after-dinner decafs came with a tiny pitcher of cream, shaped like a cow. Robyn and I both drink our coffees white, so the waitress eventually brought out the BIG cow of cream. That was more like it.

You know, I once ordered a room service hamburger at the Marriott Marquis in Manhattan, and nearly fainted when I got the $35 check. Fortunately, I’m now made of sterner stuff, so I didn’t turn a hair when the check arrived. But I couldn’t help thinking that a real diner would have served a similar meal for half the price and a quarter of the pretense.

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