Review: The Kite and Key Tavern

So it’s interesting that, when a bar with restaurant ambitions—or when a restaurant with more bar-y tendencies—hits a snag, it’s typically the result of predictable, frustratingly avoidable problems.

 

Kite and Key, the airy, attractive new spot down the block from Sabrina’s sophomore effort, is a perfect example. It’s eminently likeable yet is maddeningly missing that one ineffable quality that pushes a bar with a decent menu over the edge and makes it into a full-fledged dining destination—or even one you’d want to include in your regular rotation.

 

All the pieces are there: The menu features all manner of interesting-sounding preparations, and the majority of them can easily and successfully be paired with the beers on the well-assembled list. But too often there’s a disconnect between the promise of a dish and its reality.

 

Chicken confit, for example, was woefully under seasoned, so much so that I had to rely on the salt shaker to lift the heart of the dish out of its almost overwhelming blandness. What made this more frustrating was that the flesh itself was tender and moist, just like you’d expect from a properly done confit. And though the chive-and-butter sauce helped, it was simply not enough to elevate the chicken out of its penned-in doldrums.

 

Potato gnocchi, fluffy and pillow-light like homemade ones are supposed to be, was a classic case of weighing down and over-thinking a dish that would have been far better had it been conceived more simply. On their own, the pan-crispiness of their outer layer brought just enough of a sense of texture and darker flavor to balance out the brighter herbs and the sweetness of the summer squash and grape tomatoes. But the layer of shaved grana was overkill, blanketing—both literally and figuratively—it all in an unnecessary richness that detracted (and distracted) far more than it added.

 

There were, however, some successes, though few of them without the occasional snafu. Crab cake sliders, despite the bread’s unnecessary thickness, showcased the restrained savoriness of a grilled corn remoulade, which itself was countered by a shot (more a glass, really) of lively gazpacho. Grilled tilapia tacos, simple and well-considered on their own, would have been served better by a less soupy side cup of guacamole.

 

The burger, however, was an unmitigated winner, the Angus buttressed by the subtle gaminess of ground lamb, which provided a tang to each bite without sacrificing the beefy flavor that was, rightfully, the focus. And the spicy pineapple wings—big enough to have perhaps come not from a humble yard bird but rather from some sort of domesticated pterodactyl—brought a sweet-spicy-savory complexity that was both surprising and instantly charming.

 

In the end, though, Kite and Key is all about the beer. From Belgian favorites like St. Bernardus 12 and La Chouffe to domestic standouts like the fantastic Bell’s Two Hearted Ale, the suds here are what carry the day, and what seem to be luring the neighborhoody crowd. The service reflects that: It’s accommodating and casual, which is just about right when you want to have a nosh while enjoying a pint.

 

But when it comes to the food, service here can be frustratingly vague. When asked about several of the dishes, one server informed me that everything on the menu was good. That kind of confidence is reassuring, but it has to be backed up by the plates coming out of the kitchen, which isn’t happening quite yet.