Tradition

He said:

The Tradition restaurant sits in an unassuming building on the corner of a residential neighborhood, directly across the street from Liberty Park. A simple sign announces it as “Tradition”. Another promotes “Comfort Food/Cocktails”. After greeting the friendly, neighborhood cat, we entered the Tradition restaurant, where a large, painted cow greeted us from its frame above the host station. The restaurant was small, a single dining room in front of an exposed kitchen, with an apparent bar area off to one side. The décor was simple and modern. Paned windows—actually mirrors—hung on the wall above our tables.

A bottle of water sat already at our table, but the waitress filled our glasses from her own iced pitcher. She handed each of us a one-page dinner menu and a two-page menu of alcoholic drinks. Kathy asked about non-alcoholic drinks and the waitress recited only the barest list of soft drinks. She would later bring our diet colas in cans. At least they were properly chilled. Plus, she brought glasses of ice and a couple of straws. Cocktail straws. Little more than swizzle sticks! Why, oh why? It’s so hard to drink out of such a small straw, but what’s the alternative? Remove it and make a mess on the table? Between the canned beverages and the cocktail straws, I concluded they simply wanted to vex us.

A review of the menu certainly revealed a variety of comfort foods: meatloaf, chicken and dumplings, funeral potatoes. Yet, we found some options that . . . well, they’re not part of my definition of comfort foods, though they may be quite good nonetheless: fried green tomatoes with chili jam, chipotle aioli, and cilantro pesto. Is that comfort food? How about a Dashi glazed game hen, with zucchini/mushroom egg fired black rice? These things sound great, but maybe we understand comfort foods a little differently.

We began with an appetizer of Brussels Sprouts & Cauliflower. They were fabulous. In fact, they might be the best Brussels Sprouts I’ve ever had. No doubt, the pistachio aioli had something do with that. Though they were supposedly twice cooked, they somehow managed to avoid the charring that is so common almost everywhere else. My disappointment was that the portion was too small. The appetizer came in a small bowl that resembled a teacup. I felt a bit shortchanged. Kathy scowled at me and accused me of taking her portion of the Brussels sprouts, but I dispute that. I took half the serving and left the rest to her. I took the remainder only after she had served herself. It’s not my fault she left some behind. As they say, You snooze . . .

For my entrée, I ordered the Stout/Cherry Braised Beef Short Rib. This came as a large, single chunk of tender beef, with a sweet and flavorful sauce. However, I only ate part of it. Kathy had ordered the meatloaf, but she didn’t care for its sauce. So, we traded.

The pork and beef meatloaf was interesting. It arrived as a slab, sliced from its original loaf. I think they must have seared this slab, which gave it a nice crust and helped hold it together. It was thick and dense and didn’t fall apart. Kathy thought it was a bit dry, but I liked that about it. It seemed more substantial, almost like a regular cut of meat. I couldn’t tell what she hadn’t liked about the sauce until my very last bite. In that bite, I detected some spiciness. That’s probably what she had tasted from the beginning.

For dessert, the restaurant had only one option, some sort of brownie. They offered it with a scoop of either mixed berry or caramel ice cream. We decided to take a pass on dessert.

She said:

The building that houses restaurant is an unpretentious olive-green stucco structure that sits on a corner. In fact, it blended in so well with the houses in the neighborhood that we initially drove right past it.

Anyway, as we made our way up the sidewalk past the outdoor patio seating left empty during this season, we encountered a friendly dilute tortie cat. I gave her a scritch behind her ears before entering Tradition and speaking to the host. I asked him about the cat. Apparently, she visits the place every night and just loves to sit outside, looking through the doors and windows at everyone and everything. She apparently lives in a neighborhood house. The restaurant employees have nicknamed her “Meatloaf.”

First, this is a small establishment. The tables are crowded closely together with a long, live-edged wooden communal table dominating the center of the dining room. It looked as though it seats 16-20 people. This appears to be a growing trend, but I’m not a fan of giving up my personal space by being plunked down right next to a complete stranger. Maybe Europeans are much more evolved than I am, but for the time being, I’ll continue enjoying sitting in my own little bubble.

So, we were seated up against the far wall at a small wooden table stained a pretty, golden brown. Brian sat opposite me in a wooden chair, while I sat on a slatted wooden bench that stretched the entire length of the wall, interrupted by a walled partition at on one end. The hard seating was uncomfortable; a padded cushion would have been great.

On the wall opposite from me was a large wooden bookcase laden with books, an American flag, a pair of high-top sneakers, and a hodgepodge of collectibles. It added a bit of interest to the concrete floor, industrial ceiling, and white walls, as did the open kitchen.

Tradition seems to want to give a casual vibe while offering a modern twist on comfort foods. I ordered the meatloaf that comes with a brown sugar glaze, sweet potatoes, green beans, and a charred serrano pepper. Except the pepper was missing from my plate and the brown sugar glaze was deceptively spicy. The spiciness rendered the meatloaf inedible for me, so Brian and I traded. I gave him the meatloaf and he gave me a portion of his short ribs. That was much better.

Aside from the protein in my dish being too hot for my enjoyment, the short rib was delicious, as were the cubed sweet potatoes and green beans. I wonder, though, if the chef would ever consider serving a dollop of the funeral potatoes with a cooled-down slice of meatloaf? Now, that would be a perfect pairing. (Quintessential comfort food).

Oh, and on our way out, I saw Meatloaf (the kitty) perched on a window, watching a couple inside the bar area as they ate and talked. I gave her a pat on the head before walking to our car.

Conclusion:

Tradition says they aren’t trying to be fancy. They just want to make “simple food with the finest ingredients in the best modality.” However, we felt that they were trying to be fancy, just not in all aspects of the experience. The food was fancier than average, but the ambiance, non-alcoholic beverage selection, and dessert options left much to be desired. We enjoyed parts of the experience but found it somewhat inconsistent.