Drinks to dessert, it's So good

The Coffee Crusted Filet Mignon, served with a side of cheesy polenta, is exceptional comfort food.
The Coffee Crusted Filet Mignon, served with a side of cheesy polenta, is exceptional comfort food.

So Restaurant-Bar -- an upscale Hillcrest staple since 2006 -- is part neighborhood pub, part Parisian bistro. Once primarily known for seafood, the menu has expanded in recent years, although raw oysters (from the East and West coasts rather than the Gulf) are still plentiful, and the priciest meal on offer, the Grand-Luxe seafood platter ($115), consists of 18 oysters, cocktail shrimp, mussels and crab claws.

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Arkansas Democrat-Gazette

So is known for its Chocolate Sack, which is as much art as it is dessert.

It's possible to do lunch here (soup and salad, a feta-topped burger, fish tacos) for under $20, but most dinner entrees are $30 to $45. The wine list is extensive and skews pricey (one could drop a few hundred on a bottle), but there are also reasonable options, such as a malbec ($10 per sizable pour) that we enjoyed on our second visit.

So Restaurant-Bar

Address: 3610 Kavanaugh Blvd., Little Rock

Hours: 11 a.m.-10 p.m. Monday-Wednesday; 11 a.m.-11 p.m. Thursday-Saturday; 4-10 p.m. Sunday

Credit cards: AE, D, MC, V

Cuisine: French/seafood/fusion

Reservations: Yes

Alcoholic beverages: Full bar

Wheelchair accessible: Yes

(501) 663-1464

sorestaurantbar.com

So can be intimate, except when it isn't. The food can be excellent, except when it's salty. But this place must be doing something right to have lasted nine years in a neighborhood with plenty of options.

On a weekday around 5 p.m., piped-in vintage jazz (of the Sarah Vaughan variety) wafted through a cozy main room with a wall-size wine rack, muted overhead glow and white tablecloths. There's an enclosed back patio that turns open-air in nice weather and a small sunroom facing Kavanaugh, but So was empty but for a few after-work bar patrons.

On this first visit, we asked for cocktail recommendations and ended up with a basil-red pepper vodka martini and a muddled strawberry and St. Germain concoction ($10-12).

The pair, for some reason, took a full half-hour to materialize. The waiter's vague explanation: "The supplies weren't readily at hand." (What does that mean?)

Both of us preferred the martini, with its fresh, earthy tang. "Tastes like the farmers market," my dining partner said. But elderflower cocktail was also lovely -- floral, with a strong kick.

We'd heard about So's lobster pastas, but we were told that lobster is out of season. (Later, we asked more specifically and learned that So hasn't served lobster for several months and no one is sure when/if it will be back.) So we settled for the Seafood Fondue ($14) -- a rich, pinkish-orange cream sauce, served warm (fondue, right?) in a roughly 8-inch baking dish, layered in browned cheese and garnished with whole-leaf basil. There was a small loaf of crusty homemade bread for dipping, liberally replaced without our having to ask.

The primary sensation of this mild Cajun queso was "salty." There was no true heat and the chunks of shrimp and fish had no distinct flavor, so the experience was mostly about texture.

When the server traded our fondue for dessert, he used a silver scraper to clear the table of bread crumbs, because this is a classy joint. So is known for its Chocolate Sack ($14), created by painting dark chocolate around a wax bag. Then the bag is removed, leaving a solid, beautifully molded chocolate sculpture about the size and shape of a paper lunch bag.

The sack is filled with graham crackers, peanut butter mousse, vanilla ice cream and raspberry compote and topped with mounds of whipped cream and a chocolate-covered strawberry. At about 6 inches tall, it's intended for sharing and served with a tiny hammer.

This hammer is necessary to break into the sack, and we're not talking tiny taps. If you want to get to the center of the thing, it takes a few good whacks. The chocolate is frozen and rich, and the ice cream-steeped mousse is divine, with chunks of graham cracker for texture.

Our appetizer, dessert and cocktails totaled $50, which didn't seem unreasonable, considering that we had no need for dinner.

On our second visit, a month later, we had a proper dinner in the enclosed patio, with its uncomfortable wrought iron chairs and its view of the neighboring plant nursery. Soon after we were seated, a party of at least a dozen arrived, and their conversation and laughter, bouncing around the open-beam ceiling, was deafening. We leaned toward each other, speaking only during breaks in the cacophony, and we had to ask our waiter to repeat himself several times. We wish we had asked to move. We wish the waiter had offered.

We started with a couple of salads. The House ($8) had dark greens tossed with Gorgonzola cheese (according to the menu, but the flavor was so mild, we wonder), lightly candied pecans and sliced green apples. The Tomato Caprese ($10) eschewed greens in favor of red and yellow cherry tomatoes, mozzarella chunks and a few baby basil leaves. Both had tangy-sweet balsamic dressings (a reduction for the caprese) and, if paired with a side or two (options include sauteed shiitake mushrooms, grilled asparagus and creamed spinach), would make a meal for a vegetarian.

We hesitated to order the Roasted Quail ($35), but after the server warned that there were only a few left, we went with it. (It seemed early to run out, since the kitchen stayed open for another three hours.)

Stuffed with a mild pork sausage, dried currants and goat cheese and drenched in a creamy sage sauce, the quail reminded one member of our group of the outstanding poultry dishes she ate in Spain. It was tender and juicy but nicely browned on the outside, although one of us found the texture of the stuffing (the sausage was somewhere between chopped and ground) off-putting. The sides were delicious -- braised, thin green beans with a garlicky, smoky flavor, and perfectly cooked sweet potato latkes.

By far, the highlight of the meal was the Coffee Crusted Filet Mignon ($38 for 8 ounces) -- precisely cooked to medium rare, melt-in-your-mouth tender, scrumptiously plump, oozing delicious juices (none of which were glaringly red, to our relief). We couldn't discern any coffee flavor beneath the spiciness of the chimichurri (a tart parsley, chili and garlic sauce), but there was a unique, pan-seared layer of thin crispiness with a texture that reminded us of the top of a creme brulee.

We agreed that it was one of the best, if not the best, steak we've ever eaten. And the accompanying cheesy polenta, topped with a char-grilled tomato, was perfect -- the ultimate in a luxurious comfort meal.

To finish, we ordered tres leches ($10), an artisanal marvel topped with fresh strawberries that nevertheless dismayed one member of our party. She-who-hath-spent-much-time-south-of-the-border immediately declared that "This is not tres leches."

So's take on the Central American dessert is not "soaked" in three kinds of milk as traditional tres leches, but perhaps the whipped topping is made with three kinds of milk? It reminded us of strawberry shortcake -- a simple white sponge cake with whipped cream topping. But it did have a strong vanilla flavor, and it was light, like eating a cloud.

Our final bill (three glasses of wine, two starter salads, two entrees and a dessert) was $175 with tip.

Weekend on 05/14/2015

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