There was a time when a thick, juicy steak (preferably preceded by a dry martini) was considered the sexiest thing going in American cuisine. How many mid-20th century films and novels, trashy and otherwise, featured a seduction scene that revolved around a steak dinner? Sometimes, admittedly, the protagonists never got around to actually eating the steak. But still, that sizzling piece of rare meat was there metaphorically in the background, its aromas oozing glamour and affluence in sync with the jazz pouring from a sleek saxophone.Most steakhouses nowadays try to take advantage of our nostalgia for some earlier era. Whether they be the funky genre with a tray of steak sauces on each wooden table, or the white linen and candlelight supper club class, they all harken back to a time when being able to afford a luxurious piece of meat indicated the attainment of a certain level of comfort. Marin Steak and Spirits, the new steak and chophouse in the recently spiffed- up Sheraton Four Points Hotel in Terra Linda, is no exception.
Open since July after a 4.5 million dollar renovation of the hotel itself, the restaurant serves the hotel clientele for breakfast, lunch and brunch, then spreads its tables with white napery and butcher paper for dinner. But the pieces don't quite fit together yet, and the oddly shaped ones start at the entrance to the hotel itself. The steak house is tucked around the corner to the left of the check-in area, and there's not much obvious signage anywhere announcing its presence or whereabouts. When we tiptoed into the place at 6:30pm on a weeknight, it was so quiet that we weren't entirely certain it was open.
We did see a couple of diners snuggled up on the banquette though, so we ventured in. Then we were greeted by a courtly gentleman who turned out to be our server. He showed us to another banquette and provided menus, ice water scented with lemon slices and a basket of warm bread with two pots of butter, one plain but salted, and one spiked with green herbs and garlic. We relaxed and ordered flutes of the two sparkling wines offered by the glass. So far, so good.
The décor, while a tad on the generic side, is soothingly padded. With carpet and an acoustically tiled ceiling, I don't imagine this place gets too loud even if crowded. There's a bar at the far end and, tucked behind discreet screening, a buffet table, which holds the salad bar and soup (about which I will say more later). The banquettes are upholstered in russet leather, and the general color scheme marries dark reds, amber, taupe and blue. A selection of Christmas carols wafted from the sound system. On Friday and Saturday nights there's live music, which should up the excitement ante in the long, rectangular room.
Although there's a list of 25 martinis marching down the left side of the menu, we ordered one glass of Piper Sonoma Blanc de Noirs ($8) and one of Kenwood Cuvee Brut ($7.50). The wines we were served looked identical, and tasted nearly so, bringing to mind the image of wine by the glass being poured from some generic box or bottle behind the bar. We queried our server, who said he had watched them being poured from separate bottles, and then brought both bottles to the table. Mystery solved! The Piper Sonoma was also a non-vintage brut instead of the listed blanc de noirs. It seemed silly to insist on being served the rosier wine, but this was one of the missteps that made the evening feel choppy.
Another is the salad bar concept. All entrees come with soup and salad from the buffet. The soup and salad bar alone are offered for $11.50. This provides good value, and I was trying hard not to be a snob about it. Forty years ago a salad bar (and baked potato bar!) were considered fun innovations in the many steakhouses of the time. Besides, I enjoyed getting up and walking around the quiet restaurant a couple of times during dinner. But I couldn't help thinking of the cafeteria in the huge medical center where I ate a few dozen times last summer, with its plastic bins of every imaginable salad ingredient, and its plastic forks and spoons.
Here there are white china bowls of organic spring mix and chopped Romaine, with crocks of cherry tomatoes, diced roast chicken breast, croutons, crisp chopped bacon and hand grated Parmesan cheese, along with smaller bowls of Bay shrimp salad, potato salad, marinated cucumbers and tomatoes, Waldorf chicken with apples, roasted vegetables and an Asian noodle salad. The Bay shrimp smelled and tasted a bit overripe, but the other composed salads were fresh and well seasoned. The dressings were all of the gloppy bottled variety, in crocks with ladles, along with cruets of oil and red wine vinegar. I find it difficult to put together a salad that isn't too complex and filling at a buffet bar, and of course you can't toss the dressing, so it's hard not to get either too much or too little.
The soups suffered from having simmered in bain Marie's for hours. One was labeled as white bean with pancetta. We couldn't find any beans in it, only carrots and chunks of bacon and chicken breast, but it was hot and tasty, if a little too salty. The other, the ubiquitous carrot puree, had congealed in the bottom of the pot.
The menu reads well. We weren't hungry enough to order appetizers in addition to the soup and salad, but the crab-tini with daikon sprouts and taro root chips ($8.50) sounded, well, appetizing, as did the Portobello and shiitake ravioli in cream ($8). We asked if we could have a small plate serving of a special pasta with grilled prawns ($20 for the entrée portion), but our server said it wasn't possible.
All of the 10 steak and chop entrées come with a choice of two sides, which include creamy spinach, regular or garlic fries, buttermilk masked potatoes, baked potato, asparagus, grilled Portobello mushrooms or grilled sweet corn. There's an additional list of four entrees-including an herb roasted rocky range chicken ($17) and pan roasted king salmon ($24)--that come with their own garnishes. On Friday and Saturday prime rib is available in a prix fixe three course menu for $28.
I ordered a 10 ounce Kobe sliced sirloin steak ($26), which came composed on a big, square white platter with a cruet of brandy peppercorn sauce. I chose the spinach and Portobello mushroom as my two sides. I probably should have realized that my steak could not be Kobe beef at that price, but had been sliced "Kobe style." Perhaps the menu could clarify that a little better. The meat was well seasoned and grilled to my specifications, so I didn't really mind, but it felt strange. The brandy sauce was chock full of too many cracked peppercorns. But the winner on my plate was the mushroom, sliced thin and grilled to tender perfection.
The wine list is brief, and composed of familiar bottles from California wineries. I was surprised to see five Merlots and no Zinfandels, but I thoroughly enjoyed my glass of soft 2004 Fetzer Hidden Valley Cabernet ($8), generously poured at the table.
Our second entrée, an herb crusted rack of lamb ($24) ordered medium rare, arrived at the table with only the faintest hint of pink remaining in the meat. Our server had cruised by when our entrees first arrived, at which point we had not yet noticed that the chops were overcooked, and it took us a while to catch his attention again. By the time we pointed out the problem, I had half finished my dinner and we didn't want to wait for another rack to be cooked. So we agreed to take home an additional one, this time cooked perfectly. Our server tossed the well-done version on top in the to-go container, and I added a slice of my steak, so we had a lot of chops for lunch and dinner the next day. The champagne mint sauce hadn't much mint essence, but complemented the lamb anyway.
Housemade dessert samples are rolled over on a tray, which lends an additional anachronistic note. We decided to share a blueberry apple crisp ($5.50) served warm with vanilla bean ice cream. It must have been heated in the microwave, as there was nothing crisp about it, but it was hot and sweet, and the scoop of ice cream was ample.
I called on three different days, but could never find anyone in charge who could speak to me. That heightens the sense that a lot of the time there's no one at the helm at Marin Steak and Spirits. It feels as though the executive chef leaves the details to underlings who are floundering along as best they can. I saw a guy in jeans and a baseball cap stop by the kitchen briefly, and I wondered if he might be the one. The restaurant can't quite decided what it is, or what crowd it hopes to attract, so is trying to provide something for everyone, but there's no one there yet. The menu and concept have potential, but they cry out for someone to attend to details in the kitchen and on the floor, and someone else to do some promoting and schmoozing to get things going.
