Crash and burn
There's nothing heavenly about Kosmiczny Krab (Cosmic crab) except its uncanny similarity to my mental picture of the restaurant at the end of the universe in the Douglas Adams novel of the same name.
But unlike the novel's protaganist, if I'd just had my planet demolished to make way for an unnecessary hyperspace bypass and was hurtling through space, facing annihilation at the hands of the Vogons and desperate for a bite to eat, I'd rather fall back on my few sandwich-making skills than go to this place.
City Magazine called Kosmiczny Krab's decor postmodernist and Gaudi-esque; it just made my head hurt. Combined with dishes that never lived up to their menu descriptions, the yellow and blue walls, crab leg appliques and Munch-on-acid paintings are why I'll keep opting to watch my world implode in other, more soothing surroundings.
Cocktail/wine list: Comprehensive and a little pricey, with red wines going from zl. 90 for an Ernest & Julio Gallo Cabernet Sauvignon to zl. 400 for a Pommard Bouchard Pere et Fils '95, and whites ranging from zl. 90 for a Gallo chardonnay up to zl. 280 for a Domain de Bois Dauphin '98. Our Spanish cabernet (Senorio de Sarria '95, zl. 110) was on the vinegary side, but developed an intriguing smoked cedar palate once it had a chance to breathe.
Culinary high point: Supporting acts in the form of moist-but-crispy potato balls and home fries, as well as the lovely herbed red pepper rolls with garlic butter. As for the features, the pork ribs were succulent and surprisingly meaty, though unfortunately covered in what was advertised as sweet and spicy sauce but tasted like sugary BBQ straight from the bottle.
Culinary low point: T-bone steak marinated in peppercorns huge and slightly tough even when served rare, it failed to be enlivened by its tomato and bell-pepper Gypsy sauce, which was spicy in the Polish meaning of the phrase, i.e., not at all. And the Kaluha-tainted tiramisu was to Italian dessert what Sporty Spice's rendition of "Anarchy in the U.K." is to punk.
The rest: Reaching for the stars but only managing to change the light bulbs. The shrimp grilled in whiskey and herbs was stringy and dry, and came with what tasted suspiciously like Thousand Island dressing. A blander version of the same dressing covered the avocado, ham and orange salad, which had all the textured variety of hospital food and was about as gastronomically gripping as "Father Knows Best" reruns. Overall, the chef is adventurous and imaginative but not capable of transferring what's in his head onto a plate.
Service: Excellent and unobtrusive, which was a wise move considering not even the most flamboyant waiter on earth could compete with the over-the-top surroundings. We wanted for nothing.
Atmosphere: Too bright and badly soundtracked for romance, too empty for an inspired post-work, first-aid session with your terrestrial version of the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster (one ounce Jack Daniels, half ounce peach schnapps, half ounce Blue Curacao and orange juice, according to http://www.webtender.com). Only two other potential customers wandered in while we were there and promptly left, leaving no human shield between us and that unique form of modern torture, the Top-40 radio countdown.
Prices: Upscale. Dinner for two with wine and dessert came to zl. 373 ($81). It wasn't worth it.
When to go: If you work nearby and are so tired or parched that you can't be bothered to drag yourself anywhere else.
Franny Berry can be reached at fberry@wbj.pl
