Restaurant Review - On the fence

Untangling the ups and downs of Virginia-Highland’s Vine

Virginia-Highland was Atlanta’s trend-setting arbiter for neighborhood dining in the ’90s. Sparked by the fabled Indigo Coastal Grill and its compadre, Partners Morningside Cafe, a thicket of casual yet serious eateries — including Terra Cotta, Harvest and Dish — shot up to feed the burgeoning, affluent locals. These were the pre-Shout and Two Urban Licks days when a sense of community and short, individualistic menus equaled hot spot.

Change is the singular constant. Dish can still draw a frisky crowd, but Terra Cotta is long gone, and Harvest, too, recently gave up the gastronomic ghost. Of course, Va-Hi also has places like La Tavola, Murphy’s, Sala and Highland Tap to keep the neighborhood spirit ignited. But with several restaurant locations vacant, the direction of its dining scene seems to be at a crossroad. Will the area stay on course as an advocate of intimate, chef-driven establishments, or will the frenetic flash that’s become Atlanta’s prominent restaurant fashion become the norm here as well?

I ponder all this as I sit in Vine and savor a lush glass of Ridge Litton Springs, one of my favorite California Zinfandels, from the restaurant’s astute list of wines by the half-bottle. Vine replaced long-standing Tiburon Grille a little over a year ago with a rickety start. The city’s critics were almost uniformly unkind — an assessment I couldn’t disagree with. Much of the food I tried on my first early visit was incompetently executed, and the wine list, particularly for a restaurant with a vino-themed moniker, was unimaginative at best.

So I decided to wait out the inevitable replacement of the opening chef and give Vine a chance to reinvent itself. Craig Sauls, most recently executive sous chef at South City Kitchen, came aboard five months ago as Vine’s executive chef. And the wine list has certainly grown more varied and provocative. But has the overall dining experience vastly improved over a year? Well ...

The inhabitants of Virginia-Highland and Morningside are canny folks, and just walking into Vine tells you what you need to know: On a typical night, the bar is the most crowded area of the restaurant. Women having girls’ night out, newly formed couples clinking martini glasses, solitary souls churning their solitary thoughts — it’s impressive how much people-watching is packed into one compact corner.

Maybe there’s a reason the cozy, European-themed dining room doesn’t see as much action. Though the previous chef’s dishes have largely been replaced, the menu has retained its ambiguous New American tenor and, sadly, execution problems still abound.

Grilled white shrimp with chipotle-maple glaze, for example, were cooked to rubbery nubs the night I tried them (I happily scarfed the irresistible block of fried jalapeño cheese grits served alongside, however). Sweet corn soup was a literal statement: It was downright sugary. I didn’t get much of the saline, smoky elements of miso that was supposedly the base of the broth.

And the fresh mozzarella in the ever-present caprese salad tasted — how to put this? — barnyardy. I’ve never encountered mozzarella with quite the same pungency before, and I hope to never do so again.

Both servers on my two recent visits informed me, with heartbreaking pride, that the offerings are constantly in flux depending on the season and popularity. Right. Who out there is going pitter-patter over the artichoke hearts? A few anonymous pieces of fried brownness are tossed into an overwhelming trundle of arugula with an unbalanced vinaigrette. I cannot imagine this misstep is in customer demand or winning awards for seasonality.

Crab cake? Lovely. Classic. A lumpy morsel with a punchy side of Creole mustard and a tuft of slaw. Were I to eat here again, I would order the larger crab cake portion available as an entree. That, or the filet — a handsome thwack of tender meat cooked to order and complemented by a judicious scallion-citrus butter. Nicely caramelized diver scallops also display care and finesse, though the creamed spinach it comes with is waterlogged.

Vine struggles to embody a neighborhood hang, but perhaps in the panic of not having as many customers as they’d hoped for, the management has resorted to the promotions angle. Thursday, for example, is barbecue night. Discouraging, then, to have found before us a plate of decent smoked chicken, smothered with a sauce that had the false clang of liquid smoke, atop a mound of undercooked black beans. Don’t foresee this number drumming up any extra business.

But you won’t have to cajole me to visit on Monday: That’s half-off wine night. Someone here obviously loves California Cabernet fruit bombs, because they dominate the wine list. But now, if you poke around a little, you can uncover some affordable, intriguing gems. The wry main bartender, Kevin McKinney, speaks wine fluently and can help you navigate the expanded collection.

Fun finds I tried? A deep purple Bellingham Pinotage from South Africa with a coffee-and-cream undertone. Whitehaven Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand, with its effervescent burst of lemon-lime. A flinty half-bottle of Jean Dauvissat first-growth Chablis from Burgundy that grows subtly rich as it warms in the glass.

These praiseworthy wines need equally laudable food as a complement. Here’s hoping that in another year, the kitchen at Vine will be cooking to that level.