Loring Pasta Bar

Perhaps it's only appropriate that my meal at the Loring Pasta Bar was one of the more surreal dining experiences I've had in years. What was once the flag-bearer of edgy and avant garde has become an odd amalgam of safe and staid, with a patina of risk that is really only for show. I may have come the wrong Saturday night. That Easter eve the crowd was largely big tables of multi-generational families asking questions that clearly labeled them as out-of-towners or people who rarely venture into modern food-dom. A somnolent guitarist played on a stage. Servers brought large portions of food that while competent, reflected a kitchen going through the motions, a theatrical food factory (with microwave ovens prominent in its open kitchen) that is on a trajectory to become the twenty-first century Café di Napoli. That's not to say you can't have a good time at the Loring. Jason McLean's astounding interior, which cannot be adequately described, can keep your mind busy for an hour. The spicy artichoke ramekin is as good as ever, though the soft, greasy bread served with it was no match for the original baguette. Chicken pot stickers had none of the delectable intensity or greasiness of the traditional pork versions. It's an odd choice, Minnesota's preference for chicken duly noted, alas.

On the main courses, fettuccine carbonara is Americanized, really an alfredo with bacon and peas. Grilled chicken and mozzarella ravioli (the blandest meat and the blandest cheese, why?) was marred by overly dense pasta and a lazy approach that chopped some breast over the dish instead of integrating the chicken into the ravioli.

Better were thick, slightly fishy sea scallops, with a rich manchego cheese risotto. Pot roast with broccolini and mashed potatoes was excellent—one of the better renditions in the city.

Desserts were a high point—a chocolate soufflé cake and apple cherry crumble cake were both nicely turned out, the latter a nice detour from the cascade of flans, panna cottas, and brulees local menus rest their laurels on. Service was reasonably accommodating, though I marveled at the crew of female servers, all sleeveless, arms completely covered in “ink.” Is it all that remains of the Loring brand's hold on the bohemian life? The sign at the door told a different tale: “Student discounts not offered during spring break.”

The Loring was once as much about a lifestyle and sensibility as food. It's now just a business, and during spring break, the students were across the street at Potbelly.

327 14th Ave. SE, Mpls., 612-378-4849