Consistency suffers in Union's effort to broaden its appeal

Ethan Stowell is on fire.

His Tavolata has been smokin' hot since it debuted about a year ago, and his latest, How To Cook a Wolf, roared into the increasingly crowded top of Queen Anne dining district a few months ago so high on buzz that diners were willing to wait an hour or more for a table in the teensy tasty spot.

But what about Union? It's Stowell's flagship restaurant, opened in 2003. Compared to the other two venues, Union feels downright sedate.

A recent effort to broaden Union's appeal by dropping prices and adding more casual banquette seating is an admirable initiative. Or is it an attempt to tap into the heat generated by the red-hot sister restaurants? Is there a little sibling rivalry going on?

There's reason for concern. In three recent visits to Union, the food was wildly uneven. Some dishes were spectacular, others were stunning flops. What's the point of setting a bigger, more accessible table if dishes aren't consistently well executed? I'm talking about fish that was incredibly over-salted, sauces that were out of balance, pasta that tasted plain weird. One evening, I also had a beautiful bowl of gnocchi and a stunningly good green salad. Truly puzzling how one kitchen could be so inconsistent.

It's tempting to chalk up the blunders to Stowell's being distracted by his other projects, but the celebrated chef was in the house during one of our meals, delivering plates to some tables, stopping to selectively schmooze a few guests. (Note to Stowell: If a chef's going to work the room, he or she should try to acknowledge everyone, even if it means just a nod or a "good evening.")

During that dinner, my meal started on a promising note: a half-dozen pristine Totten Virginica oysters topped with a Meyer lemon relish that accentuated the sweet, salty quality of the super-fresh shellfish.

Another starter, the black trumpet mushroom gnocchi, was a triumph, the tender potato dumplings complemented by earthy mushrooms.

I also was blown away by the exquisite agnolotti. A mix of toasted hazelnuts and ricotta filled the tender "priest hat" ravioli. Brown butter and sage completed the happy picture.

		Joshua Trujillo / P-I
	Ethan Stowell, left, with chef Tyler Moritz. Stowell, who opened Union in 2003, has opened two popular new restaurants in the past year.

Entrees were problematic, though: The duck breast was so rare the meat was chewy. A skate wing topped with fried pig's ears was too salty. I love skate, a funny-looking relative of sharks and rays. It's a mass of cartilage so it can be challenging to prepare -- I suspect that's why you don't see it on more menus -- but it has a terrific flavor and a texture that reminds me a little of halibut cheeks.

Talk about cartilage! The pig's ears were sliced thin and fried crunchy. I actually passed a bite off to a friend who thought she was eating crisp bacon.

While I appreciate the idea of throwing a few curve balls onto a menu, this offbeat ingredient didn't work for me.

Not like the braised tongue -- folded in nutty tasting farro -- which I so thoroughly enjoyed another evening. On a quiet Sunday night only a few tables were occupied and our seasoned server kept courses flowing as steadily as the mighty Columbia. Until -- whoops! -- he brought the wrong entree for one diner. (It was a glitch addressed and rectified as quickly as the kitchen could fire up a pork belly, but it didn't arrive until the rest of the table was halfway through the main course. It would have been a gracious gesture to comp a dessert, or take the late arrival off the bill, but that didn't happen.)

Among the other highlights from that meal: a beet salad that was the prettiest preparation of this perennial favorite I've seen, the roasted root veggies sliced thin and arranged with great care; feather-light chicken-liver mousse served in a tiny terrine; a lean yet still moist rabbit tenderloin, and a chunk of juicy, simply seasoned pork tenderloin. A New York strip had been nicely trimmed of the fat and gristle that can sometimes spoil the cut. Creamy mashed potatoes accompanied the great steak.

Still, the misses detracted from the hits. The braised rabbit ragu on the strozzapreti, a tube-shaped pasta, was all-thyme all the time. The herb overpowered the sauce. Another pasta, featuring geoduck, tasted faintly metallic, which was a shame because I was excited to find the giant clam featured on the menu. The kitchen tamed this beast by shaving it paper thin, still retaining its toothsome, cucumberlike texture.

		Joshua Trujillo / P-I
	Earthy mushrooms complement tender potato dumplings to make the gnocchi a complete success.

Geoduck, pig's ears, lamb kidneys and braised tongue hardly seem like ingredients that are going to make Union appealing to the Olive Garden crowd, and while seated in the bar on a weekend I saw at least a half-dozen potential diners turn away after reading the menu posted near the front door.

It's a difficult course to navigate, to broaden your appeal without losing focus. The goal seemed most fully realized in the snug lounge. Last Friday it was impossible to find an open seat anywhere in the bar as the pre-concert crowd settled in for a quick bite while the dining room was nearly empty. The genial barkeep invited me to chill in the lobby until a space opened up in the lounge, but I was too hungry to wait. When I returned a couple of days later he remembered the brief encounter and said: "Good to see you again."

His cocktails were fantastic, well mixed and nicely presented. I loved one called the Union: Hendrick's gin, cassis, a drop of rosewater and muddled mint finished with a splash of bubbly. Dried rosebuds floated on the surface, making it one of the loveliest drinks I've ever sipped.

The collection of $8 plates served twice-daily during happy hour included a few dishes from the regular menu. This time the ragu on the strozzapreti was seasoned vibrantly with a harmonious balance of herbs. The thyme didn't stand out.

An ocean trout crudo -- sashimi-like slices of farm-raised steelhead -- was refreshing, as was a salad of tender red-leaf lettuce showered in shaved ricotta salata.

These successful small plates seemed like a great entry point for diners who want to get a taste of Union before committing to a multicourse meal in the dining room.

Or, as an introduction, stop in for dessert. The kitchen takes playful liberties when preparing classics. The bread pudding had a crouton-crunchy crown, while the bites below the surface were just right -- warm and custardy. A lemon cake was more curd than cake, the zesty spread mellowed by a pillow of whipped cream on the side. And a chocolate terrine was more of a bombe, a mound of intense fudginess that would have been one note if not for the accompanying cinnamon gelato.

I applaud Stowell's effort to entice more diners by adjusting prices, an especially welcome move as the economy continues to cool. Here's hoping the new Union improves on consistency, too, so all dishes are as good as its best efforts.