Early in the Urban Core

by Chris Becicka

It's early September, and we're on 19th and Main, early. There are three of us tonight, one from Dallas, and the ambience of the street corner, the round globes of the indoor light, the cool gallery next door, the men's store across the street, the clever lit glass squares in the sidewalk before our window table are very convincing—we're not in Kansas—or Missouri—anymore.

We're at Zin, a four year old restaurant, old by trendy Crossroads' standards; yet still new in taste and by design. The first time I went there, a few years ago, I was impressed by its casual sophistication and well executed menu. I've had a lovely and romantic Valentine's night dinner there—who cares if it's amateurs' night? The other times, mostly weekends, there, have all been exceptional.

Now I have lesser of an idea what it's like by 10 pm on a week night—but this early, the restaurant is occupied by a nice variety of folk—there are two fashionista (I've wanted to use that word for oh-so-long—it's hard to work it into a conversation in KC!) at the bar, a party of 10 along the back, several couples, and us. The jazz is not overwhelming, the service perfectly attentive and most pleasant, the muted surroundings (except the rather startling orange and blue modern paintings in an otherwise serene setting) provide the perfect urban setting for excellent food and drink.

Open at 5:30 every evening, Zin is a great place to bring a friend, a business acquaintance, or a group. They have half price appetizers and drinks until seven at the bar which seats about 12, stands up to 30 or so I've seen. If I were you, I'd run there tonight and take your pick. Three of the dishes I'd heartily recommend: their absolutely melty, seared (and large) Hudson Valley foie gras, with black pepper brioche roasted rhubarb and allspice syrup. The rhubarb was a phenomenal and interesting touch. The mussels marinated in curry which arrived in a bright green cucumber soup made us worry before we ordered it—but for naught. Scrumptious and perfect. The third is the shaved Serrano ham and Spanish cheese plate with white anchovy, piquillo pepper, and saffron crostini. The crostini here are perfect and buttery and this plate and a glass of wine could almost pass for dinner. We didn't know about the half price deal, alas, but have to say that all were worth their full price. There are another six or so starters, including salads, which range from $7 to $15.

This is a menu which changes seasonally, taking good advantage of local delicacies. There are always three or four fresh fish choices; our visitor chose the roasted Alaskan halibut with chive pancakes, crawfish butter, sautéed zucchini in a bright yellow corn sauce ($26). The fish was crisped on the outside and flakey inside, nice. My portly companion had the prime rib eye with sour cream whip-ped potatoes, horseradish chips, braised leeks, and a potent blue cheese sauce ($28). I had the rack of lamb ($29), substantially balanced on a truffled white bean puree with brussell sprouts and oyster mushrooms blended in—sounds weird, but was delicious!

We were stuffed, but persevered. The cornmeal crepes with house made buttermilk ice cream and kumquats and blueberries were a perfect finish. I thought of a final glass of port from the extensive wine list, including several great red zinfandels from which the restaurant's name originated, but just couldn't. We also hadn't tried enough desserts or one of the multitude of catchy martinis, even though I love their slogan: Zin – rebuilding the urban core one martini at a time. Whether you're into construction or not, Zin is definitely a place to be, early or late.