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Mercury Rising

With haute cuisine and stylish hype, Mercury may be the newest and brightest star in the night sky By Michael Stabile SOME CRITICS may wax eloquent over bathrooms and fancy towels, but in addition to showcasing an indiscreet obsession with matters better left private, the tactic is an overused method of restaurant evaluation. Among reviewers, both published and pedestrian, there is, of course, silent appreciation for la salle de bains, but anyone worth his or her sea salt tactfully concentrates on the other end of the dining experience--the foyer. Facades are just that, and front doors can be misleading, but the foyer, where one decompresses and sheds coats and conflict, is the area that tests the real power of a restaurant to offer its patrons respite from the mundane and transform workaday plebeians into Epicurean royalty. Mercury's entrance, both in its arrival on the culinary scene and in its physical presence, tends to leave witnesses agape and starstruck. The translucent doors, each with a Deco handle reminiscent of a Gucci "G," open to reveal a crossroads and a choice. To the left, a coatcheck girl lingers at a table guarding access to the downstairs lounge with a sartorially adept eye. Straight ahead, with the tip of an amber chandelier barely visible from this side of the doorway, is the main dining room. The maitre 'd, with short slightly spiky hair and a dark monochrome ensemble, waits patiently, perhaps evaluating your readiness for dinner. Pray that you are a little early for your reservation and take the third choice, a barroom to the right. Without that bar, patrons might get the bends rising so quickly from South of Market's gray depths to Mercury's cosmological heights. Thousands of bubbles rise in the polished silver walls and ceiling, deflecting light like a disco ball in rewind. Low-cut but tightly wrapped waitresses, in classically cut dresses of iridescent grays and muted chromes, serve serious cocktails as well as more traditional apéritifs. While you second-guess your outfit and drop label names with the other members of your party, your liver relaxes and your eased brain reminds you that a drop or two of libation is good for the heart as well. You begin to breathe easier and your stomach suddenly awakens. The dining room, by the time you are relaxed enough to appreciate it, opens with high ceilings and plush curved booths. The chandelier, which 20 minutes ago merely hinted at decadence, now hangs graciously above, as if personally granting you a seat in designer heaven. The service staff is both friendly and progressively dressed. The woman who led me to my seat whispered, upon receiving my appreciation for the surroundings, "It's amazing--someone threw up here last night." She was referring not to the food, but to a fashion-magazine soiree that decided, in the way that purveyors of the edgy and stylish do, that Mercury would be the new epicenter of parties and photo shoots. Awaiting us at our tables were artfully presented sourdough chips dotted with house pâté and colorful vegetation. Smooth and rich, they provided the necessary shock to the salivary glands after our brief stint at the bar. Given my own alcohol-soaked liver, the pre-appetizer engaged a welcome law of the similar, making me feel less like a drunk and more like an exemplar of haute cuisine. It may be bourbon and beer rather than French marc that gives my liver its distinctive taste, but the thought is still the same. Mercury describes its food as "French-based cuisine with a Pacific Rim twist," which happens, as well, to be the definition--minus the Mexican influence--of most California cuisine, but don't be fooled. French preparation of seasonal and simple local ingredients is the basis of hundreds of restaurants in the Bay Area, but few can pull off presentation, creativity and taste in the way that Mercury does. For appetizers, the Po'ke of Hawaiian tuna is a simple and cleansing start. The tuna, though it retains some of the unwanted skin, is nonetheless fresh and clean. Served with a spicy habañero "volcano dust," it more than stands up to cocktail-numbed buds and sashimi-jaded tastes. The lobster spring rolls transcend their hackneyed pan-Asian implication to offer a taste of New England along with an indebtedness to a mint nam prik sauce. One may be surprised to find a wine steward with thick-rimmed glasses and an admirable knowledge of wine, but Mercury's image extends meticulously to an attentive, young and stylish staff. The wine selection includes both French and Californian varietals, with heavy attention to terroir and tradition, which, paired well with the creative and unexpected choices from the sommelier, leads to an informed if slightly bohemian approach to the dining experience. Like other restaurants of its caliber, wine choices are not the standard white with fish, red with meat reliables. Our steward suggested a peppery but often underrated Cote du Rhone syrah as a match with roasted sea bass, which not only paired well with the robustly seasoned fish but also rendered the entire dish exotic enough to meet the challenge of the powerful beurre fondue accompaniment. The duck confit, though calorically unsound, was delightfully crisp and rich. The accompanying fricassee of rock shrimp and oysters married well with the strong poultry and countered its oily tendencies with a warm, paprika-redolent sauce and a hearty couscous timbale to soak up excess flavor. The confiture of carrots that decorated the marbled filet mignon were sweet enough to complement the meat, without being so candied that they disgraced the rare and tender beef. While all entrees met nicely with the acceptable selection of wines by the glass (the sommelier is formerly of Aqua), they were also more than up to the task of a night of cocktails. As a general critique, the entrees tend to be over- rather than under-salted, which, while par for French food in France, is a little more uncommon here. Choose your wines accordingly. Of course, like a delirious and excessive coke fiend, Mercury's dream of grandeur has its price. Appetizers run from $12 to $16 and entrees reach into the high $20s. Add a bottle of wine (or two) and a couple of shared desserts (be warned: there is a $7 splitting fee) and your maxed-out stomach will match your credit limit. None of the pricing is exceptional for the level and service or food, but most kids may want to peruse the mezzanine level, where a simpler bar menu is served with prices that won't make you swoon. Mercury 540 Howard St, 777-1419 Restaurant, 6pm to 10:30pm Mon-Sat Upstairs Mirror and Pearl Bars, 6pm to 2am Mon-Sat Casual menu, 6pm to 11pm Mon-Wed, and 6pm to 1am Thu-Sat Downstairs Feather Lounge, 9pm to 2am Thu-Sat [ San Francisco | MetroActive Central | Archives ]