Firecracker Fizzles At Times, But Still Puts On A Good Show.
By Rebecca Cook
DINING AT FIRECRACKER, the latest restaurant installment
brought to you by the Buddy's, City Grill and Metropolitan Grill
consortium, is a little like watching an episode of Gilligan's
Island: Much of it is insipid and clichéd, and you
know darn well there are much better things you should be doing
with your time. Still, much to your chagrin, you find yourself
occasionally tickled by the screwball antics of the likable cast
of characters.
Firecracker so earnestly attempts to win diners over with its
particular rendering of Pacific Rim cuisine that one can't help
but be favorably predisposed toward the place.
The problem is, Firecracker so seldom delivers on its own goodwill,
that over the course of a meal your initial approbation inevitably
dwindles.
It's not that Firecracker is a complete dud--it most certainly
is not. But it does mostly fail to deliver the shower of gastronomic
sparks that a bold and innovative menu might be expected to produce.
Starters are listed on the menu as "dim sum," provoking
the first puzzle of the evening for anyone familiar with the banquet
of the same name offered in many Chinese restaurants about town.
Strictly speaking, dim sum, which includes a mouth-watering variety
of fresh-from-the-kitchen small dishes selected from a circulating
serving cart, constitutes much more than an appetizer. No matter.
At Firecracker we understand hors d'oeuvres and dim sum to be
interchangeable terms.
We began our visit with an order of the Hundred Corner Shrimp
and Crab Cakes ($7.50) and some spicy ahi sushi rolls ($4.50).
Why, oh why, if you're not going to have a sushi bar where everything
can be made fresh and to order, go to the trouble of insulting
your guests with a pre-rolled and rigidly refrigerated facsimile
of the real thing? Why not just stick with egg rolls and pot stickers,
which most kitchens can handle with relative ease?
Sushi is better left to any of a number of fine "bars"
now found scattered throughout Tucson. Forget Firecracker's nori-wrapped,
grainy rice and tepid tuna imitation.
The shrimp and crab cakes, delicate patties of minced crustacean
meat, were a much better deal and were nicely complemented by
a subtle ginger aioli sauce, and a spoonful of red and green sesame
cabbage slaw.
The menu of entrees at Firecracker ranges from fish to fowl to
hoofed beast. Curiously, there are only two purely vegetarian
offerings, a chilled soba noodle and vegetable salad, and a stir-fry
of soba noodles and fresh vegetables.
Perusing the house specialties, I opted for the five-spice breast
of duck ($12.50). I'm still getting used to the notion that many
kinds of meat other than steak and roast beef can be ordered to
a prescribed doneness, and was slightly startled by the waitress'
query as to my personal preference in this instance.
Medium seemed a safe bet, but the finished dish was served a
little on the rare side and, even though the meat was juicy, tender
and pleasantly laced with the pungency of cinnamon, anise, cloves,
fennel and pepper, I scrupulously avoided the more crimson and
gelatinous sections of my grilled duck strips. An orange-burgundy
reduction was a grand accompaniment to the dish, but the bed of
sesame oil-soaked spinach would not have been missed had it found
its way elsewhere.
Fresh seafood--including salmon, tuna, mahi-mahi, swordfish,
scallops and shrimp--permeates the menu in a variety of tempting
guises. The night we visited, the grilled swordfish ($12), which
is usually served with a zesty orange glaze, was being offered
instead with a lemon-peppercorn sauce, a deviation we willingly
obliged.
The generous fish steak was certainly fresh and flaky, but the
attending sauce was a cipher, consisting of little more than fresh-squeezed
lemon juice. The manager insisted on removing the item from our
bill once we complained, a gesture that was totally unnecessary--the
stir-fried vegetables and rice that came with the dish matched
up so nicely with the fish that we had little difficulty gobbling
up the entire portion.
Dessert, or "sweet treats" as the menu denotes, ranges
from a restrained and refreshing citrus sorbet to a dense triple
chocolate torte. Falling between those extremes is the bananas
Firecracker ($4), a Pacific Rim version of New Orleans' bananas
Foster, consisting of lengthy slices of ripe banana sautéed
in a brown sugar, butter and rum glaze and served atop creamy
mounds of vanilla ice cream.
It was an elegant ending to the meal, made all the more festive
for the spark-emitting candle perched atop the ice-cream (apparently
a Firecracker trademark).
The service at Firecracker was uniformly wonderful, neither overly
solicitous nor neglectful, and it was clear the staff was genuinely
interested in making our visit a success. A pity the kitchen couldn't
bolster the same enthusiasm.
Reinforcing the Gilligan's Island theme is Firecracker's
truncated palm-tree-and-bamboo furnished interior. Rotating ceiling
fans with palm-leaf propellers complete the slightly corny tropical
effect.
I'd hoped to report that Firecracker sizzles. The truth, however,
is that most of the time it misses the mark. In fact, it kind
of fizzles.
What a difference a letter makes.
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