Central Table Food Hall, in its heyday.
One of the most interesting restaurant concepts to open in St. Louis this decade has now closed. The final day of service for Central Table, formerly Central Table Food Hall, was December 20.
When the rumors and stories began appearing in local publications, none of us were exactly sure exactly what this “food hall” was going to be. It was a first-of-its-kind concept, for St. Louis anyway.
The press release called it “next generation dining.” The moniker of "Market-Meets-Main Street" dining was bandied about. There were comparisons to well-known concepts like Eataly and to other large format, multi-use venues. But it was not until Central Table Food Hall actually opened that the big picture became clear.
Shortly after it opened, SLM described it in this First Bite:
“It’s a strange and wonderful place, Central Table Food Hall. Strange because no one could accurately describe it before it opened in early May. Wonderful because the 10,000-square-foot space—comprising myriad restaurant concepts in a warehouse-like food court of sorts—toppled all definitions. But food hall falls short; it’s a food shrine, maybe.”
The 10,000-square-foot, 200-seat space boasted a raw bar, sushi bar/wine bar, coffee/chocolate bar, deli, wood-fired hearth oven, open-flame grill, and market—all under one roof. The complex was open throughout the day and night and featured some of the city’s best culinarians at the time: Nick Martinkovic was the exec chef, Eliott Harris manned the sushi bar, and Matt McGuire oversaw the whole shebang.
At dinner, table orders were directed to the respective kitchens. The lead chef on each line communicated with other chefs via headsets, and somehow, someway, food would appear exactly as it was ordered, arriving either just as they were cooked, small plates-style, or more traditionally, in standard course format. Making sure the process worked day in and out was McGuire, whose headset never left his head. At the time SLM said, “not many managers in town could pull off such a head-numbing feat.” For all its complexity, CTFH was well received by the local press and public, though parking and access remained an issue.
Regardless, it remained a tough assignment, for everyone. McGuire moved on after his six-month contact expired, Martinkovic took a job with Blood & Sand, and Harris ended up at BaiKu. In the end, the concept as conceived was not sustainable. Head chefs came and went, culinary focus changed, business dwindled. The name was scaled back—to Central Table—then the model was scaled back—to “lunch only”—at which point many wondered how long the place would and could last.
The doors were locked after yesterday’s service. Rumors are that the space will be subdivided. More as we learn it.
