Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
We were disappointed in Element. Not with the food, nor with the atmosphere—those were great. It’s just that when we requested to move our table, so we could watch climbers in the adjoining space, the server said it wasn’t possible. Killjoy.
Located in what was once the old City Hospital’s power station, Element is next door to an indoor rock-climbing gym. On your way to the elevator that takes you to Element, you walk past artificial walls studded with handholds and festooned with fixed ropes swarming with nimble climbers—the coolest entrance ever. The restaurant itself is brick-lined, with wooden-slab tables and comfortable chairs. The main dining area and a spacious lounge and bar upstairs both feature beautiful patios with grand views of the city.
Few eateries surpass Element in presentation. Given the kitchen’s layout, it’s possible to watch your meal be prepared and still be surprised when it arrives. A plate of beets resembles an intricately formal flower arrangement, the marbles of beet sprinkled with ground almonds and bathed in brown butter, slivers of crisp radishes and greens arrayed like standing petals. Tiny cauliflower trees are stacked the length of a long platter, interspersed with sprigs of kale and nubbins of delightful cheese curds.
Ever notice the kind of constant press that singer Erin Bode gets? Pork belly is the Bode of foods. It’s everywhere. The slab here, though, demonstrates just how luscious it can be. The layers of glistening fat and smoky meat are pan-fried to a golden deliciousness. They look like diamonds of baklava, adorned with small, sweet French prunes, walnuts, and heaps of delectably funky blue cheese.
The foie gras is exquisitely pan-seared, buttery and smooth, with dried cherries, tart gooseberries, and crunchy fresh watercress sprigs. (It’s embarrassing, almost, to order this starter along with the pork belly, but we are professionals.) Among Element’s more unusual appetizers is a mound of goat shoulder, the meat braised into coffee-dark shreds and tasting like a succulent pot roast, on a bed of hash browns, with a hefty smack of chilies and—this is great—a fried egg.
“Large plates” are scarcely bigger than the little ones; you’re going to want to order a couple of the former to complement the latter. The theme, though, continues seamlessly, with ingredients displayed artistically and with appeal to the eye and the palate. Rusks of rough bread, garlic-buttered and grilled, appear beside a fragrant, clacking bowl of mussels, steamed in a broth that’s touched with miso, garlic, and minty shreds of shiso, then kick-started with chilies. It’s a beautiful dish, simple, composed like a sculpture, tasting like the sea.
Sturgeon, that prehistoric throwback of a fish, is far better known for its caviar, and for good reason. The flesh is firm, white, and tasty, but it’s easier to overcook than the blue meth in Breaking Bad. Such is the case here. A great presentation, a big fillet wrapped in a fine, crunchy fried crust, arrived overdone just enough to compromise taste and texture. That was the only off note that we found, working our way through the majority of Element’s main courses.
Short ribs? Splendid. Probably the only meat that should fall off the bone, the ribs here have a beefy taste that’s accentuated by a gurgle of sweet-potato ale in the cooking pot. Dark green, braised Swiss chard leaves and hunks of mildly sweet rutabaga make for a satisfying winter dish. Harissa—spicy, fragrant, and exotic—is a natural enhancement for lamb. Here, it’s used with restraint, perfuming bite-size chunks of lamb that are center-pink; chickpeas, orange slices, and olives complete this attractive dish. There are surprises, too: Concord grapes appear on a plate with a venison chop, and lemon ricotta elevates a risotto’s creaminess level. Wonderful.
Desserts are worthwhile. Blobs of bright, puckery lime curd are served on a plate with crumbles of graham crackers, a fluff of meringue, and a chili-lime syrup, all combined in a sweet-tart montage. Slices of apple are tossed with walnuts and warm caramel, then dusted with cinnamon and accompanied by a splatter of crème fraîche. The absolute must-try final course, however, is the dish of donuts that arrives next to a cup of coffee-flavored crème brûlée. These walnut-size knobs are fried (you watch the chef do it) and delivered hot. The dark brown crust is crunchy and sweet, the interior light as cake, and the whole thing dissolves on your tongue. It’s a dessert that blurs the line between fritter and donut. You may as well make a couple of orders—everyone at your table is going to want at least one.
A couple dozen wines constitute a compact but adequate selection that’s domestic-focused and decently priced. The toasty oak tannins of a Noble Estate pinot noir unfold with a bite of the lamb. You’ll pine for a Châteauneuf-du-Pape to sip with those short ribs, but you’ll be perfectly satisfied with the ’11 Kick Ranch Vineyard Syrah. A dozen brews also make for some delectable matches. (Consider a glass of that hopped-up Widmer Brothers Omission pale ale with the mussels.) The cocktails here, though, are a specialty. How can any St. Louisan pass up a Malcolm Bliss, conjured of Scotch, blueberry liqueur, Grand Marnier, and orange juice?
From power plant to restaurant, Element’s space is certainly among the most beautiful of renovations. And the adjoining climbing club is cool. You can stand in front of Element’s restrooms and watch, in a floor-to-ceiling interior window, the indoor alpinists climbing right up to you. Now if only they’d moved our table
over there.
The Bottom Line: Artistry on a plate is served in a gracious, laid-back environment.
Element
1419 Carroll
South City
314-241-1674
Lunch and dinner Tue through Fri, dinner only Sat
Average Main Course: $20, though you’ll spend more on some smaller plates.
Reservations: Certainly.
Dress: So your tablemates remember you, not what you’re wearing.
Chef: Brian Hardesty
