East Cobb is surprisingly bereft of good dining options. There are miles and miles of affluent neighborhoods, rolling golf courses and perfectly manicured lawns; but if you feel like eating, there’s an hour wait at the local Longhorn.
So it’s not surprising that not far from the nexus of all things East Cobb, the intersection between Roswell Road and Johnson Ferry, there is a cancerous restaurant location. Previously it was Basil’s, before that… who knows? So for the last few years, it’s been Red Sky Tapas & Bar, promising a break from the sea of sports bars, me-too italian restaurants and other Sysco partners. Sadly, the promise falls short. Even though my expectations were very low given the history of the locale and mediocre word-of-mouth, it still managed to disappoint me.
We went early on a Sunday, and the ambience does seem like it should be great given a good crowd. There is a stage set up for dueling pianos and the live music we heard (guitar) was excellent. Overall the restaurant is inviting and the staff is very friendly and eager to please. But once you start ordering food, the sheer overpowering force of its mediocrity dulls whatever good experience you were going to have with the crowd and the live music.
So before we deconstruct every dish and punish the chef, let me say that I would return if I just wanted to sip wine, enjoy live music and hang out with friends. But I would not eat. Anything. Tapas are supposed to be simple, tasty, well-executed and a good pairing for wine. It really doesn’t take that much to put together a good charcuterie and cheese plate, a few interesting fritters and perhaps a dessert. I understand food costs. I understand that East Cobb is never to be a destination for fine dining. But bad food masquerading as tapas just because they’re on jaunty, colored small plates is unacceptable.
Sunday was half-priced wine night, so a bottle was in order. The waiter was helpful, and when I asked about the Slingshot cabernet, he said that between the two Australian wines, he preferred the Slingshot to the Faldo. So we took his word and ordered the Slingshot. It was hilarious when we got the bottled and it was clearly labeled as a Napa Valley wine. I should be fair that it wasn’t the waiter’s fault, the menu had it written out as an Australian. But we’re not really off to a great start, are we?
Next it became painfully clear that their definition of “tapas” is anything that could conceivably be served in a restaurant as long as we put it on a small plate. We also spot that the flan in the dessert section is described as Puerto Rican style. Being Puerto Rican myself, I ask the waiter if the chef’s Puerto Rican and if not, what the Puerto Rican connection is. It seems weird, flan being fairly common throughout Latin America, and there being nothing special about the specimens found in my native land. The waiter didn’t really know.
The fun starts: we ordered a blue and bacon salad, fried manchego, fried plantains, veggie paella and the roast pork nachos. The blue and bacon salad was presented in a blue plate and immediately forgettable. But who cares about salads? The fried plantains come, and the slide continues: a few, very sad looking ripe plantains served on a red plate. If you’re going to serve bad food, at least make it look appealing!
A bloodbath ensues: “veggie paella” that tastes, at best, like a frozen diet dinner: soggy, unidentifiable seasonings; a mushy pile of yellowish rice in some kind of thickened broth. The fried manchego makes an appearance. I’ve actually had very nice fried manchego fritters at Garrisons, but these were greasy, breaded manchego wedges that hadn’t been cooked thoroughly. I am woe.
The roast pork nachos weren’t bad. Let me rephrase, the pork in the pork nachos was not bad. It was tender and juicy and reasonably well seasoned. However, they were served with tri-color bagged nachos that, if only for a second, made me think of a sports bar, then smothered in bland cheese. Later I would realize that this is the only dish of the night that I would work on, improve and serve again. Make fresh nachos, use a memorable cheese, sprinkle with some herbs.
We figure we have to keep going. This is, after all, a tapas bar and surely something must be good. We order the coconut shrimp (1987 called, they want their recipe back), the black bean hummus pizza and the seared tenderloin. No dice. The coconut shrimp were obviously cooked in oil that was too hot, so even though tasty, they’re beyond “nicely browned”. The black bean hummus pizza is another failed attempt at substituting good technique and fresh product with unusual ingredient combinations. And finally, the seared tenderloin. Paper-thin (according to the staff, it’s carpaccio style) and served on top of garlic bread and topped off with a dollop of mustard sauce that was so overpowering, the beef was rendered optional.
We must have dessert. Desserts are rarely made in-house, so how bad could it be? The waiter recommends the tres leches and we acquiesce (while still wondering what the real story was with the Puerto Rican style flan). The tres leches was very soggy. Not soggy in the “well, it has a splash of rum and sauce so it’s moist and delicious” but rather in the “you accidentally left this dessert outside while it rained for a few minutes”. Thankfully it was over. No coffee for me, just the check and a quick farewell to East Cobb’s first tapas bar.
I feel bad writing this review. The staff was very nice and they obviously took personal interest in our experience. I root for the mom-and-pop establishments, the anti-chains, the local joints. But what typically sets these places apart is a passion for food and quality that is completely missing from Red Sky. A different chef, a tightened menu and it might have been East Cobb’s neighborhood gem.
