The District at Green Valley is buzzing these days, thanks to ideal weather, a brace of snazzy new shops and a number of new restaurants. One such restaurant is Elephant Bar, an eclectic concept combining African décor, Asian and American dishes, and service by a team of young, zealous but largely inexperienced servers.
Perhaps you remember when this chain, with locations in California, Arizona and a smattering of other states west of the Mississippi, was on Maryland Parkway. It hasn't changed much in the transition, but the new restaurant is a real looker.
Glass doors equipped with brass elephant handles lead you inside, where there is a gorgeous, leopard skin-patterned carpet; a concrete elephant, tusks and all, emerging out of a side wall; brass giraffes; booths upholstered with African textile art; and overhead, a flutter of palm-leaf fans swaying on mechanized pulleys. Picture the Rain Forest Café if a little restraint was exercised. It all makes for quite a positive impression.
But on both visits, we sat for what seemed like an eternity before being approached by a harried waitress. It's clear that during the lunch rush, at least, the staff is working out the kinks. On one occasion, when we finally got coffee, we had to wait an additional five minutes for cream. On another, dishes were piled on an adjacent table before a busboy came by and grudgingly cleared them off.
Variety is the order of the day here, so you should find something that appeals to you. If only the kitchen were as accomplished as the menu. Soups, salads and sandwiches are the best bets. Steer clear of most things deep-fried or overly complicated.
The Steamer Trunk is what Elephant Bar calls its appetizer sampler, and indeed, it is nearly as large as one—and as musty. A giant platter appears, stocked with, among other things, fried, breaded chicken tenders, obloid shaped, protoplasmic things that, in a word, weren't. The accompanying potato skins were flaccid, the Buffalo wings bland. The best two things on the plate were nachos and cheese-crusted garlic bread, so if you want to fill up on carbs, this dish is the ticket.
Soups and sandwiches can't be faulted. Both chicken-noodle and baked-onion soups are tasty and generously portioned, and there is an interesting Asian soup option: homemade, pan-Asian vegetable and noodle soup, full of shrimp and rice noodles and served with a few nicely glazed teriyaki chicken skewers.
One of the best sandwiches is a deliriously indulgent smokehouse barbecue-chicken sandwich, piled high with bacon, ham, onion strings and too much aged cheddar. I'd also give high marks to a fried shrimp po'boy, crunchy, sweet and rich, thanks to lots of avocado and tartar sauce.
Fresh salmon cake salad might have been the best thing I tasted.
At first, I was leery of the menu description, "homemade fresh salmon cakes, lightly seasoned and sautéed until crisp." But when the server assured me the cakes were not deep-fried, I decided to jump in and was rewarded with delicious greens dressed in light sesame oil and ginger dressing, crowned by a pair of excellent salmon cakes.
The menu's pan-Pacific specialties section is a strong suit. Bangkok, stir-fried pan Thai with vegetables and tofu makes good use of the mouth-watering rice noodle, and the dish isn't as cloyingly sweet here as it is in our more Americanized Thai restaurants. Stir-fried sesame chicken is nice, too, served over steamed rice with won ton crisps.
But there are some dishes that simply don't do justice to their names. Langostino, shrimp and chicken jambalaya is just plain wretched; an acrid, gloppy tomato-based sauce which no Cajun worth his salt would take the credit, nor blame for. Kona barbecue pork ribs have a baked, not barbecued, finish, and the fire-grilled sirloin steak, while beefy and flavorful, came up unreasonably tough.
Of course there are burgers, all perfectly fine, thank you, and a number of hearty dishes I didn't try, but which looked good on other tables: braised lamb shanks for one, and a fresh fish creation a server told me was albacore tuna, on another.
I also have a couple of bones to pick when it comes time for dessert. If there is one thing I cannot countenance, it is whipped cream squirted like shaving foam out of an aerosol can. That will put me off any dessert, and that is what you get here, even though Claim Jumper, the place just across the parking lot, beats the stuff for real.
Furthermore, the hot apple cobbler, while completely good, is a crisp. A cobbler has a biscuit or shortbread crust, fellas, not a streusel topping.
Besides, until the service speeds up, who has time for dessert?