Restaurants

Twice Is Nice

Two restaurants in one storefront means double the food fun

By Rose Martelli 

Playful as Mike Johnson's restaurant concepts are, I find myself contemplating his latest one — actually two: Mira and Roxane, side-by-side restaurants that share a Clayton street address — in frivolous metaphor. Their sibling yin-and-yangness reminds me of the Smothers Brothers' "Mom liked you best!" routine. Or, to use a less dusty reference, those awesome "I'm a Mac"/"I'm a PC" TV ads.

Mira: Hi, I'm Mira. You might remember me by my previous incarnation, Café Mira, which Mike Johnson opened in this very same location way back in 1996. I was the first restaurant he ever owned, I'm quite proud to tell you, and my name translates in Spanish to "look," as in "Look at that!"

Roxane: Ah, oui? Well, I am Roxane, in honor of Cyrano de Bergerac's girlfriend — tres sexy! I am what you call zee — zut, how do you say... — zee "nouvelle fille of zee block?" Pardonne, we little French cafés possess no fingaires to make zee air quotes.

"I always loved the space for fine dining," Johnson says of the site he reacquired after short-lived Restaurant August fizzled there. "But it was too hard to make money doing fine dining, because the space was too big." A downtown-Clayton-lovin' fool (he owns tapas joint BARcelona on Central Avenue), Johnson had already encountered such a dilemma across the street at his erstwhile Figaro (now Barrister's), where, he claims, "We were always busy but still could never make it work."

His solution: Split the storefront, give each side a separate name, and voilà! An intimate high-end operation (Mira), cozied up alongside a casual-fare bistro (Roxane). The sidewalk seating is a contiguous one-and-the-same, while inside the spaces are connected by a short hallway and share restrooms and a kitchen. Though each establishment gets its own menu, a few dishes overlap, and customers may order freely off either list regardless of where they've come to eat.

Mira: My menu's got nine main courses and nine appetizers. You can't get a full-size entrée at Roxane — just a lot of cutesy small plates, nothing much bigger than salads and sandwiches. Who'd ever consider "European-style" pizzas and "specialties" like spinach-artichoke dip or French fries — I'm sorry, frites — a meal? I am quite fluent in air-quoting.

Roxane: Why do zee French women not get fat? Because zee French women understand portion control, zee joie de grazing!

After high school in St. Louis and culinary school in New England, Johnson found employment at Emeril Lagasse's first restaurant in New Orleans, then moved on to restaurants in California wine country. He calls Mira's cuisine, which resurrects a number of dishes from the old Café Mira menu, "contemporary global," and says he likes to work with Asian ingredients and techniques, which he doesn't get much of a chance to do at his other ventures, the Cajun-Creole-Cuban Boogaloo in Maplewood, the Greek tapas joint Momos in University City and the dessert café Cyrano's in Webster Groves.

Mira ends up with a pleasant-to-read bill of fare that creeps toward but never crosses the line into self-conscious fusion. Entrées mostly stick to the straightforward protein/starch/vegetable structure, which permits the flavors and textures to do the talking: the barely seared softness of sesame tuna tataki singed with jalapeños, then given a soft landing on a bed of pineapple confit; a simple salad of baby greens given a boost with spiced peanuts, dried cherries and fried wonton strips; a pork tenderloin marinated in heady ouzo, anchored by a helping of saffron-feta risotto and a ladling of pomegranate-infused molasses. (The vegetarian option, a napoleon of polenta, grilled eggplant, squash and poached tomatoes, is equally clever.)

Maryland crab cakes are an appetizer that rarely surprises. But at Mira they're delightfully well rendered — all meat, no breadcrumbs and a minimum of mayo. Even better, they've got inspired playmates on the plate: a pile of delicious roasted beets, an ample watercress garnish and an aromatic mango aioli. The same can be said for a cedar-planked salmon fillet beneath a sweet, sweet onslaught of fennel-potato purée, applewood-smoked bacon and apple beurre blanc. How refreshing to discover a salmon preparation that eschews austerity. Asparagus and goat cheese, hugged by a crisp fried spring roll casing, makes for a luscious appetizer.

Roxane: Excusez-moi? What am I, chopped liver?

Roxane serves three kinds of pâté daily (usually truffle, Champagne and port), all of them house-made and brought forth in enormous quantity on a platter containing lavosh, fruit and grilled baguette slices. Each day also brings changing varieties of mussels, quiche, pasta and artisanal cheeses. The menu is thoroughly Francophilic, so much so that those daily specials are listed on a large chalkboard (as the Parisian bistros do) that hangs above a wall of straight-backed booth seating. Fondue for two is available as a savory cheese course or a chocolaty dessert. Mira's seared tuna is reincarnated here at the center of a salade niçoise whose classic contents are deconstructed into individual piles around the circumference: snappy haricots verts, firm chopped tomatoes, sliced hardboiled egg and a spoonful of zesty tapenade that stands in for the standard black olives.

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