Friday, September 19, 2003

By Sarah Billingsley, Post-Gazette Staff Writer

As listed on the Andora menu, the promise of "tobacco onions" conjured a series of regional and sensory associations: homey Southern cookery, plantation languor and controversy, the acrid flare of a lit cigarette. The described dish, in which tobacco onions tangle on top of a thick steak soaked in roasted shallot demiglace with a side of creamy mashed potatoes, is the embodiment of New American cuisine.

Yvonne Bobick and Patti Robostello enjoy lunch at Andora.(Lake Fong, Post-Gazette) ANDORA 1616 Mt. Nebo Road Ohio Township 412-749-2452 HOURS: 11:30 a.m. to 10 p.m. Sunday to Thursday; 11:30 a.m. to 11 p.m. Friday, Saturday. BASICS: New American cuisine. Appetizers, salads, $6.95 to $12.95. Entrees, $15 to $30. All major credit cards; reservations accepted, and required for parties of six or more; handicap accessible. Smoking in bar; seats 100 indoors, 80 on patio; parking in lot.

"Tobacco onions," however, was a typo. "Tabasco onions" were the tasty reality, marking one of the few flubs by wait staff, kitchen or menu spell-checker at a restaurant running smooth as a ribbon of caramel.

Indoors and out, Andora hits just the right tone. The bar is hardwood and airy. It begs to be dressed with ferns, wine festival posters and slingback heels. The dining room, hung with floral prints, is mellow, clean and classy, with gas log fireplaces in the corners. On the mantles, funky glassware and delicate iron sculptures are artfully grouped.

The terraced patio -- pinky-beige stone, wide umbrellas, life-size statues, a tinkly fountain -- is an easy world unto itself.

Over the past four years, owners Clint Pohl and Mike McMullen have maintained Andora's modus operandi: comfort. Service is quick. Liquor is priced to move. The tables are luxuriantly spaced and cleverly angled so that every one feels intimate, the dining room spacious.

A nice dinner at Andora is affordable. You need not skimp to eat at mid-range; you can impress your in-laws with a three-course live-it-up meal without breaking the bank.

The menu balances muscle and flair; choices are neither frilly nor plain. The kitchen revels in color and bright flavors, not revolutionary, just creative enough to spin Pittsburgh's democratic favorites -- veal, beef and an ever-changing array of fresh fish -- by pairing them with fresh herbs and ethnic spices.

The menu changes frequently. In summer, a light hand is applied. For fall, sausage, fennel and much roasting -- of shallots, meats and vegetables -- signal heartier fare.

The crab cake -- the same was once served at now-defunct Bayona, formerly owned by Pohl and McMullen -- is beloved and reliable. Red onion caper sauce makes a knob of pure lump crab piquant. I never tire of it.

Ahi tuna, seared and crimson, is drizzled with sinus-scorching wasabi. Soy sauce, on the side in a silver boat, has never been more genteel. A shock of crisp calamari is fine.

Roasted red pepper, stuffed with a king's ransom of goat cheese and crunchy pine nuts, would be average without the clean puree of yellow peppers that glosses the plate and elevates the flavors.

Andora's finest first course is one of its exemplary salads. Pared down to a few punchy essentials, the summer salad of fennel, blood orange and olives married salt, sweetness and citrus. Every note mattered -- and flattered -- when the tart bite of julienne apples was counterpoint to candied pecans, bland spinach and sweet Vidalia vinaigrette.

Andora's soups should be so interesting. Bland vegetable soup cooled quickly in its wide bowl. A mild shrimp bisque, three plump shrimp plopped in its center, was remarkable only in hue: a very pink pink.

Entrees change more frequently, though regulars will recognize their favorite veal chop or filet, reconfigured and reincarnated. Seasonings are not subtle. Good fish is always an option.

Rockfish, sauced in a spicy broth with chorizo and grape tomatoes, was a dish with shades of Spain. Swordfish steak -- as buttery rare as I prefer -- was topped with a saute of olives and tomatoes so hot they seemed to pop.

Why be subtle with a New York Strip? Piles of razor-thin, ultra-peppery tabasco onions made a square steak hip. Not-quite veal saltimbocca featured lacy prosciutto and creamy-tender veal medallions.

How sad that gnocchi were a clunker of a dish. The gnocchi were sticky, mixed with conchiglie, chorizo and scallops in a too-thick, tinny tomato sauce that overwhelmed a pasta too delicate for this stick-to-your-ribs treatment.

Andora's desserts are large, dolled up with poufs of freshly whipped cream, painted with slashes of caramel, chocolate or berry coulis. The exception is cheesecake, served in a thin slice. It was unusually good and thin, fluffy at the edges, molten in the middle, silky as a Brie de Meaux.

Nothing goes better with a coffee than the deep dish apple pie, served with cinnamon ice cream and a caramel drizzle. The crust is like shortbread. Caramel chocolate cake could have been billed as a turtle sundae. It was luxuriant: warm cake, freshly beaten vanilla cream, a scoop of homemade ice cream, fudge sauce, a drizzle of caramel, roasted pecans. What isn't to love?

The wine list is a predictable roster, but they cost what they should; Andora has a full list of perfectly good bottles for $20. Why sip at two wines by the glass when, for the same price, you can try a bottle of ripe-but-dry Pedroncelli Zinfandel Rose or soft Murphy Goode "Tin Roof" Sauvignon Blanc?

Like the decor, Andora's service walks the tightrope between formality and comfort. Servers occasionally squat or lean on the table. They like to banter. On slow nights, veterans get the night off, and the youth -- so friendly they are forgivable -- take over.

Watching the flow of diners, the tables turning, your dining choice seems to have won universal approval. Andora has aged well. Their secret is knowing what should change (the menu) and what should stay the same (the mood). You may try something you didn't expect to like, proof that Andora knows what you want and how to give it to you.

Correction/Clarification: (Published Sept. 25, 2003) The Andora restaurant requires reservations for parties of six or more, a point that we omitted in a review in last Friday's editions. Also, we gave the Andora's phone number incorrectly. It is 412-749-2452.

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