It Takes 2 to Tango When Service Is Insulting, and Brains to Walk Out

Whenever a restaurant makes it clear from the beginning that, on its turf, the customer is not always right, the best course is to cut your losses by heading straight out the door. This lesson is learned painfully and, these days, at considerable expense.

A memorable and nicely illustrative incident occurred at a particularly pretentious restaurant in Washington, a place at which the butter was carved into swans and the German waiters all answered to French aliases.

The party’s host was partial to martinis but abhorred olives. He carefully ordered his nip with a twist, no olive. The waiter naturally brought the drink sans twist, but with a fat olive reposing coyly at the bottom of the glass. When Mr. Martini objected and instructed that a fresh drink be brought, the waiter shrugged, shuffled over to the bar, dug out the offending olive with his fingers and dropped in a lemon twist. The drink, of course, still tasted of essence of olive, which was pointed out rather astringently by its consumer. Quite correctly, the demand for a fresh drink was repeated.

The waiter glowered. Mr. Martini scowled. The cocktail looked as if it wished it were elsewhere. The headwaiter intervened at this point, a new drink was arbitrated and the evening continued, but the waiter remained surly and did his best to be sure that a miserable time was had by all. The net result was that it cost a great deal of money to have a lousy experience.

Happens Elsewhere

The same sort of thing happens all the time in San Diego--and probably everywhere else--but not at places at which the staff has been instructed that the customers, whose support makes the operation possible, should be accommodated when their requests fall within the bounds of reason.

This kind of contretemps, growing from the silliest of circumstances, happened the other evening at Tango Grill, the relatively new Argentine restaurant on the downtown stretch of Market Street.

The small dining room seats 32 in fairly close quarters, but there is a more private table for four at the top of a short flight of stairs. A party requested this table, only to be denied by a server who said, “We never use that table, because I don’t like the stairs.” After it was pointed out that the table had been seen in use the previous evening, grudging permission was granted.

It became obvious immediately that the situation called for a full retreat, but whereas angels hit the bricks, fools sit down. The menus arrived slowly, but the order was demanded almost immediately.

The act of explaining that the party wished a leisurely dinner probably assured that the salads, shared appetizer and entrees would arrive in the span of five minutes, as they did. A request for milk with the coffee and other similar wishes were greeted as impositions.

The point of this is not to come down hard upon Tango, which offered competent service on a previous occasion, but to point out that diners patronize restaurants for their own convenience, and not for the convenience of the staff.

Should the staff demonstrate an opposite point of view, the two recommended courses of action are to consult the management or dine elsewhere, because chances are excellent that the meal will be difficult. Customers can decline to tip, but that option occurs only after the evening has been spoiled.

Tango’s kitchen, for its part, turned in a good--but not brilliant--performance. In its essence, Argentine cuisine is not all that different from traditional American cooking, because it emphasizes meats prepared in the simplest of manners. The difference is in the seasoning, which, thanks to the massive immigration of Italians to Argentina, is bold and bright. Herbs, especially oregano, lend a savory sharpness to many preparations, and vinegar, oil and garlic team not only in salads, but in potent marinades for grilled meats as well.

The kitchen ran out of several items on both occasions, so that there was no opportunity to sample either the appetizer-size empanadas (savory stuffed pastries) or the grilled chicken, both of which are classics of Argentine cooking.

The appetizer list offers raw ham in tandem with melon, which is commonplace, or with salade russe , the mayonnaise-bound mixture of peas and diced potatoes and carrots that is a standard item in Spanish cuisine. Queso parrillero , described by the menu as “bbq’d cheese,” is reminiscent of the Mexican queso fundido , but with an Italian pronunciation that emphasizes oregano and olive oil. It is something like a pizza without a crust and makes an excellent starter.

Salads Have Lively Flavor

The salads show the evolutionary path that might have been taken by Midwestern steakhouse salads had there been a strong Italian influence in the pantries. They look like the familiar, unexciting minglings of chopped iceberg lettuce and tomatoes, but have a far livelier flavor thanks to the addition of slivered onions and a pungent, generously herbed oil-and-vinegar dressing.

The grilled meats far outshine the breaded sautees, which look glamorous but offer relatively little in the way of flavor. Herbs, vinegar, oil and a generous sprinkling of salt--like most traditional cuisines, Argentine cooking uses salt definitively--did wonders for a handsome New York steak that was somewhat difficult to cut but, surprisingly, chewed like butter.

Grilled sweetbreads, a favorite Argentine offering that frequently doubles as a snack, were crusty but tender and rich, their delicacy revealed by what at first seems rather indelicate handling. Besides grilled chicken, the menu also offers grilled tripe, chorizo and morcilla (blood) sausages, short ribs and skirt steak.

Paper-thin, plate-covering pounded steaks and chicken breasts are sauteed in the milanesa , or breaded, style, and offered plain or napolitana , which means covered with ham, cheese and tomato sauce. (The steak also can be ordered topped with two fried eggs, which is quintessentially Latin and a mainstay of Cuban cuisine.) The various versions were sampled, and the steak, if not wonderful, was found superior to the chicken, and the plain version of either was superior to the napolitana treatment.

Tango’s fried potatoes are its one wild accomplishment; slivered and crisped in olive oil flavored with garlic, these are a remarkable testimony to the versatility of the common spud.

The dessert list also has its moments, especially with the flan, a finely textured custard topped with a bit of dulce de leche , or milk-caramel sauce. Typically Latin and also quite enjoyable is the dulce de batata con queso , or sliced sweet potato confection (it is unlike anything in American cooking) served over a slice of medium-sharp cheese.

TANGO GRILL

335 Market St., San Diego

696-9171

Dinner served Tuesday through Sunday, closed Mondays.

Credit cards accepted.

Dinner for two, including a moderate bottle of wine, $30 to $60.