A Chef's Second Act

Not all of the chef's ideas succeed. Good as they are, scallops are not improved by being wrapped in a band of smoked salmon. And a mixed grill of lamb chop, leg of lamb and lamb sausage is most interesting for the sausage, which is sharply seasoned and house-made.

Otherwise, even the baby vegetables with that entree lacked personality.

Hovering between the thrills and spills on the menu are dishes such as risotto adorned with shrimp and lightened with lemon zest and chives, a yuppie crowd pleaser if ever there was one. Grilled quail is sometimes wan and scrawny, other nights plump and succulent. Its frame is more of a sure bet: wrinkled cranberries, madeira-laced chestnuts and diced butternut squash also place the appetizer squarely, and sweetly, in winter.

The dining room is long, spare and moodily lit, seemingly decorated on a shoestring budget yet visually engaging. One wall catches diners' eyes with what appears to be a half-mile of undulating outsize ribbon, an effect that's recaptured on the opposite wall in square mirrors set with votives. The floors are bare wood; the tables get linens; the adjoining bar, arranged with low couches, could become a habit. Nicaro is the kind of place where you see people dressed in jeans or finery and where everyone is made to feel comfortable -- by the amicable servers if not by the acoustics, which are terrible when there's a full house. Be prepared to repeat yourself here.

Dessert feels like an afterthought at Nicaro, which trots out nothing you haven't seen before and gives diners few reasons to linger. The chocolate chip cookies resemble Chips Ahoy (hold the exclamation point), the ice creams taste dull, and the fruit crisps induce sleep. If you insist on something sweet, make it creme brulee, which sports an appropriately glassy, burnt-sugar crust and, depending on the day, a flavor other than vanilla (ours was a subtle tangerine).

"We're not pretending to open a second Tabard," Matamoros told me in a telephone conversation. That might be the case. But reading Nicaro's menu invariably invites comparison, and this diner can't help but wish for fewer underachievements and more signs of the good old days.

To chat with Tom Sietsema online, go to washingtonpost.com on Wednesdays at 11 a.m.