Hard Sell

Even a restaurant as accomplished as Inox might have trouble winning over diners in this economy

Inox
1800 Tysons Blvd., McLean
703-790-4669
ww.inoxrestaurant.com

**1/2 (out of four stars)
Sound Check: 67 decibels (Conversation is easy)

If I owned an Aston Martin, I might be reluctant to let a stranger drive it, too. So the gentleman poised to dine at Inox in Tysons Corner declines a valet attendant's offer to park his thoroughbred and sets off to find a suitable stall in the nearby garage. Second in line at the car stand is someone idling in a BMW. He doesn't hesitate to turn over his keys and let someone park his wheels.

Inside the fledgling restaurant, a bevy of kitchen workers, including co-chefs Jonathan Krinn and Jon Mathieson, are on display behind a glass wall that practically invites people in to see what's cooking. Around me, house-filtered water is being poured and amuse-bouches are being introduced. By chance, I open the wine list to the page where some triple-digit pinot noirs are listed.

How quaint it all looks right now.

Could there be a worse time to open an upscale restaurant? Once they left the chic 2941 in Falls Church, it took 14 months for Krinn and Mathieson to secure the right location (in the PricewaterhouseCoopers building), get their dream built and assemble a team that includes former New Heights chef John Wabeck, who ditched the kitchen for the dining room and a chance to become a sommelier. By the time Inox (pronounced EH-nox) finally opened its doors in February, the economy had collapsed like a fallen souffle.

While the competition is wondering if the guys are going to succeed in the current climate, I'm wondering what special occasion might find me back here. Because a number of the dishes I've sampled at Inox are combinations I hope to relish again.

"The skins are made from pumpkin," a waiter says as he sets down a first course of pirogi. The dumplings are delicious, but I'm more enamored of their sauce, a truffle-flecked bouillon that nods to the South with black-eyed peas and smoky bacon bits and finds me reaching for more bread to sop up the pleasure.

In a twist on the classic tournedos Rossini, the chefs swap venison for the usual beef filet, sandwiching the meat with a rich slice of foie gras on top and a toasted crouton on the bottom. The terrific venison comes from the same supplier used by the Inn at Little Washington; set on creamed parsley, the bread absorbs the sauce like a sponge and gets more luscious with each bite. Decadent and elegant, it's a dish I could imagine requesting for a last meal.

Krinn (he focuses on the cold food) and Mathieson (he oversees what's hot) frequently paired surf with turf and featured multiple proteins on their plates at 2941, a pattern they continue here. Thus, sweet and tender lobster comes to the table in a wreath of buttery foam along with ravioli stuffed with beef short ribs. It's a hearty yet sophisticated appetizer. Meanwhile, rack and loin of lamb come together in one of my favorite main courses, which also fits in tomatoey braised lamb shoulder in a soft bundle of Swiss chard (the highlight of the plate).

The sweetbreads might have you reaching for your Lipitor but also smacking your lips. The secret to their goodness? The organ meat is seared and roasted using duck fat. Indeed, a little probing by a curious diner turns up all manner of fun facts. One reason I like the skate partnered with scallops so much is for the fish's intriguing crust, a delicious crackle produced by crushed pretzels. Artichoke soup becomes sublime with the addition of scallops that are rolled in lobster roe, lightly seared and shaved into circles as thin as carpaccio.

Inox is a mostly thoughtful enterprise. Valet parking, for instance, is gratis. That house-filtered water (still and sparkling, chilled or room-temperature) is a dollar a taker, but refills are unlimited. Bread was something diners buzzed about at 2941 under Krinn's reign, and bread, or most of it, is something to applaud at Inox. The baskets at both restaurants were filled by the chef's father, Mal Krinn, an ophthalmologist turned baker whose loaves are designed to pair with the chefs' food and highlight the season. (Look for dried fruit bread in the fall.) As at many haute restaurants, dishes are placed before diners at precisely the same moment, a bit of theater that reminds patrons they're not dining at Outback.

The boyish Wabeck will be the first to tell you he's still getting used to being a suit and schmoozing the public. At the table, the wine director can be by turns endearingly shy and overly chatty. The flip side: The guy knows his wines, and he has assembled an impressive and surprising library for Inox. This is evident beginning with the choices by the glass, which include a pinot noir from Maipu, Argentina, and running throughout the book, which is strong on white and red Burgundies. While plenty of restaurants don't bother updating their wine selections on their Web sites, Wabeck is such a stickler for currency that he tells people he has promised to buy his girlfriend a new pair of shoes if someone requests a bottle on his list that is out of stock or has had a vintage change. And I appreciate a sommelier who, when I'm debating two wines, comes up with a suggestion that costs less than either.

Pastry chefs are a luxury for a restaurant; to save money, a lot of establishments rely on sous-chefs or line cooks to prepare desserts. Inox employs its own pastry chef, Scot Harlan, and he's very good. A walnut financier with citrusy yogurt ice cream is a trip to France-then-Greece in every bite. His milk chocolate bread pudding is both light and intense, enhanced with airy fleur de sel and a divine sherbert made with olive oil. A warm dome of pineapple mouse atop a delicate pistachio cake has everyone fighting for the last bite. Even if you're not a fan of sweets, it's hard to say no to the charms nestled inside the ceramic dish that signals the end of dinner: The gems might include a cassis-flavored marshmallow, a tiny Linzer torte, a bite of chocolate and a fruit gelee that truly tastes of litchi.

When even BET co-founder Sheila Johnson is pinching pennies, few of us are willing to gamble on big-deal meals with uncertain payoffs. Particularly these days, the higher the tab, the higher the bar for the restaurant. (Entrees average $30 at Inox, but it's easy to spend more than $100 a person if you order three courses and like to drink.) After taking a bit of my halibut, I'm a little grumpy. Why is the fish overcooked? There's a reason a bowl of saffron-tinted cavatelli is barely touched after three companions have had a go at it: The pasta is bland and doughy, and the vegetables lend more color than flavor to the equation. While I've felt mostly pampered here, it's annoying to see plenty of open tables and hear the hostess say, "It will be a few minutes. Would you like to wait in the lounge?"

Inox takes its name from a shortened French word for stainless steel, an idea reinforced in the interwoven ribbons of metal to the side of the main dining room. Much of the rest of the interior manages to be elegant but not especially beautiful: a sea of white faux-leather chairs set too close to one another and not much beyond some sheer curtains and curved walls to catch the eye. The detail this diner appreciates the most: The path to the restrooms includes a rectangular window that looks into the gleaming kitchen. (Dinner and a show!)

Krinn and Mathieson, who are co-owners as well as co-chefs, realize they're peddling indulgence in a tough economy. But by serving their special brand of hospitality, says Mathieson, "we're hoping people can forget what's going on on the outside."

It's a tall order.

Open: for lunch Monday through Friday 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m.; for dinner Sunday through Thursday 5:30 to 10 p.m., Friday and Saturday 5 to 10 p.m. All major credit cards. Complimentary valet parking. No smoking. Prices: lunch entrees $15 to $26, dinner entrees $22 to $39.