Out to eat: Slims

Barbara Hauser of Over-the-Rhine, left, and Laura Chenult, of Northside, enjoy dinner at Slims. (Credit: Carrie Cochran | Metromix)

I remember hearing about this place called Slims several years ago. I knew it was in Northside, but I'd never seen it.

I knew it had a name that called to mind a greasy spoon where the chef flips pancakes with a cigar in his mouth, but I knew it was nothing like that. People young and old, cool and lame uniformly raved about Slims. It was time to check it out.

The mood: I made a 6 p.m. reservation, wanting to have every option on the menu available. (The Web site lists the hours as "5:30-till the food's gone.") Maybe I was being a bit paranoid, because we were the first people there, and the restaurant was just sparking to life as we walked in the door.

Slims is a small place that manages to look bigger than it is, bright and airy and covered in original art. The bathrooms are inexplicably filled with pictures of sheep and rams. It's "hip," if we're still allowed to use that word, but not in an annoying way. I wore a dress, but I could have worn jeans. Diners were friends and daters and families with young children.

The food: This is the reason to come to Slims. We opted for the three-course, $45 prix-fixe menu, available Fridays and Saturdays. After much conferring and my own generous sacrifice - I would let him get the pork belly - we'd finalized our meals.

To start: The Ohio Maiden charcuterie board, a tray of five different meats, and the patacon pisao, a sandwich of ropa vieja where the bread is replaced by a plantain. My friend dug into the pate on the board like it was ice cream - it was his favorite part of the meal - and I pigged out on the tender meat in the patacon.

Next up was our salad course: a mesclun salad for me, with mushrooms and roasted shallots and a hazelnut vinaigrette. He had the watercress tabbouleh. Our server brought us a plate of tart goat cheeses from a farm in Indiana that featured some nice variations from the standard soft cheese. It all disappeared quickly.

Finally, the main course: I had the quail escabeche, which arrived on a bed of lentils studded with bacon, apple and pearl onions. He - sigh - got his pork belly, a big juicy piece of meat that melted in the mouth.

We skipped dessert, but our server brought around another present - two little cups of granita, an icy and refreshing way to end the meal.

The drinks: Slims is BYOB, and most people B'd it. The table next to us carried in a bag of Stella Artois, and a nearby couple who'd apparently had a rough day plunked down two bottles of wine. We shared a rich cabernet sauvignon and marveled at the fact that Slims doesn't charge a corkage fee.

Why you should go: Actually, don't go. I don't want to compete for reservations. But really, if you've never checked out this Northside treasure, go pick up a bottle of wine and enjoy a fun, inventive - and, above all, delicious - meal.

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