Nica’s 320 adds unexpected flavors to the Crossroads

It’s hard for me to walk into the brick building at 320 Southwest Boulevard without remembering at least one of its former lives. Of course, there was Shiraz and, before that, a short-lived theater company. The latter had a little stage in the back room and a very big saloon out front. The idea was that the sale of liquor in the bar would somehow pay for the theater productions in the back room.

It didn’t.

But this was long before the neighborhood north of Union Station was called the Crossroads District and became populated with art galleries, restaurants and loft apartments. Back then, a stage such as the one at 320 Southwest Boulevard could have a play set in a steam room with the entire cast dressed in nothing but towels.

So it was pure déjà vu, seeing members of a local burlesque troupe looking over this space, which now has an expensive sound system and a projection screen. The technology was installed to lure business meetings and conferences. But what the hell, bring on the strippers.

The restaurant that now operates here, Nica’s 320, has a theatrical connection of its own. Chef and co-owner Bryan Merker has given the place his wife’s stage name. As a young actress in Los Angeles, Monica Merker went by Nica.

Bryan Merker first tried out the act — I mean the name — at his first location, Nica’s Café in Overland Park. Merker and business partner Phil Dunn ran a small café and coffeehouse for a year before their dream location became available. Two months ago, they opened at 320 Southwest Boulevard, and it’s a very ambitious concept: a restaurant that serves breakfast, lunch and dinner — and beignets.

Merker’s career has taken him to several impressive culinary locations, including San Francisco and New Orleans, where he mastered the art of the fried fritter known as a beignet (offered here as both a breakfast pastry and a dessert). Everyone I know raves about Merker’s squares of fried yeasty dough, but I’ve only ever tasted one beignet I liked. I was in New Orleans and seriously hung over, and those remain the ideal conditions for consuming one.

While cooking with New Orleans chef Juanita Dilbert, however, Merker did learn to make the best bread pudding I’ve ever tasted in Kansas City. It’s a moist and buttery creation swimming in a bourbon-caramel sauce. I’d rather have that for breakfast than any beignet. Besides, the ones here are rolled in so much powdered sugar that after one bite, I looked like Al Pacino at the end of Scarface.

What I was jonesing for at that same breakfast wasn’t coke but coffee. After a couple of sips from the mug set in front of me, I was jolted, but I wasn’t happy about it. What in God’s name was in this brew? It had a distinct flavor, and it wasn’t the taste of coffee.

“We infuse our coffee with a peppercorn blend that has some cinnamon,” Merker later explained. “It’s a little aggressive.”

A little aggressive? What I tried was the Nancy Grace of morning blends. At 8:30 a.m. on a Saturday, I want my coffee to taste like coffee. In fact, any hour, any day, I want my coffee to taste nothing like peppercorn and cinnamon. I pushed my cup away — aggressively.

That wasn’t the only time that Nica’s had erred in the “first taste of the day” department. A co-worker I went to breakfast with here one morning cringed after trying his orange juice. “There’s an odd taste to this,” he said. “I can’t quite place it.” After a server brought out a different glass of juice, I asked co-owner Dunn to taste the first glass. He took a sip and announced, “Green onions.”

Well, you know how green onions just sort of sneak into things. They’re a welcome asset to Merker’s fabulous huevos rancheros, a delectably spicy and cheesy egg dish served open-faced on Roma focaccia bread. I’d happily return for that dish or Merker’s “Uptown Benny,” which tops flaky biscuits with fine andouille sausage, fried eggs and a red-chili cheese sauce.

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If the breakfast dishes — at least the ones I ordered — lean south of the border, the lunch and dinner menu is a United Nations of culinary possibilities. A diner doesn’t merely order an entrée from the laminated menu but builds it. The servers do an admirable job of explaining the mix-and-match sensibility of the menu; one of the waiters, Michael, has actually turned the process into a monologue. When he paused, I wasn’t sure whether to order or applaud.

Let’s say you’re toying with the idea of ordering a crepe or pan-fried noodles or a filet. That’s merely the first step. The real decision making comes in choosing a “preparation.” Do you want that steak served Thai style? Italiano? Cajun? Caribbean? There are eight internationally inspired possibilities, and they all sound pretty tasty. The problem is making the right choice. The night I dined with Marilyn, Jackie and Bob, they each carried on as if they were being asked to choose the right curtain on Let’s Make a Deal.

“It’s an exercise,” said the easily flustered Jackie, who finally settled on a roast chicken served Margarita-style, with fresh basil, artichoke hearts, roasted garlic and sun-dried tomatoes. Good call: It was excellent.

But I was foolhardy in letting Michael lure me into adding artichoke hearts and candied jalapeños to my order of the house specialty: macaroni and cheese. I spent most of the meal fishing them out of the bowl. Options abound for adding additional ingredients — from pepperoni to pesto — to the mac and cheese or the delicious Yukon-gold mashed potatoes, but both dishes really shine without any add-ons. Merker’s mac and cheese is rich and creamy, blanketed in a sumptuously rich sauce made with smoked provolone, mozzarella, romano, asiago, parmesan — and Velveeta.

A good, properly grilled steak doesn’t really require a “preparation,” so I went with what I figured would be the least fussy: again, the Margarita option. Happily, Merker knows his beef, and the center-cut filet was very good.

One of my favorite dinners at Nica’s required no decision making. Instead of choosing a mix-and-match entrée, I ordered the mac and cheese and my favorite starter on the menu, a trio of sliders. (Like many of the other dishes, this one has been saddled with a regrettably cutesy name, Slip & Slide.) One small sandwich is Korean-style barbecued pulled pork, another Thai-spiced chicken, and the third jerk steak.

My friends at that dinner were underwhelmed by their more costly dinners, but they perked up at dessert: a kind of deconstructed ice-cream sandwich with house-made green-tea ice cream tucked between chocolate wafers. It looks showy but tastes uncomplicated, and it was just right that evening.

My advice to Merker and Dunn would be to offer a little more of Merker’s culinary showmanship and less of the tiresome in-depth explanations of the “concept.” The best plays, after all, require the least exposition. Nica’s 320 is rich in talent, but the menu should speak for itself.