If only Kurrent's food were as kool as its kustomers

The backward letter K in the Kurrent logo is your first hint that this 6-month-old Capitol Hill bar and restaurant is trying hard to be kool.

Other clues abound: the slinky, near-strapless dress on the hostess; the equally curvy, near-backless seats at the bar; and the low-to-the-floor lounge seating grouped casually on both sides of a glass-enclosed fire. That hearth provides a welcome touch of warmth in an otherwise harshly lit, hard-edged interior that shrieks Modern as persistently as the thumping soundtrack.

Kurrent's eclectic, Asian-y menu is equally au kourant: big on small plates and long on flavored martinis in combinations like "Sexy Dark Chocolate" and "Mango Cilantro Pepper." These are well-constructed drinks, but they are served in stainless-steel stemware that leaves me cold — though their ostensible purpose is to keep the drink frosty. The metal maximizes the chill of the "ice bar," actually a slick runway of ice that traverses the length of the bar, a gimmick that surely offers the potential for a new happy-hour pastime: Sip-n-Slide.

"It's not the only ice bar in the area, but it's the longest one," I was informed proudly. Indeed its endpoint vanishes around a bend, just past the DJ stand, where it turns left into a private party domain.

The kooleest thing about Kurrent may be its diverse clientele. A guy in a suit and tie spreads out paperwork in the empty lounge. A soccer team commandeers that same corner on another evening for some after-practice beers. A girl reads by the fire.

Meanwhile at the ice bar, a fedora-wearing mixologist shakes up something pink for a young blonde and her tweed-jacketed husband. A few seats away, "Tootsie" dabs a napkin to sriracha-seared lips with a beautifully manicured hand and chats up a "Desperate Housewife" from the 'burbs sipping rosé champagne. An androgynous, black-clad couple let their martinis chill while they slip outside "to burn one."

The staff serves as chief cheerleaders, which is to the credit of chef/owner Matt Baer, but the food doesn't quite live up to the earnest hype.

"How are my girls," chirped Giesse, making us feel momentarily as if we weren't the oldest people in the room. He's a terrific waiter, attentive, engaging, shrewdly sizing up guests unhip to the scene, and fielding their questions — what's sriracha, togarashi, kimchee? — without being patronizing.

Togarashi and toasted sesame seeds dust airy shrimp chips, lending peppery, savory intrigue to this complimentary bowl of addictive nibbles. Sriracha did much the same for aioli served with matchstick sweet-potato fries.

The "Kimchee salad" here is only distantly related to its fiery, fermented Korean cousin. It's a cabbage slaw jolted with chili sauce, and it provides a perfect platform for fine Negimayaki, a grilled bundle of tender, thinly sliced beef wrapping scallions, basted with a sweetened soy sauce and cut like a sushi roll into bite-size pieces.

Beef satay is good too. Three skewers of pliant tenderloin speckled with sesame seeds and glistening with a sweet brown sauce nestle among a bundle of carrot threads. Of the dips, the searing yet sweet cucumber sauce is more interesting than the mild peanut sauce. Fish, chicken and a veggie/tofu combo are other satay options. Peking duck "confit" features another threesome: fragile, savory crepes, each ready to embrace a mound of crackling duck skin.

Lemon grass lifts the aptly named "Chicken Chopsticks" above the ordinary. The long slender spring rolls, stuffed with minced chicken and fried to a delightful crunch, pleased far more than greasy-tasting "Chicken Pops": nuggets of white meat in a cloying ginger glaze surrounded by crispy Chinese noodles.

Some small plates are more substantial than others.

Built precariously on a bed of greens, Scallop Napoleon is a wobbly tower of sea scallops (fishy tasting even under a balsamic glaze) sandwiched between brittle layers of fried wonton wafers. Roasted Cornish hen trimmed with fragile fried leaves of spinach is more satisfying. Half a bird, studded with roasted garlic, nests among wide noodles moistened with sweetly spicy pan gravy in need of a pinch of salt.

Fresh spinach garnishes half of a deep-fried lobster cradled in a large bowl with a tilted rim. It's a good-sized crustacean for the price ($15), with a meaty tail and a lump of succulent claw meat at its elbow. Noodles bathed in a bold tamarind and black-bean sauce had an odd texture — some soft, others stringy — that detracted from the dish.

The lobster and hen are listed as small plates but clearly have entree potential. Among actual entrees, I would avoid gummy, phyllo-wrapped Katafi Prawns, but there's a wonderful Shiitaki Steak au Poivre. True, the Mango Cilantro Pepper martini had more "poivre" than the steak, but the creamy Dijon brandy sauce coating the ruby-centered filet was plenty potent and thick with mushrooms. Ginger adds zing to potatoes dauphine; bitter gai lan further complements the ensemble.

For dessert, pass on sriracha-spiked chocolate pot de crème and cherry-packed crème brûlée. Skip back to "appeteasers" for a delicious fruit and cheese plate that combines grilled orange and Asian pear slices with soft brie. Sauced with vanilla-kissed rum, topped with sweet red onion confit and served with crostini, it's a lush tropical treat. Or call it a night with a chocolate martini.

Providence Cicero: providencecicero@aol.com