Schizophrenic dining Slainte caters two audiences BY BRIAN DUFF
	Slainte Slainte 24 Preble St., Portland 207.828-0900; Tuesday-Saturday 4 pm –1 am, Sunday noon-1 am

Naming a food business must be stressful. Its not like naming a child, which is easy — just call the kid Leo or Lily like everyone else is doing these days. But in naming a restaurant, a shop, or a product you can go wrong in many ways. Maine's new Cold River Vodka, for example, is a great vodka. But in an industry where the sheer randomness of names like "Ketel One" is a virtue, "Cold River" sounds unfortunately focus-grouped. Worse, Portland's lovely new bakery Two Fat Cats has chosen an execrable name. The only thing more off-putting than a person's affection for their cat is their affection for a fat cat — or, god-forbid, multiples.

In choosing the name Slainte for the new pub that has taken over the space previously occupied by the Meritage Wine Bar, it seems the owner has either embraced or exacerbated an identity crisis. In the universe of conceivable names for a somewhat Irish pub, Slainte (a toast to good health, pronounced Slahn-chah), with its nonspecifically-European soft-t, is perhaps the one that sounds most like it could be the name for a wine bar.

But Slainte is not a wine bar, um, I think. With its dark red walls, black clothed tables, comfy couches, and semi-elegance it looks like a wine bar. Slainte has basically preserved Meritage's décor, though somehow the place does have that Trading Spaces, one-thousand-dollars-and-forty-eight-hours-charming-but-thrown-together feel to it. But then there is that big plasma television behind the bar showing basketball, the extensive list of beers, and the mugs hanging on the wall for the "mug club," all telling you that this is a pub.

You know you are not at Meritage when Ben the bartender enthuses about a wine's 14-percent alcohol content. But you don't really mind when he pours a taste that is about a quarter of a glass. And sure enough, he's right — there is sufficient alcohol in Castle Rock Zinfandel to make it taste like a wine-infused vodka. Serious wine drinkers might be disappointed that Slainte offers just one wine of any given varietal and a few foreign blends, with new wines rotating in weekly. But casual wine drinkers won't mind much, even if the choices can be a little hit or miss. Ben is happy to pour you those big-Ben tastes for you to find one that’s suitable. The affordable house wine, literally that bottle called "House Wine" you can get at some local shops, is nice, dry, and a little spicy.

The menu deepens your impression of being not quite here nor there. This is not like the Meritage menu of upscale cheese and tapas; however, the scallops wrapped in bacon were nicely prepared. The bacon had the perfect crispness, the scallops were not overdone, and they were served with a good Dijon. Along with the caprese and bruschetta on offer, you've got something like wine bar cuisine. Then there are several paninis, a sandwich that Duckfat has shown can be nicely dressed up. A Slainte panini is no Duckfat panini — the one we tried with chicken, bacon, lettuce and tomato was in need of some zing and the bread is just not the same — still, they are pretty good. The chicken tenders, chicken wrap, and quesadilla all scream pub food. They are nothing too interesting, but they’re suitable drinking snacks. The "Slainte Plate" of carrot, celery, toast, skewered chicken, and pedestrian cheese hits just the wrong note in trying to do semi-classy but dressing it down too far.

Compared to the rest of us, mild schizophrenics have more sex (according to British scientists) and make more timeless art. Serious schizophrenics don't do so well. Slainte's bipolarity will either be its salvation or its downfall. Slainte could well turn out to be a mild schizophrenic — both a more casual wine bar, when so many are too self-consciously elegant, and a pub where you can sneak off to a quiet table. It's a delicate balance though. But if they keep that music low, upgrade the Slainte Plate, and keep pouring those big tastes, this kid just might make it.

Brian Duff can be reached at bduff@une.edu