Some restaurants start strong and then slowly lose momentum. Others such as Sea Salt in Berkeley continue to build and expand. When Sea Salt opened in 2005, it had just 85 seats. Now there are nearly 200, the interior has been spiffed up with fresh flowers and a full-service bar, and the menu has grown.

While seafood is still at the core, there are now meat dishes, including, on the most recent menu, a hanger steak with celery root mashed potatoes ($28).

One of the other changes is that chef Anthony Paone, who was doing double duty at sister restaurant T-Rex, is now at Sea Salt full time. The menu has always been, and continues to be, a little quirky, with some unusual seafood sandwiches such as barbecued eel bahn mi ($14) with cabbage slaw and house-made potato chips; a bacon, lettuce and trout ($15); and an exceptional steamed lobster on torpedo roll ($25).

The short menu is divided into 11 smaller and larger plates; diners can mix and match at will.

I'd be more than happy to confine my main courses to the steamed clams ($15), which wouldn't be a "smaller plate" for anyone else except the Jolly Green Giant. Served in a copper bowl, the clams share a buttery broth with chunks of browned potatoes, crumbles of fennel sausage, broccoli and two thick pieces of grilled bread.

The clam chowder ($9), filled with perfectly diced potatoes, is another great starter. Other smaller plates include some more unusual offerings: cured tuna heart ($12) with pickled onions and dried beans; monkfish liver torchon with cucumber, sea urchin and caviar ($14); and whole fried smelt with green goddess dressing ($12). For lighter tastes, Paone offers four salads including a mix of greens ($9) with mandarins, crumbles of feta cheese and green olives in a tangy vinaigrette.

The five larger plates include fish and chips ($18), which has been on the menu from the beginning and is one of the best examples to be found in the Bay Area.

We particularly enjoyed the grilled Hawaiian swordfish topped with a creamy basil aioli with English peas, carrots and green garlic. Arctic char ($25) comes on a bed of chopped asparagus and fava beans with a Meyer lemon creme fraiche, the perfect spring combination.

The lemon pie ($7), another Jolly Green Giant dessert, easily serves two. The 5-inch tart shell is filled with thin slices of lemons, much like a Shaker filling, crowned with pastry and a frilly line of whipped cream. The brownie sundae ($7) is nearly as light as a souffle with the chocolate square topped with salty caramel ice cream, a dollop of whipped cream and salted pecans; it's a great dessert.

The service, like the food, has an eclectic friendly quality. It supports the neighborhood vibe, but not at the expense of professionalism.

Rarely does a restaurant that gets larger actually improve the food, but with Paone watching the line, that's exactly what's happened.

Sea Salt

2512 San Pablo Ave. (at Dwight Way), Berkeley; (510) 883-1720.

Lunch, dinner Monday-Friday 11:30 a.m.-10 p.m.; 10:30 a.m.-10 p.m. Saturday-Sunday. Full bar. Reservations and credit cards accepted. Easy street parking.

Hungry for More

Two new East Bay restaurants have foodies talking with their mouths full

By Meredith Brody 

Pizzaiolo doesn't take any reservations, and the sagas my friends related to me inevitably involved how long they waited (scarcely any time at all, it seems, if you arrive soon after the 5:30 opening hour on a weeknight). Tom and I got there close to 7 on a Wednesday, and we were told it'd be 20 minutes to half an hour, time we passed pleasantly at the bar, being served wine by the gregarious and affable Omar and admiring the casual-but-hip setting, featuring wooden booths down the sides of the wide storefront and simple wooden tables and chairs. There's some art on the walls, but the most artful touch is the big wood-fired oven, clad in blue and burgundy tiles reminiscent of vintage California pottery (the kind you might find down the street at Porchlight Antiques; the whole block is full of shopping and dining treats, including Article Pract, a hip knitting shop [yes, there is such a thing], Doña Tomás, the wonderful Mexican restaurant, and the just-opened Bakeshop Betty, featuring homey scones, cookies, and sticky date pudding. And the excellent Genova Delicatessen is located in the minimall right across the street).

We were joined by Gary and Cathy and given a comfortable table, just when the hostess had predicted. At first the menu, printed on one page (with a carefully edited wine list on the back), looked short: half a dozen antipasti, four pastas, five pizzas, one special, and two contorni (vegetable sides). But, even minimally described ("garden lettuces" for a salad, "Tagliatelle Bolognese" for a pasta), I soon realized I wanted to eat everything on the list. I wonder now how we managed to skip sardines with sweet and sour beet relish, or arancini with saffron, fontina cheese, and gremolata, but this is what we ordered: an antipasto misto della casa, two pizzas, two pastas, one of the specials (roasted local wild king salmon), and a bowl of polenta with Gorgonzola, all to share.

The antipasto came on a big oval platter; the contents change daily, according to the whim of the kitchen, and one ingredient on ours had changed between the server's description of it and the plate arriving at our table: the prosciutto wrapped around bitter greens was now speck. Anyway, it was excellent. We also received a pile of assorted olives, slices of fresh mozzarella, a heap of cubed beet salad, some pickled green beans, and adorable hot little green and red peppers.

Everything else arrived soon after. The pizzas, thin-crust beauties charred in spots from the hot wood fire, were a classic margherita (tomato sauce and mozzarella, with a bufala mozzarella option for an extra $2), which they always have on offer, and a daily-changing version topped with tomato sauce, house-made sausage, and red onion. (You can add a topping of rocket, aka arugula, salad, for $2.50, or prosciutto and anchovies, each $3.50, to any pizza. We chose to add the fresh, peppery greens to our margherita.)

The pizza, the raison d'être for the place (check not only the name, but the Web site heading, which is "Really Great Wood-Fired Pizza in Oakland"), was swell, reminiscent of wonderful pizzas consumed at Pizzetta 211 and A16 across the bay, as well as at Chez Panisse, but I liked the other things we ate even more, especially the creamy polenta blended with pungent Gorgonzola (you can also choose sharp parmigiano or creamy mascarpone), and the sweet salmon, which peeled off in big, soft flakes, accompanied by fluffy, toothy farro, simply cooked corn cut off the cob, bright-tasting julienned basil, and topped with a slick of fragrant aioli. I would have liked a little more sauce, but then I could have eaten more of everything on the plate.

And the desserts were superb: a bowl of virginal white panna cotta, the tiniest bit more resilient than I like, but topped with scarlet, fat, juicy, carefully chosen Ella Bella raspberries, each one a jewel; a perfumey nectarine tart with delicate brown sugar and sour cream ice cream; and the simplest, a Riverdog peach cut in half, roasted in the oven, and served swimming in hot sweetened cream -- one of the best things I have ever eaten. (Really. I have already duplicated this dish at home, with a peach of lesser provenance, to good if not quite as good effect.) I suggested ordering a second immediately, but my companions, possibly fearing an insurrection from the hopeful clientele now grouped on the sidewalk right outside the big plate-glass windows, declined.

Or maybe they were just full. You may notice that the two pastas I mentioned above did not show up; so did we. But when we asked after them, the server seemed not to have written them down. There were even a few pieces of pizza left over, so nobody felt hungry. But I missed the spaghetti with pesto and cherry tomatoes and the tagliatelle Bolognese I never tasted. A couple of days later, I was strolling on the block with my father after lunch in another Oakland eatery, and we paused to peruse the menu. I was surprised to see that all the pasta dishes, and three of the five pizzas, were different, and there were now two main-course specials. I mourned the two pastas I hadn't tasted, but I felt cheered at the thought of spaghetti with giblet sauce and pork cooked in milk, even if I wasn't going to eat them right away. In such capable hands I felt safe ordering almost anything.

I relaxed, similarly, at a festive, not to say gluttonous, ladies' lunch shared at Sea Salt, whose menu I had also perused with my father after having lunch at Caffe Trieste, on its shopping-and-eating block: Bravely, the restaurant offers nothing at all for the non-seafood fancier, whose numbers include Dad. "You could have the bacon, lettuce, and trout sandwich," I said, "hold the trout." (Maybe the owners feel they have the meat options covered with their other restaurants, the Cal-Med Lalime's, the small-plates Fonda Solana, and the soon-to-be-opened barbecue place T. Rex.) The steamed lobster on a torpedo roll said "Mom" to me, so I invited her and my friend Joyce, who drove over from San Francisco with baby Violet in tow, eager for seafood, and Cari, who was going to join us for dessert, I thought, after a screening in the neighborhood.

Cari happily showed up earlier than I expected, so she was able to help us devour the plate of two tender, fragile, smallish Dungeness crab cakes that actually contained big hunks of crab and very little filler, perched on a bed of tiny diced gazpacho vegetables (tomatoes, peppers, cukes) and topped with a thatch of watercress sprigs; we also had a bowl of creamy clam chowder topped with crisp bacon and chopped parsley, which Joyce declared the best she'd ever had (I wouldn't go quite as far, but it was very, very good).

I might give such an accolade to the smoky grilled squid, in a smoky habanero and pumpkin seed sauce, adorned with impossibly bright red cherry tomatoes and whole crunchy pumpkin seeds, but I'd never had such a sauce before. The lobster sandwich was simply chunks of carefully cooked pink-and-ivory lobster meat piled on a split, fresh torpedo roll, dressed with melted butter (no mayo, no chopped celery, no nothing), and served with house-made potato chips. We shared a very lightly battered and fried, meaty soft-shell crab, with sautéed sweet corn and swirls of Green Goddess dressing, and a generous plate of fish and chips -- hunks of steaming rock cod, also lightly battered, with big house-cut french fries, accompanied by cups of a malt vinegar aioli and a spicy Thai curry ketchup that surprised me with its bite. Tom, who has an office around the corner, was wandering by on his way to a late lunch, unsure if Sea Salt was open on a Monday; he walked in and discovered us, sat down, and ordered a snappy romaine salad, with diced apples, carrots, radishes, rye croutons, and a Maytag blue cheese dressing.

His heap of yellowfin tuna tartare, with basil, black olives, and the unusual kick of fragrant oranges, served with more of the big house-made potato chips, arrived with our desserts: We'd ordered one of everything available that day, including a generous bowl of apricot sorbet that came with three buttery little shortbread bars and a thick jammy sludge of mixed berries; a thin wedge of ginger cheesecake in which the ginger flavor was elusive, but we were distracted by its topping of tart lemon curd and a bit of blackberry sauce; a roasted nectarine tart, the fruit piled in a puff-pastry shell and topped with crème fraîche and raspberry sauce; and Joyce's favorite, a miniature layer cake, called a chocolate-caramel almond torte, covered with more of the nuts and served with my favorite sweet of the day, a ball of fresh mint ice cream adorned with a big chocolate curl.

We admired the long, deep room, with an exposed-brick wall, a huge glassed-in kitchen, and a surprise: a lovely big garden with rustic wooden tables, which I promised myself would be the setting for my next debauched lunch at Sea Salt. The witty interior design includes a large wire sculpture of a fish hanging overheard (made by local high school students, we learned, when we inquired after the name of the artist) and spacious sea-themed bathrooms that are nicer than my apartment (I coveted the hook that mimics a large piece of red coral).

Sea Salt's menu changes frequently, too, though I've seen the BLT, the crab cakes, and the fish and chips there several times. Still, as with Pizzaiolo, I knew I was in such good hands that I could try new dishes with confidence, if the ones I had loved were no longer there.

My new top 10

Sea Salt
What started with Lalime’s, a well-loved Cal-Med restaurant in Berkeley, has blossomed into an East Bay mini-empire. It’s run by the Krikorian clan, who’ve put their faith in the pithy restaurant concept.

An Expanding Empire

Lalime's owners please the healthy fish eaters with Sea Salt in Berkeley

Michael Bauer

Sunday, October 30, 2005

They went about the business of developing a cult following with their weekly mailed menus and newsletter during 20 years of running Lalime's. In the last few years, they've stepped up the pace with the three-star, Latin-inspired Fonda as well as Jimmy Bean's, a popular all-day cafe. While people were awaiting the debut of their ode to barbecue, called T-Rex, they slipped in Sea Salt in Berkeley. It was ironic that while T-Rex, a concept they've been thinking about for more than five years, was originally slated to open this summer, a space became available on San Pablo near Dwight Way. It seemed too good to pass up, so the deal was signed and the restaurant opened within two months -- an almost unheard-of feat in the restaurant business.

At Sea Salt, chef Anthony Paone shares the same sensibility of sustainability that you'll find at much higher-priced restaurants. Bringing this high-minded ideal to the neighborhood level can be a challenge.

The 29-item savory menu changes daily, and the chef is always trying out little-known fish such as monchong (a type of pomfret). He pan sears the fatty, firm-fleshed fish and finishes it with piperade and dandelion greens ($19). He also serves hebi, a type of spearfish, ($18.50) and Nairagi, striped marlin, ($19), both served with romano beans and roasted beets.

The menu doesn't try to be everything to everybody; there's nothing for carnivores, and beyond a couple of salads, little for strict vegetarians.

While the cost of procuring sustainable fish can be expensive, prices are reasonable at Sea Salt. The most expensive items on the menu top out at $20, including steamed lobster on a torpedo roll. Nothing gets in the way of the star ingredient, enhanced by generous slatherings of butter that drip from the soft, bready roll with each bite. The sandwich is accompanied by thin, crisp, perfectly fried house-made potato chips. Other items cost less, including a generous heap of steamed Prince Edward Island mussels bathed in a broth filled with sweet peppers, lemon and oregano ($11). The toasted, almost blackened slices of bread arranged on top of the black shells add a smoky nuance to the blend when dunked in the broth.

Sea Salt, which used to house Brick Hut and more recently Cafe Tululah, is located in a gentrifying area of San Pablo Avenue that attracts university types, locals from Berkeley and Oakland and the artsy crowd that owns and supports many of the shops in the area.

The interior of the 75- seat space is long and narrow. Rustic brick walls, wood beams and a sky-blue ceiling play against the skylights, giving an expansive feel to the tight quarters. Regular and bar-height tables line the perimeter, while communal picnic tables run down the center. Seating is also available at the bar near the storefront windows and in the rear around the generous open kitchen. In addition, there's a patio outside with space for 40, especially appealing because the restaurant is open continuously for lunch and dinner.

The nautical theme is echoed in the hollowed-out stones strung on wire to form an open divider between the entrance and the dining room, in the interesting wire fish hanging from the ceiling, and in the ocean blue and green tiles that front the bar, which is topped with polished black concrete.

At peak times, when people are crowded around the door and the bar waiting their turn, waiters -- outfitted in khaki pants and vivid blue shirts that match the accent color on the walls -- look as if they're swimming upstream trying to get to their tables. The staff offers service that has improved on each visit. While their countenance is casual, they know the menu, the mostly imported wine list and are on top of the basics. One night when things got backed up with dessert, they offered us coffee on the house.

While the service has come into its own, the food hit its pinnacle on the first visit, when I was blown away by everything I had. That's not to say it wasn't good on return trips, but I always found a dish or two that needed to be rethought -- tuna tartare ($12) so laden with pungent olives that the delicate seafood got buried; whole prawns ($20) doused in a thick sauce that overpowered the delicate briny crustaceans and rendered them impossible to eat; and grilled ono ($20) haphazardly combined with cream corn and fibrous sea beans.

Those missteps are quickly overlooked because of dramatic leaps in other areas -- delicate cornmeal-fried fish and chips served with a malt vinegar aioli ($16); or pristine kampachi ($13) arranged on a glass plate to resemble fish scales and sprinkled with dices of ripe avocado. Each translucent slice tasted as if it was infused in a lemon marinade that made the flesh even more delectable.

While it may not be as subtle, the clam chowder ($8.25) was also memorable. Chunky with celery, loads of potatoes and bits of clam, the creamy white broth was also redolent of bacon, which magically teased even more seafaring elements from the seafood. The BLT ($11) redefines the sandwich: It's bacon, arugula, sun-dried tomatoes and smoked trout on a soft torpedo roll. The flavors were so pure that I was left salivating for more.

Salads are the only non-seafood items, save for sides such as cabbage slaw ($5) or broccolini sauteed with olive oil, aleppo peppers and garlic ($6). Still, even the Italian butter beans with lemon, olive oil and parsley are served with poached tuna ($10), and of course you'll find white Spanish anchovies on the Caesar salad ($9). My favorite salad, however, is composed of cucumbers, red onions, mint, generous squirts of lemon and chunks of feta cheese.

Paone has created some appealing combinations, particularly in main courses. His wild California king salmon ($19) is pan seared to form a crust that crackles like it was deep-fried and rests on a bed of chopped Brussels sprouts flecked with bacon and topped with a generous ladle of creamed corn. Even though the flavors are familiar, they're combined in a way that makes everything seem fresh. He enhances grilled sturgeon ($19) with rapini and caponata, grills local sardines ($12) and presents them with roasted peppers and salsa verde and pairs rex sole ($12) with capers, brown butter, lemon and parsley.

Cooling and creamy-tart lime frozen yogurt with shortbread ($7) is the ideal way to wrap up the evening. At this time of year, the kitchen also offers seasonal sweets such as a warm pear cake that looks like a puffy fat muffin and is served with hazelnut mascarpone ($7); pumpkin-date bread pudding ($7); and a dense, triple layered chocolate caramel torte ($7).

In this sweet flurry, the evening ends as it begins -- with a sense of discovery, satisfaction and an appreciative nod to Haig and Cindy Krikorian, who continue to deliver high quality without a lot of self-promotion. Now, having pleased the healthy fish eater, they can work their magic for carnivores at T-Rex.

It used to be that just about every wine list in the Bay Area was mostly composed of local wines. That's changing as more and more places such as Sea Salt integrate imports into the mix.

Sea Salt, in fact, features mostly wines from France and Italy. Of the 63 wines on the list, 18 offered by the glass, only 16 are from California.

The one-page list is casually laid out with pithy categories such as "Offshore Sailing: Medium bodied, gently spiced and/or floral," or in reds, "Open Ocean: Deeper, with richer aromas, structure and weight."

While it's not a lot of information, it works as an adequate tip sheet to help diners find a style they like. Fortunately, the staff is well-versed in the selections and can also guide people to wines that go with the all-seafood menu.

In sparkling, there's the refreshing Ruggeri Prosecco ($7.50/$29); in white 2003 Brundlmayer Steinmassel Riesling from Austria ($57), and for more assertive dishes the 2004 Qupe Marsanne ($32). Red wines include lighter offerings such as 2003 Chateau de Puligny-Montrachet Bourgogne ($36) to the 2001 Green & Red Chiles Mill Estate Zinfandel ($45).

However, the pricing is ridiculously high. At most restaurants of this caliber, the restaurants generally mark up the wines around 2.5 times above wholesale; at Sea Salt, it's often 3 or 4 times above.

The one-page beverage list also includes nine beers and a well-rounded selection of non-alcoholic beverages including Doc Brown's celery soda ($2.75), Reed's Ginger Brew ($3) and an excellent lime or lemon press ($3). The waiter brings an ice-filled glass, a pitcher of water and two cruets, one filled with fresh-squeezed juice and the other with simple syrup. It's generally enough to make several glasses.

If you bring your own wine, corkage is $15.

-- M.B.

Michael Bauer is The Chronicle's restaurant critic. E-mail him at mbauer@sfchronicle.com.

Sea Salt 
    2512 San Pablo Ave. (at Dwight Way), Berkeley; (510) 883-1720. 
    Lunch and dinner 11:30 a.m.-10 p.m. daily. Beer and wine. Reservations 
accepted for parties of six or more. Credit cards accepted. Easy street 
parking. 

    Overall:         TWO AND A HALF STARS 
    Food:            TWO AND A HALF STARS 
    Service:         TWO AND A HALF STARS 
    Atmosphere:      TWO STARS 
    Prices:          $$ 
    Noise Rating:    FOUR BELLS 

    Pluses: Fresh, sustainable seafood at good prices. Try the mussels, 
crudo and clam chowder or the BLT with trout. Fresh lime press. Restaurant is 
open continuously for lunch and dinner. 
    Minuses: At times the preparations overpower the delicate seafood. With no 
reservations, you may wait for a table at peak times.

RATINGS KEY 
  FOUR STARS:       Extraordinary 
  THREE STARS:      Excellent 
  TWO STARS:        Good 
  ONE STAR:         Fair 
  (box):            Poor 

  $     Inexpensive:      entrees $10 and under 
  $$    Moderate:        $11-$17 
  $$$   Expensive:        $18-$24 
  $$$$  Very Expensive:   more than $25 
  Prices based on main courses. When entrees fall between these categories, 
the prices of appetizers help determine the dollar ratings. 

  ONE BELL:       Pleasantly quiet (under 65 decibels) 
  TWO BELLS:      Can talk easily (65-70) 
  THREE BELLS:    Talking normally gets difficult (70-75) 
  FOUR BELLS:     Can only talk in raised voices (75-80) 
  BOMB:           Too noisy for normal conversation (80+) 

  Chronicle critics make every attempt to remain anonymous. 
  All meals are paid for by the Chronicle. 
  Star ratings are based on a minimum of three visits. 
  Ratings are updated continually based on a least one revisit. 

This article appeared on page CM - 16 of the San Francisco Chronicle