Datebook Diner: Market Cafe fries sate tater fan

The inside of Gateway Market Cafe. (Credit: Holly McQueen/The Register)

Preliminary visit, not yet rated.

If there is a restaurant that defines Des Moines' past, present and perhaps what so many of us want it to ultimately become, this could be it.

It's a confluence, a venue where Des Moines north joins Des Moines south, where Sherman Hill liberalism mingles with downtown conservatism, and where some of our city's best culinary creators set a table for some of the country's best eaters.

Space: Ubiquitously urban-contemporary, but smartly garnished with fresh-faced charm, Market Cafe gleams with comfortable friendliness.

Shiny, chrome-trimmed tables, cozily spaced, utilitarian can lights, self-serve beverages and a walk-up ordering center make the space as pleasingly democratic as a school cafeteria - except Market Cafe has white fabric napkins and good food.

Patio dining needs work. Although the outdoor aroma of house-smoked meats was great, being surrounded by dried-up plants gave what could have been a pretty setting a parched and neglected quality.

Service: Service, being of the fast-casual school of hospitality, is efficient and well-organized, but unmemorable. Fast-paced, time-deprived customers would rather chat with tablemates than fritter precious minutes on overly attentive servers. Everybody works hard here, and thanks to their efforts, a one-hour lunch is doable.

Menu: This is melting pot cuisine at its finest. Asian, Latin, Italian and Caribbean selections vie for attention, along with American regional specialties, such as Shrimp Po-Boys, KC-Style Burnt Ends BBQ and Open-faced Meatloaf Sandwiches.

Diet-conscious eaters nibble salads while their antithesis groove on gravy. Asian fans slurp ramen while Italian lovers gorge on lasagna. Kids munch macaroni while parents crunch cucumber salad.

Be sure to try: If given a choice for my very last meal, I would choose french fries. Not caviar, truffles nor braised Belgian endive. At Market Cafe, I experienced french fry nirvana.

This kitchen knows the secret to creating perfect fries and the work they demand. Treating potatoes with the honor and pride they deserve, chefs hand-cut fresh, starchy potatoes, then subject them to two trips to the fryer. The first pass for blanching occurs in 300-degree fat. After quick-chilling, they make a triumphant return to hotter fat to acquire the crispy, golden crust that epitomizes the perfect fry.

Nobody in town goes to this much trouble for the world's most humble food. This attention to detail is apparent on most the other dishes as well.

Bottom line: If there is a restaurant that defines what so many of us want Des Moines to become, this could be it.

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