14 May 9th-May 15th, 2024 phoenixnewtimes.com PHOENIX NEW TIMES | NEWS | FEATURE | FOOD & DRINK | ARTS & CULTURE | MUSIC | CONCERTS | CANNABIS | The bar works in some throwback floral prints, and the patio — more indoors than out — is downright lush, draped in billowing canvas and surrounded by greenery. Add some misters, a little summer heat and a tasty libation, and you’ll have yourself an escapist tropical paradise. It’s a shame the drinks aren’t always up to the task. A calamansi margarita boasts a brilliant Thai chile sting that lingers for 10 minutes, but a boatload of sugar obliterates the citrus, and the drink plays like a fiery glucose challenge. The matcha espresso, despite its coffee-forward composition, somehow tastes like chocolate milk. I take refuge in a quintessentially Japanese whiskey soda and an expertly balanced Roku gin martini. The menu design may be lacking, but the barhands are skilled when you get them off-book. This is typical of the cocktail lists at Flagship’s other ventures, where signature creations range from passable to undrink- able. Crack the food menu, however, and Pyro lays bare the true scope of its ambi- tion. Discontent to sling inexpensive fare to the boozy brunch crowd, Flagship is aiming for a higher culinary echelon with Pyro, both in terms of sophistication and price. There’s plenty to nosh. Those seeking a nibble to pair with a drink will find plenty of small plates to sample. But the small plates are often double the price of full- blown entrees at your neighborhood Japanese restaurant. The mains coming off the grill mostly hover just under the triple- digit mark. To be clear, the prices aren’t inappropriate. Flagship is dipping its toes in ritzier waters, restaurants are expensive to operate these days, and I can only assume the rent in this location is stag- gering. But with higher prices come higher stakes, and therein lies the rub. Japanese or Japanese-ish? When dinner is a full-blown investment, setting expectations can be a tricky task. Pyro self-identifies as “[walking] a fine line between Japanese Izakaya and American Bistro,” which isn’t entirely inapt, but at times it feels less like a description and more like a preemptive defense against sometimes clumsy takes on Japanese fare. Restaurants at the vanguard of progres- sive cuisine have resurrected the old dreaded “fusion” food, but those that find success do it in ways that are elegant, thoughtful and display a deep knowledge of the cultures they’re drawing from. Pyro is not that restaurant. I think it’s important to establish that this is not Japanese food. Japanese- inspired, perhaps. Japanese-adjacent? Let’s go with “Japanese-ish” — content to name-check and exhibit the trappings and flavors of Japanese cuisine without delving too deeply into its cultural underpinnings. There’s nothing wrong with that, per se, and there’s lots here to like. But it’s an approach that tends to produce uneven results. Going in, I’d heard from folks who thought the food at Pyro was delicious and crisply executed, and folks who thought it was an ill-conceived mess. Turns out both camps were right. Cold dishes are hot and cold Tiles of tuna tataki, seared and carefully arranged like stepping stones across a puddle of ponzu and garlic oil, have a low degree of difficulty, but the dish hits the mark. Pyro’s spicy tuna, meanwhile, is a predictable house riff on the obligatory tuna and avocado tower, but it’s sharply presented with a nip of hot sauce, crispy onions and a little herbal lift from minced shiso. My favorite seafood starter, though, probably is the thin curtains of fluke crudo, flecked with black lime and smoked chile and hit with a healthy glug of lusty olive oil. The yellowtail sashimi, on the other hand, deserves more finesse than it receives. It’s messy and indistinct, with the fish lost in a sloppy lake of sauce with thick slices of orange. Taco-shaped hand rolls may be all the rage, but when heavily dressed American-style, the beautiful crisp nori devolves into a soggy, inedible mess. And beef tartare — something that ought to be a layup at a place like this — takes quality beef and drowns it with so much viscous, overpowering aioli that I’m not sure the nature of the protein even matters anymore. Pyro’s “tonkotsu,” beneath the chile garlic noodles, doesn’t resemble any I’ve ever tried. But it’s a flavorful broth, the noodles are a pleasant, nubby variety, and they bear an aggressive shot of chile crisp for those who haven’t yet tired of the hot sauce of the moment. Curry beef noodles, on the other hand, were an unmitigated disaster — a Gordian knot so tangled and clumped you won’t even notice that its sticky coconut sauce bears almost no resemblance to Japanese curry. I channeled Alexander and cut it with a knife. I don’t feel great about it. Hot dishes are mostly hot As an upscale Japanese restaurant, Pyro is maddeningly half-baked. Take it as a steak- house, though, and there’s a lot more to love. Small skewers that come off the grill are smoky and charred, and while I’ve caught a couple of lackluster specimens, they’re usually quite good. The short rib is first braised and then dressed and seared, lending a sizzling crust that’s just delightful. Bits of skin on the chicken thigh skewer render, crisp and sing, particularly when dipped in a bit of raw egg yolk, even if the accompanying kimchi is a painfully salty miss. Steaks, however, are the menu’s centerpiece. The basics are all accounted for. There’s a filet, a New York strip and a bit of American Wagyu, and they’re all well prepared with predictable accompani- ments. But I’m going to cut right to the chase: The most expensive steak on the menu is the one that deserves your attention. A host of swanky Japanese restaurants have opened across the Valley recently. Flagship Restaurant Group, the company behind Pyro, knows how to attract a crowd. Items from the restaurant’s grill are the best bet, including deboned branzino and rack of lamb. (Photos by Dominic Armato and Werk Creative) Higher Stakes from p 13 >> p 17
