Primitivo is conspicuous only in its attempt to impress. Like many ersatz Mediterranean-style restaurants found in Los Angeles and New York it caters to the 30-something chattering class with credit cards rather than money and to those who need to be seen; finally do that desperately needed business deal, or to be quickly married off before they are forced to admit being forty. \r
Ambiance borders on loud and gaudy, sealed with a blearing collection of art, plastic chandeliers and dim lighting that hints at sleazy. Service, while friendly and well meaning, is grindingly slow and poorly supervised, especially at the busiest times when organization and good management are of paramount importance. \r
The wine list is extensive, and of the three I tried, all appeared to have been stored properly and were acceptable, if somewhat unreasonably priced. \r
The food unfortunately is an exercise in the mundane. The restaurant specializes in tapas, -- (Many years ago in Spain a glass or jar of wine was served covered with a slice of either smoked ham or cheese for guests to soak up the alcohol they had drunk with something solid. This was the origin of the tapa, a solid food that covered the wineglass and a word now rooted in Spanish tradition.)-- essentially a Spanish bar snack. I tried four dishes with an average price of $12 - $14 and portions that obviously had not been introduced to the adjective, generous. However, they were nicely presented; the two cold tapas were undeniably cold as were the two hot dishes. The Artesianal Cheese plate came with a routine selection that had not been allowed to mellow and rise to room temperature. The Tiger Shrimp failed to growl and appeared to be frozen rather than fresh. All in all, a place for the poseur rather than the gourmet, or indeed anyone seeking a food experience outside of that which could be created in ones own living room with some candles and an assortment from the Trader Joes frozen section.
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