Spice Safar’s Wilhelm Liebenberg must have very deep pockets or a death wish.

Why else would the Montreal restaurateur recently launch not one, but two high-concept clubland resto-lounges within blocks of each other? Is Toronto really starving for another Buddha Bar-style all-day café/supper club cum late-nite cocktail bar and trendy tchotchke micro-boutique? Isn’t Moroco in Yorkville enough? And why the missing “i”?

There’s no question that both Safars look the part, all low-slung sofas, dramatic crystal chandeliers and fashionably fuzzy toile wallpaper. But look closer and you’ll see the wallpaper’s a photo blowup of the real thing. The food’s like that, too.

The work of former Four Seasons pastry chef Carlo Lazzarino, Safar’s house-baked Viennese pastries – cupcake-shaped sticky buns, blueberry ’n’ ricotta danishes (all $2.95)  – are undeniably attractive but taste mostly of air, the sort of thing you’d find on a cruise ship or hotel buffet. His lacklustre croissant ($2.50) barely becomes a sandwich when layered with a single sheet of tissue-thin smoked salmon, a halved cherry tomato, a handful of alfalfa sprouts and a minuscule amount of lemony crème fraîche ($9.50) before being flattened in a panini press.

One day, the soup’s a creamy butternut squash laced with subtle notes of lemongrass and basil, the next a glutinous eggplant purée that might appeal to those who ate paste in public school (both $4.95 main/$2.95 side).

After dark, the former Avalon slips into lounge mode, its lights ever dimming, the slinky daytime soundtrack of the Gotan Project replaced by a Starbucks Mambo Italiano compilation of Rat Pack classics more suited to an Olive Garden than a swanky Parisian boîte.

We pass on NYC mixologist Miguel Aranda’s lineup of “couture” cocktails ($16 molecular Bellini, anyone?)  and order a round of Safar’s signature Red Lattes ($3.95/$3.45 takeout), herbal rooibos tea, steamed soy milk and five-spiced maple syrup instead. No go, our  personable server informs us. The anti-aging elixir is currently unavailable, the recipe still being tweaked, though that didn’t stop anyone from serving us one the day before. A bottle of sparkling mineral water, then. Out of that, too. Tap water it is.

Learning that chef Matthew Sullivan has worked for controversial UK celebu-chef Heston Blumenthal at the three-Michelin-starred Fat Duck outside London, we drool expectantly over his short tapas-inspired card. Sadly, what arrives on our plates makes us wonder if Sullivan was running the acclaimed beanery’s hat check concession.

A trio of dry-aged sirloin sliders ($11.95) start us off with promise, their house-baked poppy-seed buns the perfect foil for medium-rare beef patties, tomato tapenade and truffled aioli. Simple skewers of unusually juicy chicken satay in a vaguely Malaysian coconut sauce ($8.95 for three) leave us wanting more, but we don’t finish soggy gyoza-like dumplings stuffed with spuds ’n’ mild ricotta in bitter yuzu ($6.95 for five).

A lidded Moroccan tagine lifts to reveal four spoonfuls max of Ontario lamb shank tenderly braised with raisins and what the menu describes as “market vegetables” but we call onions. Hardly enough for one person, let alone shareable, it’s unnecessarily overpowered by a too sweet peach chutney ($9.95 with grilled focaccia).

We have our hearts set on Safar’s “couture patisserie” and “palette cleansing foam” dessert platter ($14.95 for three), but are told the foam machine’s not working tonight. In its place, we’re comped miniature Mason jars of rubbery panna cotta ($4.95) topped with blackberries and tapioca pearls before finishing with serviceable espressos ($3.25) sided with bite-sized biscotti and, miraculously, shot glasses of sparkling mineral water.

Spice Safar might be a cute spot for a romantic drink and perhaps a nibble, but there’s nothing particularly spicy or adventurous about it.

stevend @nowtoronto.com