Tuck Shop

Tuck Shop (Credit: Cheryl Evans/azcentral.com)

In a world where virtual reality sometimes seems better than the real thing, people routinely fall in love online, a practice I've always viewed with suspicion.

 But now something similar has happened to me, and the object of my affection is Tuck Shop, tucked away in the up-and-coming Coronado neighborhood. On its Web site, there's a flattering picture of the place photographed at twilight, its windows glowing.

The scene: I was instantly attracted to the streamlined, '50s-era building that somehow managed to exude comfort and urbanity at once. After browsing the site and reading the menu, which offers starters, small plates and larger sharing plates, I sensed there could be a real connection. And when I walked through the door a few weeks later, I felt a little jolt of excitement, this time for the warm, softly lit interior.

The Mid-Century Modern décor is expressed in a living room vignette of couches, chairs, lamps and a starburst clock of that era — a birch-paneled soffet running the length of the room, appealing, non-representational art and a wood-carved community table of regular height (no stool-perching required).

Low shelves holding books, magazines, games and toys separate the loungy living room from the dining area, effectively simulating the warmth and clutter of home.

Technically a tuck shop is a small shop selling sweets and snacks in the schools and youth clubs of the UK, South Africa and Australia. But owner-architect D.J. Fernandes, who attended an Eastern prep school that had a tuck shop, felt the name might work well for his cozy concept, and I couldn't agree more.

The food: I've enjoyed tucking into a whole host of things here, beginning with a starter of roasted baby beets tossed in spiced mustard cream ($6). Nice change from the ubiquitous beet salad with goat cheese! Meanwhile, the nosh plate is an appealing assemblage of cantaloupe spears, dry salami, Manchego, crunchy herbed pistachios and cardamom-studded lavosh. Great nibbling with a glass of wine ($7).

Patatas bravas are a variation on the classic Spanish tapa. Usually the spicy brava sauce is stirred into cubed potatoes before service, but here, it's served on the side with thick, paprika-dusted fries, which are even better dunked in accompanying house-made aioli ($5). Panko and walnut-crusted fontina is a snazzy rendition of fried cheese sticks, served with roasted red pepper sauce and cinnamon-accented pear puree. I'm a sucker for good melted cheese, stringing from mouth to stick, so it works for me ($6).

Some of my favorite dishes are found in the smaller-plates section. Panini bites, served on grilled ciabatta from Simply Bread, come layered with creamy taleggio, grilled pear and arugula, drizzled with honey ($7). For two bucks, you can add prosciutto. Medjool dates, stuffed with Schreiner's chorizo and baked with Gruyere are salty-sweet and chewy-gooey at once. I could eat three bowls ($9).

The only disappointment is a delicate salad of baby lettuce, blood orange, shaved fennel and avocado, marred by strong, soupy dressing ($8).

Of the two for-sharing plates I've tasted, I favor citrus-brined chicken — breast, thigh and drumstick, fried to a crackling brown — served with white Cheddar waffles and wonderful braised greens ($17). All crunch, juice and butter, this one. Maple-roasted pork tenderloin, topped with candylike pear crisps, was slightly overcooked, although the flavors were lovely. And I do wish the small bowl of accompanying grits had been made with Parmesan instead of the Gorgonzola that overwhelmed them ($16).

The desserts: The finish offers three choices: fruit, pastry or cheese. Red wine-poached pear, stuffed with mascarpone and served with nuts, was nice but would've been better served warm ($7). Flourless chocolate cake, served in a bowl with spoons, disappeared in a hurry ($7). Everyone receives a free “one-bite postre,” often a tiny ball of chocolate-chip cookie dough, napped with chocolate ganache.