Michael's Kitsch-en

The main components of most entrées sampled were adeptly prepared. For instance, there was a crisp, meaty half-duck; a juicy wad of salmon cooked on a cedar plank; and a sizable slab of Mongolian baby-back ribs. All three dishes sweetly stimulated the taste buds and came grandiosely plated — with generally listless accompaniments. The ribs, glossed with Asian sesame glaze, featured a mini hibachi ostensibly to heat the already hot meat, and a Chinese take-out container filled with mushy fried rice. The Peking-style duck, polished with Asian orange glaze, sat atop a nest of julienne vegetable salad and two triangular wedges of sesame-flecked "chilled sticky sake rice." I was tempted to warm the rice cakes on the hibachi, but the crunchily undercooked grains weren't salvageable. Salmon with Asian plum glaze arrived on a cedar plank in a big wok (not "served on fire and still smoking" as the menu promised, which was probably a good thing). The charred wood did imbue the wide coral flakes of fish with pleasantly smoky flavor, which played advantageously against the sugary plum notes. A gingery stir-fry of noodles and vegetables on the side exhibited little finesse.

"Chimichurri skirt steak," fully garlicked-and-herbed, was lukewarm and flaccidly grilled. That the lengthy cut of meat was wrapped around an ear of corn didn't make much sense — the tastes do not meld, and neither can be eaten until the beef is unrolled. I wasn't sure what to do with a fried red tortilla round emerging from a mound of yuca mash, either.

Heftily portioned à la carte sides hit the spot. Penne mac and cheese is an earthy, smoky mash of mascarpone, Parmesan, and smoked Gouda cheeses, with a finishing dash of black truffle oil. Creamed spinach bucked the menu trend by going the light route — a thin cream sauce pooling bulbs of softly roasted garlic and fresh, gracefully wilted bright green leaves.

Richly satisfying, supersweet desserts march to the same whimsical beat as the preceding courses. A sampling of miniatures shines the spotlight on six meticulously crafted pastries, including key lime pie, tiramisu, baked Alaska, and a Milky Way chocolate malt. "Deep-dish Rice Krispies Treats pizza" for four adds a tasty twist to the classic confection via a topping of raspberry coulis and white chocolate shavings (to resemble tomato sauce and cheese). This might be the cure for boring food, but it sure ain't the remedy for obesity.

The service staff is woefully undermanned. Our harried waiter performed admirably under circumstances that included having to cover too many tables, and clearing plates and doing other tasks normally assigned to buspersons — who were in very short supply. Everyone was friendly enough, but there was nobody around to say good night to us. Whether you're spending $30 or, as in our case, $300, it's always nice to be acknowledged on the way out.

Chef Blum knows how to operate a restaurant, so such service quirks will likely be smoothed out over time. Having graduated top in his class at the Culinary Institute of America, Blum is likewise capable of fine-tuning the food — although, in his own words, Michael's Kitchen is "all about the show." The more-is-more style displayed here cuts against my less-is-more leanings, but three years of critical and popular acclaim in Broward, and the crowds cramming into this new 160-seater, attest to there being a considerable number of diners who appreciate Mr. Blum's cuisine and showmanship. A helpful gauge for how you might react is to determine your preference when it comes to culinary influences: Beard and Bourdain, or Barnum and Bailey?