I rarely bother to review nightclubs that double as restaurants since the food is usually an afterthought, the prices are absurd, and the attitude is predictably preposterous. The Bancroft Supper Club could have been different.

From all the press material I got, The Bancroft seemed to have had the right intentions in hiring the truly talented chef Tim Andriola of Timo to design the menu and teach the staff to execute it.

Of course, on South Beach there's always a parking issue. But when I phoned I was assured that diners would pay only $10 for valet. Ha! The cocky parker demanded double.

Inside, a bouncy hostess seated us along the catwalk in the middle of the room. It was still light enough to see the sheen on the orange acrylic fabrics tacked to the walls, lending the typically Art Deco lobby the look of a high-school prom night in Delhi. Disco lights swirled.

No sign of the surly French waiter we had met the week before. Ditto his sweet-but-clueless Mexican sidekick or the GM.

And though the PR folks told me that Andriola ``has fulfilled his contract and has left Bancroft,'' we saw him in his chef whites sitting down to dine and then disappearing for long stretches.

Should we have been surprised when the waiter rolled his eyes when we opted for tap water? And when we couldn't summon a single wine we wanted to drink from the generic, California-centric wine list, we requested a by-the-glass list.

No go. Our cheery, Penelope Cruz-doppelganger waitress responded, ``We got Sterling.''

Asked the price by the glass, she shrugged. ``Oh, like nine dollars, I think. Or 10.'' The price on the bill ended up $12.84 before tax, mandatory tip and an ``entertainment fee'' was tacked on.

The upscale menu reads like an Alice Waters cookbook, with loads of sustainable and organic products, i.e. La Belle Farms Magret duck breast with sweet-potato ravioli, poached Alaskan halibut, squid-ink taglietelle with San Marzano tomatoes, Bell and Evan's chicken breast with mushroom ragout and truffle foie gras and lots of local produce, from Paradise farms greens to Key West shrimp.

Chef de cuisine Jamie DeRosa does a commendable job of turning out the bright array of dishes that are marred more by horrendous service and a lame ambience than a lack of skill.

The meal begins with a bizarre amuse bouche of a steaming shot glass of hot, salty chicken consommé, more like a hangover cure than a starter on a sultry tropical night. But we went on to sample an excellent trio of sliders made from drippingly juicy and aggressively seasoned Kobe beef with gruyere cheese on a sweet brioche bun as well as gently fried baby squash blossoms stuffed with an herby mix of ricotta cheese and a stunning yellow tomato puree. Eggless Caesar salad was creamy and rich with a perfect balance of cheese and crunch.

Other standouts include a house-made fettuccini with smoky oven-dried tomatoes, ribbons of wilted local spinach and a creamy sauce enhanced with tangy goat cheese and the added nuttiness of piñolis.

Strong-smelling fish entrees, including a wild salmon and crispy-skinned red snapper, arrived with bright, fresh accompaniments but suffered from a few too many minutes over the flames and perhaps too many days in the cooler.

Enticing sides included a boat of skinny-as-matchsticks fries and pinball-sized roasted beets with their earthy sautéed greens. But with the fries priced at $9, perhaps I wasn't asking too much to want them hot.

Desserts include the usual line-up, but many were not available on our visits. The pineapple upside-down cake, though a bit fridge-worn, was satisfyingly dense and tangy with a sweet caramelized sauce.

On both visits, we were shocked to see that our bill had somehow ambled into the $150 range. But since I had double-checked the website for Primecard (a discount credit card) that morning to be sure Bancroft was participating, I was at least happy to know that we were getting a 25 percent discount.

No such luck. The staff had never heard of such a thing.

I guess I learned another expensive lesson that pedigreed chefs and South Beach nightlife don't mix.

Victoria Pesce Elliott reviews Miami-Dade restaurants. E-mail her at velliott@MiamiHerald.com.

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