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Cinema Grill
315 Mohican Street
602-7800

by Les DuLunch

Back when humankind first began evolving into awareness, earth, wind, and fire were identified as the surrounding world's three basic elements. Now, in our highly evolved and enlightened state, those fundamentals have been replaced by a new set: comfy chairs, food, and passive entertainment.

Certainly, I am most content when ensconced deep in the smooth folds of a leather recliner, giggling at the silly sitcom antics of Karen & Jack over a steaming mound of cheese grits or a bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats. Of course, curling up in your favorite chair and dribbling milk down the front of your shirt while basking in the glow of the modern hearth is one thing when you're safe in the privacy of home, but quite another when in public.

But Cinema Grill now fearlessly allows folks like me to carry the couch potato impulse beyond the boundaries of the living room. Located in the former Homberg Place home of Knoxville's grooviest movie palace, the Terrace Theatre, Cinema Grill revives the Terrace's original hook of dinner and a movie. In this case, it's second-run films and a surprisingly full food menu.

My friend Olive is a relative newcomer to town, and she'd missed the oddball Terrace atmosphere of creaky seats and out-of-sequence, dirty film reels, so I decided to fill her in on how things used to be. Although Cinema Grill still looks sleepily familiar on the outside, things have definitely changed indoors. The glowing pastel globes that once graced the lobby are gone (removed to nearby Chez Guevara); in their stead are clear Plexiglas ceiling fans. Marbelized countertops, chrome, and angular new-wave wall sconces give the place a comforting Flock of Seagulls feel, while inside the theaters, big, mod pink pleather chairs and bistro tables are terraced to give everyone a good view of the screen.

Cinema Grill's menu is all over the map—literally. Nachos and quesadillas are positioned directly opposite a surprising selection of cheeses from around the world. Italy is represented with two different styles of pizza (and some incredibly creative toppings shake things up even more, like the patty melt, which consists of ground chuck, onions, mushrooms, and tomatoes, covered in Cheddar cheese, or the chicken cordon bleu, with ham, chicken, veggies, and Swiss and Parmesan). Meanwhile, America looms large over the sandwich section, with more Philly cheese steaks, chili cheese dogs, hoagies, grilled chicken, and burgers than you can shake a stick at. The beverage selections are just as epic—there are 20 wines, all available by the glass or the bottle, a fair representation of beers on tap, fruit smoothies, and (ugh) Pepsi products. Oh, and yes—they have popcorn, too.

It's best to arrive a little before the movie begins. Give yourself 20 minutes or so to get settled in and place your order—it'll probably even be delivered by then. Those who are perturbed by even the slightest noise might find the clink of flatware and the inevitable noise of mastication irksome, but it didn't bother me and I courteously ate as quietly as I could, so as not to disturb others while the first reel of Man on the Moon, the tiresome tribute to Andy Kaufman, pioneer of comedia del annoyance, got underway.

Too many eateries underestimate the power of cheese served solo. Cinema Grill's cheeses from around the world offer not only a palate-expanding dairy tour, but an interesting diversion from the normal starter selections. Not to worry, cheese's lower-brow cousin, stick of fried Mozzarella, is also on hand along with the usual pack of trashy relatives, namely chicken finger, jalapeno popper, and onion ring.

Our attempt at patriotism was thwarted by an unexpected absence of American Gouda, so we substituted another cheese of Netherlands origin—Edam, a mild, pale variety characterized by a springy, resilient texture ($6.50). Served with barely-toasted French bread and refreshing red grapes, it was an ideal appetizer—more suited to a garden party than a darkened movie theater. Although I might quibble with the bread choices—the pumpernickel that accompanies the French garlic and herb Boursin would've been better paired with a milder cheese like the one we selected—both Olive and I were just delighted and gave it two thumbs way up.

Unfortunately, the next act fizzled. Temperature is such a crucial element of food. We expect ice cream to be cold and baked potatoes to be steamy hot. Sometimes, surprises are in order—a warm basil vinaigrette over salad, chilled cucumber soup, or cold, hung-over pizza—but they are for the most part rare. Cinema Grill seems to avoid any potential error by serving everything at the same temperature—room.

The barbecued chicken foccacia pizza ($8.95) I ordered was lovely. There were still-crisp leaves of baby spinach...big, juicy chunks of fresh-grilled chicken bathed in a not-too-tangy barbecue sauce that didn't overwhelm, and actually nicely complemented the marinara...but it didn't appear to have been baked quite long enough. Its center was still cool with thin fingers of warmth barely reaching the outer edges, which had somehow managed to crispen, presumably the result of at least some proximity to an oven. Olive's order had the same problem. The smoked turkey sandwich and fat, seasoned steak fries (a pricey $7.25) she had chosen suffered from the same lack of fever. Even the coffee we finished up with was strangely tepid.

Oh well. If you missed the movie the first time, stop by Cinema Grill, but skip dinner and stick with cheese and beer. Otherwise, looks like it's back to Blockbuster, with a detour to Bi-Lo for a can of Pringles and a six-pack.

March 2, 2000 * Vol. 10, No. 9
© 2000 Metro Pulse