By Christy Scannell
SDUN Editor

Back in the ’80s and ’90s, I went to probably more than my fair share of concerts. In 1984 at Loverboy and Joan Jett & the Blackhearts in Dayton, Ohio, my teen friends and I were subject to sweltering heat and pressing crowds due to “festival seating” inside Hara Arena (even though the Who concert tragedy had happened just a few years earlier down the road in Cincinnati, the lesson clearly hadn’t been learned). In 1990 I was at a rainy Elton John show in Indianapolis that resulted in mudslides and bedlam. More recently in May 2008, I missed half of Elvis Costello’s set waiting in disorganized traffic outside Cricket Amphitheatre in South Bay.

My concert history hasn’t been all bad, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve found myself buying fewer tickets. The fun just isn’t worth the hassle, my 40-plus-year-old sensibility has been telling me.

And then I visited Anthology in Little Italy.

“People come here because they want a different experience,” said Michael Miller, Anthology’s director of operations. “We want them to say, ‘Wow, this doesn’t feel like San Diego, it feels like we’ve been transformed.’”

I’m no pushover—like most journalists, my pen leans toward pessimism rather than cheerleading—but Miller got his “wow” out of my companion and me during a recent visit to Anthology. From entry to exit, we agreed the atmosphere was relaxing and refined without being stuffy. I found myself picturing Sinatra and his cronies in one of the white leather booths, clinking cocktails and twirling cigarettes.

That image is no coincidence. Founded three years ago by local real estate magnet Howard Berkson and his wife, Marsha, Anthology is equal parts concert hall and fine-dining restaurant. Howard Berkson devised the combination, Miller said, as he remembered the clubs and music from his native Chicago.

“We really are a traditional supper club,” Miller said about the 300-seat facility. “When they first came around, supper clubs were a live music/fine dining venue. Unfortunately the economy eventually made it so you could either go to a restaurant or to a live music venue, but not both.”

While “supper club” might conjure sleepy jazz acts and sub-par food, Anthology possesses neither. Miller said about half the acts – Anthology is typically booked three to five nights per week – are jazz with the rest falling into a range of categories from pop to Latin to R&B. A recent week’s lineup included Tomasz Stanko Quintet (jazz), Muldoon (British singer/songwriter), Colin Hay (formerly of Men at Work) and Brandon Saller (heavy metal/acoustic).

“If you just trust us and come in, you’re going to have a good time because all the artists we bring in are world class,” Miller said. “The goal of this place is that the artists, guests and sound or music all share the same respect. Musicians aren’t really treated with respect at some of the venues they’re forced to play in with a shallow hall and sound that’s not great.”

Similarly, those seeking to enjoy a concert have also been disregarded, he said.

“People come here because they don’t want to sit on plastic folding chairs, sit on someone’s lawn or sit in a casino. They want to feel the connection between them and their favorite artist,” he said.

Making that link isn’t difficult at Anthology. The first floor includes dining tables and booths plus a bar with seating behind it. A mezzanine level – the club’s premier seating – offers several crescent-shaped booths. Up on the top floor, concertgoers can choose from seats along a rail that include tables for dining or pub tables and booths with a limited view. But other than those limited view areas, the venue’s clever design allows for rather remarkable acoustics and sight.

During my visit I enjoyed a first-floor dining table just feet from the stage. Although the band was playing at full volume, I could still talk to the server without screaming, and the elevated stage provided a good sightline even as servers milled around the room. The cream leather booths and chairs were comfortable, and the service was top-notch, even after the concert started. (See at right for more about the food.)

“Natalie Cole was here and played a few feet away from the audience and then went to the Hollywood Bowl the next night and was 100 yards away from the nearest person,” Miller said. “As she said, there’s no lying to your audience if they’re four feet away. You have to bring the whole show all the time.”

He acknowledged, however, that the various pricing plans and seating areas can be confusing to first-timers.

“You have to choreograph your experience,” he said. “We offer our Tuesday fresh vibe with a $5 cover so people can get familiar with the venue and see how they want to use us. We let our guests choose how they want to do that and what price they want to pay. If this is [an artist] you’re passionate about, invest in a table. If it’s someone you’re not familiar with, buy something more value-oriented.”

General admission tickets, which are deeply discounted and do not include the $15 food and beverage minimum as other tickets do, don’t offer a guaranteed stage view. For those without a view, several monitors provide a glimpse of what’s going on below. Also on the third level: a large outdoor balcony with comfy lounge furniture and bay views, available to all ticket-holders. Although each show is different, pricing can range from $7 per person for general admission to more than $40 per person for a mezzanine booth.

“General admission can become standing but we want to avoid that,” Assistant General Manager Rick Kulander said. “This is a sit-down kind of place.”

Seating is first-come, first-serve, and booths require a four-person minimum. During my visit, people seemed to trickle in beginning at 5:30 p.m. but by the show’s start at 7:30 p.m. most had ordered food and/or drinks. Still, servers didn’t disappear and water refills were plentiful—even some stand-alone restaurants don’t achieve that.

“Our biggest challenge is executing that on a daily basis,” Kulander said. “There are not too many places where you can have really good food and service and then watch a band play instead of just having background music.”

When the stage is empty Anthology offers other ways to please the senses. A compelling sculpture with John Lennon’s “Imagine” lyrics occupies a first-floor wall while paintings of jazz artists grace larger spaces, all complemented by low lighting and a doorway curtain that keeps outdoor light at bay and adds to the interior’s mystique. A chandelier composed of metallic strings of beads and cylinder lights plus a two-story glass wall housing wine bottles dominates the main bar. Hard cement floors work to casualize the cream and chrome theme. It all comes together to offer the kind of elegance that can absorb people in jeans or those out for a more dressy evening.

“It is so beautiful,” said Lisa Jenson, a first-timer who said she had driven down from Escondido just to see that night’s act, The Church. “I can listen to music I loved in college and drink my martini – it just feels so good here.”

Her partner, Eugene Wilkie, put it another way: “Let the ‘kids’ have the slam dance; we’ll take this.”

And that’s what stuck with me about Anthology. As someone who has shied away from the concert experience, I was frankly enchanted with the idea that I could go to a concert sans traffic, parking issues, restroom lines and screaming idiots. Even though the performers were not on my personal top 10, the passionate rapport the true fans had with the band due to the venue’s intimacy was engaging.

When the band went on break, ads for upcoming events at Anthology flashed on the screens. I noticed a singer I admire is coming to Anthology in May—so my friend and I began plotting whom we could invite to join us and where we should sit. That reaction is just what Michael Miller and his staff hope to produce.

“If they’re leaving [Anthology] with a calendar looking at the next time they get to come back, that would be the coolest thing,” he said.

I’ve already ordered tickets for another show so I guess that means I’m still cool—even if I do refuse to fight traffic or sit in a plastic chair to see a concert.

Menu makes its own music

I knew Anthology didn’t serve popcorn and hot dogs, but I’ll admit I was expecting something along the lines of wood-fired pizza and shrimp cocktail for dinner. So imagine my surprise when I opened Chef Eric Bauer’s menu to find locally sourced foodie options such as a salad with Crows Pass Farms arugula and house-pickled red onion and a roulade of Shelton Farms chicken with morels and Meyer lemon sauce.

The choices felt more luxury resort than nightclub nosh. And that makes sense: Bauer’s cooking pedigree includes numerous stops in the Four Seasons hotel chain plus a stint at a five-star Vegas property.

“Eric’s at the Little Italy farmers market every Saturday. He likes keeping everything right from the market,” Michael Miller said.

The result is a seasonal list that could serve light eaters —a “to be shared” section of the menu offers snacks such as Medjool dates ($7), tuna crudo tacos ($11) and veal sweetbreads ($10)—or compel a multicourse extravaganza.

I started with the soup of the day ($9), which was a white bean puree topped with a surprising bit of chopped apple. The sign of a good chef is a good soup, and this one fit the bill. It was served hot, which is a feat in itself for cream soup, and wasn’t overly salty, a typical mistake for amateur soup makers. My friend’s salad with the Crows Pass arugula and burrata cheese ($12) included market strawberries and a golden balsamic vinegar that offered the same savory/sweet contrast I enjoyed in my soup. Delicious warm bread and butter sprinkled with artisan salt were served alongside our starters.

Entrées touch on every protein and more, from steak frites to prawns to vegetarian options such as squash linguini. I chose the New Zealand Bluenose Sea Bass ($26), served with fennel, chickpeas and house-dried tomatoes in a bouillabaisse, and my companion had the chicken roulade ($26) with asparagus and roasted potatoes. While we agreed that our side dishes and the overall presentation were terrific, the fish was slightly overcooked. But judging from the precision on the soup and salad, I’m guessing that was an isolated glitch.

Dessert is another way to “eat” Anthology’s $15 minimum. The vanilla bean and pistachio soufflé ($13) was enough for two but I’m still kicking myself for not ordering the trio of profiteroles ($8), one of my favorite desserts. I also liked the idea of “coffee and cookies,” a smaller sweet treat at just $6.

Even if you don’t eat, there are plenty of tempting liquids. Specialty cocktails ($11 each) are led by the Robinson’s Affair, a twist on a Cosmo but with the addition of honey. The full-bar menu focuses on distinctive bourbons, scotches, ports and cognacs.

I was pleased to see most of the wines by the glass—a full wine list is available—were intriguing boutique labels, such as Hoopla chardonnay ($11) and Malm Cellars syrah ($12). Beers were a bit of a disappointment when 11 choices yielded only two locals—a Karl Strauss and a Lost Abbey. Since San Diego is a hotbed for craft beer, that selection seemed to be an oversight in an otherwise thoughtful array of alcoholic beverages.

Eating and drinking at Anthology are not inexpensive, but the quality fits the price.