f dipping a slice of Merguez Sausage into a puddle of mustard and washing it down with a glass of Merlot sounds appealing (North African sausage connoisseurs and oenophiles for example), then head to Riverside's latest entry, Citizen. Four letters shy of the famous AFI #1 movie pick of all time, this new restaurant was indeed born of idealistic social service with aspirations to provide the ‘hood (and local citizens) with a refined alternative to Pizza Pizza. But, like Mr. Charles Foster Kane, could it crumble under the pursuit of power and ego while vying for the currently hot Queen and Broadview It Spot title amongst new entries like Burger Shoppe, The Comrade, Soma and the upcoming Prohibition?

With the magic of Restaurant Makeover, Rod Bowers has reformed what was once the Riverside Café into a little boite with the intentions of a neighbourhood bistro, yet not quite a destination restaurant (in contrast to Jilly’s, a true destination “restaurant” for a kind of visual feasting). The RM formula evidently has been employed here with a mildly warm décor and a lighting philosophy designed for cozy dinner interludes.

The brick walls and chocolate-brown shades are warming enough, but there's something soullessly generic about the space (the lack of heart being a common affliction among the power-hungry). A bit of an anticlimax, considering the entire design process was filmed for its televised before-and-after glamour story (though I’m getting really excited for the sequal!). While Citizen is neither spacious nor stylish, it does have dark design schematics and warm woods forging a quasi-Scandinavian appeal that’s more polished than its forebear.

On the street-front deck (an excellent perch for taking in the “eclectic” QB sights) as the music shifted from R&B to top 40-ish beats, we let the efficient staff take us on a tour of the cryptic menu, of which items are filed under eponymous headings like "Chef-Boy-RoDney" (pastas), "Mom, I'm Hungry" (tapas plates) and "The Last Supper" (entrées) that leaves an odd taste in your mouth (though you’ve yet to order your meal). Clearly this is an indication of the class-factor you should expect here, though I’m sure many respectable citizens have dined on Chef Boy RD at some point in their lives (even if it was during the budget college years when canned pasta lined the cupboards).

Standouts on that brief but enticing menu (there are merely three or four options under each heading) include a tender Roast Pacific Halibut ($21.00), smartly outfitted with a savory salad of watercress and watermelon. The Spanish mackerel, served with potato salad and a lovely side of pickled beets, is moist and melting, breaking into silky sections instead of the dreaded flakes.