Sage Grill co-owner Josh Blackman describes his restaurant as being in the “mid-market” category, meaning that it’s neither fancy nor fast-food. In today’s ailing economy he’s at an advantage, for it is these types of eateries that might best survive the slump as budgeting consumers sacrifice filet mignon for tri tip, duck confit for rotisserie chicken, lobster for cod, or God forbid, even more modest-priced meals for fries and McNuggets.

Hidden behind a Taco Bell in the Village Square II plaza in east Encinitas, the structure appears from the parking lot like a Denny’s or Coco’s, despite a bed of tall flora adorning the front. Inside, you’re greeted at the right with a cocktail bar and a raw bar stocked with iced, fresh fish. To the left is an expansive and immaculately clean dining room furnished in hickory wood flooring with artsy, enlarged photographs of spiral staircases strewn throughout. There isn’t much else in the way of non-franchised restaurants in these necks, which gives Sage an added competitive edge.

Compared to my initial visit shortly after it opened in 2004, some of the dishes tasted lackluster while others maintained the same enthusiastic level of execution I remember from before. Arriving with a chef from a popular San Diego restaurant, we agreed straight down the line on the winners, near-winners and the losers.

Hawaiian poke from the seafood bar tasted as though the fish was skinned, cleaned and filleted only moments before it was served. Dressed in basic soy sauce and sesame seeds, a full-blown, citrusy ponzu would’ve better complimented the dish. Nonetheless, you get a generous portion for only $12. As with all of the fish and seafood from the raw bar, it arrives daily to Sage within 24 hours after it’s plucked from the ocean.

Cilantro shrimp skewers were full of vitality, thanks to a copious slathering of superb-tasting cilantro sauce over them, of which my companion commented, “I could eat a lot of different foods using this sauce.” The only problem was that too many cilantro stems ended up in the mixture, resulting in a somewhat grassy texture.

Soups rotate every couple of days in addition to daily specials. The latter was tomato and watermelon gazpacho, a valiant effort balancing acidity from the heirlooms with the sweet, alkaline pith of the melon. The watermelon here revealed more discernible sweetness compared to its muddled counterpart in a martini that the bar sent out. But that’s watermelons for ya’; their sugar content wavering dramatically from one to the other. Feisty and enjoyable was the “Tuesday & Thursday” soup, corn and green chile bisque built from chicken stock, but we couldn’t help but think that it tasted like a sauce to enchiladas or chile rellenos. And as my companion pointed out, a hunk of cornbread would have perfectly clenched the deal.

The grill’s tri tip dip sandwich is worthy of blue ribbon honors if presented at a cookoff in the Santa Ynez Valley, where for more than 100 years generations have treated this cut of beef with dry rubs of garlic, sugar, paprika and herbs before hitting the flames. Sage Grill pays homage to the region’s tradition in entrée form as well, using a delicately flavored rub that enhances the meat’s integrity. We ordered the sandwich, which brimmed with cubes of the tender, hormone-free tri tip layered inside fresh ciabatta bread. The accompanying au jus, made from powder we suspected, didn’t thrill us quite like the creamy horseradish sauce did. But cast aside either and the sandwich stands very proudly on its own.

One of the entrees I tried when eating here in ’04 was miso black cod, which has rightfully earned signature status among the denizens since then. The latest head chef, Adam Griffin, has tweaked the recipe a bit by adding more sake to the glaze and reducing the sugar. It’s still cloying, but as with all butterfish, their abundant oils match swimmingly to sweet augmentation, as evidenced by the brevity in which my companion wolfed down the thin filets.

Conversely, my entrée sang the blues, a half spit-roasted chicken served with anemic rubbery skin, gummy bread stuffing (herein lies the restaurant’s namesake herb) and room-temperature veggies. I’m not sure what happened to the honey-pepper glaze listed on the menu, but even to the touch, it simply wasn’t there.

Salvation would come in the form of triple-layer chocolate mousse cake and an excellent white chocolate bread pudding that boasted the density and wetness of recipes from the South.

Sage Grill focuses on fresh, organic ingredients that get turned into “everyday cuisine for neighborhood people,” as Blackman summed up. Service teeters between casual and detailed. And the menu pickings are plentiful – salads, burgers, pastas, seafood, grilled meats, wine and cocktails, all constructed less generically that what you’ll find at the nearby chains.