July 11, to celebrate 8 years of marriage and a ‘romantic’ dinner, the hubster and I come here for a dinner at 9:30 PM so that we can enjoy our dinner as our darling baby K sleeps.
The place looks simple and elegant and has that west village restaurants’ charm to it. The service seems warm and friendly and all.
We order a wine and a cocktail. We get some good house bread and nice butter. We get a great goat cheese and arugula quiche with cherry tomatoes kind of a bite on the house that’s bursting with flavors.
We get our baby carrot and squash salad, split into two plates that’s simple and nice. Tender carrots and a nice dressing. Shaved ricotta (rare, I know), but that’s how they presented it looked great with the shaved cucumber/ zucchini slices. The blueberry ginger dressing was a refresher.
We get our entrees, the hubster ordered a monkfish and I got the only goat cheese ravioli entree on the menu, which looked just too mouth watering. The food arrives and it looks great. So far so good. We taste it. And pop! The high expectations balloon bursts!
We’ll go one dish at a time. Or maybe we’ll play out the sequence. The hubster said his fish was good and warm. But whatever it was laid on was very cold. And that he didn’t like the combination. He said another couple of times to me that he liked the fish but it was an awkward combination of extreme cold and hot. I hadn’t read the description.
In the meantime, I try my pasta. Ravioli. It’s not warm enough. It’s not soft enough. It’s not tenderly cooked. And it’s not tasty enough. The only thing enough in it was the dough – yes, the wrapper was too thick. I was tempted to give a candid feedback when the server would come to ascertain satisfaction.
The server came. He asked. My hubster went first and asked if that is how his dish was supposed to be? Extreme cold whatever that was on the bottom. The server said spaetzle. I was quite surprised to learn it was that, as I thought it should’ve been served hot. The server was equally flummoxed about the apparent mistake on their part. He offered to re-plate, but my hubster doesn’t like wasting food so he denied.
The server seemed a bit embarrassed and didn’t ask me again how my food was. Even if he did, I wouldn’t tell him now that mine was bad. Again, that’s us. I know, I should’ve, because I wasn’t lying. But I also didn’t want to appear like a cheapskate. I mean the hubster’s dish was a genuine mistake and my ravioli could’ve been the way it was.
Anyway, it was a big disappointment. So much that I ordered only one dessert instead of two, that I usually would, from a nice place. OK, I’ll stop being a drama queen 😉
The mascarpone cheesecake with macerated tristar strawberries was a hit with us. The elderflower granita was subtle, but those caramelized style chunks of pistachio were too good and a great crunch to the creamy cheesecake.
Come the check, thought I, out of courtesy, they would take off the hubster’s dish off that, but they didn’t. I mean they got him warm spaetzle on the side, but still. If not that, probably a dessert on the house? Sometimes, I’m confused with the hospitality and restaurant industry services! Mistakes happen, I understand. I’d been happier and less grumpy here in my ranting here had it been taken care of in a better way 🙂