So I have a few things to spout off about but while I am "hard at work" I am lucky enough to be able to present a snippet from my Special Lady on her birthday! Enjoy...
Greetings readers of JAT, this post is brought to you courtesy of MrsBird reporting on a dining outing in Vermont this past weekend. Before I begin, I’d like to make clear that MrBird has a track record of excellent birthday party planning, so this weekend’s experience was rather out of the ordinary.
MrBird proposed a dinner out this past Saturday to commemorate my birthday, but since Sunday was the most grotesque of all holidays, Valentine’s Day and Monday was President’s Day, our first and second choice locations were booked. But he was able to reserve a table at Mary’s in Bristol. Mary’s was a favorite ‘special spot’ during our college years – somewhere good to go when your parents were in town or in the 1 in 40,000 chance you might actually have a date. We haven’t eaten there in year , but it’s a cozy, quaint spot that boasts strong relationships with local farms and providers.
When we arrived there was another couple waiting to be seated. And waiting, and waiting. While I can’t definitely say how long we waited before someone waited on us, it was long enough that two other parties had come in behind us and were also waiting crammed into the restaurant’s entryway. Finally, someone acknowledges us and we make our way to the bar and order some kind of house martini – vodka, Chambord and champagne. Tastes like raspberry soda and goes down easy. Which has its pluses and minuses.
When we are finally seated, the hostess makes a big deal about putting our drinks on a tray to carry them to the table, but then can’t remember whose drink belongs to whom when we are seated. Fine – we live together – no biggie. We order and wait. I’ve long since killed my chambord-tini and I am babbling incessantly about god knows what and desperately awaiting the arrival of my salad. When it comes, it looks like it was made at 3pm that day (it’s now 8:45). MrBird gets a sage gnocchi in a creamy chestnut sauce. There’s no hint of sage anywhere in the dish – it tastes vaguely of sweet potatoes and is brown, though not displeasing. Just kind of brown in color and muddy in taste.
We each order a glass of wine from the totally unimaginative wine list. It’s a generous pour, which is unfortunate, because my white burgundy tastes vaguely metallic. MrBird’s pinot noir is no better. Glad we didn’t get a bottle of either. Meanwhile, the table next to us is having a discernible problem with their shared caesar salad. When the server comes over, they tell her that it’s fishy and gross, and definitively decline her offer of a replacement. Then we overhear, ‘That was the grossest sh** I’ve ever put in my mouth!’ Damn! Adjacent table doesn’t mince words.
Our entrees arrive. I’ve clearly mis-ordered the vegetarian 'korma' which is a plate of steamed vegetables, with a mound of rice in the middle, sitting in a puddle of ‘curry’ sauce. Not unpleasant, the vegetables are at least fresh, but completely tasteless, utterly underseasoned. When I make ‘weeknight’ curry at home using a jar of Thai Taste curry paste, it’s considerably better than this $19 pile of sliced vegetables. MrBird gets a pork loin. He’s underwhelmed.
We skip what will surely be a lame dessert and go home to eat packaged cookies.
Bottom line: This dinner was about as good as what you would get at the JW Marriott or on a Carnival cruise. We won’t be going back anytime soon.
MrBird proposed a dinner out this past Saturday to commemorate my birthday, but since Sunday was the most grotesque of all holidays, Valentine’s Day and Monday was President’s Day, our first and second choice locations were booked. But he was able to reserve a table at Mary’s in Bristol. Mary’s was a favorite ‘special spot’ during our college years – somewhere good to go when your parents were in town or in the 1 in 40,000 chance you might actually have a date. We haven’t eaten there in year , but it’s a cozy, quaint spot that boasts strong relationships with local farms and providers.
When we arrived there was another couple waiting to be seated. And waiting, and waiting. While I can’t definitely say how long we waited before someone waited on us, it was long enough that two other parties had come in behind us and were also waiting crammed into the restaurant’s entryway. Finally, someone acknowledges us and we make our way to the bar and order some kind of house martini – vodka, Chambord and champagne. Tastes like raspberry soda and goes down easy. Which has its pluses and minuses.
When we are finally seated, the hostess makes a big deal about putting our drinks on a tray to carry them to the table, but then can’t remember whose drink belongs to whom when we are seated. Fine – we live together – no biggie. We order and wait. I’ve long since killed my chambord-tini and I am babbling incessantly about god knows what and desperately awaiting the arrival of my salad. When it comes, it looks like it was made at 3pm that day (it’s now 8:45). MrBird gets a sage gnocchi in a creamy chestnut sauce. There’s no hint of sage anywhere in the dish – it tastes vaguely of sweet potatoes and is brown, though not displeasing. Just kind of brown in color and muddy in taste.
We each order a glass of wine from the totally unimaginative wine list. It’s a generous pour, which is unfortunate, because my white burgundy tastes vaguely metallic. MrBird’s pinot noir is no better. Glad we didn’t get a bottle of either. Meanwhile, the table next to us is having a discernible problem with their shared caesar salad. When the server comes over, they tell her that it’s fishy and gross, and definitively decline her offer of a replacement. Then we overhear, ‘That was the grossest sh** I’ve ever put in my mouth!’ Damn! Adjacent table doesn’t mince words.
Our entrees arrive. I’ve clearly mis-ordered the vegetarian 'korma' which is a plate of steamed vegetables, with a mound of rice in the middle, sitting in a puddle of ‘curry’ sauce. Not unpleasant, the vegetables are at least fresh, but completely tasteless, utterly underseasoned. When I make ‘weeknight’ curry at home using a jar of Thai Taste curry paste, it’s considerably better than this $19 pile of sliced vegetables. MrBird gets a pork loin. He’s underwhelmed.
We skip what will surely be a lame dessert and go home to eat packaged cookies.
Bottom line: This dinner was about as good as what you would get at the JW Marriott or on a Carnival cruise. We won’t be going back anytime soon.
5 comments:
No garlic soup? Also, when is Mr Bird not underwhelmed?
Sounds like you really blew it, Mr Bird. Way to treat your special lady on her special day. JB
That is just a sad situation all the way around. At least they didn't give you martinis in a wine glass...
Sounds like you should get a birthday dinner re-do?!?
Birthday dinner re-do? That's just silly talk, MamaBear!
I am getting beat up here... I may just do a nude flex down tonight to make up for it!
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