Text 20119, 107 rader
Skriven 2014-12-04 15:35:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: trip 395
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Dinnertime: the facility has notoriously poor food options,
so I reserved at Pamplemousse, a storied eatery beloved of
the likes of Bobby Darin, who apparently suggested the name
after his favorite fruit. Beforehand, I did a bunch of
reading and sort of knew what to expect, well, maybe not,
as the words seemed very mixed so the Zagat number of 28 was
a bit strange.

The best thing is that it's only a couple blocks from where
I was staying. I arrived right on time and was promptly
ushered to a table by the restroom entrance and directly
under the Muzak loudspeaker. I didn't complain, rather
liking the dark corner aspect (and only a couple times were
the restrooms used), and after the water boy came over and
was rejected, my waiter tripped up to the table. Was this
the famous Kiefer, so reviled by the Internet crowd? No, his
name was Perry, and other than his odd way of stomping
around and the fact that he had to go back to the kitchen to
check when a neighboring couple asked what a tournedos was
turned out to be perfectly pleasant. 

Kiefer eventually showed up, wearing far too much cologne
but otherwise harmless, and to be fair to him, he stayed
outside noseshot when food was on the table.

From the Internet reviews I had steeled myself to numerous
iterations of Edith Piaf whining about her terrible life; I
was instead submitted to an hour and half tape of Broadway
favorites; in one of his essays, Seymour Britchky pokes fun
at restaurants that attempt classiness by piping in music
such as "Casta Diva on muted trumpet" - I'd not experienced
quite this type of joint. Anyhow his experience wasn't quite
congruent - here it's Loverly on muted trumpet.

Not being into baskets of crudites, I warned Perry that I
would reject any such that came by, despite their being on
the prix fixe. Shortly afterward, Kiefer came by tut-tutting
about how I'd not gotten my crudites. Come on people, I'm a
regular enough guy.

I started with escargots in garlic, a slightly unorthodox
version, the snails fresh out of the can (not rinsed, bad)
in beurre blanc with a vast amount of minced garlic (not
bad); contrary to what the reviews say, this was fresh, not
from a jar. The menu had promised a touch of Pernod. I can
assure you that if there was a touch, it was of the outside
of the bottle. As I didn't see an appropriate wine by the
glass for this course, I had a Heineken dark, which went
okay, with its maltiness and almost total absence of hops.

Next course: pamplemousse granita with Champagne floater -
I like grapefruit, and I sort of like Champagne. In this
case the frozen concoction seemed to be straight Ocean Spray
Ruby Red cocktail (my friend Alex, more later, later suggested
from my description perhaps Thirster Foodservice, but I
pointed out that Thirster tastes better), the Champagne
dubious and well outside my frame of reference.

I got a glass of Radius Cabernet, for which on subsequent
inspection of the bill it turns out they overcharged me a
buck, meaning that I paid over glass for bottle, which makes
me hopelessly stupid or them criminally avaricious or both.

The five or six main courses included duck and other faves,
but I went with a standby that nobody could possibly screw
up, tournedos bleu - this was supposed to come with Perigord
sauce (described on the menu as Cognac, demiglace, and
truffles). I'd stake my reputation on that neither Cognac
nor truffles nor for that matter a proper demiglace had ever
come within spitting distance of this sauce, which tasted
like diluted and thickened Maggi: a stickier version of the
odious "au jus sauce"; luckily, it was on the side.

Unluckily, the steak (a substantial portion, two filets of
4 and 5 ounces) was way overdone. I brought this to Perry's
attention, and he reported that he had told the cooks to
make it very rare but was apprehensive that they hadn't done
so. The meat was for me on the borderline of edible, so I
successfully negotiated for a glass of Warre's Warrior in
return for not sending the whole mess back. I did clumsy
surgery on my food, eating all the red parts, and left about
a burger's worth shredded on my plate.

On the side: pretty good frites, though cooked in not the
freshest or best of oils.

My dessert was souffle au chocolat (25 minutes extra); it
was appropriately puffy but not chocolaty enough; it was
extremely firm, though the defects were remedied in part
by a scoop of "homemade" vanilla ice cream and one of what
Perry identified as "whipped chantilly." The remainder of
the Radius Cabernet (which had been an impossibly full
pour, surface tension being all that kept it from dumping
when Perry brought it) actually went okay with the thing.

He watched nervously as I tasted and delicately inquired
how it was. I replied, "put it this way ... he may not know
how to make a steak, but he makes a pretty good souffle."
Perry laughed with relief.

When the bill came, the Radius cost $1 more than the menu
said. I just took $1 off the (formerly 20%) tip.

Back to the hotel, where it turns out the bed was comfy,
and - a big plus - the room reasonably quiet.
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