Salty Supper
"Lee, am I crazy? Tell me if I'm trippin'." Lee shook his head with a wry smile on his face.
At that moment our waiter came by to check on our response to the very thing we'd been discussing. "I trust the potatoes are better?" he bowed a little as he asked and looked so earnest.
Maybe if it were a cheaper restaurant I would have sucked it up and ignored the salt-lick parading as mashed potatoes on my plate. But Haven is a little pricey. And my goal is to make sure Lee eats well when he visits. Buzzer sound on both accounts.
"these are still incredibly salty," I tried to look apologetic as I said it. Maybe not apologetic but understanding. Our poor waiter had begun apologizing when we sent the first batch of potatoes back.
It was a shame too, the consistency of them was silken, so silken Lee had trouble registering at first that they were mashed potatoes. Not to mention they had roasted purple and yellow potatoes on top. It would have been a delightful dish, the contrast in textures, the pop of culture to break up all that silken whiteness. But my God, I'm thirsty right now simply thinking about the those potatoes.
And so we sent them back for the second time with me urging our waiter to try them so that he'd know I wasn't trying to be difficult.
He offered us another side and we settled on just the roasted potatoes that came on top, aware all the time that we were almost finished with the rest of our food.
The little gem salad had been fine, nothing to write home about but Lee loved the random dollops of pureed avocado dispersed through the salad and I'll admit the crunch screamed freshness with sporadic bites of paper think radish adding their own bite. But I've never been impressed by little gem salads. The only reason we were eating it is because we ordered the roast chicken dinner - three courses.
Problem two with Haven was my misunderstanding of "roast chicken dinner". To me, that implies an actual chicken. I envisioned Lee and I divvying it up and having leftovers for our lunches. And maybe I should know better, but I have to say that the thigh and leg piece and breast and wing piece that greeted us on a huge earthen platter, moist and delicious as they were, were a paltry offering.Again I stress, delicious, but paltry.
Our final course was a homemade dark chocolate candy bar with stout caramel and almond brittle. Our waiter placed our dessert before us and lined the salt bowl up with the white plate. "It sounds strange but a little bit of sal...". He stopped talking. The poor thing looked flustered and just stared at the plate for a few moments.
"I'm so sorry," he said for the umpteenth time. "It sounded to odd coming out of my mouth just now. I'm sorry."
"No worries," I tried to assure him. "I love the counterpoints of sweet and salty, we'll have to try it." I smiled brightly, Lee's smile slid into one of his hearty laughs. Our waiter blinked, smiled weakly and walked away.
He was right, the salt ramped the dish up a few notches. I'm not a dark chocolate fan, not really a chocolate fan at all, but it was a solid desert.
I've only been to Haven one other time. I went with Karma for my birthday last year and consumed the most delectable gnocchi with oxtail and smoked homemade ricotta cheese. I still talk about that dish. And we had perfectly cooked brussel sprouts in a balsamic glaze. Oddly, I don't remember our main courses but those two thins were vibrant, like last night's homemade focaccia bread fresh from the oven.
I can't deny that Haven generally has good food, and a credit to the service, our waiter confided before we left that they'd all tried the potatoes and agreed they were beyond their threshold for salty and had dumped it and made a new batch. For our troubles they shaved 10% off the bill.
Lee was satisfied. It wasn't the score of previous meals so I'll have to step it up a notch next time he visits.Still, I'm sure I'll eat here again and I'm sure at least one thing will keep me talking about it in the coming year - I just hope it isn't the potatoes!
At that moment our waiter came by to check on our response to the very thing we'd been discussing. "I trust the potatoes are better?" he bowed a little as he asked and looked so earnest.
Maybe if it were a cheaper restaurant I would have sucked it up and ignored the salt-lick parading as mashed potatoes on my plate. But Haven is a little pricey. And my goal is to make sure Lee eats well when he visits. Buzzer sound on both accounts.
"these are still incredibly salty," I tried to look apologetic as I said it. Maybe not apologetic but understanding. Our poor waiter had begun apologizing when we sent the first batch of potatoes back.
It was a shame too, the consistency of them was silken, so silken Lee had trouble registering at first that they were mashed potatoes. Not to mention they had roasted purple and yellow potatoes on top. It would have been a delightful dish, the contrast in textures, the pop of culture to break up all that silken whiteness. But my God, I'm thirsty right now simply thinking about the those potatoes.And so we sent them back for the second time with me urging our waiter to try them so that he'd know I wasn't trying to be difficult.
He offered us another side and we settled on just the roasted potatoes that came on top, aware all the time that we were almost finished with the rest of our food.
The little gem salad had been fine, nothing to write home about but Lee loved the random dollops of pureed avocado dispersed through the salad and I'll admit the crunch screamed freshness with sporadic bites of paper think radish adding their own bite. But I've never been impressed by little gem salads. The only reason we were eating it is because we ordered the roast chicken dinner - three courses.
Problem two with Haven was my misunderstanding of "roast chicken dinner". To me, that implies an actual chicken. I envisioned Lee and I divvying it up and having leftovers for our lunches. And maybe I should know better, but I have to say that the thigh and leg piece and breast and wing piece that greeted us on a huge earthen platter, moist and delicious as they were, were a paltry offering.Again I stress, delicious, but paltry.
Our final course was a homemade dark chocolate candy bar with stout caramel and almond brittle. Our waiter placed our dessert before us and lined the salt bowl up with the white plate. "It sounds strange but a little bit of sal...". He stopped talking. The poor thing looked flustered and just stared at the plate for a few moments.
"I'm so sorry," he said for the umpteenth time. "It sounded to odd coming out of my mouth just now. I'm sorry."
"No worries," I tried to assure him. "I love the counterpoints of sweet and salty, we'll have to try it." I smiled brightly, Lee's smile slid into one of his hearty laughs. Our waiter blinked, smiled weakly and walked away.He was right, the salt ramped the dish up a few notches. I'm not a dark chocolate fan, not really a chocolate fan at all, but it was a solid desert.
I've only been to Haven one other time. I went with Karma for my birthday last year and consumed the most delectable gnocchi with oxtail and smoked homemade ricotta cheese. I still talk about that dish. And we had perfectly cooked brussel sprouts in a balsamic glaze. Oddly, I don't remember our main courses but those two thins were vibrant, like last night's homemade focaccia bread fresh from the oven.
I can't deny that Haven generally has good food, and a credit to the service, our waiter confided before we left that they'd all tried the potatoes and agreed they were beyond their threshold for salty and had dumped it and made a new batch. For our troubles they shaved 10% off the bill.
Lee was satisfied. It wasn't the score of previous meals so I'll have to step it up a notch next time he visits.Still, I'm sure I'll eat here again and I'm sure at least one thing will keep me talking about it in the coming year - I just hope it isn't the potatoes!
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