To commemorate 4 years spent not killing each other, the Everyman and I visited Splendido for our anniversary on Monday night.
It was a blustery night, full of fierce winds and drifting snow, but once we entered the dining room the outside world was forgotten, until the table next to us (a mother and son) began kvetching about all manner of nonsense at a fairly audible level. We were lucky that they left before we were halfway through dinner, because they certainly made quite the racket and distraction to our romantic intentions.
To keep things interesting, shortly after we arrived Conviction chef Marc Thuet and his wife sat down at the table behind us, ushered in on a cloud of stale cigarette smoke and dour French arrogance. They seemed to enjoy the food but every time I glanced over, they certainly looked miserable. Such is the life of a minor celebrity, I guess…
At our table, the lovely meal began with a proffering of bread, grissini and hummus, as well as a finger bowl of olives. The Everyman enthusiastically consumed the hummus, while I tentatively nibbled an olive.
Now normally I don’t care for olives at all, but I always make a point of trying them when they are presented to me because as I’ve learned many times before, you just never know when your tastes are bound to change. As it happens, my aversion to olives took a flying leap that evening as I greedily sucked on the briny, meaty flesh. Even the small black olives that accompanied the massive egg-shaped green ones were appealing to me and before I knew it, the tiny teaser plate of house-cured beauties was gone.
Before I had a chance to get too wistful about their disappearance, our appetizers materialized. On my end of the table a charcuterie board was laden with treats, including sliced bread, the “legendary” fois gras and liver mousse, crispy pig’s ear ribbons with gribiche, an airy, whipped pig fat, grissini wrapped in prosciutto, slivers of guanciale, chorizo coins, and clove-scented sausage. If the plate had any shortcomings, it would be the paucity of bread compared to the # of items that required a vehicle to be spread on. The 3 small slices did not make it very far, and by the time I got to the whipped fat I was reduced to sampling it with the end of my finger, rather than a crisp piece of toast as I’m sure they’d intended. Regardless, it was a complexly calculated plate, made all the more delicious by the inclusion of the pig’s ear, whipped fat and mousse.
Over on the Everyman’s side, a smooth and creamy bowl of potato soup was enriched by shreds of duck confit and little whorls of truffle foam. He really quite enjoyed the dish, but the spoonful that I sampled did not agree with me, as there was a crisp component (if memory serves correctly I believe it was apple or celery brunoise) that I didn’t particularly care for. But I wasn’t the one eating it, and he finished it quickly enough, so it must have been relatively delicious to disappear so hastily.
For my main I’d opted for a rabbit and chanterelle-topped pappardelle that the annoying table beside us had been eating when we sat down. I hadn’t needed to know the contents of the dish or the size, (appetizer or main) I’d just discreetly gestured to our server that I wanted exactly what she was having in the same portion size. It didn’t disappoint, and included a generous helping of perfectly cooked rabbit and mushrooms atop the unctuous, housemade ribbons. As exquisite as the flavours were, about half way through the meal I began wishing that it was just a little bit bigger, though it’s entirely possible that it could have been, since even the waiter was unsure whether the plate that madame at the next table consumed was an appetizer or full serving when I’d enquired.
The Everyman’s main was a silky roasted lamb shoulder on a bed of pomme puree and rosemary lamb jus. The lamb was meltingly tender and the puree tasted like it had been prepared in the classic French method (50% fat plus 50% potato) and we both quite liked it, but after a few bites the Everyman lamented that it was a rather one note dish. Once it was on the table, it occurred to me that it might be one of the “safe” dishes on the menu; the type that the kitchen will keep for those who don’t like strange or new or spicy things, but is still pleasant enough. I thought it would have been improved by the addition of another texture, like a crunchy or crispy element somewhere, but who am I to suggest such things? Overall it was technically beautiful, and had we ordered a side “for the table” I imagine that might have solved the textural dilemma.
As the night drew to a close and the snow swirled amongst the glow of the streetlights, I was disappointed to find the dessert list completely unappealing to me. I’d purposely gone for a pasta dish rather than a heavier, meat-centric main because I always always always have dessert on our anniversary but this year it was not meant to be. As the swiftness of the cab whisked us back home, I reflected on the quality and enjoyment of our meal. Splendido is certainly a destination restaurant, though perhaps less so now than it was when David Lee was at the helm. All of the food was fairly tasty, but not what I would call memorable. Every dish seemed to be missing just one thing to elevate it to the next level, though in some cases even I wasn’t sure what that one thing would be. Though I can assure you that we would have enjoyed ourselves no matter where we’d been, I had a slight sense of uneasiness at the end of the night, like perhaps it hadn’t quite lived up to the hype.
It should be said that the service at Splendido is exquisite, and very much in keeping with its old, formal style. Several days after we visited I emailed the restaurant to enquire about the particular variety of olive that had burned into my taste memory, and co-owner Carlo Catallo was only too happy to point me in the right direction of the Cerignola olive from Puglia, which I just happened to find at The Spice Trader. It was a small touch, but one that I will remember long after the memories of this meal fade away.
Until next time…
Tags: Carlo Catallo, cerignola, Conviction, David Lee, Marc Thuet, olives, Purveyors, Restaurants, Reviews, Splendido, The Spice Trader, Victor Barry
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