Unity
Executive Chef
We took our son's family out for Christmas Eve dinner at the top-rated restaurant in Monterey CA, Montrio Bistro, which occupies a historic downtown Monterey firehouse and boasts a mix of French, Italian and American cuisine.
The menu item that caught my eye was "Prime Smoked Sirloin, whipped potatoes, with asparagus, tomatoes and balsamic-veal reduction."
So I asked the waiter, "Tell me about this smoked sirloin." He said the chef smokes it blue-rare over wood chips, then grills it to order. He didn't know anything else. Curious, I ordered it, medium rare.
The balsamic-veal reduction was a little stout. The side veggies were not very attractive either to eye or palate. But the steak wasn't bad. I couldn't taste the putative smoke, and the reduction it was floating in masked the meatiness more than I would have preferred.
When it was first served, my 5-year-old granddaughter said, "Oh, that looks good!" Later she admitted that she thought the potatoes were whipped cream.
That night I had the worst headache I can remember. Aspirin wouldn't touch it, and I couldn't sleep because of it until around 3 am. It had to have been something about the food. The part I've already described? The salad? The dessert? I'll probably never know what caused it. I'm glad it went away.
--John 8)
(People didn't look at me too strangely when I took pictures of my plate. )
The menu item that caught my eye was "Prime Smoked Sirloin, whipped potatoes, with asparagus, tomatoes and balsamic-veal reduction."
So I asked the waiter, "Tell me about this smoked sirloin." He said the chef smokes it blue-rare over wood chips, then grills it to order. He didn't know anything else. Curious, I ordered it, medium rare.
The balsamic-veal reduction was a little stout. The side veggies were not very attractive either to eye or palate. But the steak wasn't bad. I couldn't taste the putative smoke, and the reduction it was floating in masked the meatiness more than I would have preferred.
When it was first served, my 5-year-old granddaughter said, "Oh, that looks good!" Later she admitted that she thought the potatoes were whipped cream.
That night I had the worst headache I can remember. Aspirin wouldn't touch it, and I couldn't sleep because of it until around 3 am. It had to have been something about the food. The part I've already described? The salad? The dessert? I'll probably never know what caused it. I'm glad it went away.
--John 8)
(People didn't look at me too strangely when I took pictures of my plate. )