a little review of a little bistro: Legume.

Highs and Lows. Magic Meat & Pork Salad.

I had a mixed experience at Legume a little while ago. I loved the space - small, intimate, familial and unpretentious. I loved the service - the hostess greeted me by name when I walked in with my party (wow!), and the waiter was informative-but-not-snotty, prompt-but-not-pushy, and seemed like a nice guy in general. The food, however, was a mixed bag.

I will start by saying that I thought that only one of the two appetizers we ordered was worth eating, and that the portions for both were very small for the price. In a town where nearly everything is supersized, I can appreciate a degree of restraint. However, I would typically imagine that two apps to be shared among four people is more than enough to start a meal. In this case, they were both smallish. We ordered a fig and fruit and cheese dish that was tasty and bright, albeit simple. It was fine but unspecial, but (and as a general theme for our entire experience at Legume), the ingredients really shined.

The second app was what I can only describe as a ham salad. Pork rillette turned into toast points containing what tasted like Hellman's mayonnaise diluted with bits of unseasoned canned ham. Like, the kind wrapped in paper with a little devil on the package... Blech. I hated it and felt like I was being served an attempt at recycling a bad leftover. I think I actually spat it into my napkin. Just not worth the effort to chew it.

So I was kinda feeling bummed and unenthusiastic when my entree arrived.

Good thing that it cheered me right up, as the wafting earthy smell of butter and mushrooms and thyme rose from the enormous bowl of steaming goodness set before me and defrosted my critical little soul.

I was served a house-made wide noodle with braised Kobe beef. The fatty marble of the meat had fully rendered away during the long cooktime and yielded an amazingly soft, aromatic, soul-warming treat atop the flavorful and rustic pasta. The pasta was toothy, buttery, and just plain good. The sauce was simple, homey and mild, and the vegetables (mostly mushrooms) were tender and tasty. I think it is a real trick to turn a one-bowl meal of comfort food into a gourmet experience, but Legume did it in a way that felt effortless with this one. A winner.

(and it reheated very nicely the next day, the serving was too big for me to finish as the dish is quite rich and hearty. I added a touch of beef stock, tossed it in a skillet, heated it all through, and served it over some parsnip puree with a micro-poached egg on top. The kind of brunch meal that makes you just feel nourished in a genuine way. nummy!)

A salad of lovely mixed greens and a tangy dressing rounded out the meal, I was too full to enquire about desserts. Wine was b.y.o.b. which I loved.

All in all, I liked Legume, I loved the space and the service, and I would go back. Next time, I'll skip the apps and order dessert. If you try it, I hope you'll let me know how it went. And if you see this tiny girl taking mental notes in this tiny bistro, be sure to say, "hi." Legume is that kind of a friendly place, perfect for a cold night with friends.

Nine on Nine - Part Two

This is part two of my review of Nine on Nine. Part one appears below.

So, after we had drinks (well, we ordered drinks, I will confess that mine was too unpalatable to drink, and the server took it away without offering me anything else even though it was 80% full. Frankly, it was flavorless and just not worth the calories)...

For an appetizer, we went for the “Filet on Filet” - an obvious and lame play on the name of the restaurant. We were served a sad, bland pile of macerated meat (without onion, egg, capers, lemon... ) dressed with some greens atop some slightly dried-out-on-the-edges halfway-to-braseola pieces of meat. For a mostly-vegetarian, it is rare that I order beef, but as some of you may know, I prefer my meat raw if I am going to eat it. The quality of the ingredient was there, but the flavor was so bland, I actually asked the waiter to bring me some lemon. The addition of acid really improved the dish.

Freebie #2 (freebie #1 was the amuse, in part one) was then presented as an intermezzo of “watermelon soup” which was a shotglass of room-temp watermelon puree with water and a bit of mint.

I pondered the cosmic question: spit or swallow?

It was repulsive. I admit that I spat it out at the table, manners be damned. It was that nasty.

Now for the piece de resistance: for my entree, I ordered the barramundi. By eavesdropping on a nearby table (populated by loud marble-mouthed yinzers, but hey, they got service so they clearly know something I do not) I learned from their server that the barramundi was supposed to be served with a house-made saffron-tinged pasta and kalamata olives, and topped with fennel. Right up my alley. So I ordered it. What I was served was a major disappointment. The fish was just slightly overcooked, but it was flavorful and served with a crisp skin that I appreciated. The fennel was nicely seasoned and absolutely delicious. And that is where the praise ends. Where were the olives? (I will confess to you that when I altered and reheated the leftovers – which were at least 85% of my dish, I did find one (one olive!) the next day). But the biggest let-down was the pasta. It was painfully undercooked and cold.

House-made pasta! For you at home who have never made pasta, I will share that the reason I was so stunned by this is that homemade pasta is so naturally moist, you just flash it in salted boiling water until it is heated through, and typically worry about overcooking it – so, how in the realm of the laws of physics and the culinary universe they managed to undercook it, well, I will never know. And I am no pasta pussy. I understand the concept of al dente. It just was an unflavored (not a sprig of saffron, I would testify - mystery ingredient #2), dry, cold, stiff, inedible mass. To be sure I wasn't being overcritical, I fed a bite to Todd, who exclaimed, “ew. what was that?”

What was that, indeed?