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?

A little about me

I figure that there is little point of my blasting the blogosphere (who the hell came up with this word?) with my foodie opinions and musings about Pittsburgh without first offering a sense of who I am, and why you might care about what I think. So, here're my qualifications:

I have none.

Which is precisely why you should care. I am not paid by advertisers, I am not the e-whore of a friend in the local restaurant biz. I'm just a girl in the world, as Gwen Stefani said so many years ago. I moved to the 'burgh about a month ago from a larger, northeastern city. And I will confess to you a few truths about me: I am a food snob. I am very choosy about what I eat since I watch my weight like it's my job. I have a nature-given extremely accurate sense of smell, and as a result, my palate is extremely accurate - both a blessing and a curse. I am a self- (and mommy-) taught high-end home chef with a passion for great ingredients, and I am impressed by creativity and thoughtfulness in preparation (so long as flavor isn't sacrificed). I've been exploring "molecular gastronomy" at home. I care about the nutritional content, eco-sourcing, and integrity of the food I eat. Well, except for Cheetos. Those things are amazing, and we all are imperfect, after all.

Since moving to Pittsburgh, I have been disappointed by the restaurant experiences (as well as a few fascinating cultural and ethnic phenomena) I've had here, as a whole. I keep griping about how totally paid-off and biased the usual sources of snacktime reviews have been (as this can be the only explanation for the high-falutin' crap I have been served by strange and surly waitstaff at the purported finest of Steeltown). So I am trying to do something, however small, about it.

Up next: my review of one of Pittsburgh's top spots, where I had dinner (well, dinner was served to me, but more on that later) last night. Nine on Nine, I hope you are reading. 'Cuz dinner sucked.

Steeltown Girl on Saturday Night...

I hearken back to Flashdance and sing along... "just a steeltown girl on a saturday night..."

This newly minted Steeltown girl likes to eat out - I am just kinda lazy and am not always up to cooking. I also enjoy a leisurely dinner with friends. So when I recently relocated to Shadyside, one of Pittsburgh's more chic neighborhoods, flush with well-reviewed dining hotspots, I figured I would never lack for a hip place to eat.
but
then I started going out.
and
lots of the food here is bad.

or, worse than full-on bad. I have, to date, only had one meal in Pittsburgh's "finer dining" establishments that I felt was better-than-mediocre.

so I hope that you'll join me as I explore and offer my unbiased reviews of wine, cuisine, and a few other musings as I get to know my new home of Pittsburgh. Just wait... I am no midwestern girl, which is to say that I am not always nice.