It's an Art, or, The Difference Between Good and Great

This weekend, my husband and I celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary as we have for the past two years, by spending a few days in Newport, Rhode Island. One of the highlights of the trip, for me, is the wonderful restaurants where we dine. The first year we had dinner at Castle Hill Inn, and immediately declared that to be an annual tradition. The food is magnificent, the ambiance and the ocean view are lovely, and the service is impeccable. This year, we had dinner at Castle Hill our first night, and then our second night we ate at a newer restaurant called The Muse, which is in the Vanderbilt Grace hotel. Like Castle Hill, the ambiance is charming, and the food is magnificent, but the service is…well, let’s say, “unpolished.” It was the difference between a good dining experience and a great one.

For example, at Castle Hill, we had an assistant server who seemed to be relatively new – she was very young and seemed slightly nervous, but she was pleasant, helpful, and knew her duties and did them well. She had obviously been well trained. She cleared plates unobtrusively, made sure our water glasses were filled, and made charming small talk with us as appropriate. At one point when she was clearing, she dropped a fork and was obviously unsure of how to handle it. Her hands were full and I could see her considering whether she should try to stoop down and retrieve the fork, but then I noticed her catch our regular waiter’s eye and he subtly tipped his head to indicate to her to leave it, and he came over and swept it up for her. It was a perfect example of a team working well together, silently communicating in such a way as to not disturb the guests, and efficiently fixing problems.

Castle Hill Inn

In contrast, our waiter at The Muse informed us that he had only been there for a few weeks. He was unfamiliar with many of the bar and menu items, and although he dutifully checked with the kitchen and came back with descriptions, his descriptions were mostly reiterations of the descriptions on the menu and repetitions of the word, “delicious.” I’m sure everything on the menu is delicious, but I was hoping for something more descriptive, like, “spicy” or “tangy” or “the sage in the polenta is very subtle” or “the peach glaze is a bit sweet but it’s a nice complement to the tartness of the cranberry coulis.” He was pleasant enough, and obviously eager to serve, but he was a bit disorganized and the service suffered for it. At one point we mentioned how much we were enjoying the pianist and asked if she had business cards on the piano. Our waiter offered to get us one from the office and even offered to give us one of her CDs, but neither card nor CD ever materialized. My husband’s napkin fell on the floor and the hostess offered to bring him a new one, but after she took the old one away, she forgot to bring the new. When our dessert soufflé and ice cream was served, an assistant server removed our spoons and gave us forks. (To her credit, she later brought me an extra napkin to cover the drips I made on the tablecloth while trying to eat a dessert including ice cream and chocolate sauce with a fork.) There appeared to be no regular bartender on duty, and both the hostess and our waiter seemed to be covering the bar, sometimes to the neglect or at least delay of their own duties.

The Muse at the Vanderbilt Grace

Any one of those mistakes or glitches would have been understandable and forgivable, but the collection of all of them, including how they were handled (or, more importantly, not handled), made the difference between a good dining experience and a great one.

At both restaurants, the food was perfectly prepared and gorgeously plated. At both meals, the chef sent out delightful little amuse-bouches between courses that were creative, unusual, whimsical, and delicious. In both cases, the staff recommended wines that were ideal complements to our meals. In both restaurants, the linens, dishes, utensils, and glassware were lovely, beautifully presented, and appropriate for each course. At both locations, the restaurant was tastefully decorated, there was lovely background music, there was soft lighting, and there were interesting and complementary fixtures and artwork or architectural details. Truly, the only major difference between the two evenings was the polish of the service.

It just goes to show that there is a fine line between good and great, and as the saying goes, “The devil is in the details.” Anticipating your guests’ needs makes you great. Knowing your menu inside and out and being able to describe it in a way that will convince your guests that they cannot possibly live without ordering that specific dish makes you great. Organization, communication, and teamwork make you great.

I hope that The Muse is able to improve their organization and their training. In their defense, they have only been open for not quite one year, so they are undoubtedly still learning and mastering their own systems. If they can do that, they have the potential to provide as fine a dining experience as Castle Hill does. But until they do, I’ll still be a strict devotee of Castle Hill. Because I know that there I will be treated like a queen. A queen with a very well-trained staff.

Happy Anniversary to Us!

Yesterday was our third wedding anniversary, and my wonderful husband spoiled me rotten by whisking me away to Newport for a whirlwind 24-hour trip. He made all the arrangements in secret and surprised me with a lovely, romantic, relaxing celebration.

We dropped off our son at my in-laws’ and headed down to Newport. When we arrived, our hotel room wasn’t quite ready, so we left our bags and took a stroll through downtown Newport, checking out some lovely boutiques and finding a quaint pub for lunch.

We found the glassworks shop where we had bought a lovely glass vase last year, and since the third anniversary is the glass anniversary (under the contemporary calendar, at least), we decided to find another knickknack as an anniversary present to ourselves. We chatted with the shop attendant and after considering a sculpted glass wave and a charming, curly-tentacled octopus, we settled on a lovely, deep amber glass vase similar to the one from last year. That wrapped up, we headed back to the hotel.

We had spa appointments, and since our room wasn’t ready, they took us in early; Herb for a massage and me for my first-ever facial. We disrobed and snuggled into the spa’s plush robes and comfy slippers and waited in the comfortable love seat of the lounge, listening to the soft trickle of a fountain and enjoying lemon-scented water until our attendants came to get us. The aesthetician settled me comfortably on a heated bed and examined my skin, which she pronounced “beautiful”, once she recovered from her horror over my admission that my skin care regimen consisted of soap and water plus an occasional dab of moisturizer. (If she knew I was lying about the latter she’d probably have fainted.) But she laid out an array of lotions and potions, told me to relax, and commenced the most thorough cleaning, exfoliating, massaging, steaming, masking, toning, and tightening that my skin has ever experienced. My pores have never been so clean and tight as they were when she finished with me, and my skin has never been as velvety smooth and glowing. I met Herb back in the lounge and he looked as relaxed as I felt. We dressed and went to check into our room.

Our bags were waiting when we arrived, and we took a few moments to check out the view before we began dressing for dinner. It was quite foggy by then, so there was little to see, but we could hear the haunting but lovely call of a horn buoy echoing through the mist. We found a television station that was showing clips of historic and beautiful sights around Newport, so as we relaxed, we enjoyed learning more about the fascinating city we were in. After that quick break, we got all dressed up for dinner – Herb in an impeccable white dinner jacket and onyx studs in his collar and cuffs, and I in a brilliant blue cocktail dress with the beautiful pearl necklace and bracelet Herb had given me for Valentine’s Day and my birthday. As we headed through the lobby, arm in arm, the concierge noted how elegant we looked and wished us a lovely evening. Herb brought the car around and the valet opened the door for me and gave me a smile and even a slight bow as I went through. Ever the gentleman, Herb opened my car door and made sure I was comfortably seated before closing me in.

Our dinner reservations were at the Castle Hill Inn, where we had eaten last year. After our meal last year, I pronounced it the finest meal – and in fact, the finest dining experience – I had ever had. I wondered if this year would be able to meet that standard. I never should have doubted. From the moment Herb dropped me off and went to park the car, I was treated like royalty. The hostess opened the door for me and escorted me to our table. We were the only diners in the room, which was a round, glassed-in section of the building that looked across a narrow lawn and out onto the ocean. The fog was so thick that the world seemed to vanish past the hedges with no glimpse of ocean in sight, but still the sound of a lonely foghorn echoing over the sea. A few wild bunnies were having their dinner at the edge of the hedges, adding a bit of country charm to the scene. And as the evening wore on, the gray fog took on a deep blue hue, eventually fading to a midnight blue-black, turning the windows to mirrors reflecting the glow of the candles on the tables and the sconces on the walls.

Our waiter remembered us from last year, as he had been our server then as well, and immediately brought us complimentary glasses of champagne. We toasted ourselves and then began to peruse the menu. Several dishes were familiar from last year, but several different items had been added to the menu. Herb recalled what a delightful way the waiter had of describing the various dishes, so we asked him to elaborate on several of the menu items. I was thinking of either the lobster or the duck, and was leaning towards the lobster, but after his vivid and mouth-watering description of the duck, I decided to go with his recommendation. He returned shortly with two freshly baked rolls still steaming from the oven, which he served by masterfully manipulating a pair of spoons like tongs. I enjoyed the bread while Herb studied the wine menu, eventually requesting a taste comparison of two different choices, again beautifully described by our waiter.

Shortly after the wine arrived (I didn’t have a glass, but I did thoroughly enjoy swirling and smelling Herb’s glass, and sampling a tiny sip), the waiter returned with an amuse bouche. This year’s tantalizing mouthful was a tiny slice of delicate veal served over a bed of chopped spring vegetables and garnished with a artistic swirl of veal jus. The meat melted in your mouth and the vegetables tasted like they had come from the garden less than five minutes ago. It was the perfect taste to stimulate the appetite and the senses.

Our first course arrived: Herb had scallops, served three in a row on a long narrow plate, with colorful and tasteful sauces and accompaniments adding both beauty and flavor, and I had a bowl of sunchoke soup. The soup was presented as a shallow bowl with a cake of lobster and other seafood topped with spring onions in it, and the waiter poured the rich broth over it with a graceful flourish. (Can you tell that the presentation of the food at this restaurant delights me as much as the food itself?) The soup was rich and flavorful, but somehow magically managed to not be filling, but instead to stimulate my appetite for the main course.

After a pause during which we were presented with two tiny bowls each containing a perfect scoop of strawberry-mango sorbet as a palate-cleansing intermezzo, our main courses arrived. Herb’s lamb was elegantly presented as two “lollipops” gracefully leaning against each other over a bed of vegetables and gnocchi. My duck breast arrived on a long, narrow plate, the tender, juicy slices leaning against each other like a splayed deck of cards, surrounded by swirls of salsify puree (no, I’m not sure exactly what that is either, but I can assure you it tasted magnificent) and laying over a cake of something marvelous involving potatoes. Neither of us spoke for several minutes as we took our first bites, both of us closing our eyes in ecstasy and making small, involuntary moans of pleasure as our taste buds were overcome by delicious sensations. We quickly exchanged bites, assuring each other than both meals were equally exquisite. I paused between bites, both to give myself time to thoroughly enjoy each succulent mouthful, and also to be sure to pace myself so I wouldn’t run out of room to finish the magnificent meal.

The crowning glory of any meal, in my opinion, is dessert, and I had no doubt by this point that the dessert could live up to the glorious dinner. Herb and I both selected the chocolate trio – and for once, we opted to each get our own instead of sharing. Our accompaniments of coffee (mine) and cognac (his) arrived just before the elegant desserts. On each plate, the words “Happy Anniversary” were spelled out in chocolate in an elegant script.

And they did not disappoint. From the rich chocolate cake with hazelnut ice cream to the spicy sponge cake with whipped cream topping, to the rich smoothness of the pot au crème, the dessert was the perfect ending to a perfect evening.

We arrived back at the hotel in time for a quick dip in the pool and soak in the whirlpool. The mist and rain had begun to cause my knees and hips to ache a bit, so I carefully perched myself on the edge of the whirlpool, soaking in the soothing heat of the water and letting the powerful jets massage my feet. I found a step that was the perfect height to stand on to get my hips in the water without immersing my belly, and dangled my hands in the water while I watched a pair of sisters frolicking in the swimming pool. Herb and I laughed and imagined Ryan and Rutabaga doing the same eight or ten years from now. Soothed and relaxed, we headed back to our room and were soon sound asleep in our soft, comfortable bed.

We woke up to a clear morning with only a few high grey clouds and a temperature at a very comfortable 60 degrees. We took another look at the view from our patio and could now see the harbor full of boats and the picturesque Newport shops. We shared the view with a pair of huddling seagulls.

We stopped at the concierge desk to ask for a breakfast recommendation and the question was hardly out of our mouths when the concierge told us firmly, “The Corner Café” and handed us a map, while wishing aloud that she could join us. The walk was just the right length to work up an appetite, which was a good thing, since the breakfast was both generous and delicious. There were a few other diners, several of whom seemed to be regulars who ordered without a menu and were handed their morning paper as if it had been delivered to the restaurant specifically for them. The waitress/proprietress had a charming Irish brogue and brought me a perfect mug of tea that immediately flashed me back to my days in Zimbabwe and my visit to England. Herb had a mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and a sprinkling of cocoa powder that he immediately pronounced delicious. My French toast was made from thick slices of homemade Portuguese sweet bread and served with maple pecan butter that melted into a rich glaze. I dipped each succulent bite into a puddle of real maple syrup and cooed in ecstasy, alternating the sweet gooey bites with crispy, smoky bacon. Herb’s pancakes were fluffy and light, and he managed to clean his plate. Sadly, I had to bid a sad farewell to the last half of my second giant slice of French toast, because I simply did not have enough room for all its rich goodness. We bid farewell to our charming hostess, promising to return next year, and headed off for another stroll to burn off our breakfasts.

We stopped by a few more quirky boutiques and admired the local architecture, stopping for a few more souvenirs before heading back to the hotel to reclaim our bags and head for home. As we were driving out of town, Herb spied a formalwear shop and decided to make a quick side trip, since he’s been looking for a new black bow tie. As he chatted with the owner about how difficult it is to find a tie-it-yourself bow tie and they commiserated about what a shame it is that no-one wears white pique shirts any more, I browsed the selection of cufflinks and shirt studs, and found a beautiful set of Masonic links and studs. I had been looking for something similar as a gift for Herb for several years now, so I was delighted to stumble across this treasure. But there was yet another treasure to be stumbled across in this shop: there was a photograph behind the counter that seemed to be of a man dressed as Tevye from “Fiddler on the Roof”. When we asked him about it, the owner admitted it was him and immediately began quoting lines from the show in a marvelously rich, sonorous voice. He was delighted to hear that we were also musical theater performers, and we exchanged stories about the groups we worked with. He pulled out another photo of himself in character, this time as Jud Fry from “Oklahoma!”, and broke into one of Jud’s songs in a rich, resounding baritone voice. Of course, we took his contact information and invited him to check out the Reagle Music Theatre of Boston – especially since the shows Reagle has on the schedule for this summer just happen to be “Fidder” and “Oklahoma!”. He was so delighted with our chat and with the fact that Herb was a Mason that he gave us a generous discount on our purchases, and we left feeling that we had made a delightful new friend.
 
We arrived at Herb’s folks’ just before Ryan finished his nap and were able to fill them in on all our adventures and hear the report that Ryan had behaved himself admirably and had thoroughly enjoyed his own adventures before he woke up. It was wonderful to get away, but it was just as wonderful to be back home. It was such a lovely anniversary that I think we’ll have another one next year at the very same time.

 

The Best Thing I Ever Ate

Food Network has a series entitled “The Best Thing I Ever Ate” in which various chefs and food critics talk about their favorite foods and their favorite restaurants. Basically, the show is half an hour of food experts talking about fabulous food and where to get it. Well, after this weekend, I can’t help but get in on the act and spend this blog entry talking about the best thing I ever ate.

Last Sunday night, as part of our romantic anniversary weekend getaway in Newport, Herb and I had dinner at the Castle Hill Inn and Resort. The dining room is right on the water, facing west (oh, the magic of New England’s tumultuous coastline!), so with our 6:30 dinner reservation we had a perfect view of the sunset.

As we usually do when we go out for a nice dinner, we were both dressed to the nines, Herb in an impeccably crisp tuxedo and I in his favorite black velvet and lace gown. Despite the dress code of business casual with a note that “many gentlemen will feel best in a jacket,” the other patrons were dressed in a mix of extremely casual (the “I just stepped off my yacht” uniform of sweater or polo shirt and khakis) to a few jackets and ties. We got a few approving glances and smiles from nearby patrons, particularly when our waiter welcomed us with glasses of pink champagne and a warm, “Happy anniversary!”

We knew we were in for a special treat just seeing the elegant table settings, the fine crystal and silver, the warm glowing candleholders, and the gorgeous food on the other tables, but that knowledge was immediately cemented by the spectacular service. Our waiter was personable without being overly casual, extremely knowledgeable of the menu and the wine list, and solicitous without hovering. Our empty champagne flutes magically vanished from the table, our wine and water glasses were refilled before we noticed they needed it, and on the rare occasion some member of the waitstaff or other couldn’t read our mind to anticipate our next need, one glance and someone was immediately there to take care of us. Excellent food is necessary for an excellent restaurant, but excellent service is almost more important, and Castle Hill has the best service I have ever encountered.

But on to the food! We opted for the three-course prix fixe menu. The meal began, as is often the case in such an elegant restaurant, with an amuse bouche, a tiny flavorful mouthful designed to tantalize the palate even before the appetizer. The chef’s creation for this evening was a spoonful of marinated pineapple. My less than sophisticated palate didn’t recognize the flavors other than the sweet tanginess of the pineapple, but that tiny bite was yet another foretaste of the marvelous culinary experience in store. My bouche was indeed amused.

For my first course, I chose the spring onion soup. It was presented in a pristine white soup plate with a wide rim. The soup itself was cream-colored, with a swirl of spring green basil oil around the garnish of a lovely heap of diced potatoes and lobster with a few sprigs of herbs artistically standing at attention in the center. Even before I took my first bite, the aroma wafting up from the bowl was fresh and delicious. I started with a sip of the broth, a smooth puree of onions and potatoes with just a hint of herbs that tasted the way a spring breeze smells. Moving on to the central garnish, I savored the al dente diced potatoes and the tender sweet lobster meat. The flavors were each distinct, yet perfectly blended, and the mouth feel added yet another dimension of sensuality to the dish. It was an appetizer in the truest sense of the term: it stimulated my appetite rather than filling me up or clogging my taste buds. I felt like I had just gotten a pep talk from the coach and I was ready to take my place at the blocks and wait for the starter’s pistol!

For our entrees, I had ordered the Hereford Beef served two ways and Herb had “Elysian Farms Lamb”. When they arrived at the table, we had to take a moment to admire the beautiful presentation of both dishes before we could even think about tasting them. The lamb was two rib chops served with the long bones arching outwards, creating a lovely “lollipop” effect. The beef was served as two small filets on a medallion of Swiss chard and drizzled with Bearnaise, and as a terrine over roasted and caramelized potatoes and sweet spring onions. The meat was very lightly seasoned and cooked perfectly, allowing the natural sweetness and juiciness of the beef to be the featured flavor. The portions were exactly the right size, encouraging the diner to eat slowly and savor each bite so as to have room to finish the dish yet not feel uncomfortably full – and most importantly, to have room for dessert.

But before we get to dessert, I need to mention the wonderful wine accompaniment. Despite our comments to each other that our waiter hardly looked old enough to drink wine, he was extremely well-versed in the extensive wine list and made an excellent recommendation of a Rosemount GSM blend.

Over the time I’ve known Herb, I’ve grown very fond of red wines, and even a bit knowledgeable about them. So when the waiter described the wine as full-bodied, with heavy fruit flavors tinged with tobacco, I knew I would enjoy it. As soon as the waiter began pouring a small taste for Herb’s approval, the rich burgundy color struck me, and as I swirled my own glass moments later, the full bouquet made it hardly even necessary to taste the wine in order to enjoy it. The flavor was strong but not overpowering, rich and fruity but not too sweet, and complex and layered without being too busy. Even the mouth feel was smooth and crisp and clean, not chewy or gummy as is often the case with full-bodied red wines. It was the perfect complement to both entrees, and I was glad I had some left in my glass for the dessert course, since it served as a lovely complement to that as well.

Ah yes, the dessert course. I love desserts, so the decision of a dessert is often the most difficult of the entire meal. However, in this case I knew it was a win-win decision. I finally went with the cheesecake. Of course, at any restaurant with a dedicated pastry chef, cheesecake is never served in a standard wedge. Oh, no. Our desserts both arrived on plates decorated with the words “Happy Anniversary!” in elegant dark chocolate script around the rims, but that was only the beginning of the glorious presentation.

The base of my cheesecake was a wafer of buttery hazelnut crust drizzled with a rich raspberry coulis, with a perfect little circle of creamy cheesecake perched on top and garnished with an elegant cookie wafer and a single perfect hazelnut. The cheesecake was impossibly smooth and rich without being heavy or overly sweet. It was the perfect completion to a perfect meal.

We stopped at a glass blowing shop on the way home and brought home one of the specially commissioned lovely amber Castle Hill votives so we’ll always have a special memento of that special night and that special meal.

I don't really need a memento to recall this wonderful meal, though. I’m sure that my perception of the perfection of the meal was somewhat colored by the joyousness of our anniversary celebration and the delight of being out on the town with my wonderful sweetheart, but even so, this meal was, indeed, the best thing I ever ate.