 |
It's a bad sign that
neither Ms. Hipster nor I can really remember what we ate at Bouley
despite dropping a couple paychecks on a meal on our anniversary.
I hardly ever remember what I eat, but the Ms. H not only remembers
what she ate but what I eat as well. For shame David Bouley for providing
a meal so utterly devoid of flair, panache and pizzazz that a mere
nine months later we have no recollection of what the hell we stuffed
in our pie holes on a Wednesday night so special that we decided to
celebrate our nuptials with a bunch of freaks so willing to throw
down serious coin on a mid-week meal so opulent and ridiculous that
we felt like total douchebags tourists or kids on daddy's dime. After
all, we're folks who wonder if it makes sense to order in local Indian
bonanza that tops out at like $40 and here we are with people willing
to lay down some serious coin on opulent French food on what was for
them a random weeknight. What I don't remember about the food I do
recall about the room and the kind of weird, crappy space we were
stuck in. There's this front room that looks kind of like a cantilevered
version of my grandma's old condo in Florida, or what my grandma would
think a nice restaurant should look like--and that was the nice
space. We were through this Alice in Wonderland door
in the back of the restaurant where the nice vaulted ceiling gave
way to a lower overhead and what looked like a hand painted Asian
screen from the eighties, which gave little cover to the silverware
and crap hidden behind it. Apparently this is like high-class stuff,
but to me it felt like a doddering version of what fancy is supposed
to be. But, again, I'm the guy who thinks those crackers that come
in the container that separate the round and square biscuits with
plastic are super special. That aside, we both do recall the bread
being pretty damn good (and plentiful) and the service, while not
all that on top of it, friendly and mostly in understandable English.
I do remember that we ordered some sort of tasting menu and that I
had porcini flan, which tastes much better than it sounds. There was
some other stuff that I believe was fish, but wasn't in any way remarkable.
The desert, by the time that rolled around, was ridiculously long
and drawn out and was probably more food than the rest of the meal
combined (due to its sheer size and chocolateyness). I can't say why
but the whole place felt cocky and haughty in a way it didn't really
have the right to be. More like tired, over-priced and going through
the motions. Sorry, I like to get what I pay for, and this joint was
a big ol' fail in that department. [MF]
|
Hipster Movie Reviews
Hipster Book Reviews
Music