Monterey, California, April 1, 2016—
My traveling companion's turn to choose a restaurant from among those suggested by the usual sources these days, all cleverly hiding on the Internet and the iPhone. She chose what seems to be a local favorite, a sort of bistro.
The chef welcomed us at the door and led us to our table; his wife brought menus. Grandson and I split a Caesar salad, put that in quotes; then I went on to the New York steak you see here.
The salad was innocent of anchovy and egg, and included little bits of tomato, I don't know why. The steak was not grilled but pan-fried, I would say, and somehow grill-marked, as you see. It came with more tomato and shavings of horseradish, along with a good-sized nest of French fries.
Dessert: apple galette: a whole poached apple, sliced and reassembled on a bed of puff paste, with caramel and vanilla ice cream.
I'd like to like the place more; the owners were very sweet — the whole place seems a amily affair. Bu, honestly, the food could have had more character and fewer constituents.
Pinot noir, La Crema, 2013