But what does this have to do with the dining experience, you say? Well, here we go. When I walked into the restaurant, there was no host or hostess around to seat me. I don't mean just for a moment, and I don't mean for a minute or two - I mean they were nowhere to be found, and I meandered around to look, finally snagging a waiter who obliged me and took me from the bar area, past the regular tables inside, and out into a patio area which was larger than the actual restaurant. It even has a large atrium contraption for rainy nights that can be pulled out to cover around two thirds of the tables there.
The prix fixe menu, at $29, has an old-fashioned price that I do appreciate I must say. Having sampled it now, I don't think I'd suggest by any means that MB raise the price. As I sat in the corner perusing the menu and waiting for the guys, I was mystified as to why my eyes seemed to be watering a teeny bit. In the back corner of the patio, where the waiter had sat me, there was some sort of mild steakhouse acrid smoke thing that was happening just the other side of the fence. It wasn't bad enough for me to ask to be re-seated, but it was yet another oddity to add to the list.
One of the things I do appreciate about this prix fixe was its variety. Too often, a prix fix will be limited to either soup or salad to start, a choice of three entrees, and a choice between two desserts, which is the bare minimum of choices you can give prix fixe diners without pissing them off. Mont Blanc does a really great job here, and I think that's a reflection of how large and eclectic their menu is. Being a swiss restaurant means that they are influenced by French cooking, German, Austrian, Belgian, my God just about any cuisine where people groove on cheese and saute everything. And since they're in America, you can also get a margarita there that doesn't suck at all. Mont Blanc gives the prix fixe diner a choice of five starters, seven entrees, and will simply open the entire dessert menu for you at the end of the meal and let you choose whatever you like. Astounding.
I started with the mussels, which were perfect. Kel followed my lead, but Robby went for the pate maison which he really loves. Another oddity arrived on his plate with the pate, though - some sort of enormous plastic bead which has something to do with preparing lemons. To Mont Blanc's credit - as an elder statesman of a restaurant - they whisked away the entire plate, somewhat eaten, and brought him a new one. I would love to report that the pate itself was a phenomenon, but it was simply - here's the theme again - pretty good.
The entree I chose was a chicken marsala, and Robby followed me there. Kelvin went for a veal dumpling which he really did like a lot. Gotta say though, we see here another symptom of HORS - weird presentation. The veal dumpling was just exactly that and nothing else - one single sphere of meat around the size of a jai alai ball, topped with some gravy. Not even a sprig of parsley, my friends. Tasted great. Looked very weird.
Like the tasty veal ball, the chicken came to us with a side order of sauteed stringbeans that were a bit buttery and very overcooked - just like Mom used to make. My Mom making vegetables is just a crying shame, as she herself can't stand them, and this is precisely what she used to do to them. Also served with the meat course is a portion of what we would call a hash-brown pancake. Again, tasty but not healthy in the slightest, and prepared as one large panful which is hacked into nice-sized chunks at table. I rather wish my friend Aine had been eating with us, because she's madly in love with anything made of potatoes. Me, not so much. I like to keep the oil content of my meal down, so this isn't the healthiest way to prepare potatoes, but, that said, a bit of flavor could have been added with a bit of scallion or onion.
The chicken marsala was okay. Ever so slightly gummy from being over-floured during cooking I would say. The marsala itself was not so easy to discern - it just tasted like chicken breast with gravy to me - again, probably a by-product of the old fashioned over-flouring before sauteing. Not enough shrooms for me. Again, PG - pretty good.
Dessert was a good time, in that we had loads of choices. There were some very odd, old fashioned offerings - the 19th century favorite Poire Helene was there, with no explanation of what it was for us working class Americans. (It's a poached pear covered in chocolate, in case you, like me, didn't know) - and there was also a meringue glace which I probably would have liked except fluffy ice cream wasn't going to do it for me who is only allowed dessert once a week. I wanted something with a little more body to it. I settled on the peach melba, which was, again, not a revelation, not a sparkling jewel. Tasted good. The peach was actually large, and that's noteworthy in October, but the bottom line was, if I'd been home and grabbed myself some high-quality cling peaches, wiped off the syrup, tossed them on top of some Bryers and kissed the whole thing with a little pulverized frozen raspberry, I would have gotten the same effect. Kel went after the chocolate mousse, and there is no denying that chocolate mousse makes people happy. And it's something you can't buy, despite Jell-O's attempts to convince people otherwise. This was a real mousse, and nowhere near Jell-O, so happiness was definitely experienced.
I do have to mention, at this point, that our waiter was a goofball. Unlike the other waiters in the place, we happened to have the guy who just served up your food and then disappeared to go and smoke or gossip until such time as the other waiters would collectively chorus "Sameer! Your table!... Sameer - check! Sameer! Wake up!" We waited for what seemed like a decade for this guy to come over and settle up with us, and, being the rude New Yorker among us, I popped back into the restaurant proper and started asking around. The hostess (yes, there was one) came over to us instead of Sameer and helped us to settle up so we could get out of there.
Are you going to have a terrible time at Mont Blanc? No. Are you going to have bad food there? No. Is it going to become your favorite pre-theatre stop? Are you going to become a regular? Hm. Only if you're Swiss and you yearn to hang out with other ex-pat Swiss people. There are better places out there, trust me.
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