Tuesday, October 26. Mondo Cena. Mary Ann was in town and granted me an audience over dinner. She even had a good idea for a venue: Mondo, Susan Spicer's new neighborhood restaurant in Lakeview. When it opened a few months ago the reaction from the public was predictable. First, bewilderment at the menu, which is much less ambitious than Bayona's (she said it would be), but not quite as casual and homely as (she said it would be). This food would have been the stuff of a brave gourmet bistro in, say, 1990.
I arrived first. The hostess let me know I was lucky indeed to be able to get a table without a reservation. I agree with that in all circumstances, but she delivered this news in a way that made me think she expected me to expire with delight. I was seated opposite the wood-burning, stone pizza oven, installed four restaurants ago, and requiring a great deal of rehabilitation for storm damage. I could feel just enough radiant heat to be convinced that the roaring wood fire inside was real, not another TV screen.
Then I studied a fenced-off section of the dining room, raised about five inches above the rest of the floor. Were the tables in there the best or the worst in the house? I've wondered that since I first ate in this building in 1975, when it was the Steak Knife. Everything else in the place has changed except that.
Where was Mary Ann? The phone vibrated. "Where are you? Wherever it is, it sounds noisy," she said. I'm in the restaurant, I said. "So am I!" she said, from two tables away. I assume she was also lucky to get a table at the hot new resto tonight.
She came over to my place. "It's loud in here," she said. Terrazzo floors, unclothed tables and hard ceilings explain that. As do the large windows. At least they're covered, unlike in the restaurant before, which wasn't loud because it never had many dinner customers. Another improvement: the front door has been given a small vestibule, which will keep the cold winds from blowing directly into the center of the dining room.
Before we discovered each other's presence, I put in an order for a pizza and the restaurant's three-dip plate. It wasn't long after MA sat down that the pizza emerged. Italian sausage and mushrooms on one side for her, cheese only on the other side for me. She was pleased. Good. I am looking for any glimmer of approval I can get from MA these days.
The pizza was hand-made all the way, well-proportioned. The sauce was excellent, with just the right amount of garlic and pepper. But it was underbaked. I thought the wood fire looked a little wan. Shortly after our pie came out, they stoked it to the extent I wish it had roared when ours was in there. And it should have been turned. One limb was nicely charred, the opposite one pale and soft.
Mary Ann loves dips, especially the kind that have strong flavors in them. So that looked like another offering that would please her. But she wasn't impressed, and I had to agree with her. The trout mousse wasn't as good as the one Chef Tom Cowman used to make at Jonathan and the Upperline. The white bean and garlic puree wasn't as good as the one at Del Porto. And the tapenade wasn't as good as the one at Bayona. They have the recipe here for that last one, too.
Things picked up in the entree course. Fish is offered here broiled or pan-sauteed, with a choice of meuniere, amandine, and Muddy Waters treatments. The one named for the old blues master originated at Uglesich's, and is beginning to spread to other restaurants. (The Upperline also makes it.) The fish is napped with an Arnaud's-style thick brown meuniere sauce, then sprinkled with a mixture of chopped green onions, slices of jalapeno, and anchovies. That was as irresistible as it sounds (very). Roasted potatoes propped the fish up, both in the literal and gustatory ways. Yum.
The server asked me if I wanted bread when the fish came out. Of course I do. She brought me a slice of French bread. A (one). . . slice. . . of. . . bread. None for Mary Ann. Outside of chain restaurants (whose campaign to eliminate bread from the tables of America is one of many reasons I dislike them), I don't think I've ever seen bread served to just one person at a table of more than one person.
Mary Ann was trying not to eat, but succumbed to having at least an appetizer for an entree. The menu called it creamy crab toast, and that about captures it. I could see this as a starter: rich, crabby, crunchy--maybe too crunchy, the kind of bread so crusty that it makes people my age wonder what this will do to our teeth.
One of the desserts was intriguing. Even had a name I'd never heard before: flaugnarde. "Thick crepe with seasonal fruit from the wood oven," said the menu. This was not a good description of what came out. It was in a broad gratin dish, and under the fruit was not a crepe but crepe batter, largely unset. Actually, it was pretty good, but I imagined some sort of mini-pizza with a sweet dough.
Mary Ann likes Mondo, and that launched one of our perennial discussions. She openly admits that the environment of a restaurant is more important to her than mere food. There is no question that Susan's people did a fine job with that. Mondo is a cool place. Except for that noise matter. A large rug in the dining room maybe ought to be larger. Tablecloths would help, too.
All my causes for complaint are new-restaurant issues. The basic concept is good. And Susan's longtime policy of keeping prices reasonable (Bayona has always been a bargain) is in force here. Except for the steak, everything's in the teens. The promise that this will be a neighborhood restaurant, in the latter-day style, is been fulfilled.
Mondo. Lakeview: 900 Harrison Ave. 504-224-2633.
