| rev:text
| - Decided to check out Bonterra Trattoria for myself, and found out that, despite the plain front hunkered down on the 8th Street sidewalk, it's actually a fine dining venue, which is fine with me, as I've enjoyed some such in the past. And for those out-of-the-know, there's plenty of parking in the rear that Bonterra will gladly cover for you.
Fine dining.
The nicely-appointed indoor front section welcomes with a strong earth-toned decor, and the kitchen action in the dusky interior is somewhat visible. Not as open or breathy as Mercado, but welcome on a cold winter evening.
In the back is a large patio with aged slightly-rusting metal tables, lotsa dirt on an unswept brick floor, and many shrubs and hanging plants. Pleasant enough.
While waiting, I noticed a sparrow quietly fly in to drink from a metal ornament hanging on the back wall. Very natural; quite lovely.
Upstairs is more dining area and private rooms best suited to large groups or select parties.
The meal.
As my partner was working evenings, I was alone, and so ordered the Uovo Pollo comprised of a wee stack of linguine pasta crowned by the soft-poached egg, somewhat-charred but tasteless broccolini shoots, and milky drippings over a tender breast & thigh of chicken. Mildly delicious, the chicken was shrouded in partially-grilled somewhat fatty skin, and adorned by a small portion of under-grilled red meat near the bone.
But...
Why no bread service?! The foccacia or ciabatta on other tables looked great, but without some to accompany my entree, it was like eating sans pantaloon. Really!
Overall quite nice, nonetheless, but without a wow in flavours or in its stock presentation, was it worth the visit? Not really, even as I searched for some superlatives by which to praise this chef's 'creation.' Alas, my mind instead wandered to "I wonder if Portofino in Cochrane will be better...?'
Service.
It wasn't busy yet, but overall the service was sporadic at best. Instead of a steady flow of finessed attention, I sat and watched many staff clear away a large section put together for a party that decided instead to dine upstairs. Meanwhile, I wondered when they'd take my order and get to serving it...
Portions.
I don't get it.
Since when are fine-dining portions meant to be so small when the price is mostly big? Well, it's one way to keep the peasants out, cos they tend to be really hungry!
And how is it that this has became standard practice?
Dunno...
But I get it that we are to mincingy sip our wine, daintily attend to etiquette as we masticate through the pickings, and not peer around too much at other patrons as they politely attend to somewhat-sheepish servers quietly explaining the complexity of the offerings as if to make up for what's obviously missing: that this bit of nourishment that could easily fit on a small saucer was to be taken as a filling meal is ludicrous! Not at all great food, the whole affair was decidedly boring.
Call me a low-life bourgeois if you want, but guests aren't to be teased into spending $100+ a head to leave satisfied, are we?
Looking around, I was not among champions of haute-couture at all, but just average cow-town folk out for a special dining experience. What a charade...
Would I return? Ah, but I can get a better meal with more clout in a less ostentatious upper-middle class setting where the FOOD is what impresses, and where there's no need to dine on airs and appearances!
I want a meal when I go out to eat!
I want it to delightfully 'assault my palate' and not gently stroke it as if the overture to a romantic comedy.
And after all, I can see sparrows drinking still water anywhere in the world.
Likely steer clear of this place, because there are better, far better.
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