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| - Ah Montana's. Once upon a time (see: 2002) your rustic* (*tacky) ambiance and moderately priced selections (and God love you, the paper tablecloth and various crayons) provided a viable and even desirable option for a Saturday night meal.
Flash forward ten years. Having abstained from Montana's for reasons as unimportant as they are unknown, and having never visited the Beacon Hill location, I was unsure of exactly what to expect. While the Fargo truck embedded in the ceiling didn't let me down, and the service was attentive but not smothering, our small sampling of the menu was decidedly mediocre. My buffalo chicken sandwich, always a great fallback option when entering a new domain and somewhat unsure of the menu, featured a sauce that tasted vaguely of burnt plastic. Luckily, my lady-friend's chicken tacos (...) were more enjoyable, although be warned that if you are inexplicably anticipating a sauce that is more spicy than sweet, you are in for a bit of a surprise. Highlight of the night goes to the self-coined Ron Swanson special enjoyed by the brother-in-law, featuring a quarter chicken and rack of ribs done nearly to succulent perfection. Meat with a side of meat. I grew additional chest hair just writing about it.
All in all, if you dig antlers and feel like revisiting Gaston's tavern without actually watching Beauty and the Beast, Montana's may have a certain vibe that you can jive to...or maybe not. At the very least, I would imagine the kids will enjoy it. Lastly, if this small sampling was any indication, you may experience a very noticeable disparity in quality between menu items, so choose wisely.
Happy eating.
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