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| - I've dined at many a Mastro's, and I must admit: this location hooked me (and my rumbling stomach) + a pal for lunch because I found it architecturally intriguing.
The staff in the front of the house were still very wet behind the ears. I was asked, "Is there any special occasion that you're celebrating? Anniversary, birthday...?"
I replied that I am a living kidney donor and I celebrate that every day. My response didn't even register with the hostess and there wasn't any acknowledgment at all. *shrug* People have birthdays every year; it's not that often you have the privilege of donating a kidney. Just saying.
I'm a sucker for waitstaff in white jackets; there's something very genteel about it that I absolutely adore, though the ambiance was a bit odd - the skylights above took away some of the mystery and glamour that one might otherwise enjoy over dinner. All the better to admire the lines and the strange view that our perch afforded us.
Couldn't help but wonder: because the "pod" is not enclosed by walls, but mesmerizing woodwork that undulates and is breathtakingly organic... do shoppers at the nearby boutiques get distracted by the smells of the kitchen?
"Yes, I'd like this limited edition Dior - hold up a minute - I need me a steak! " Surf, turf and couture - pinch me, please, and pass the pretzel bread, I'm wearing a silk shift with an empire waist - Carbonanza!!!
The pretzel bread is otherworldly. I ignored the other varieties in the very generous bread basket, and asked for more pretzel bread, which was delivered warm, fluffy and perfectly salted. A healthy slathering of room-temperature butter didn't hurt, either. Even though I don't eat wheat, I was no match for the PB, and just surrendered to each bite of pillowy bliss.
My virgin strawberry martini was not as tasty as the high octane version (yes, I had a sippie and was glad I did) and was just too sweet for my palate - but I had to wash all that PRETZEL BREAD down with something, right?
Another quirk: there was a phantom lounge singer, who was, to be honest, not good at all... it was almost comical. It took me a while to figure out that it wasn't tongue-in-cheek lounge-lizardy - the dude was actually that schmaltzy. He was playing and singing live... but from an indeterminate location - I think it was behind the blue curtain - but it was just so odd, we kept laughing about it.
My crab cocktail was okay... it was fresh and bright, but the last 1/3rd was frozen, because of the ice bath in which it sat. To their credit, when I pointed that out, a fresh one was brought out.
The salads were nice. Nothing that knocked my Paul Smith espadrilles off, but I was very pleased that the greens were not drowning in dressing. Nice, simple, tasty.
I plan to go again, but will make a reservation for dinner; lighting makes a difference, but then again... Pretzel Bread tastes good at any hour!
BELIEVE.
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