Also this issue: Book and Cook Hits and Misses -Maxine Keyser

April 3- 9, 2003

food

Room for More

Monteâs Hall: The Monte Carlo Living Room has been a bastion of good food for years. Photo By: Michael T. Regan

The food’s still good, but a refurbished Living Room is not quite the full Monte.

by Maxine Keyser

We knew that The Monte Carlo Living Room had been completely refurbished after the departure of their longtime celeb chef, Nunzio Patruno, and that they had a new chef, Robert Capella, installed. It was time to go back for a visit, with the same eager anticipation that always prefaced a visit to Monte Carlo. For years, it has been a bastion of good Italian food and good living, quietly sitting on the sometimes raucous corner of Second and South streets, with no revolving-door chefs and no hoopla.

The upstairs Living Room retains the louche feel of deep chairs and dim lights --always a good spot to listen to some music, have a pre- or postprandial drink and nibble some hors d'oeuvres. But then we approach the same welcoming art nouveau doors to the dining room, and enter -- where are the handsome, well-dressed couples, gleaming with the patina of wealth, the pasta misti and displays of fresh fish, where are the fluffy white lace tablecloths, in fact, where are the tables? The room seats about half of its former capacity, which makes for much more private dining, but when the room is almost empty, as it is, it feels cold. They've retained the beamed ceiling and crystal chandeliers, which now overlook a central table featuring the fruits and flowers of the season. It is all rustic, and the people are dressed casually. The tables are laid with plain, standard white cloths, but the napkins are red and yellow plaids, more Provençal than anything. And one glance at the menu tells us that Capella, originally of The Fountain at the Four Seasons, now looks to Monte Carlo's western neighbor, France, for his inspirations. There is only one pasta on the menu; this is not an Italian restaurant anymore.

The service is as polished as ever, although it is not difficult with so few patrons. And the wine list is more expensive than ever, operating at a shocking mark-up. We manage to ferret out a bottle of Sokol Blosser Evolution at $38, a pleasant, off dry blend of white grapes that just happens to complement our choices quite well. There are plenty of choices too, each one with a little frisson to surprise and, sometimes, delight. Vanilla oil with sautéed foie gras? Why not? Or for that matter, a dash of cloves to brighten the roasted Gala apples that accompany crispy sweetbreads. They give an exotic edge to the balsamic reduction that seems to come with everything these days. One of the most interesting appetizers is marinated Spanish mackerel -- lightly sautéed and dressed with oil, a little vinegar, baby greens and the golden raisins that usually signal an escabèche, and provide the contrast between sweet and sour, but we get a bright touch of mint in this as well. A tiny quail, roasted with chestnuts and porcinis, as the season dictates, needs only its natural jus, but it is just a tad too gamey. Eggplant soup may not sound appetizing, but it is not only delicious, but an appealing shade of green, made even greener by the pepper coulis that floats on top. Mountain gorgonzola sprinkled in heightens the creamy texture, and best of all, despite the thyme, pepper and cheese, the taste of eggplant is very evident. This soup could even cause one to quote Willa Cather: "A soup like this is not the work of one man. It is the result of constantly refined tradition. There are nearly a thousand years of history in this soup."

Entrees, unusually, turn out to be just as good, if not better, than the appetizers. We drink a Blackstone Merlot for too much money, but it is soft and plays well with fish and meat. Slow-roasted salmon has a melting texture and a crisp edge and a hefty sprinkle of Osetra caviar on top. The metallic sheen of saffron colors the sauce, but the little copper pot that is an accompaniment holds the best surprise. It is a brandade (a purée with some potatoes added, as a rule) of cauliflower of almost ethereal creaminess that has everyone exclaiming. Just another one of Chef Capella's little lagniappes. There are more to come in the black cod on a bed of quinoa and glazed baby fennel. The humble quinoa is a neutral to back up the anise flavor of the fennel, but the elegant fish is so buttery and rich that a dash of muscatel vinegar is welcome. Finding sturgeon on a menu is a surprise in itself, and here it is done with only olive oil, asparagus and marinated tomatoes. This fish (only slightly overcooked), has enough flavor and richness of its own to drown out any sauce. It's an assertive fish, and where the cod innocently melts on your tongue, the sturgeon makes you take notice. The venison loin is rare and rich as well, with caramelized shallots and black truffles in the thick Barolo sauce. This, too, is a powerful dish that doesn't need too much embellishment. On the bottom of the menu, Cappella says, "As with life, culinary inspirations come from the earth, the sun and the sea. My approach towards classical cuisine changes with each new season; however, it always remains simple, artistic and true." I would say that about sums up what every worthy chef is aiming for today -- the best quality of foods at their best times, running with the seasons, and only overlaid with slightly personal touches.

Unfortunately, dessert is disappointing. The cheese plate has some attractive varieties of cheeses, about five on a plate, with a bit of fruit on the side. The crème fraîche cake with citrus marmalade that sounds so appealing is a huge, unwieldy slice that is strangely tough. A Meyer lemon tart has a fine crust and a properly creamy, tart center. The most interesting dessert is the most Italian one -- a polenta cake with marinated cherries. It is moist and crumbling, soaked with the cherries and dashed with mint.

We leave feeling oddly cheated. Mr. Capella is an able, even compelling, chef and his menu is well thought-out. Maitre D' Giorgio Giuliani is as warm and courteous as ever, the room is attractive even in its rusticity, but where were the little touches that should have accompanied so pricey a meal? No amuse-gueule, no cookies thrown in with coffee, worst of all, no spirit of joy that used to be at the heart of The Monte Carlo Living Room.

The Monte Carlo Living Room

150 South St., 215-925-2220

Appetizers, $10-$18; entrees, $28-$36

Sun.-Thu., 6-10 p.m.; Fri.-Sat., 5:30-11 p.m.

Not wheelchair accessible. No smoking. Reservations recommended. All major credit cards.