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2010-04-03
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For every Mrs. Jones out there, one couldn't stop but wonder, what about Mr. Jones? The dutiful wife with the nonexistent husband makes up the name of the Italian restaurant on the slanted slope of rock-covered Pottinger Street in Central. Lunching in Central for someone who lunches out every now and then could be paradise (with so many choices) and nightmare (with too many choices) at the same time. In an attempting to 'keep up with the Joneses', we paid a visit on a weekday lunch hour.One shou
One should be surprised to see that even at the peak of lunch hours in the Central district Mrs. Jones is still half full (or half empty, in the entreprenuer's point of view). Through the pale golden decor with some glimpses of daylight and women in stillettos tripping down the street with their heels stuck between the cracks is the only street traffic one could see from inside. The lunch prix fixe is a 3 course meal priced at $98 plus gratuity. The first course being soup/salad, the second a main (one of two, plus another choice with additional charge --> a total of three), and dessert/ coffee. To share between the two of us we ordered one of each, and skipped the extra charge for the braised beef cheek as mains.
The bread basket to start with is a dreadful idea. The bread isn't all that fresh, and to say that it has seen better days since it first came out of the oven could be a nice way to put it. Soon enough the first course arrives. The Italian Lentil Soup with Basil Pesto is a smooth puree of sandy brown with a good flavour, beaniness to it. The basil pesto could've worked better with cannellini beans, I used to think, but somehow it makes its way to the palate as a sharper flavoured element and complimented it quite well. The Salad of Smoked Duck with Pear, Gorgozola and Salad Leaves is a satisfactory palate-opener with something crisp and fresh, while the pungency of the gorgonzola was somehow lost through the light sweetness from the pear.
The mains arrive sharply after the staff has removed out first course, as any waiting mains would, it has turned tepid, at least that's what the Fish Cacciatore with Soft Polenta was. The soft polenta has its usual signature graininess, but richly coating the tongue as it normally would as well. The fish slices, richly stewed in and flavoured with tomatoes, feel more like fish on marinara sauce (don't get me wrong, marinara is good, but the tartness needs some rounding off with maybe a sprig of basil?) The fish slightly flakes off and give it by the forkful. The Saffron Risotto with Parmigiano and Watercress Salad was nowhere near a risotto. It's not soupy, nor is it dry granules like fried rice. The rice granules themselves were not cooked enough, at least not until al dente. A similar sensation would be to bite into a wet unpopped popcorn. The watercress salad was delightfully green, yet not so delightfully, it takes forever to chew off the leafy stalk, gives me a whole new meaning to "green and fibery". A change was meant to be, and 10 minutes later when the dish resurfaced the rice was al dente and sufficiently textureed, and the watercress is now replaced with tiny sprigs, just like anyone else's at the neighboring tables.
The coffee at the end of the meal was satsifactory, with a good choice of brown and white sugar cubes, and the panna cotta is creamy and soft, almost jiggly with specks of vanilla seeds throughout. In the midst of creamy enjoyment came the chocolatey bits of biscotti around the panna cotta itself. It tasted more like cookies that's past its prime, and certainly not in one way or another something one would volunteer to eat (even with milk to dunk into), yet squishing them into rough crumbs and mix into the panna cotta somehow made a satisfying dessert.
I used to have a good Risotto with Pumpkin at Mrs. Jones, and clearly the good ol' honeymoon days of its first opening have gone, what's left is a mildly satisfying dining option much like a lot of places that have opened for a while and managed to stay in business in LKF/Soho. Having their meal, savouring the little bits of lingering flavours from a satisfying Fish Cacciatore and Panna cotta earlier on, I realized how much things have changed, and can change even if a restaurant has been around serving the same food over and over again. Judging from the quality of food and service from that meal, the doubt about the whereabouts of a non-existent Mr. Jones has all gone down the drain, as I suppose that even Mr. Jones would've gotten lunch somewhere else, other than under the hands of his dutiful wife too busy dishing out lunches at other diners in the city.
張貼
