July 2, 2011 at 5:49 pm , by Serina Patrick
Over a month after the actual day, B and I finally got together for her birthday dinner. We decided on The Sound Table for a variety of reasons, including a chance to visit with owner Darren and savor their kickass Brussels sprouts.
The concept of dinner upstairs, drinks and dancing downstairs has shifted a bit over the last year. Food is mostly served downstairs now, certainly a less intimate setting since the DJ booth is constantly pumping out the beats at a conversation-prohibitive level.
We chatted with Darren (he is English, so one must “chat”), then took our seats at a table along the exposed brick wall. Our peppy server was cute, with tattoos and black-rimmed glasses, offering suggestions for a cocktail to start off our evening.
I chose a drink made with tequila, lime, and maraschino….sort of a fancy margarita without salt, while B ordered a glass of red wine, an obscure varietal that turned out to be rich and deep.
Our perusement of the menu uncovered several disappointing changes. Naturally, the roasted Brussels were off the menu, after all, it is Summer. I had considered trying the Spatchcock chicken, a menu mainstay since the restaurant’s inception, but it too was gone.
Regrouping, we decided to split the green salad composed of local lettuces, blue cheese, and spiced pecans. For my entree, I chose the porkchop with baby peas and greens of some sort, while B ordered the salmon special with baby carrots. For an amuse bouche, we discussed the failures of men….it was a substantial serving, full of grizzle. I needed another drink.
When the salad arrived, I was surprised to see the beautiful green lettuces covered with a creamy dressing. It wasn’t mentioned and seemed an odd pairing with the two toppings. A balsamic would have made more sense, and likely would have tasted better. B described the salad as “not special”.
Then our entrees arrived, all dainty and innocent looking. But beneath the pretty exterior was the harsh truth. My two small porkchops were cooked to the consistency of shoe leather and sat upon flavorless peas and bok choy. Bok choy? I’m rather certain that was not what the menu said. Regardless, I tried to eat a bite or two but B convinced me that I should not eat it. Christ, I hate sending food back!
While not thrilled with her selection, B managed to eat almost a third of her salmon. The skin was left on, a pet peave of mine, which made it extra-fishy tasty and smelling. Two baby carrots were the saving grace of the dish.
My sad chops were replaced by our old standby, the hanger steak, medium-rare. We chose an additional side of squash to make up for the underwhelming veggies that accompanied our entrees. Both of these dishes were winners, especially the baked squash, topped with crispy shallots. The steak is usually drizzled with a good quantity of salsa verde but this one arrived almost naked, so I asked our server for extra on the side.
We were ready for a happy ending so we tried the pistachio pot de creme with mascerated figs….amazingly delicious! We should have skipped the two entrees and went straight for the steak, squash, and two of these desserts!
On another bright note, we took a peek at the new patio out back, which used to be a renegade smoking area. Had we known, we would have chosen to sit out there where conversation wasn’t drowned out by the pulsating music.
483 Edgewood Avenue
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