Just about two years ago, we attempted to dine at Keen’s before going to see Elton John’s soldout concert at Madison Square Garden. All of the wonderful anticipation, the expected joy, the fun, were devastated by our choice of restaurant and its perfectly orchestrated demonstration of how to create ill-will where previously only happy memories inhabited the venue. To briefly recap that unfortunate series of events is the best place to begin this review.
An 8PM Saturday night concert curtain at MSG complicates the integration of real dining into one’s evening plans. A suitable location within reasonable walking distance must be found, reservations procured and the maitre d’ alerted to time constraints beforehand. Keen’s, ideally situated outside the immediate perimeter of MSG but within a 10 minute stroll, seemed a propitious choice. A 5:30PM reservation was confirmed through OpenTable about 3 weeks in advance, and on the evening in question, promptly honored. That was the last professionalism we encountered during our visit.
We ordered a bottle of wine rather than hard liquor, thinking we’d enjoy a glass while awaiting dinner, another with our entrees, and a sip to settle our tummies as we settled our account. The wine, or more precisely the wrong wine, arrived after a mere 20 minute wait. Our waiter was MUCH more interested and involved with a table of 16 young white collars celebrating a major life event – and clearly expected to be able to retire on their largess. We accepted the wine, which had been opened away from our table without previous display, despite a significant difference in price (but sadly not quality) because we didn’t want to wait another 20 minutes (“Sorry. We’re very busy tonight”) for our choice “to be brought up from the cellar.” The waiter scurried off to fetch another “stoli rocks” and “tanqueray lime” for the host at the next table – and forgot to leave the dinner menus he was clutching in his left hand. Returning with their drinks, he passed around menus to the big table, and as a afterthought, shoved ours at me and said he’d be right back for our orders. It took some time as the young and restless needed more alcohol, explanations of several dishes, and then more drinks before they were ready to commit to the appetizers.
We fumed quietly, and our orders were still not taken as we began our second hour at the table. A trip to find the captain (unavailable, the large table required his full attention as they debated, loudly, whether the cabernet sauvignon would be an appropriate accompaniment to the mutton chops, or whether one or another lager, maybe a pilsner, no, something with real body, would be better) became a journey down to the maitre d’hotel to request the bill so that we could get out in time for the concert. The maitre d’ was polite, but insisted the kitchen could prepare our meal to go – it would only take a few more minutes. He then declined to present the bill – apparently only the waiter or captain could do that. I carefully calculated the cost of the wine, the NYC sales tax, and added 2 cents, “pour le pourboire” – dropped the money on the table, and we departed posthaste.
The hot dogs grabbed at the stand in MSG made us sick – and we left halfway through the concert, to make our miserable way home, vowing never to set foot in Keen’s again. We did write the management, received a courteous reply, but could never bring ourselves to return.
You can now fully appreciate what follows.
The Eagles History Tour was at Madison Square Garden last night. Milady, using her American Express Platinum Card, procured excellent seats and graciously permitted me to join her and the human male for the evening. It is, of course, unthinkable to attend a concert on an empty stomach – the rumbling would get in the way of the better vibrations emanating from the stage. So, a location needed to be determined, the reservations procured, etc., etc., etc. Using my new Open Table app on my smartphone, I procured a 5PM reservation for last evening. We arrived just before Keen’s literally opened their doors, and within moments knew that everything would be fine this time.
We were greeted and promptly seated at a quiet table at the back corner of the room directly opposite the front door. Ominously, a table of eight cheery young professional women were seated one table closer to the door – but apparently it’s another waiter’s station. Our waiter smiled and his smile broadened when we requested the wine list, countering his offer of “Something from the bar?” As he brought the list, warm rolls, butter, carrots, celery, olives and blue cheese dip were suddenly on the table. Water glasses were filled for the first time (and no matter when we reached for them, never allowed to be less than half full for the duration). Despite several other tables in our section, our waiter never seemed unaware of our presence or needs throughout the meal. Wine glasses were refilled properly, not overfilled in an attempt to reduce the workload. We chose a moderately priced California Pinot Noir (Harrington, Alexander Valley 2009) which was opened and the cork proffered for examination before pouring. It opened a bit tannic and quite tight, but by allowing the right amount of room in the glass when he poured, the waiter subtly indicated he understood what he was doing, and appreciated our choice. The menus appeared immediately, he withdrew while we made our initial perusal, and as we gently sipped at the expanding bloom in our glasses, reappeared. Questions about portion size were graciously and thoughtfully answered, and we ordered.
Our meal began with a shared order of Oysters Rockefeller. Five plump little oysters with the requisite spinach, shallot, cream and anise (Pernod?) saucing were served in their shells and my only concern was that there wouldn’t be enough of them to go around. [Slurp.] At the same time we received the house special “12 ingredients” chopped salad, an interesting and delicious melange of small pieces and harmonious flavors – it was a challenge to try to identify things like dried apricot and endive, but better just to allow them to fill all the little sensitive tastebuds with goodness. [Slurp redux.]
By now the Harrington had opened nicely and we were enjoying every sip of the essences of cassis and strawberry perfuming the wine. Our entrees were predictable choices. Milady ordered the fresh broiled dover sole. A simple but exquisite preparation, which depended on the excellence of the fish and putting a premium on the waiter’s skill filleting it tableside. It arrived beautifully moist, in four attractive pieces – boneless and carefully arranged on the plate flanked by lovely looking redskin potatoes. Milady announced it delicious, and exactly what she had imagined. I ordered the signature mutton chop. This is a significant piece of meat, about five inches thick with a substantial bone cradling two rounds of flavorful meat. As requested, it was perfectly medium rare, and a treat with the house mint jelly. [Sluurp!] We ordered the hash browns (a house specialty) and field mushrooms are shared side dishes, which proved worthy accompaniments. The potatoes were brown-crispy crusted with a salty tang, and the mushrooms were lightly sauteed, sweet, woodsy and with pleasant body. This is what the English probably think they’re trying to present, and at which they don’t usually succeed. The sweets and salts came together in a wonderful symphony of gustatory threads.
Plates completely cleaned, their whisking away was smoothly followed by dessert menus. We opted to share a dark chocolate mousse, decaf coffee and calvados to prepare us for the balance of the evening. Only the mousse wasn’t consonant with the rest of the meal. It was dark chocolate, but sadly it was timid – lacking the oomph to cut through the remaining meat flavors on our palates. The coffee was full, rich and soothing, as expected. The calvados, whose name is unfortunately lost under a grease stain on my notes, on the other hand was spectacular. I’m in love with the silky deep apple aroma, the soothing hints of caramel and vanilla in great calvados. Last night I learned about the tang of green apples and the tiniest suggestion of spearmint on the finish. Wow!
The check was brought promptly upon request. All of our concerns about our previous experience were assuaged, table of eight notwithstanding. (They were still enjoying their evening as we made our way out.) We expressed our appreciation to the waiter for his masterful service, attention to detail and comfortable attitude with a generous tip. The meal was costly, but we received full value for our money – and strolled to the concert feeling good about all that had transpired. We are already looking forward to returning simply to dine.