The mocktails send a message, one that's stowed by the salt pig, sizzling in the bacon-and-egg salad (above) and wildly alive in the oxtail risotto. It's even in the water.
"It's been a big change," says longtime GM Kathy Solley. "It's a new place—and kinda tough to get your head around all of it."
The aforementioned mediums for the message are diverse (and don't end with the salt and the water). Take the "De Fresa" mocktail: crushed strawberries, fresh basil, balsamic vinegar, lime and orange juices, agave nectar and a splash of soda, all sourced with care, designed by Anthony Vitacca. Not exactly what neglected nondrinkers get to look forward to at most places.
But it doesn't get any more fundamental than water. And Montrio's new water system is the sexiest thing since sliced San Francisco sourdough.
Montrio no longer ships hundreds of heavy bottles of water in from suppliers an ocean or two away (or out to recycle centers), but nevertheless customers can enjoy bottles of pure still or sparkling tableside, chilled or room temperature. For free.
A new UV-treated filter that upstages comparatively wasteful reverse osmosis set-ups makes that possible. Not only do customers get deliciously pure (and unlimited) agua, staff stays better hydrated—all with tons less waste. And something about the little blue latching corks is just cool.
Many of the most attractive upgrades appear on Tony Baker's menu—more on the whoah-baby risotto and pinch-me pork trio in a moment—but less obvious adjustments speak to the comprehensiveness with which Montrio went after its anniversary audit.
Gone are salt and pepper shakers; in are salt pigs filled with kosher contents and a personal pepper grinder at each table. New flatware adds subtle grace. Sleeker stemware feels more appropriate for an already very good wine list that Solley still steers. Slick menus with leather spines offer new appetizers (wild salmon flatbread) and entrees (wood-roasted brick chicken). The servers look sleek in new burgundy shirts, but none of the servers are new—a key accomplishment/prerequisite in undertaking such a change.
"We haven't had to hire a server in five years," Tollner says.
Gone are salt and pepper shakers; in are salt pigs filled with kosher contents and a personal pepper grinder at each table. New flatware adds subtle grace. Sleeker stemware feels more appropriate for an already very good wine list that Solley still steers. Slick menus with leather spines offer new appetizers (wild salmon flatbread) and entrees (wood-roasted brick chicken). The servers look sleek in new burgundy shirts, but none of the servers are new—a key accomplishment/prerequisite in undertaking such a change.
"We haven't had to hire a server in five years," Tollner says.
Thanks to the grace of the food gods, Baker took Tollner, Weekly CEO Bradley Zeve and I through a taste tour of many of his new creations earlier this month.
The first bout with newness might've been the best: the oxtail risotto ($10.50) is luxuriously fortified with big green fava beans from Swank Farms, melted brie and big tender lengths of tender, slow-cooked beef in rice that's expertly evolved after years of making Baker's nice baby artichoke risotto (which remains on the menu). This dish is a must-do for meat eaters.
The salad that followed is somehow indulgent and healthy and light and rich at the same time. The bacon and egg salad wears an egg poached in bacon grease as a layer of flavor over local greens and sun-dried tomatoes touched just enough with sherry vinagrette. Maybe a microscopic morsel survived between our three plates. Maybe.
The salad that followed is somehow indulgent and healthy and light and rich at the same time. The bacon and egg salad wears an egg poached in bacon grease as a layer of flavor over local greens and sun-dried tomatoes touched just enough with sherry vinagrette. Maybe a microscopic morsel survived between our three plates. Maybe.
Quail flew out of the kitchen two ways after that. The best of the two treatments was an apricot-stuffed breast on a bed of warm and smokey bacon-walnut salad. I'd order it again as an entree, but love the fact that it's an appetizer ($11.50) so I can share and save room for things like the chicken. The simpler grilled quail was good but suffered from an overly enthusiastic vinegar gastrique.
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Epilogue:
I returned the next Monday under the cover of darkness with some friends from out of town. The place was stuffed like the pork tenderloin—and my allies came away enchanted by the established elements (the 1910 firehouse ambiance and ceiling potato-clouds) as much as the recent ones (the new ratatouille-risotto fritters and white anchovies on garlic toast).
I shared the feeling, finding my own romance between things new and old. The new included a Beta Vulgaris 2.0 (with St. Germain elderflower, green chantreuse, roasted beet juice and lemon) a woswer wild king salmon ($24) Baker has added that enjoys a lively dijon-, caper- and taragon-spiked sauce gribiche. (The chimmi churri he lays on the potato wedges that he stacks the salmon on was also interesting in the best way.) The old favorite elements felt like a friend's hug, particularly the classic oatmeal-crusted brie with cumberland sauce and the crayons on the table for scribbling, hangman and a closing note.
"Happy Birthday Montrio," it read. "You age well."