Lesley Chesterman
Saturday, November 24th, 2001
The Gazette
People who dine out frequently often develop a pushy attitude toward the restaurant’s wait staff. They hand the maître d’ their coats before someone offers to take them. Once seated, they blurt out a request for cocktail, scan the menu in seconds, request an update on the specials, fill their own wine glasses, and ask that the bill be brought along with desserts. All in all, they do their utmost to take control of the evening rather than let the waiter dictate the pace of events. I once watched one such diner take hold of a waiter’s jacket to make sure he wouldn’t escape before the order was taken. Unbelievable!
But can we blame them? After one service disappointment too many, I also find myself falling into such dictatorial behavior. Though the level of service in Montreal restaurants is generally quite high, there’s no denying that many waiters are losing control of their customers.
A MASTER AT WORK
This fact became more than obvious at a recent dinner at that Old Montreal temple of French gastronomy, Chez Queux. Not because the service was poor, but because for the first time in ages, I encountered a waiter who controlled every aspect of the evening, transforming what could have been just another old-fashioned French dinner into one of my most memorable experiences this year.
The waiter in question was as unassuming as they come. He looked like an easy target for my foul mood (looking for a parking place in Old Montreal in the pouring rain will do that to you). He inquired in a soft voice if we’d like an aperitif. “Perrier,” I said. He returned with the Perrier and asked if we’d be interested in a taste of Beaujolais Nouveau. OK, I nodded, but only one glass to share. He was back, seconds later, with three glasses and poured a generous half glass in each. “What the…,” I whispered under my breath before I heard him say “here you are, one glass for three.” Nice touch. |
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Our orders were taken in due time. I asked about the Châteaubriand for two. He described the preparation of this thick beef filet in detail, and offered to find a cut that would served the three of us (how accommodating). I quizzed him about the catch of the day. Tuna, he answered. Prepared how? Grilled. Then came the ultimate test: wine consultation. Having scanned Chez Queux’s ample, award-winning list, I knew the under-$50 selections paled next to the impressive, three digit Burgundies and Bordeaux. I asked for something good – something interesting – for no more that $50. He suggested a very special Bordeaux for $45. A good Bordeaux for $45? Can’t be. I hesitated, and offered to up my rate to $60.
He returned with the starters: shellfish bisque, sweetbreads and a goat cheese salad. “Where’s the wine?” I whispered to my companions through clenched teeth. Just then I heard the gentle pop of a cork and my glass being filled for tasting. Lo and behold it was the $45 Bordeaux, and it was delicious. “I saved you a few dollars,” the waiter whispered to my dining companions with a knowing smile.
After the wine episode, the man could do no wrong in my books, I sat back, relaxed and enjoyed the food.
The bisque was wonderful: light in texture, bursting with rich shellfish flavor, and without a trace of bitterness. The sweetbreads were also divine. Served with lightly sautéed mache, a handful of orange and grapefruit supremes, and a dribbling of citrus juice, the two flattened lobes were crisp and assertively salted. The goat-cheese salad was everything a goat-cheese salad should be. The oak-leaf lettuce was crunchy, fresh and laced with a gentle vinaigrette, and the large round of goat’s cheese was a variety that’s neither insipid nor overly strong.
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The main courses were also very good. The grilled tuna, topped with a dash of pesto, was moist and cooked to the requested medium-rare. Its accompaniments included a generous mound of wild rice, carrots and asparagus – nothing revolutionary, yet delightful nonetheless.
A CUT ABOVE
The Châteaubriand for two, dished up tableside, was the standout of the evening. Our waiter cut the filet mignon into six thick slices, set three of them on a pool of Béarnaise sauce on each plate, and spooned around a square of dauphinois potatoes, green beans, carrots and asparagus. Each plate was then re-heated before being set in front of us. The perfectly rosé meat was tender and full of flavor, and the vegetables were excellent: piping hot, well seasoned and al dente. The Béarnaise sauce however was a disappointment. Not only did it lack a pronounced tarragon flavor, but the heat of the plate caused it to separate. Dommage!
When I inquired about the cheese course, the waiter once again seized the opportunity to strut his stuff. He showed up with a fine selection and before we knew it, started slicing away, insisting we try this and that with our last few sips of wine. With aplomb, he sold us a course we were all too full to consider. But again he was right; the cheeses, a combination of French and local varieties, really hit the spot.
For dessert, we couldn’t resist a simple lemon tart and that old French favorite, crêpes suzettes. The tart was very good with a buttery crust and a smooth, pungent filling. The crêpes, unfortunately, were bitter. I suspected this outcome while watching the tableside preparation as the waiter went a bit heavy on the zests and a bit light on the Grand Marnier.
Chez Queux is a good-old-days French restaurant with a retro-luxe menu and a château-like décor: stone and wood paneled walls, heavy drapes, throne-like chairs, heavy chandeliers, fireplaces, and wall to wall red carpeting. There’s more of a perfume in the air than a crackle and the background music is Mozart, not Madonna.
It’s not the newest or hottest place in town, yet with such comforting food and confident service, it shows us how pleasant it can be to just let go, sit back and be pampered. |
