The New Bistro Garden Is a Slow Bloomer
“Don’t move,” said the waiter. “Sit very, very still.” As he spoke he edged slowly towards my companion holding out one of those small silver trays on which bills are presented. My friend froze. The tray flashed. “Got him!” said the waiter triumphantly. Pinned beneath the tray was a bee. Without lifting it, the waiter ever so gently pulled the tray towards him. When he got to the table’s edge the waiter slid another tray underneath. Then he began a triumphal march towards the open window. Holding the trays high he opened his arms, releasing the bee into the warm San Fernando Valley air, and the orange trees just outside.
Just another lunch at the new Bistro Garden at Coldwater, where a fire burns in the grate even when it’s 80 degrees outside, where orange trees bloom perpetually just outside the window, where a real pianist plays a real piano soothingly in the background--and where you never quite know what will happen.
I have had some of the best service of my life at the new Bistro Garden. (The old Bistro Garden in Beverly Hills is, of course, famous for its service. But that’s another story.) Waiters have protected me from bees, worried whether I liked my food, replaced my glass of iced tea when the ice had melted and generally made me feel pampered and petted. Even the valets have been concerned about the quality of my meal. “Was it good? Were you pleased?” they are likely to ask as you slide beneath the steering wheel.
But I have also had some of the worst. When I asked the maitre d’ one night, when he came to take us to our table, if we could put the wine we had been drinking at the bar on my dinner bill, he replied, “Oh, we can put that on your bill, but of course if you’d like to you can take care of the bartender.” In the 15 years I’ve been reviewing restaurants, it’s the first time anybody has ever told me to my face that he was afraid I might forget to leave a tip. On other visits I’ve had waiters forget that I was there in the middle of dinner, especially late at night when the restaurant was starting to empty out. And one night I looked across the vast dining room trying to get somebody’s attention--anybody’s attention--and discovered that there was not a single waiter in sight.
This would not be too terrible--except in a restaurant where service is the main point. And this happens to be one of those. The design here certainly isn’t going to win any awards (the 30-foot ceilings and giant faux clock decorations make it look as if the charming old Bistro Garden had just been inflated with hot air, expanding it until it seems more like a hotel lobby than an intimate garden), and although the food certainly isn’t awful, I can’t imagine anybody coming here only to eat.
This is not because the ingredients aren’t good. The ingredients are very good. In fact the main fault with the cooking here (aside from a lack of imagination) seems to be that when the kitchen isn’t quite sure what to do, it simply throws another costly ingredient into the pot.
Consider, for instance, the wild mushroom risotto. “What a pretty dish,” I thought when it was set before me. It was intensely yellow, the bright color you get only from using lots of saffron. Vivid red diced tomatoes crowned the golden rice, and a sprinkle of bright green parsley sat on the red. It was beautiful to look at. And the $11 dish tasted as if it contained about $20 worth of saffron. But that self-same saffron completely obscured any flavor the wild mushrooms might have had.
The problem with the Caesar salad was much the same. The lettuce was crisp and fresh. The croutons were crisp and fresh. The dressing was delicious, containing every one of the proper ingredients. But there was far too much dressing for the lettuce, and the dressing itself contained far too much of the single most expensive ingredient, the cheese. There was so much cheese, in fact, that it caused the leaves of lettuce to stick together and the calorie count to rise dramatically.
This particular cooking quirk aside, it’s very hard to know how to order here. Classic dishes that you expect to be wonderful--shrimp cocktail--aren’t. (The two times I had it, the shrimps were rubbery.) Other dishes that you expect to be forgettable turn out to be quite otherwise. The Bistro Garden makes a delicious celery root salad, serving the marinated root in huge pieces instead of the ordinary shreds. It’s a wonderful conceit that brings out the delightful texture of the root.
There are other surprises--both good and bad. The menu makes a real effort to offer some true bistro food. But I wouldn’t order the cassoulet again--it was drippy and disappointing. On the other hand, I’d drive across town any time to eat one of those pig’s knuckles. It comes jiggling to the table--a huge chunk of meat--on a bed of mashed potatoes and sauerkraut. If you ask for horseradish, the dish gets even better; the restaurant’s version is extremely potent and improves a very satisfying dish.
The hamburger (as you’d expect) is made with excellent meat. But it is served without a bun and, as far as I’m concerned, a hamburger without a bun is just another chunk of chopped meat. The chicken burger, I think, is a better bet; you see it sitting smugly on plates all around the room. But you see a lot of that chicken hash as well, and if ever a dish had nothing to be proud of, this is it. My hash arrived surrounded by a green moat of pureed peas and mashed potatoes that sat slowly hardening on the plate. As for that famous chicken quesadilla--a flour tortilla filled with lots of chicken, cheese and onions--it must be one of those dishes that you have to learn to love.
Desserts are another puzzle. Take the famous chocolate souffle. I ordered it three times, and all three times it was overcooked into dullness. I’ve rarely met a rice pudding I didn’t like, but this was one. And the floating island didn’t so much float as wallow in a sea of custard, caramel and raspberries. Berries Bistro, on the other hand--ice cream, fresh berries and Grand Marnier--turned out to be one of those eternally pleasing sweets.
Tradition is very important here. So you must remember to ask for cafe au lait if you want to end your meal with cappuccino. Otherwise, what you will get is a sweet concoction in a tall white cup. “Don’t people get confused?” I asked one waiter. “Yes,” he replied, removing the tall white cup. “But when you’re at the Bistro Garden, this is a cappuccino. “
This is, in fact, it’s own little world. The Bistro Garden’s been a slice of Beverly Hills life since 1979. Now it’s come to the Valley, and nothing’s changed. This makes a great many people very happy, for they no longer have to drive over the hill.
Bistro Garden at Coldwater
12950 Ventura Blvd., Studio City. (818) 501-0202. Open for lunch Monday through Friday; for dinner Monday through Saturday; for Sunday brunch. Full bar. Valet parking. All major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $50-$100.
Recommended dishes: celery root salad, $7; pig’s knuckles, $18; chicken burger, $12 at lunch; berries bistro, $6.50.
