Dinner at Gargoyles on the Square.

Keith, Melissa and I went to Gargoyles on the Square for dinner not too long ago. It’s funny — Keith and I lived within five minutes walking distance from the restaurant for six or seven years, and we had never made a reservation or even stopped by the bar for a drink. Now that we’ve moved five miles away, we’ve been twice in four months.

We arranged to meet Melissa at the restaurant at the exact time of our reservation, but Keith and I arrived a bit early. I can’t recall exactly how early we were, but it was nothing exorbitant; it was something like ten minutes. I thought perhaps Keith and I could sit down and have a drink while we waited for Melissa, so I gave my name to the maître d’ and told him that we had an eight o’clock reservation. After consulting with his books, he said that he would seat us when our entire party arrived. I have to say, this really rankled me. We had a reservation and were barely early, so shouldn’t our table have been ready and waiting? It isn’t as if Gargoyles is akin to someplace like California Pizza Kitchen, where I think it’s perfectly acceptable to be seated only when the entire group is present.

Happily, Melissa walked in soon after that, so we were able to sit down together. Unhappily, it didn’t change the fact that I was already peeved. When we walked into the dining room, I was surprised to see a handful of empty tables which made me further wonder why the maître d’ hadn’t wanted to seat us.

The appetizer options brightened my mood though; I was really curious about the ceviche, but ended up choosing the Wild Burgundy Escargots ($9.00). Served with a duck egg, chive butter and a slice of toast, it sounded really appealing — not to mention I happen to enjoy escargots very much. Ultimately, though, I was disappointed. The sauce so thoroughly overwhelmed the dish; even after I pierced my yolk, I could barely discern the flavors of any of the other components.

I had higher hopes for my entrée, described on the menu as “Whole-Wheat Gnudies.” ($18.00) Our server clarified for us, explaining that Chef Jason Santos used the dish as a play on gnocchi, but with whole wheat, pink peppercorns, honeyed butter and Mimolette. Now, I love Mimolette, so choosing the “Gnudies” was pretty much a no-brainer. I was a little concerned about the accompanying grilled asparagus salad, but only because I am one of the few people who dislikes asparagus. (I want to like it and often make myself eat it, but I rarely enjoy it.) I shouldn’t have had any worries, as this was fantastic. Obviously the honey lent a sweetness, but the Mimolette and tomatoes tempered it so that it wasn’t overpowered by a cloying essence. Overall, the dish was light and springy, and very flavorful.

For my dessert, I decided to give the Blackberry-Blood Orange Float ($8.00) a try. As was the case with the asparagus, I was a bit hesitant; I had tried an ice cream float exactly once before and had been utterly disgusted by the mix of Coke and vanilla ice cream. I went with the float because I love blood orange, and its complement of white chocolate and marscapone ice cream seemed too good to pass up. I’m thrilled to report that not only did the fruit, chocolate and cheese go beautifully together, but I also was the exact opposite of disgusted. About halfway through, I wanted to ask for more ice cream; after its gone, this dessert loses exactly what makes it so special: the combination of flavors. My biggest complaint about this, however, were the blackberries. I don’t have confirmation on this, but I could swear that they had were frozen and not fresh. The reason I say that is because they tasted only vaguely of blackberry, and oh — because when I bit into one, it was frozen. Since they added nothing to the dish, I didn’t miss the berries at all when I scooped them out with my spoon.

In the end, this meal at Gargoyles was an uneven one, something that made me so sad. I had truly loved my first visit to the dining room, and still I think about the amazing appetizer I had — the punningly-named “Ménage à Foie,” with three vastly different preparations of foie. I know I can’t say the same of any of the dishes I ate this night. Does this mean I won’t be back? Of course not. It does mean, however, that I won’t be in a rush. Its luster has since faded.

Gargoyles on the Square
219 Elm Street
Somerville, Massachusetts 02144
617.776.5300
gargoylesonthesquare.com

Gargoyles on the Square on Urbanspoon

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On Comté.

Keith went to Formaggio Kitchen last Sunday (I was busy) and came home with, amongst other things, a sizable wedge of Comté. This is all that’s left of it, and the baguette that Keith bought to accompany it.

I may or may not have said this before, but I love cheese. It is a torrid affair that we are embroiled in, cheese and I, full of longing, yearning and desire. I should add the word “unrequited” as well, but I’m hopeful.

Comté is certainly high on my list of go-to cheeses; along with Pointu Gaborit, Gruyère Alpage, Boerenkaas-Veenweidekaas and Piave Vecchio — which I think is possibly one of the prettiest wheels out there, with its sunny yellow and vibrant blue seal.

Made from cow’s milk, Comté is from the Franche-Comté area of eastern France, near the Swiss border. It’s a harder cheese, but one with a bit of resiliency to it; Comté doesn’t crumble when cut, unlike various Parmesans or a triangle of Mimolette. As for the flavor, well — it’s utterly delicious. Creamy and nutty, it’s similar to Gruyère, with a nice amount of saltiness and a smattering of crunchy calcium lactate crystals sprinkled throughout.

Apparently, Comté is wonderful in fondues and its texture probably lends itself really well to melting. I can just imagine how lovely a Comté and potato gratin would be, or a Comté-based mac and cheese… Truthfully though, I wouldn’t know. Comté never lasts long enough around my house for me to do anything more advanced than slicing off a piece and popping it in my mouth. And I’ve got to say, if that’s all I ever do this cheese, it’s more than enough to make me happy.