Gastronomique: Myth's a Myth.
We went to Myth burdened with expectations as high as the Transamerica pyramid two blocks away: the place was so popular we had to let the restaurant decide when we would eat there, all our suggestions being shot down by Open Table like a buddy of Dick Cheney. Nina Zagat whispered in our ear that this was one of the exciting places in her new guide. Michael You're Eating in My City Bauer wrote a review which was glowing in the dark, and named Myth on his 10 best new restaurants of 2005 list. And it was easy to find the restaurant itself: it was the one with the Ferrari parked in front. There are many ways to blow your money when you have too much, and this one is as show-off-ish as any, but this seemed a better omen of sophistication than, say, a tricked-up Escalade.
The interior design is stunning: a wide square room with an open kitchen is lined up with bench against the opposite wall, and sleek booth on one side. Behind the booth sits a long and busy bar where you can eat on a stool. Then, behind a wall of exposed bricks making elegant arches, another long dining room with a high ceiling and the atmosphere of a hip cloister. A private room opposite the kitchen is separated with a large glass partition, so you can follow, while you are seating in the main room, the powerpoint slides the corporate suits are examining. Biotech is trending up on those charts. This is a dining room where you feel comfortable displaying your wealth conspicuously.
So we sat in a booth, led in by the owner himself, stepping in like Batman to save a front hostess overwhelmed by the arrival of too many customers. And we have to give it to them, the whole crew at Myth works hard. Should you wish to know who is who: there are three guys wearing ties among the staff, all the others in a dark uniform: the owner, the general manager and the sommelier. The attention to the customer's whims extended from the waitstaff to the kitchen, with our requests to share an order coming back in the form of split plates. While we could not get the better of our dining partner by slurping most of a dish to share, it is definitely much more dignified that way.
Another great thing about Myth: the full page of wines under $25. We considered an instant ordering by the glass, but cranked the math in our little brains, and there comes the bottle. So why aren't we waxing Homeric about Myth? We just were not overwhelmed by the food.
To be fair, we had a wild burgundy escargots (yeah, snails!) with braised octopus, garlic, pernod and fennel ($12), which sounds weird, but came out excellent. It was served in a deep plate with a rich just at the bottom to soak up your bread, a few fresh spinash leaves and fennel shavings, oh so good. But we were disappointed by the warm sweetbread salad with bacon, sherry vinegar, shiitakes and grain mustard ($12). The listing does not advertise some fris&eactue;e leaves and a few string beans bits. The bacon overpowered most of the ingredients on the plates, and on a blind test, we would not be able to tell you we were eating sweatbreads.
The menu lists two pizza and two pasta between the appetizers and the entrees (also two soups, on our visit cauliflower with lemongrass and scallop bisque) and we sampled the garganelli pasta with foie gras cream, maitake mushroom and marsala (two sizes, $8/$14). The sauce in which the perfectly al dente garganelli swam tasted rich and decadent, but unfortunately not of foie gras.
Another dish victim of its excess was the 'brined and grilled pork tenderloin with pork belly, egg dumplings and soy sherry sauce ($24).' Taken separately the ingredients were okay, the pork tenderloin a bit dry maybe; but the spaetzle were served alongside Brussel sprouts and orange quarters and pomegranate seeds and the combination just was not working for us. The deliciously tender beef cheeks ($25) were served on a bed of basmati rice which for some reason seemed too common, too cafeteria-like, despite being surrounded by organic carrots and beets.
For dessert ($9), the excellent quince and pear strudel with a gingerbread cognac ice cream compensated for a weak trio of chocolate cake, caramelized banana and crème fraiche ice cream. The actual name took three lines on the dessert menu, and the layout of the elongated oval plate looked stunning indeed, but the chocolate tasted like ready-made chocolate pudding, the banana was four thin slices of a banana to which not much more had been done beyond peeling, the only redemption coming from the ice cream.
All in all, we just weren't blown away, despite some obvious qualities, and some obvious effort put into it. Maybe we misordered, maybe it's Myth luck that we visited less than a month after going to Winterland, a place in the exact same price range which delivered so much more. And the Ferrari outside as omen of sophistication? The valet kid got yelled at by the driver for no reason. Maybe it was not a good sign after all.
Myth
470 Jackson Street
415-677-8986