Harvest

B and I had dinner at Harvest in Cambridge last weekend. It’s owned by the same people who own Grill 23 and Post 390. As you may know, I love Grill 23 – both for drinks and dinner (I tell you, Adam makes the world’s best martini). I’ve only eaten at Post 390 once, and it was lunch. It was really good, but I think dinner is a true measure of a restaurant, and I will get there soon.

With all that said, and given my positive feelings about the other two restaurants, I was looking forward to eating at Harvest.

Now that I have, I’m not sure I really liked it. We had a 6:30 reservation that we made with Open Table. We arrived a few minutes early and were seated right away. Our waitress was appropriately friendly and attentive – service was definitely not an issue. We each ordered a cocktail while we looked over the menu and it was brought promptly.

We ordered a 1/2 dozen oysters to start. There were two choices and the waitress recommended the lower priced option because she said they were better that night. (Part of the good service points.) While we didn’t have anything to compare them to, the oysters were delicious. However… the cocktail sauce looked (and tasted) more like ketchup with a chunk of horseradish sitting on top. I have an extreme aversion to ketchup, but I pinched my nose shut and stirred the horseradish into the ketchup and it was palatable.

As we typically do, we decided to split a Caesar salad. Okay, this is where everything went downhill (ketchup sauce notwithstanding). First of all, we have ordered a split salad in many restaurants and every time we got it served on separate plates. This time it came on one plate. I am not (completely and consistently) unreasonable. I’m okay with sharing it off the same plate as B. Not the issue. The issue was that the salad consisted of literally 5 romaine lettuce leaves (whole ones, and very small whole ones at that), a sprinkle of shaved parmesan, dressing and two biscotti “croutons”. It was certainly not sized for sharing, and it cost $10. The $10 Caesar at Grill 23 always comes out on two plates (with anchovies, I might add – as long as you want them, that is) and it is large enough to be generously shared by two people. This salad wasn’t big enough for one person, let alone worth $10.

Despite my insistence to the contrary, B ordered a second salad. I really didn’t want him to. I was horrified enough that we were paying $10 for a salad that couldn’t feed one person, let alone $20 for two salads that could just barely feed one. I can be cheap about a lot of things, but food generally isn’t one of them. But nonetheless, B didn’t take me seriously and the second salad was delivered.

And it got worse!

The second salad did not come with the biscotti “croutons” as advertised, and as served to B. In some regards that was okay, because they didn’t taste very good. But now I’m paying $10 for a salad that wasn’t as big as the first one. And my first lettuce leaf had no salad dressing – all I could taste was the water they used to wash the lettuce. “At least you know it was washed,” said B. Small consolation. Needless to say, the other four lettuce leaves had no dressing either. Dis-a-ppointed. (Okay, I realize the two p’s in the way I tried to emphasize that word look stupid, but I’m trying to make a point.)

Now for the entrees. B got the duck, and I got the striped bass. I tasted B’s duck (after he kindly cut away all the fat even though he said it’s the best part… gag, I have a meat fat aversion that’s approximately the same size as my ketchup aversion) and it was good. The duck was served with forbidden black rice, some sort of risotto, and a vegetable medley of carrot, turnip and baby bok choy (we think). The striped bass was served with three tiny clams in the shell on a bed of what appeared to be peppers sliced to look like pasta in some sort of a broth. There was no starch and the veggies were barely there (not even a 1/2 cup portion). The first couple of bites of the fish were good, but when I started to dig into the crust I was overwhelmed by a very salty and fishy taste. And not in a good way.

While my hats are not off to the chef, I can applaud the pastry chef. We ordered a chevre cheesecake that was absolutely delicious. I may even use the word “divine.” I’ve never tasted a better cheesecake. The cappuccino I ordered to have with it was another story. It was more like espresso with a topping of milk foam. There was no steamed milk mixed into the espresso.

So, I give the service and the pastry chef high marks. The chefs and the barista, not so much.

In their defense, apparently it was the first night of restaurant week and I am told that restaurants can tend to be off their game during restaurant week. But, we didn’t order off that prix fixe menu and the restaurant was by no means full. At 7:30 on a Saturday night in bustling Brattle Square, there were empty tables. (And I don’t care what anyone says about the economy, I haven’t been to a restaurant on a Saturday night that wasn’t full at prime time.)

Would I eat there again? Probably not. The menu was not extensive enough to think that I just ordered the wrong thing (and with B’s dish so much more substantial than mine, it doesn’t seem there is a lot of balance in their offerings).

And I’m not getting over that $10 Caesar salad anytime soon.