Family Night at Campanile

I think I've blogged about Campanile more than any other restaurant.  Despite having been around for eons in Los Angeles Restaurant Time, there's always something new or worth talking about.  It's our favorite brunch spot bar none, and no two nights are the same.  I've been to tasting menu nights, and Grilled Cheese Thursday, but I still hadn't tried Monday Night Dinner. 

This week's menu seemed to promise the surefire trio I'd been waiting for.  What's not to like about sweet pea soup, spaghetti with lobster and wild mushrooms, and chocolate bread pudding with brandied cherries?

A small problem arose: apparently our 8:30 arrival meant we missed out on the family dinner.  Well, almost -- there was one left. (Even though it's not mandatory to order the set menu, shouldn't the kitchen by now have a better sense of how much food to buy for it?)

Hooray for happy accidents!  This snafu actually wound up working out better.  I didn't much care for the busy spaghetti, with its tarragon blast that seemed to overpower the other flavors.  The many cubes of potatoes also translated into unnecessary carb-on-carb action. 

I preferred my dinner of asparagus soup, and fluke served over hedgehog mushrooms, potato purée and sauteed pea shoots.  Other than the lingering odor, the thick crisp exterior and soft sweet flesh is exactly why I eat fish in good restaurants and not at home.  Much like the barramundi at the Hungry Cat, it's not an original or mind-blowing dish, but it's beautifully delicious.  The heft of the mushrooms and total richness gave the combo a surf and turf quality.  Somewhere a butter churn is worn out, thanks to all the dairy fat that went into it. 
 
Only a fool would skip dessert at Campanile.  It's always the menu page I turn to first, and we certainly had a nice sampling of the offerings.  The meringue floating above the Meyer lemon tart with a slick of candied lemon peel was a miracle of pastry wizardry.  The surface had the sheen of Venetian plaster, and the amazingly thin top layer crackled into a denser  mass that had none of the chalkiness associated with hard baked meringue. 

We were crying uncle when done with the muddy bread pudding, chocolate ganache tart and individually baked apple pie with cinnamon ice cream.

Family night dinner sets the tone for a more relaxed vibe, too. We weren't the only ones with little ones in tow.  This factor -- along with the seasonal food -- promises to keep things interesting.

Comments

[Morgan]

I think "muddy" is an unfairly prejudicial adjective for the bread pudding (a dessert of which I am only an occasional fan), which more strongly resembled a warm flourless chocolate cake (of which I am an ardent fan) in taste and texture.

Also, I feel the waiter deserves props for bringing me such ridiculously high-quality blue (or, rightly, bleu) chese to allow me to stuff my own olives.

[Jessica]

True. It wasn't like, soupy -- just really thick and dark!

The waiter stepped up in that dept., as well as being really nice to the baby.

[MBT Online]

It's so nice to have you do all of the research for us. It makes our decision making so much easier!! Thanks.