Ron W.
Yelp
My review should be as short and to the point as the restaurant itself. The large room is sparse and sterile. The service was aloof and, well, sterile. It was like dining in a surgical suite.
The menu was also as short as my grade school girlfriend. There were just twelve entrees and mains combined. That's it.
The food, if it requires heat goes into a massive industrial wood fired oven. Everything, therefore, takes it's sweet time to get to the table. So, if you have tickets to a play, a plane to catch or your wife is in labor, this may not be the place for you.
The bread is baked in house although the the one beard hair I found in my thin slice could have used a few more minutes in the oven. Hey, it happens. Just slather more cultured butter over it and keep eating. No worries, it's biodegradable.
Six oysters came on a small tray nestled on a a bed of rock salt which is fine unless you over-lip the oyster as you will get some rock salt along for the ride with your gorgeous fresh Pacific Oyster for your trouble. Maybe ice chips would have been a better choice.
The Calamari Salad was as good as such a dish can be. A mound of tender calamari strips backstroking on a pond of blackened pureed eggplant and accented with oil and vinegar misted sorrel leaves. Inventive and brilliant. I could have eaten a whole school of these squid.
The wood fired Flathead with Uni Butter and Crisp Lemon Leaves was also wonderful. So, you had to wrestle the skin off the carcass and extract a bunch of bones from the fish and you gums. Hey, it's a fish and them buggahs got bones unless you eat a shark which don't have none.The fish itself was moist, firm, fresh and hot from it's turn in the pit. Sounds like a perfect date with a mud wrestler. Both are a good idea.
Boiled potatoes with a chiffonade of basil and a splash of cream came with the fish. If you order them. Order them. They are as delicate as the fish and excellent company for the Flathead. A potato is vegetable, isn't it? Well, close enough.
All in all this place gets a four star rating from me. As stated above it was a bit cold.
All business. I know we don't dine out to find a new BFF among the staff or line cooks but these automatons took "distance" to new heights. Minimalist on every score card. A restaurant with no foreplay. It reminded me of dining at Le Serpent in Montreal as they wrote the primer on detached staff, but that's another story and review.
As a bonus, this spot masquerades as Betsy in the morning for breakfast. Betsy occupies space in Franklin by the windows in the front of the house. Great coffee and an obliging friendly good morning to you greeting staff waiting for and on you. They all should be working the night shift.
A perfect poached egg on a house made wheat toast with sauerkraut and a nice thick chunk of corned beef, so good the boys at the Carnegie Deli in Manhattan would remove their hair nets and sweat bands to righteously bow their heads.
If you're in Hobart, you ought to be at Franklin at least one night.