After driving by for many years, the 'spouse and I decided to take advantage of a night of freedom – and, as we were limited by budget, opted for Charcoal Oven. Now, I do not intend to offend anyone - but really, the place does look like a set for the Godfather movies – so much so, that we began to think of it like a theme restaurant, which, as the evening progressed, oddly shifted to “
Young Frankenstein." We were greeted by a very friendly young hostess (when I say young, I mean about our age – easily 40% younger than the majority in the restaurant) who instantly vanished, to be replaced with our waitress – Cloris Leachman as Frau Blucher. From across the room, she wordlessly pointed us in the direction of an empty booth without making eye contact. The dining room has sepulchrean flair, with elaborate but dim Victorian-style sconces. Black leather u-shaped booths line one wall, ending in columns that delineate a small party area towards the front door; each booth has its own shadowy sconce. The bar area on the opposite side is separated from the main room by mirrored paneling and dark wainscoting - in my mind, all that was missing was a band and a parquet dance floor.
Delighted, we seated ourselves, and were silently handed handwritten menus containing specials from days of yore: shrimp scampi, pastitio, filet mignon, chicken or calves liver, and veal parmigiana. Occasionally, the younger hostess would stop by and break the atmosphere a bit, but by and large we were attended to by Frau Blucher. Drink orders were taken in a businesslike manner. The ‘spouse asked about the fish, and was informed with a deferential smile that nothing remained but trout for the evening. We settled on chicken livers for myself, and the evening's pork chop special for the ‘spouse. Our orders having thawed the waitress a bit, two cups of soup appeared in front of us. “Some nice lentil soup,” Frou Blucher clarified. She vanished for a moment, and reappeared suddenly with a plate containing two round breads, “Rolls.” quoth she, adding ominously “already cooked in butter!” She vanished again. At this point, we were almost giggling outright: the ‘spouse neighed under his breath, as her impersonation was uncanny, if completely unintentional.
The house-made soup was hearty with carrots and lentils while the rich broth remained distinct. The rolls, as promised, were lightly fried in butter. We were then offered a “nice” salad, dark green lettuce topped with blood red tomatoes. Our dinners arrived shortly thereafter - let me say here that a frightening number of chickens were sacrificed to the cause. The large dinner plate was completely covered in a layer of perfectly-cooked livers on a bed of sautéed onion scented with thyme. Delicious. The ‘spouse received two gargantuan “America’s Cut” style pork chops, perfectly cooked though they were well over an inch thick – our evening’s sole complaint: they were a bit bland. Side dishes arrived family-style: perfectly steamed and otherwise unsullied asparagus (delicious) and hand made thick potato chips (equally good.)
After wrestling manfully with our entrees, we requested boxes for the leftovers, at which point the Frau inquired after dessert. Options offered were apple pie, mixed berry pie, “nice chocolate cake” and rice pudding. We had a lovely, enormous slice of mostly strawberry pie – and when I say enormous, I should clarify that it was served in a large soup bowl and topped with what could only be described as a slab of vanilla ice cream. We also had a cereal bowl full of rice pudding. At this point, struggling for room to breathe, I had to cry uncle, and we left the rice pudding half-finished. It was very good, if topped a little heavily with cinnamon.
True to earlier reports, a bag of tomatoes arrived with the check, which was about $75 for dinner with drinks and dessert (and two meals of leftovers.) We were sent on our way with instruction to let the tomatoes breathe, amused and sated.
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) Actually, I was going to mention that I'd consider Charcoal Oven to be a good substitute for RIP Gateway/My Place For. Many similar entrees, if in a unique vibe.
