|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
      
|
 |
 |
|
Wait: We entered the grand foyer of the sparkling new Firebirds Rocky Mountain Grill at 12:30 p.m. on a Friday and, after a second set of giant doors were swung open by two young women, we were greeted by a hostess and seated at a window booth. Service: Charming and quick with the refills. What we liked: There were Rocky Mountain highs ... and lows. The highs included our small-for-a-giant side salads (a large chilled bowl of crisp, green lettuce dressed with diced tomatoes, sugar roasted pecans and a tangy, light cilantro lime vinaigrette), a coconut jumbo shrimp starter (five lightly breaded and fried shrimp with a mango habañero chutney dipping sauce and an excellent tortilla slaw) and a simple, thin-crust barbecue chicken wood-fired pizza. The lows included a lukewarm French dip with salty slices of roast beef and an inconspicuous amount of melted pepper jack cheese. The side of fries that came with the sandwich had a disgusting amount of salted seasoning, there was literally a pile of little orange granules on the plate. Scene: Cavernous, yet warm, thanks to roaring fireplaces, dry stacked stone and a forest or two worth of woodwork. The soft green walls with thin, black leaf impressions scattered about increased the nature-y feel of Firebirds. If work weren’t buying: In our quest to give every restaurant we review as many chances to impress us as possible, we always order more food than we could possibly eat. Still, a $50 lunch for two is tough to swallow. Disney-like decor, so-so eats don’t make for a zippity-do-da dinner Wait: We arrived at 7:45 on Monday night and were immediately walked past the large fireplace in the bar — boy, they like to show it off — and seated in a side dining area. Service: My dining companion wasn’t in the cheeriest of moods after working a long day, so she reacted to our exceedingly peppy server, Malori (to whom most items on the Firebirds menu were, and I quote, “Awesome!”), by turning to me and saying deadpan, “That girl made me want to kill myself. Did she go to smile school?” Ha. I’m a sucker for pep, though, and I dug Malori’s zeal — despite her pimping the creme brûlée cheesecake like she was earning a commission on it and forgetting to bring any bread even after realizing we were without. What we liked: Not much at this Colorado-themed nouveau steakhouse. Our Southwestern crabby patties were overpowered by bell and poblano peppers and an obnoxiously liberal outer crust of seasonings. The lobster spinach queso dip (“Awesome!” promised Malori) only tasted like lobster when we picked up a gob of lobster meat with a chip and ate it whole; otherwise, it tasted, oddly, of clam chowder. My companion’s smokehouse chicken sandwich was indeed smoky, though the top of the bun was dry and the bottom was soggy with barbecue sauce and the cheese wasn’t melted. Ick. On Malori’s word, I tried the elk medallions and was pleasantly surprised: The meat is served on the carpaccio side of medium-rare, silky and sweet with a dull venison finish. It’s delish, though the portion of food on the plate was somewhat lacking, considering the eye-popping market price. Scene: Something about a postmodern Colorado ski lodge in the desert can’t help but feel awkward, and the faux wood-burning fireplace at the bar and fake cordwood in the entrance smack of a Disney-bogus aesthetic, which is pretty depressing. We couldn’t help wondering how that warm fireplace vibe would feel in the heat of summer. Otherwise, Firebirds is cleanly designed and intimate. Tab for two: $67 with tax and tip for lobster spinach queso ($8.95), crab cakes ($9.25), smokehouse chicken sandwich ($8.75), elk medallions ($21.95), soft drink ($1.95) and an Arnold Palmer ($1.95). Firebirds Rocky Mountain Grill
|
|
 |
|
| |
 © 2001-2002 East Valley Tribune |
HOME || CLASSIFIED || ADVERTISING |
