Clurfield, sounds like a snob, who considers herself, "slumming"! I
satnd by my review, that "Market", is New Orleans', Decatur
Street-EAST! So I was there, for lunch and it was quiet and serene,
with very soft jazz, emanating from Sirius, Radio. Everything was
CLEAN, I was seated across from the bar, where I could survey
everything! Too bad, the APP, picked, the evening hour, when they are
super busy, with no time to really sit and talk, when they are a
qazillion customers, waiting! What did "Miss Queen for a Day",
expect? Note: "Queen For A Day", was a popular game show, back in the
late 50's and mid-60's, where ordinary housewives, got a new washer
and dryer, bedroom suite or living room. It was The Price is
Right/Let's Make a Deal/Oprah, of its' day. Anyway, I LOVE the Place!
--- In AsburyPark@yahoogroups.com, "Hinge" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
>
> Below is the review of Market in the Middle from the Press.
> Personally, I love Market in the Middle. It's one of the best
things to happen in AP in ages.
> I go there several times a week. The people who work there are
great. I love the eclectic
> blend of things they sell. I've never eaten at the restaraunt, but
i've heard nothing but
> good things about it. If I ever decide to enter the dating world
again, Market in the Middle
> will be one of the first places I take a date to.
> Now here's the BS review...
> "It's a madhouse at the entrance to Market in the Middle. When did
the world start
> congregating on Cookman Avenue in Asbury Park? There's overflow onto
the sidewalk,
> where folks are bravely dining in the chill. I square my shoulders
and walk inside.
>
> We have reservations, thank goodness. Spur-of-the-moment types are
being told the wait
> is two hours. There's no room at the bar and no room to gather
around the helter-skelter
> layout of tables and shelves. I'm relieved when we're seated, even
though it's at an
> awkwardly positioned table, with racks sporting kitchenware for sale
inches from my head.
> I'm afraid to move, afraid I'll topple a display, and the poor floor
crew can't help but bump
> into the backs of our chairs as they try to maneuver. Do they ever
say "sorry" or "excuse
> me"? I'm not sure; the noise level is too high to hear the person
next to me, let alone a
> server ricocheting by.
>
> Market in the Middle, for all its deliberate casualness, is not a
place to relax. The odd
> layout, with its mix of bunched-up tables and for-sale merchandise,
doesn't allow for a
> sense of convivial community. If you're seated in the market part of
this bistro-tavern-
> store, you may feel like an afterthought; if you're at a table
astride the bar, you may feel
> shoved in.
>
> A half hour after being seated, I'm feeling put out: We've ordered a
well-priced prosecco
> from the wine list, but a different prosecco is presented. I inspect
it, register it as
> something likely higher in price than I wish to spend, and ask if
the prosecco ordered
> could be delivered. Several minutes lapse; the desired prosecco
arrives. But the bottle is
> room temp; sparkling wine needs to be served chilled. There's
another wait. Market in the
> Middle's wine guru arrives, pushing a Portuguese bubbly. Or perhaps,
the guru says,
> "Maybe you want a sweet wine?" I reconsider the wine list, order a
Spanish cava, and get
> shaken off again, like a pitcher rejecting a catcher's call.
>
> OK, I'll cut to the chase: The wine fridge was on the fritz, so
nothing I want is going to be
> available at the proper temperature. The deal is we take the
Portuguese bubbly or well,
> we never really learn the options. Which should have been explained
to us from the get-
> go.
>
> We go with the Portuguese sparkler. Nice, no cigar.
>
> Nor can I give a tout to the eclectic menu and the scattershot
service at Market in the
> Middle, the brainchild of veteran restaurateur Marilyn Schlossbach.
The menu covers the
> global waterfront of cuisines, and the wait staff runs from end to
end of the hither-and-
> yon space. No one person was in charge of our table, and it showed:
no water refills, no
> wine poured, no silverware replaced, no one keeping an eye on when
to bring what course.
> We'd barely tucked into appetizers when entrees were brought,
returned to the kitchen,
> then delivered again and, finally, awarded to us after we'd finished
starters. We exchanged
> apps plates for our main courses and proceeded.
>
> By this time, a very hard, ergonomically cruel chair was at war with
my rump.
>
> My taste buds were at war with the very nearly duck-less "roasted
duck over Grand Manier
> raviolis with a fig duck confit," largely because the cloying port
glaze and the duck-free,
> fig-filled pasta pouches were achingly sweet. Olives billed to be
stuffed with asiago are
> heavily breaded balls of chopped tasteless olives and melted cheese,
with a thickish,
> tasteless mayonnaise offered as a dip. A plate of sliced potatoes,
cornichons and onions
> doused with melted raclette is pure comfort food, however,
reminiscent of the fondue-
> style dish served in Switzerland or the Savoie. It's tasty and simple.
>
> A salad given the Caesar moniker is chock-full of roasted red
peppers, olives, sun-dried
> tomatoes, cabbage and onions doused with a tomato-basil "Caesar"
dressing. A Caesar,
> it's not, but it is satisfying, if you flick to the side the stale
croutons.
>
> We work hard to flag down a server to grant us spoons for our
bouillabaisse, and are glad
> we prevail: A good lot of properly cooked fishes, including shrimp,
cod, salmon and
> mussels, mingle with nuggets of sausage in a shellfish-scented broth
that swarms around
> a bed of risotto. The toasted slices of baguette are burned on the
bottom, but who cares
> when lovely fish meets lovely accents? Meanwhile, chicken filmed
with a meek basil puree
> and served over a bowl of spinach-garlic tortelloni washed with
arugula pesto falters: The
> two major elements of the dish are overcooked, rendering the chicken
dry and the pasta
> limp.
>
> Good-quality wild salmon topped with a rash of olives, tomatoes and
garlic deserves
> better: The accents are not uniformly chopped, so bursts of olive or
tomato or garlic
> drown out the admirably gamy taste of the lukewarm fish (which
suffered from that re-
> delivery issue). Dried-out couscous is the so-so side show.
>
> Another dish with great potential was ruined by a technical lapse in
the kitchen. Who
> dared to spray tinny-tasting, air-filled, frothy topping on the
dynamite rice pudding? If
> that's done to you, scrape it off and enjoy the flecks of coconut
and ginger energizing the
> creamy-textured pudding. Skip the goofy chocolate-covered, ice
cream-filled "bamba"
> balls in favor of a satisfying cappuccino creme brulee sporting a
burnt-sugar crackling
> crust.
>
> Market in the Middle may be suffering from success: Hey, if all
these people are trying to
> get in, it must be good, right? But its flaws, from uncomfortable
accommodations to
> careless service to inconsistent cooking, are too many for serious
diners to ignore. It's a
> scene and, as we know, scenes without substance can go quiet quickly."
>
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