PLAZA III
101 South Market Building, Faneuil Hall Marketplace. Boston
(617) 720-5570
Restaurant reviewed 10/20/97 by Alison Arnett
The news of another steakhouse in town elicits only a sigh. Really, how many of them can Boston, or any city outside the Midwest, absorb?
Yet Plaza III, the newest entry in the category, located in the tourist-rich Faneuil Hall Marketplace area, has its strong points, its endearing aspects.
Foremost is Plaza III's sense of place. The restaurant, done up in a sedate and slightly dark form of sumptuousness, looks like a restaurant in Kansas City, where the original Plaza III is a landmark. And the faded old photographs of the stockyards, fat, white-faced Hereford steers and '29 officials of the American Royal livestock show, were fascinating, at least to a native like me.
When I was young, when anyone 40-plus was young, a festive dinner meant steak, certainly in the middle of the country. My father, who raised cattle, would never have thought of ordering anything else, and prefers to stick to tradition even now.
Times change, but as a dining companion at Plaza III mentioned, the men in the bar having drinks before dinner looked as comfortable as could be, happy to be there, anticipating a dinner as familiar as childhood. It stands to reason: With recognizable meat, plain vegetables, and sweet desserts, there are no surprises in the fare of steakhouses, and in this Plaza III does a fine job.
In fact, in a phone interview, general manager Bob Steenstra says the menu has stayed the same for seven years, and there are no plans to change.
The food, too, keeps to the regional tastes of Kansas City. There's steak, of course, in many cuts, and other fine meats, such as lamb chops and veal, presented by the wait staff in an awkward display. ``Here's our filet mignon,'' the waitress says, revolving it in her hand. The shrink-wrapped cuts of raw beef look ludicrous, especially the filets mignons, which resemble heart transplant specimens. This parade of raw stuff must be a Chicago affectation, because it's not something I recall from the heartland, where the patrons are often too familiar with the real thing to want to see it before they eat it.
However, the focus is on the quality of the steak, flown in daily by owner Nabil Haddad from his own meat company.
Memories are made of beef like this, the savory notes hitting high in the palate, filling the mouth with texture and aroma. It's exactly that explosion of flavor wanted from beef. The marbling of the prime strip steak or T-bone has a depth of taste that makes the eating worth the calories, outclassing the softer, but leaner, filet mignon.
It's best to stick to the basics; the tenderloin Oscar still had good beef taste, but the big, rather tough shrimp and asparagus with it, not to mention the bland bearnaise, only masked the meat.
A thick veal rib chop was also delicious, as were double-cut lamb rib chops. But I can't imagine why anyone would come here to have double breast of chicken, which looks naked on the display plate compared to the beef. And the salmon was only passable, too heavily peppered and slightly overcooked.
Other dishes brought back Midwestern memories. There were plenty of nice ingredients in the salads, good greens, flavorful tomatoes. But neither the garden nor the spinach salad escaped the heavy dousings of ranch dressing and the showers of bacon or cheese. Hashed browns, like an irregular stack of potato straws (remember those cans of them?), were very good, but the thick gravy that coated the mashed potatoes was an unmentioned surprise. Very retro. Simply braised spinach was fine, but the asparagus was limp; the creamed spinach was too creamy.
The real blast from the past was the steak soup, subtitled ``Our Famous Recipe.'' It was indeed famous in Kansas City, where the supposedly smuggled recipe made the rounds of home cooks. Dark brown in a too-gelatinous stock, with shreds of steak, some carrots and peas, it's not pleasing as an appetizer. The liquid coats one's mouth and there's a flat sensation, heavy but with little taste. Actually, as I recall, a favorite KC version added sour cream, even more fattening but tastier.
By the time dessert rolls around, one might as well throw calorie considerations to the winds and order the turtle ice cream sundae. The desserts are vintage steakhouse, from a pleasant Key lime pie to gooey triple chocolatissimo cake with chocolate mousse to a berry trifle that was really just whipped cream and berries. The turtle sundae was really sweet, with its chunks of caramel-covered pecans over ice cream and whipped cream tossed in for good measure. It was also delicious, and we found ourselves continuing to pass it around the table until every drop of caramel and ice cream was gone. Just the right last extravagance to finish off a steak dinner.
Plaza III has that other piece of steakhouse tradition right, too - the service. The wait staff is cheerful, efficient, and never condescending. If they feel odd, prattling on about those cuts of beef and that one-pound potato, they don't let on. But they ask first before doing the spiel; they come back to pour the wine; they cheerfully get a child a hamburger even though it's not on the menu; and they bring the check promptly without being asked. No wonder those men in the bar looked so comfortable.
Tips & hits
