Thursday, May 31, 2012

Restaurant Review: Bistro L'Hôpital

The Old Man dropped into Morton Plant last week to get his gall bladder prodded and his bile duct bored out and re-lined.  That gave me a chance to check out the renowned MP Bistro L'Hôpital.  As a true connoisseur of fine hospital cuisine, I was supremely anxious to sample the lunch menu, which is daringly similar - the very same, in fact - as the breakfast, brunch, and dinner menus.  I was duly impressed by the chef's approach, deftly spurning the creativity and originality that mars the work of so many poseurs in the field of contemporary hospital dining.

The MP Bistro is simply but elegantly appointed, with great splashes of organic color on the walls: liver mauve, muted mucous beige and, no doubt in the Old Man's honor, bile.  Furniture was understated Formica in necrotic tan, with chiropractic seating done up in a surgical instrument motif - a humanizing touch of medical kitsch.  The open kitchen featured acres of gleaming stainless steam tables, and an attentive chef regaled in artfully splotched whites, festooned with dabs of multicolored sauces and exotic cooking oils.  A very "together" look indeed.

I sampled first the Jello-mold appetizer with freshly drained irradiated grapes and just a hint of pineapple and - was that mango, by any chance?  The promised mold itself was barely in evidence, a disappointing bit of overstatement, I thought.

Choosing an entree was a daunting challenge, as racks and racks of gorgeously foil-wrapped goodies lounged under infrared lamps, aged to perfection and emitting marvelously unidentifiable aromas and wisps of steam.  I chose a freshly reheated hamburger, billed ostentatiously as the "Burger Chez Nous." It lived up to its billing, presenting on a crunchy white bun no doubt out of the oven only in the past few days. The array of options was staggering: cheese?  no cheese?  pickle wedge?  Embarrassed by my own gluttony, I went with the full boat.  Damn the calories, I thought, this is the opportunity of a lifetime.

I peeled the burger from its mylar cocoon and devoured it like a man desperate for sustenance.  Nothing could stop me from stuffing myself with delectable bits of charred beef and oozy-oleaginous cheese-like substance.  I had swaddled the burger in freshly opened packets of yellow mustard, preternaturally green sweet relish, and just a hint of Morton Plant's famous catsup du jour.  Perhaps this was gilding the lily, but the flood of condiments went far to embellish the je ne sais quoi rush of tantalizingly vague meat flavor, reminiscent of long-dead cow, with haunting notes of dry-aged armadillo.

Sated to the groaning point, I reluctantly passed up the dessert tray heavily mounded with whoopie-pies and Cool Whip parfaits sweet enough to send Paula Deen into paroxysms of diabetic shock.  Small wonder that the entire Pinellas County medical establishment calls this noisome bistro its home away from home and the wellspring of its livelihood.  Before I waddled toward the swinging doors, empty tray in hand, I took enough notes to recreate for you the recipe for Morton Plant Hospital's prodigious entry into the anals of hamburger fame.
                 Cheeseburger Chez Nous  

Remove from the freezer a generous 3-ounce slab of the finest USDA Commercial Quality ground beef, preferably prepared with pink slime and added water.  (Ask your butcher.)  Without allowing the frozen meat-product to thaw, drop the burger onto a hot grill - it should make a satisfying "clank" - and go find something else to do for a half-hour.

When the burger is burnished almost black on both sides, quickly quench in a cauldron of tepid water to halt the cooking at just the perfect shade of drab, which the Morton Plant chefs refer to as au pointe.  Allow to marinate up to forever, adding burgers periodically as swarming patrons locust down the first-cooked specimens.  (Oops - I suppose "specimens" is a poor choice of word.)

To finish, pluck the meat puck from the marinade, allow to drain briefly, and flip adroitly back onto the hot grill.  Cook tenderly until last vestiges of color dissipate.  Turn and cook 20 minutes more to drive off any lingering flavor-causing elements.  For the final 5 minutes, drape the burger lovingly in slices of cheese-like substance and allow to congeal slightly.

While your burger finishes charring, drop a bun cut-side down on the greasiest part of the grill to soak up residual cooking essence from previous burgers.  Allow to toast gently until soaked and delectable.

To serve, quickly pop the burger with its cheese-like mantle onto the glistening bun, wrap quickly in foil, and nestle into a paper plate folded into the shape of an origami coal scuttle.  Garnish with small pickle wedge and an overwhelming heap of fresh kale or any inedible green foliage.  Serve tomorrow.

Bon appetite!

Newt

13 comments:

  1. Aha! I've figured out another one of your cleaver writing techniques. First you write about two things you know, like Shady Glen's "classic" cheeseburgers and frozen blivets, and then you combine the main elements of each into one very amusing, although I must say very unappetizing little story… Oh wait just a …what? My wife seems to think the hospital cafeteria story could be based on an actual event. She’s clearly missed the frozen blivet on a hot grill symbolism. Well for some folks you just have to spell it out. I’m sure you can see now why I’m the writer in the family.

    P.S. The wife says “Hope you’re feeling better.” Hey Newt, you didn’t actually eat one of those did you?

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    1. While I do have some difficulty maintaining a coherent train of thought for more than a few sentences, I try hard not to juxtapose digestive ingress and egress. Any similarity between the subject matters of consecutive postings is purely coincidental and unintended. The yech factor obliterates any potential humor value.

      Tell your bride that I am well and looking forward to parole.

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  2. Those burgers sound an awful lot like the horse pucky I shoveled out of my horses' stalls today. Hm-m-m...I wonder.

    I laughed so hard when I read this. You are one terrific humor writer. Ditto Jeannie, I hope you are feeling better and are okay.

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    1. The great difference is that horse pucky dissolves in water and is considered nourishing by some of God's creatures - if only the green ones.

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  3. Ewe, You're absolutely right Ev. The wife will be in charge of the writing duties around here for awhile. I’m headed to the penalty box for breaking the "yech" rule.

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  4. The burger you had was overcooked... A perfectly cooked frozen burger should be black on the edges, and grey, with strange little curdle commas, in the center.

    Be better...

    Teaboy

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    1. You're right. I hate overcooked overcooked burgers.

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  5. Hospital food is awful because they want you to go home as soon as possible. It worked. Glad you're on the mend Newt.

    BTW, our local hospital has such a reputation for delicious food that I know people who go to their cafeteria FOR LUNCH, can you imagine?

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    1. At Morton Plant, the chef calls out for pizza.

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  6. Newt, where are you? Hope you aren't eating that gourmet hospital grub again .....

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  7. I was explaining Bernoulli's Law to my grandson in the middle of a micro-burst. Admit it - you'd do the same.

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  8. I'm so beyond Bernoulli's Law ...

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    1. Then you know that besides the classic mathematical formulation, there is the working approximation that says:

      Shit going in
      minus: Shit caught in the pipe
      equals: Shit coming out

      A moment's consideration will demonstrate this law to be universally true.

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