There's mojo at Mise, but you may not notice it. There are no flourishes of stained glass, Las Vegas lighting, natural stone or gleaming stainless steel — like at Bay area newcomer Pelagia Trattoria. Nor is there much of the self-conscious innovation, the culinary alchemy that always strives for new, new, new by mixing cultures, nations, flavors and epochs in every dish — like at Sidebern's. There are no tuxedo-clad server teams, panoramic views or flaming sushi. Let's face it, the West Kennedy address isn't much of a draw either.
In fact, there isn't a gimmick to be found in the entire place. Mise En Place doesn't need 'em. Instead, there is the confidence, restraint and smiling satisfaction of long success, almost 20 years of outliving and outperforming thousands of Bay area challengers at the top of the fine dining scene. Mise has the wisdom of experience.
That wisdom is displayed in a dining room decked out in neutral creams and prominent blacks, dim recessed lighting in the low ceilings, and sweeping half-walls, a style of décor that could last for a decade or more with just the occasional tweak to bring it into modern focus. It's elegant and restrained, like classic 1980s design (minus the ferns), one of the few things from that decade worth saving.
Mise En Place also resurrects a less appealing aspect of '80s cuisine, one that elicits chuckles from foodies — or shrugs of dismay from meat-and-potatoes types — when the appetizer course arrives. Enormous white platters are dotted by just a few meager islands of food, fussy and pretentious and reminiscent of the silliness of nouvelle cuisine. Admittedly, the prices — most under $10 — are well in line with the portion sizes, but they still come off looking like the punch line to a French chef joke.
No matter the cost, there is a danger to bare expanses of white porcelain, a psychological expectation that those tiny piles of food must be packed with enough flavor to compensate for all that empty space.
A rippled tower of piped mousse ($8) does so, each bite more airy and suave than chicken liver has any right to be. Earthy shiitakes, sweet pears and nutty port are blended into this luscious concoction, each assimilated into the velvety gray foam, individual identities lost in a sum greater than the parts.
And foie gras ($11) can always save a nigh empty plate all by its lonesome, especially when quivering along the fine line between solid and liquid like at Mise. After downing the tiny plank of seared luxury in three or four bites, though, you'll find that the real star of the dish is a crispy, sweet potato croquette dotted with tiny bits of rich duck confit.
Sometimes, though, the plate wins. Creamy seafood risotto ($8) is laced with tomato and loaded with a bounty of tender calamari rings, but a massive blast of black pepper makes its presence known with every bite, muscling other flavors out of the picture. A tiny section of roasted lobster ($11) sits limp on the plate, forlorn and undercooked, the bland, elastic flesh unable to deal with an encroaching puddle of sweet and salty soy barbecue sauce.
Maybe we can forgive the occasional problem, in deference to Mise's proprietor and originator Marty Blitz. He's a bona fide chef pioneer who permanently raised the culinary bar in Tampa when he opened Mise in 1986. That was then, though, and this is now. Now there are several Bay area chefs who strive to invent, perfect or excite. Now, Mise En Place has a lot of competition.
Dry, overcooked roast chicken ($18), rubbery skin and all, does not compare well. Neither do two perfectly fried veal scallopine ($25) — under-seasoned and paired with a drab jus — or yellowtail snapper ($25) "crusted" in gummy, chewy potato shreds.
Oddly, the sides are some of the best in town, highlighting Blitz's reputation for combining haute and homey. There are potatoes mashed with a hefty dose of tart goat cheese and a wee dab of truffle; an incredible pastiche of pungent gorgonzola, buttery pine nuts, meaty pancetta and firm cubes of roasted eggplant; and mac and cheese laced with creamy brie and a blast of black pepper. Maybe it's nothing new, but it's damn good.
According to the servers, there are no specials because the menu is printed daily, theoretically making every night a unique culinary experience. In practice, though, Mise's menu hasn't changed a lot since last summer, so favorites like crimson medallions of seared venison ($31) are still available, these days layered with a ragout of asparagus and oyster mushrooms punched up by meaty thyme.
Anyone who pegs $40 as a limit will find a bevy of options on Mise's wine list — like the fat citrus of Framingham Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand or the bright cherry Adelsheim Pinot Noir from Oregon. Spend more, and you can pamper yourself with the Dalla Valle's extremely limited "Maya" cabernet ($468), Peter Michael's single vineyard chards ($119-$138), or Domaine Serene's "Grace" pinot noir ($176), the kind of hyper-limited, New World wines that only a veteran player like Mise En Place can get in quantity.
Inexpensive or outrageous, the wines will be served correctly, another benefit of two decades of experience in the restaurant business. Instead of the familiar and jocular style popular these days, Mise's staff is unobtrusive, efficient and knowledgeable, fading into the background just like the décor.
That's why, even with the lapses in the kitchen, we need more places like Mise En Place. The trend of casual, noisy, vibrant, and chaotic fine dining joints that litter the Bay area these days is missing a fundamental piece of the experience. Sometimes, when spending a lot on a meal, we want to go somewhere "nice." Elegant. Fancy. Grown up.
Mise is all of those things.
Brian Ries is a former restaurant general manager with an advanced diploma from the Court of Master Sommeliers. He can be reached at brian.ries@weeklyplanet.com. Planet food critics dine anonymously, and the paper pays for the meals. Restaurants chosen for review are not related to advertising.
This article appears in Apr 19-25, 2006.
