The first polite, compulsory question asked by any civil wedding quest, who has immediately been upgraded from complete stranger to friendly acquaintance by mere virtue of attending the same wedding, is “Are you a friend of the bride or the groom?” Because as a rule, you are never a friend of both. When I’m asked about hotel restaurants, the first polite, compulsory question is, “Are you a fan of the food or the ambiance?” Because as a rule, a hotel restaurant never has both. Savor and elegance never share a room in such establishments, and in the unfortunate case of Artbar at the Royal Sonesta Hotel in Cambridge, neither ever checked in.
At Ben and Amy’s wedding, I could smile smugly and announce “Both. I’m the matchmaker”. Then I would smile as I watched respectful eyes widen at the accidental uncovering of such a rare anomaly. I felt the same way at Miel when I found it to be both elegant AND savory.
Ben and Amy’s wedding opened with beaming bridesmaids, and my dinner opened with the blushing Watermelon Gazpacho. As a rule, bridesmaids should never outshine the bride, a rule that brides take too seriously, attiring their closest friends, siblings, and in-laws in the most garish adornments David’s Bridal is all-too-happy to supply. But not Amy. Someone so beautiful inside and out has no need of any endeavor that doesn’t let her share the wealth. So when I expected a grainy, sopping mass of cold pureed watermelon (because pureeing watermelon is ALWAYS a bad idea), I was blown away by a thick, evenly-blended crock of cold tomato with just the right fragrance of watermelon and a dash of goat cheese mousse. I may actually buy one of those bridesmaids’ dresses. The dark purple adds a serene glow to a genuine smile, and the strapless, semi-sculpted bodice is slimming, even on the already-slim.
The Salade de Tomate was as refreshing as watching the beautifully-attired bridesmaids walk to the sound of a crisp guitar and the voice of an angel. The music at this wedding is a subtle and soothing stroll toward a lifetime of content, as soothing as a cool tomato “stew” with fresh mozzarella and basil on a sweltering summer’s eve with none of the ear-splitting brass of a pipe organ.
The entrees came in perfect time to the steps of a beautiful bride. Hair half up, minimalist make-up, and a dress that fits like a dream, Amy needs no adornments. She outshines any bling. The Wild Mushroom Ravioli captures that kind of rich simplicity, what you see is what you get. And you know you’re getting something good.
The Salmon Belle Meuniere is more like the glowing groom. Ben is a multi-dimensional character, a catch as rare as perfectly-cooked salmon, a personality as complex as a side of rock shrimp with a fleeting zest of lemon. One of the better salmons I’ve had, one of the best men I know,
Ben is as sweet as the rosemary Crème Brulee, a seemingly mundane-yet-meticulously-crafted dish with the something-special herb to make it extraordinary.
The Berry Financier is as carefully planned as every moment of this flawless wedding. The almond cake and berry mousse are a perfect pair, a perfect circle like the pair of wedding rings the best man had to dig through his pocket for…at the altar. Like the tang of berry compote, a well-placed comic relief at an otherwise sober occasion.
When I say sober, I mean the ceremony. The reception is another story. At the reception we were all drunk on our happiness for two people who were clearly destined to be together, so in love they’ll never see anyone else, lovers forever lost in each other’s eyes. My love for Miel was not nearly as deep as their kind of love, but it was enough to make me see stars.
Amy tells me that setting up 3 couples gets you a one-way ticket to Jewish heaven. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. If that’s the case, my review on Miel may not last long. Instead of readmytastebuds, stay tuned for a brand new site called KDate.
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