Author: jean komatsu
Last saved by: GCS

The Georgian at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel
411 University St., Seattle, WA
http://www.fairmont.com/seattle/GuestServices/Restaurants/TheGeorgian.htm
Review date:  September, 2010

We were in Seattle for one night only prior to the cruise, and decided to try this classic formal restaurant. Sadly, although a few things were good, there was not enough value for the cost and the incredibly poor pacing of the courses. A shame, as it's a beautiful formal dining room of the same era as the St. Francis Hotel and Fairmont in San Francisco. Two massive crystal chandeliers hang from 20' tall coffered ceilings, with huge antique breakfronts hiding the kitchen entrance.

The meal started off well with housemade bread rolls which were good. But the real star was the amazingly thin, irregular spears of lavash that were generously sprinkled with sea salt, fresh thyme and rosemary. They were utterly crisp and totally addictive, like perfect potato chips.

I chose the 7-course tasting menu, which suffered from not only erratic creativity but terrible pacing. The first four courses were brought practically on top of one another, with hardly a pause. I scarcely finished the last bite of a dish when the plate was whisked away and another course appeared.

Some of them were good: an amuse-bouche of fresh pea ravioli, a pair of seared scallops with spicy radish micro-greens enriched with beurre blanc and diced crispy bacon. But the mushroom tempura was a failure, with tasteless cheese melted around an equally tasteless mushroom, unpleasantly doughy underneath the crisp shells.

Carlos had ordered only soup and an entree. The waiter very properly brought his soup and my soup at the same time. His crab bisque was very rich, full of crab butter, and he loved it. Mine was a consomme with a lobster beignet and a foie gras foam, a little tricksy but good.

So far they were doing reasonably well, better than Madrone Manor. But then my 'palate refresher' came out. It was awful! An overly large serving of achingly sweet granite, with a high-alcohol vodka foam, is in no way suitable as an enhancement to anyone's palate, unless you're a regular at TGIF.

After that, we waited for our entrees. 

And waited. And waited.....

The entrees didn't arrive until we'd been sitting there at an empty table for almost half an hour. No apologies, no excuses. Carlos' veal loin chop came with a separate tenderloin round, stretching the concept of 'porterhouse' a bit, but it was a lovely piece of meat, the best I've tasted since the old MacArthur Park went under. The black truffle fries were ordinary, however, and the mushrooms in butter sauce were so rich he had to leave as much of of the sauce behind as possible, to eat them.

My filet was described as having oxtail sauce with an accompaniment of mashed potatoes and peas. Firstly, peas aren't in season and these were particularly egregarious examples of starchy, hard, out of season ones. The potatoes were forgettable, which was a shame because the two meats fought over which one should be best accompanying it. 

The oxtails, with the meat shredded on top, had created a marvelous gravy, rich and unctuous. The trouble was, the filet was a spectacular 5-inches thick, perfectly medium rare, with the mild sweet flavor of a wet-aged Prime cut. Unfortunately it was overwhelmed by the stronger flavor of the oxtail gravy.  All of the outside, and at 5-inches tall there was a LOT of beautifully browned outside surface, tasted of oxtail gravy, which was frustrating. This was a steaklover's delight, a really magnificent filet, that deserved more sensitive and simpler handling to showcase it, instead of a trendy preparation that only disguised it. 

A modest cheese course of three cheeses with a thin slice of panfort was serviceable if not especially interesting: an Edam, a local Bleu, and a hard sheep's milk cheese that they couldn't tell me the name of!

Dessert was an exercise in the ridiculous. A small chocolate souffle was sickeningly sweet. It was placed next to a raspberry ice, formed into a shell around an even sweeter Chambord sauce. Topping this monstrosity was a combination of what seemed to be sweet white chocolate and solid chips of white sugar. Neither Carlos nor I could manage more than a taste, even when washed down with the dishwater coffee offered. 

The Georgian is a classic example of marvelous old-time surroundings undermined by uneven execution and impaired creativity. When I rave about the food at Boulevard or Andre's Bouchee or Meritage, it's because these are kitchens where inspiration isn't forced. They know that creativity often needs a light hand and a critical eye, because even good quality ingredients and technical skill don't guarantee a gustatory pleasure. 

Traditional combinations can be updated without upsetting their balance or losing their soul, but all too often what's coming out of kitchens like the Georgian or Madrone Manor, makes you wonder if anyone actually tried eating these plates before putting them out on the menu. I can't conceive of why any pastry chef would be willing to have their name printed on any menu that included that spectacularly awful dessert.

The seven-course was $90 without wine, plus one starter, one entree, two beverages, with tip came to $221. We'd have been better off dining at Lola's, or Olivar. Heck, we’d have been better off with a frozen pizza.