Bella Vista Redux

Bella Vista
(650) 851-1229
13451 Skyline Boulevard
Woodside, California 94062
Tue-Sat 5:00p.m.-11:30p.m.
Closed Sunday & Monday 

A few of the epicurious have asked me about my birthday dinner and I think that it is time to dish. I picked up Leslie from the airport after the show was finished saturday night, after we both realized that we were on different levels and got that straightened out. It was pouring buckets and quite dark. Rain was moving sideways in great drifts off the road surface and the twisting mountain road was barely visible in the rain and darkness.We traveled west slowly up Highway 92 to Skyline Blvd. and the finest view in the whole South Bay, the Bella Vista Restaurant.

The Bella Vista is a roadhouse that was built in 1927. Its neon martini glass peers out from the surrounding redwoods like a beacon. We were joined by Warmboe, Flynn and Millard, in from Santa Fe to prowl Alameda.

The BV is totally old school, big flambes, tuxedos, white linen, impeccable china. The fare is continental that your parents would love, and you probably do to, abalone, sole menieure, veal scaloppine. Nothing nouvelle here, rich sauces, lots of butter.

I had made reservations the day before and the owner, John Ward, called me personally and couldn't have been nicer. I wish that the night had been better, the view didn't exist when we arrived, trundling up and our of the car through the rain like characters in a scene from an old Bogart gangster flick.

We started with a Rombauer Zinfandel and good bread. I had a head start at the show drinking pinot noir with my new friend Pete and his lovely wife Kristen. Our waiter Gordon was fantastic and outrageous and could definitely get as crazy as we could.  We ordered salads and appetizers.

Leslie, Bill and Dan ordered the endive, bay shrimp salad, their favorite. Don't remember what Millard had. Somebody ordered a large shrimp cocktail. I started with tortellini stuffed with veal and something else I don't quite remember. Face it, I was already near drunk.

All of this stuff was delicious and adding up. Somewhere along the line I switched to greyhounds, my typical vodka drink. Dinner was great, company was great and conversation bawdy and hysterical. The clouds lifted and we saw the gorgeous view of the valley below. Priceless.

Our entrees arrived. I had Granadin de Boeuf a filet sauteed in brown sauce, topped with
bernaise and artichoke hearts. I don't know why I write about food. Kerry gets on my shit about my patrician eating habits and I never hear the end of it.

Leslie ordered the Tournedos de Rossini, medallions soaked in Madeira with fois gras and truffles.  Our server described the exact location of the cut, in situ as it were, just down a piece from the chateaubriand. Millard had the canard with a pinot lingonberry sauce. Bill and Dan split the surf and turf.

My entree was delicious. Leslie loved hers as well. I had a bite and almost fell over it was so intense with the truffle and gois gras. John was left slightly unimpressed by his duck, feeling that it had been fatally lingonberried. Somewhere along the line we got a sorbet cleanser. This was a power meal, the kind of meal John Boehner runs into at the exclusive golf clubs and along the corridors of power. Alpha, sort of male and intense. Older folks were slow dancing in the adjacent bar, swaying softly to the notes and distant memories.

Dessert was a small flotilla of souffles, chocolate and Grand Marnier.

The bill was the GDP of a small european principality. But once in a while you have have to throw caution to the wind and say fuck it. Thanks to all my mates, the Bella Vista, our server, my wife. It was a great night. If you want to go retro and celebrate a special occasion, try it. Old world, dated, bad for your heart. You will overorder, overeat and maybe feel lousy later but it could possibly be worth it.