Jenn's Convocation

Today, Jenn convocated with her BMus class, while I wallowed in human misery for money. Then we went out for the supper that Jenn has been bugging me to take her to for over two years. We went to Jack's Grill, an Edmonton institution (not that Edmonton Institution, the one without orange jumpsuits) that serves up hella good food for hella lotta money.

We started with small tender squid, which was served tossed in very good olive oil with a confit of roasted tomato, nicoise olives, calamari tentacles, and fennel. This, for lack of a better word, was fabulous. We followed the squid with two entrees. Jenn had the Chicken breast stuffed with bacon and shallot with potato and spinach gnocchi and puree of squash, and I had the grilled duck breast with blackcurrant sauce and potato hash with duck confit and steamed baby fiddleheads.

Jenn described her chicken as the best chicken she has ever eaten. I had a bite. I believe her. My duck was outstanding. The danger of duck is that it will be either overdone and yucky or too rare and fatty. It wasn't. The sauce, a blackcurrant demi-glace was fabulous.

Because we had shown restraint with the appys, we went whole hog on the desserts. Jenn had a remarkable tarte aux citron, and I had a bread pudding with brandy and rum sauce with creme Chantilly, and coffee.

Then I came home and ironed and cleaned the cat box.

Many people writing online reviews of Jack's Grill have gone on at length about how rude the service is. Dismissive. Cold.

Hogwash.

The reason that the busboy doesn't speak as he refreshes the bread basket or your water or coffee or removes your plate isn't that he doesn't like you (he doesn't) or that he thinks you are some hick redneck in from the country in your threadbare Sunday go-to-meeting clothes (he does). He doesn't speak to you because it would be inappropriate to do so. You aren't there to chat with the help, and they shouldn't spend their time chatting with you. This ain't earls. The waiters are middle aged men who have clearly been doing this for a long time. Corks are extracted from wine bottles without drama, drinks are mixed and poured without fuss and in appropriate portions. No patrons are subjected to any description whatsoever of the personal lives of the staff.

In this overheated economy, they have found that most remarkable of things - staff who know what the hell they are doing and don't make a fuss about it.

Jacks Grill gets five perfectly chilled dry martinis. Plenty of classics here, well executed.