Dining Out

Karl Wells

 

Mickey Quinn’s

Delta Hotel

120 New Gower St.

Ph. 570-1333

 

Restaurants at the Delta Hotel continue to evolve, changing almost as often as the actors playing Dr. Who. At one time the hotel’s main restaurant was called Porto’s, then Capital Grill, and quickly thereafter, Quinn’s Plate. Recently I was surprised to discover that their formal restaurant, Quinn’s Plate, had been merged with the less formal, pub restaurant, Mickey Quinn’s. A section of wall separating both had been removed and the main entrance was now through Mickey Quinn’s.

 

According to our waiter, Ray, Delta management decided to merge both spaces because they want to focus more on the food service side of their restaurant operation and less on the “pub” business. I was delighted to hear this because I was beginning to wonder whether the St. John’s Delta - the largest hotel in Atlantic Canada - was even going to have a proper restaurant in future. Prior to the current arrangement, Quinn’s Plate was only open for breakfast, not a hopeful development. Anyone interested in lunch or dinner had to settle in the pub. Judging from the dining activity there, many chose to settle elsewhere.

 

My guest and I were seated at what used to be the border separating Quinn’s Plate from Mickey Quinn’s, sort of a passageway with booths and - at the time of our visit - a buffet table. It enabled us to assess both sides of the marriage and observe a definite mismatch. Quinn’s Plate was tall, with elegantly curtained vertical windows, coloured in muted earth tones, furnished with classic style chairs and architectural fittings and fixtures.

 

Mickey Quinn’s, according to Delta advertising was named for some guy called Mickey Quinn who was, quote, “a free-spirited downtown resident, known to many in the late 1800's. Of great wit and light heart, Mickey was said to have lived in a puncheon on one of the downtown wharfs and charmed many a folk with his funny stories and antics.” Excuse me? He lived in a puncheon? Yeah, sure; and my grandfather was a stowaway on Alcock and Brown’s plane. At any rate, Mickey Quinn’s was, like it’s namesake, not elegant and in need of becoming more like its new partner. Many of the fixtures that made it look like a pub were gone but what was left - booths, tables and dark woods - did not seem to be blending well with the finer side of the new restaurant. However, Ray told us more changes were planned, so the “marriage” may yet work.

 

I sized-up Mickey Quinn’s menu while their sound system pumped out a funky version of Jingle Bells. Apart from lacking anything that really made my mouth water, I noticed that Mickey Quinn’s non-funky menu was missing a true appetizer section. There were soups and salads as well as a section called “fast snacks” - pub items like onion rings, fries, squid, clam strips and bacon wrapped scallops - but nothing elaborate enough to qualify as a fine dining appetizer.

 

My guest started with Mickey Quinn’s warm spinach salad, billed as “tender baby spinach, toasted pine nuts, red onion, tomato, smoked bacon and maple vinaigrette.” It actually contained, in addition to the advertised ingredients, several canned mandarin orange sections. The extra addition provided colour, not to mention extra flavour and texture. I liked the taste of maple in the overly sweet dressing, although it had not been warmed as promised.

 

On a colour density scale of 1 to 5 - with 5 being the darkest - my classic French onion soup was a 4. It came in a large bowl with floating croutons covered in melted Swiss cheese and a sprinkling of parsley on top. It was a deep, dark onion and beef broth that tasted intensely of beef with a hint of tarragon. I found its texture to be somewhat thin and would have preferred more strands of onion but that shortcoming was trumped by flavour.

 

Guest’s entrée had a name that flummoxed me. It was called Tuscan chicken and shrimp, but I found little of Tuscany in it, Mexico perhaps. If the dish had featured pesto instead of tequila lime salsa it might have passed as Tuscan. However, as it was it should have been labeled Mexican chicken and shrimp. It consisted of a fruity tequila lime salsa that was quite tasty - but tequila and lime are definitely Mexican flavours - a grilled boneless chicken breast, blackened shrimp, seasoned basmati rice and a medley of sautéed vegetables including asparagus, broccoli, carrot and red pepper.  The vegetables were perfect in taste and appearance. I also found the chicken and shrimp tender but the chicken - unlike the zesty shrimp - was slightly bland. Thankfully, the very “Mexican” salsa helped.

 

Béarnaise sauce is a classic French sauce made with egg yolks and lots of butter flavoured with wine, tarragon and vinegar. It should taste fabulous, especially on a nice rare steak. Mickey Quinn’s steak Oscar with béarnaise was the exception. The steak, while under salted was very good. Unfortunately, the béarnaise was a thick unattractive paste - smeared on top of the meat - that tasted bitter and burnt. I was disappointed to find a sauce tasting as Mickey Quinn’s did, had found its way onto an expensive piece of tenderloin. It was the only part of the meal - the vegetables were beautiful - that was not good. Yet, for me, it spoiled what should have been a wonderful entrée.

 

The name of another Mickey Quinn’s dish also surprised me. This time it was a dessert called peach and blueberry cobbler. I’ve always thought a cobbler was made in the oven with fruit and piecrust. However, what I received was really more like trifle. A parfait glass was filled with layers of pound cake, canned peaches, frozen blueberries and crème anglaise topped with shavings of chocolate. It was yummy like a “cafeteria” dessert would be, but lacked the finesse of a “fine dining” dessert.

 

No doubt Mickey Quinn’s menu will undergo renovation like the rest of the restaurant. I look forward with anticipation to that day. Perhaps then, things Mexican will be labeled “Mexican,” things Tuscan will be labeled “Tuscan” and cobblers will actually be “cobblers.”

 

Our dinner for two at Mickey Quinn’s - including cocktails and tip - cost $114.92.

 

Best Points:

The atmosphere of the fine dining section of the restaurant.

 

Areas for Improvement:

Be careful how you describe your dishes and fix the béarnaise.

 

Ratings Category:

Mickey Quinn’s gets 7.5 out of 10 points.