Galisteo Inn
Chef Zino Zimmer

This dinner is what my husband and I affectionately call a 'Thanks, Dad' dinner. Only when the parents come to town can we splurge like this. After careful consideration of all parties, we selected The Galisteo Inn. Geronimo, our usual choice, had made a bad impression on dad a few years back when they could not seat us until 30 minutes after our reservation time.

My husband and I arrived before the others, about ten minutes early. When we drove up, having battled a welcome torrential storm on the way, the skies were just opening up again. The lone farm animals, a llama and an alpaca grazed in the field in front of the inn. The parking was clearly marked as was the entrance, a beautiful flagstone walk embedded with little stones. In front of the long portal was a very green, well-manicured lawn, a rare sight in New Mexico. The enormous cottonwoods lining the stone wall made for a peaceful tableau. Inside the inn was just as peaceful. A hallway leads almost naturally to a small sitting room where we found some guests relaxing. Poking your head into a room to the left reveals five tables set for dinner. I do not know if it was intended to be part of the charm, nevertheless we had to seek out a staff member to ask if we were in the right place. A busy woman, the hostess/server/maitre d'hotel acknowleged our party and indicated where we were to sit. So, having established ourselves, my husband and I returned to sit on the portal to watch the fat robins playing on the lawn.

As the time of our reservation grew nearer and then past, we began to fret. Dad is never late for a meal. We received the explanation when they arrived-a truck had rolled on the highway. Dad had called from the accident and asked the inn to move our reservation. What was odd and what was to become the theme of the evening, is that no one ventured to come find us on the portal and inform us. However, as I said, perhaps apathy is all part of the charm.

We were not greeted by anyone when we stood confusedly in the little sitting room adjacent to the dining room. In fact, we took the matter in hand and sat down at the largest table. The same flustered hostess/server/maitre d'hotel appeared and handed us menus. She began by saying, 'I will bring you…' and I mistakenly finished the sentence with '…amuse bouche?'. No, just water. I have always considered a complimentary aperitif or a little amuse bouche the opportunity for the chef to show his thanks, start the dinner off well etc. Maybe even demonstrate a special talent.

Sage Bakery bread did appear and our wine order was taken. In kind deference to mom and myself (and maybe he prefers white now), dad choose a chenin blanc from the Loire. Adorably named 'Les Bonnes Bouches', dad was launching into a story about the Loire when our server arrived. The interruptions throughout the entire evening were not well-timed.

The Galisteo Inn offers a range of prix fix dinners, the prices clearly marked under each entrée. Our server, the same busy woman appeared to be handling all the tables, guided us comfortably through each selection, suggesting here and there, answering all questions well. There are no specials. Everything is cooked to order. I choose the Shrimp and Lobster Angolotti, a thin ravioli-esque pasta. Stuffed with roasted pistachios and sitting atop a cognac cream sauce. I was joined by dad. Everyone declared that this appetizer 'won' at our table. Dad found the dish to be too sweet however he could definitely taste the lobster, so often hidden by other rich flavors. I thought it perfect and thought perhaps a bit more sauce would have prevented it from drying out as quickly as it did. I particularly love it when you can taste lobster in anything. Lobster is sometimes used as ubiquitously as truffle oil. Speaking of which, my husband and his brother both selected the peppered antelope carpaccio with a cute stack of white asparagus, baby greens and a truffle vinaigrette. A little marigold accompanied each. The serving was wonderfully generous. The comments ran from 'interesting' to 'dry in a good way'. The truffle vinaigrette was acknowledged to be non-existant. Maybe it was too subtle for the complex antelope. Mom selected the wild mushroom risotto, again with white truffle oil, toasted pine nuts and crisp asparagus. Once again the truffle oil was absent from the taste however the dish was avowed to be 'very good'. I suppose that either truffle oil is never used liberally enough or it requires a simple presentation, like les oeufs en omelette. A small, almost imperceptible event occurred at the conclusion of the appetizer course. The young man clearing our plates carefully removed dad's dirty knife and placed it square again to his right. What was particularly odd was that some of us were left knifeless or forkless, while others at least had some used utensils at their disposal. A very long pause ensued. Our wine and water were refilled with alacrity.

Finally the entrees emerged. Some were warm to the touch, some hot. Mine was decidedly cold, which I discovered was correct. To add to the general confusion, the entrees were incorrectly dispersed. A trading of plates occurred. My husband and his father had the duck breast, something I have seen them order in conjunction before. Covered in honey and lavender, the taste was surprising. As was the parsnip puree which was at first declared to be oddly-tasting mashed potatoes before consulting the menu again. Served with sautéed vegetables and atop a port wine sauce, both decided it was splendid. As promised, the duck was cooked to the exact temperature requested during the initial order. Mom choose a particular favorite, rack of lamb served with a warm potato salad, haricot vert and a citrus caper sauce. She had no complaints and tucked in very nicely. To my left, my brother-in-law was already polishing off his salmon in almond beurre blanc with toasted jasmine rice and baby greens. And what was I doing? Waiting for my entrée to return once more from the kitchen, where our server had whisked it away when I asked about the three different temperatures of my plate. The fresh bean salad was decidedly cold, the parmesan tuille hot and the semolina and herb-crusted soft shell crabs were warm. Once it was brought again to the table, I remained without utensils. I hurried signaling of the bus person brought what I needed. A native of Annapolis, Maryland, I am if not an aficionado of soft shell crab, I am more educated than most. These were most certainly not the wretched Dungeness however they did not have the rich, sweet taste of Maryland Blues. I know that blues are now harvested off the Carolina coasts and in the Gulf. Whatever the origin, the crust was so strong and salty, it would have been a crime to waste a good Chesapeake blue for this. Salty and hard.

Another long pause before dessert. A lovely, varied selection of desserts was presented to us. Dad wavered and wavered, the chocoholic in him tending towards the chocolate mousse with fresh berries, while the sensible moderate eater in him reverted to the mixed berry compote with shortbread and amaretto cream. Of course the chocolate won, as it did with my brother-in-law and of course they finished it immediately. Mom wisely choose the fruit and cheese plate after all the rich sauces. We did wait awfully long for the cheese plate, though. It came with what looked like a softer camembert. I plunged in with the chocolate banana decadence with spiced caramel and vanilla whipped cream. Alas, only one solitary banana slice could be found on the dessert, however the decadence was excellent, if slightly gooey. My husband, who lacks for no sweets in his life, chose the lemon tart with strawberry sauce and whipped cream, his favorite.

We stood up from the table feeling full and satisfied in spite of the spotty service etc. The total came to $338.27 not including tax and tip for five.