I had just driven 223 miles in near-torrential rain from a conference in Concord, New Hampshire, to Irvington to keep a dinner arrangement with a friend at the new Club Car Grille, only to find the restaurant bolted.
I checked my reservation: Yes, it had been confirmed and reconfirmed by OpenTable. We tried the front door again and peered in through the darkened windows, but no, there was no sign of life. I called the number on the banner outside the restaurant, announcing the “New Opening” – which went to voicemail – and angrily emailed the address below it, putting “Disappointed” in uppercase letters in the subject line. We all know how restaurants dislike customers with reservations who fail to show up – and rightly so. But what about customers with reservations arriving at restaurants that fail to open up?
“Right,” I said to my friend. “I’m tired, cold and hungry, and I’m going to have a meltdown if I don’t find food within the next three minutes.” So, we climbed into my car, swung it half a block onto Main Street, and there, like a safe haven in the proverbial “dark and stormy night” was Mima, glowing like a beacon from the outside with the promise of good hospitality within.
Inside, the 16-year-old restaurant looked full to bursting and I said a silent prayer: Please, please, please have a table. We were greeted by a manager. “Any chance of a table for two?” I whimpered. “Absolutely,” he said, and somehow, out of nowhere, whipped up the last table in the restaurant, which also happened to be one of the best.
Mima’s old-world interior of brick, tray ceiling, embossed wallpaper and wood wainscoting is charming, and while there was no room to spare, we could not have been more comfortable in our window inglenook. A server slapped menus and a wine list on the table within seconds of our being seated and immediately asked what we wanted to drink. Negroni, he suggested? It would have been rude to argue. I went with a classic and the friend said he’d try a white negroni, made here with Solento vermouth and St-Germain Elderflower Liqueur. The evening was already looking up – and how.
We ordered quickly, from a long but cohesive menu. Bread and excellent olive oil were parked on the table. Then came ciccheti of blistered baby shishito peppers with lava salt and a plate of arancini (rice balls), in a beguiling red grappa sauce. A shared appetizer of Roman artichokes was such a generous portion, I think a whole field of artichokes must have been dug up to produce this plateful. Slow-braised with herbs, these carciofi delivered a whopping umami rush.
We moved from negronis to glasses of Cardedu red wine, “Monica,” from Sicily. Herbs, spice and fruit wrestled with the stubborn Sicilian terroir. It was delicious.
In the pasta course, we loved the gargantuan portions of consummate spaghetti carbonara but thought the pasta in the (also huge) dish of Fettucine al Limone had spent one minute too long in the pot. I’m not an al dente purist, but in a dish as simple as this, the pasta really does need to be done just right.
When heavy and rather beautiful Corby Hall steak knives landed on the table, we looked at each other. Had we really ordered more? We had. Along came a dish of Pollo Scarpariello for the friend, a beautiful Bell & Evans chicken breast with peppers and roasted potatoes. I was almost as lucky with my heritage duck breast, cooked pink as requested, and served –I ’m not sure why – with “fall” vegetables, as the menu called them. This bird was soft as butter, although I would have preferred a little more duck flavor, or gaminess, but I know that is not everyone’s preference when it comes to duck. The whipped potato that I sent back because it was cold came back moments later piping hot, crowned with a melting knob of butter, triumphant on its return.
Weekday promotions, including the Wednesday special of 50% off any wine under $100 keep the restaurant lively during the week, and the small party room at the rear, I was told by our obliging server, “sees action” most nights of the week.
All in all, then, a round of applause for this Irvington oasis, which legions of Irvingtonians know and love but deserves to be known, for its charm and thoughtful service alone, to a wider audience.
P.S. I received a gracious reply to my email from Club Car Grille’s owner, Matt Kay, saying how genuinely sorry he was. The restaurant opening has been delayed and OpenTable should not have been accepting reservations. The situation has now been rectified, wrote Kay, and I look forward to reviewing Club Car Grille shortly.
For more, visit mimarestaurant.com.
