The news last May that Real Restaurants had taken over the space vacated earlier this year by Cascade Grill resounded as a natural and perhaps long overdue turn of the restaurant wheel. These are the folks who brought us the Fog City Diner and Mustards in the '80s and a constantly evolving string of great dining venues since then. Their formula of (mostly) moderately priced, deliciously updated renditions of classic American and European fare has always been satisfying. In Marin, their Buckeye Roadhouse has become a destination, with parked cars lined up all along Shoreline, and people packed like sardines in the miniscule bar. I mostly go there for lunch, since it's so hard to snag a reservation for dinner without advance planning. Having what amounts to an annex in the village should make it easier for locals to share in the bounty.All traces of the original gas station at the corner of Blithedale and Sunnyside have vanished, unless you count the parking lot, an unusual accessory for a downtown Mill Valley restaurant. But although at least three major redesigns have successively notched up the visual appeal of the dining room, no one has ever figured out what to do about the din, which is impressive from the moment you step through the door. Even when the room is half empty, the noise is confounding. Perhaps it's the fault of the open kitchen, currently lined with a dozen or so counter seats and set off by pretty geometric light fixtures, or the abundance of hardwood and stone surfaces on the floors and countertops.
Whatever its cause, the amplification sent us scurrying for the patio, which has morphed into a sort of cozy den; tables and French red and cream woven bistro chairs line the perimeter and a miniature rattan sofa and easy chair face the stone faced fireplace. The windows are still plastic sheets that roll up in warm weather, but otherwise this intimate, surprisingly quiet space has been enclosed. It's carpeted with something jutelike and tweedy, with brown velvet hangings; both must soak up sound. Shades of taupe and mushroom dominate both dining areas, with big red paintings reminiscent of Mark Rothko on the walls.
We were asked to wait a few minutes for our reserved table, which was slightly curious since there was an empty one all set up when we walked in. But the sofa was comfortable and the fire a pleasant distraction. A cheery male server asked if we wanted beverages, and the time passed quickly until we were led to our table. Our drinks, however, lagged a bit. Our server brought a plate of warm bread and chilled butter, noting that he would not ordinarily serve these so soon but that he wanted us to have it while it was still hot. Then we got our Mojito ($7.75) and glass of '03 Mark West Central Coast Pinot Noir ($8.50).
The menu is topped with an Unusual Suspects list of special cocktails, like the cool, minty Mojito, a pomegranate Cosmopolitan ($8.50), an orange and vanilla Dreamsicle ($7.50) and a mango Margarita ($8.75).
The wine list, however, is a bit intimidating. Although there are seven wines poured for under $8 a glass, the choices for these moderately priced glasses are limited to two Sauvignon Blancs, two Chardonnays, one ros , one Sangiovese and one Cabernet Sauvignon. So there's not a lot of room for exploration, unless you want to spend either $8.75 or $16 a glass for '02 Ravenswood Sonoma or Rafanelli Dry Creek Valley Zinfandels, or between $8.50 to $14.50 for a glass of Pinot Noir. The pours are not particularly generous, at that. On the one hand, it's nice to see more expensive wines offered by the glass, and there are many unusual bottles on the list, like the '03 Gypsy Dancer Gary and Christine's Pinot from Oregon. But the 300 to 400 percent mark-ups for most glasses and many bottles seem a bit outr for a neighborhood restaurant.
The menu, formatted much like that at the Buckeye, is full of mouthwatering choices. We opted for snow crab bisque ($7.50), an ample white bowl full of tomato-hued soup drizzled with cr me fra"che and a spoonful of crab. I thought a sprinkling of salt helped to bring out the tang of the seafood and offset the slightly too-sweet tomato notes of the soup.
Grilled shrimp and andouille sausage skewers with arugula pesto ($12.50) came perched over a triangle of something our server said was a grits cake. It didn't taste like grits, but it tasted very good: creamy with a bit of bite in the texture. The chewy shrimp, spicy sausages and especially the garlicky green pesto were wonderful with it. But why are chefs so enamored with the number three when conceptualizing appetizers? It would seem that the majority of parties are of two or four; and many people like to share appetizer plates. Trying to divide three small shrimp between either two or four people is just plain silly.
Our very pleasant server did offer to divide our pear, red oak leaf and watercress salad with Gorgonzola and pine nuts ($7.95). But something amiss happened in the process, because my half tasted as though it had been tossed in salt water, while my husband complained of too much acidity in what was described as a pear vinaigrette. Also, he said I got all the pears.
There was nothing wrong with his entree, grilled king salmon with crunchy/sweet pasilla-corn salsa ($19.95), although it wasn't particularly inspiring.
But my braised beef short ribs with horseradish cream ($18.95), slow cooked to falling-off-the-bone tenderness, were a delight. They came in a pool of deep red wine reduction that almost completely made up for the fact that there really wasn't all that much horseradish in the cream.
With entrees, you choose one of eight side orders. We had dark green broccolini with garlic and shallots, very pretty and a pungent counterpoint to the salmon, and a fabulous creamed spinach that consisted mostly of greens just kissed with reduced cream and a bit of nutmeg and pepper.
Among the other side orders are roasted Asiago potatoes, wild mushroom bruschetta and truffled French fries, the last of which you can order without the truffling. I had asked our server if he could somehow slip one truffled French fry onto my entr e plate, so that I could just taste what that might be. We were very obligingly brought a small, gratis plate of eight fries to sample. They're super, thin and golden crisp, but it takes a bite or two to actually taste the subtle mushroom essence of truffle. With the salmon, a glass of '03 Benziger Family Winery Los Carneros Chardonnay ($7.75) was excellent. My glass of '02 Alexander Valley Vineyards Syrah ($8.75) tasted soft and flat with the beef, but shaped up considerably as I sipped it on its own, waiting for dessert.
We ordered both the warm chocolate cake ($6.50) and the rose panna cotta with mixed berries (also $6.50). We were happy that we had, because they were wonderful together!
One could order panna cotta in a dozen restaurants around the county, and get something different every time. Bungalow 44's delicate version comes in an old-fashioned sundae glass, with clouds of rose water-scented custard layered in a lush sauce of blackberries and blueberries.
The dome of cake looked like half a furry chocolate tennis ball, but much softer, and oozing warm chocolate filling. It was surrounded by a moat of silky chocolate glaze and smeared with just a small dollop of melted cr me fra"che, so bites of the creamy rose/berry custard served as a foil for all that richness.
Although we certainly hadn't ordered with a budget in mind, I was surprised that our bill added up to just over $120, before the tip. To my mind, this is on the expensive side for a neighborhood restaurant. There are a few less pricy options on the menu, but at Bungalow 44 you will still pay $13.95 for a hamburger, albeit one of grilled Kobe beef, and $13.50 for a grilled turkey salad. Two vegetarian entrees, a vegetable pot pie and a portobello, roasted pepper and goat cheese napoleon are $13.95 and $12.50 respectively.
