Savona, sans sommelier
Victually, I’m glad to say, Gulph Mills’ premium fine-dining destination, Savona, is in top form. But there’s one seemingly-small-but-significant knock. Here’s a brief field report.
I donned a jacket and arrived a few minutes early to meet a friend for an early evening, after-work dinner. The bar was sparsely populated so I asked for a glass of Riesling and was offered a taste of the 2010 Clean Slate, from the Mosel. We were off to a good start: Semi-viscous body, kind of an under ripe peach aroma, slightly sexy. A complex pour that stayed up on its toes without going ponderous. It was a little fridge-frigid so I warmed it in my hands to bring it out.
Which brings us to the grievance.
We ate in the outdoor dining area near the bar (Bar Savona if you’re keeping score), and the food was delicious (I had the lamb entrée with lentils).
No, it wasn’t the food, it was the lack of wine lovin’. You see – and correct me if I’m wrong – Savona has built a reputation as a meticulous, French-leaning gastro palace with a heavy emphasis on fine wine. The cellar is expansive and, as long as I can remember, they’ve boasted the services of a money sommelier. Melissa Monosoff, Savona’s most recent expert de la maison, is a master sommelier – a most rarified and celebrated accomplishment. Female master somms are doubly, triply, uncommon.
Interacting with her was comfortable, grounded. On a nightly basis she was sure of hand but light in touch. I remember chatting with her about the Summer of Riesling. I don’t know if she obsesses about Riesling on the level I do but I felt encouraged by our conversation, like it was the only wine that mattered that night. You go, wine lover, she seemed to relay with her bright smile.
Specialness. Melissa and Savona tamed the environment to accentuate what was in the glass and on the plate. Great establishments have that exceptional ability to envelop their guests, artificially, for a few precious ticks of the clock. We want it. We want the warm glow inside.
Then Melissa was gone, departed for Dallas at the end of February. With her, apparently, went the attention to wine detail and some of the glow. To point: We brought our own wine and poured just one bottle, a 2005 Margaux from my collection. It was opened with very little fanfare or discussion (that’s half the fun, isn’t it – receiving praise for your “excellent” selection?), and neither of us was asked about the honor of first taste. Rather, a small pour was automatically slid in front of my friend. Bad form. The glasses were filled appropriately and the bottle was placed to the side, no mention of decanting. A relative bebe of a Bordeaux left to sit in the bottle, unsolicited by air. Incroyable.
I get it: You can’t replace a master sommelier overnight. That’s not my beef. When you’re operating one of the area’s finest restaurants with a rich wine tradition, you can and should, however, rally a staff around the basics. I’m hoping I caught them on an off night, but I’m not sure. The instincts simply were not there.
Melissa, can you hear me?