MOODY’S, A RELAXED ATMOSPHERE
RESTAURANT REVIEW
The friend who accompanied us as we walked down George Street grew up in Hamilton. She recalled her student days partying on Hess Street and was pleasantly surprised to hear that George is moving toward a more mature crowd.
Moody’s is another step in that direction. Though the crowd was young (we pushed the median age up considerably with our presence), it was not a crowd getting shots. They’d come in for a meal or to enjoy the wide variety of beers on the lengthy wall of taps from the likes of Amsterdam, Collective Arts, Fairweather and Nickel Brook.
The selection is not surprising, considering Moody’s sister restaurant is the Ship, one of the earlier devotees of craft beer in the Hammer.
Moody’s, though, is not primarily a watering hole. The seating is extensive, with tables along the walls unoccupied by the bar, another room behind the main one, and a lovely porch that would have beckoned us just days ago.
As it was, the warm vibe inside was preferable. The ceiling caught my eye: its bronze-gold colour reflected the lights from below, along with mirrors on one wall. The effect evoked the feeling of a classic French brasserie, but brick and faux wood panelling on the other walls made it less imposing.
Moody’s drink menu had some cartoon cocktails as visuals, with names like Garden Gnome and George Street Punch. My Socks and Sandals was a breeze of summer: Bulleit bourbon with passion fruit and pineapple juice, topped with egg whites and bitters. Light with mellow citrus tones and a softsweet finish.
My companion’s Moody Caesar was alight with spice. She thought the drink was fantastic despite the out-of-place piece of bocconcini cheese used as garnish.
Our appetizers would come out quickly, as if the kitchen was anticipating the rush that was to follow but in the meantime, we listened to “Oh Sherrie” and some Depeche Mode while chatting with the server about how much she was learning at her driver’s ed. course.
Then she brought out Buttermilk Calamari on a blue rimmed, white plate, with a wedge of lemon and a ramekin of cocktail sauce. I wanted more from the battered and fried capers and pickled onions (they could have just been fried sans batter to retain their pickle better). The calamari was cooked to a perfect doneness in a cornmeal batter — a touch tough, but not bad overall.
Next up was the fried Brussels sprouts, which turned out to be the dish of the night for me. A bed of brown butter mascarpone cheese sauce served as a base for the roasted halves which had tender bits of bacon worked in. Curls of salty Par- mesan cheese almost covered the greens and a line of lemon zest ran across the middle of the plate. A lot of elements. The mascarpone was a little heavy for the lighter tones of the dish, and the brown butter could have been more prominent, but the sprouts were soft and delicious and the zest was a playful finish.
Our server had the mains coming out a little before we were done our apps but managed to hold off one until we’d cleared enough space on the table.
Glancing at the window next to us that offered a view of the porch, she suggested we use the ledge to hold our hot peppers and small glasses of water. That worked to make room for the pizza and Mafalda Carbonara.
The Meat-a-Ball pizza was a sight: sesame seeds on the crust, fresh basil leaves on top along with slightly roasted cherry tomatoes and, as the name suggests, plenty of meat. I enjoyed the flavours together, especially the sesame seeds. The crust was on the fluffier side but it was cooked through and lightly crunchy.
Long ribbons of carbonara pasta were served in a large, blue rimmed bowl, again covered in Parmesan. Bacon and a sous vide egg yolk, broken up, were mixed in. The sauce was the perfect consistency for the thick noodles and the yolk added richness. Satisfying comfort food.
The song “Get Lucky” played as a Classic Hero sub was placed on our table: mozzarella, Roma tomato, basil, balsamic reduction, arugula and basil pesto, garlic aioli on fluffy bread. Pretty average, for me, as subs go. But the chips on the side were delightful. Thick and crispy, they were clearly house-made and a lovely snack. The side of slaw was a creamy little ramekin of goodness as well.
By now, both sections of the restaurant were full, as were we. But I dutifully asked for dessert and was informed that the only option was a chocolate chip cookie, which they’d run out of.
No matter. I left with the impression that Moody’s relaxed, grownup atmosphere is much appreciated on George.
Alana Hudson has cooked at restaurants including Vong, Le Bernardin, and Avalon.