An unhistoric dining experience The Stockade Inn in Schenectady has a grand setting, but food and service are in need of refinement By Cheryl CLARK, Special to the Times Union Published 04:51 p.m., Friday, December 30, 2011
With its spectacular, yet tastefully refined holiday decorations, The Stockade Inn in Schenectady is definitely one of those places that makes you go "aah!"
Since 1818, the core of the historic building has been home to Mohawk Bank, several families, the Union School and a private men's club. The Mohawk Club, which still meets there, sold the building in 2003 to the McDonald family, which also owns Pinhead Susan's Pub and The Van Dyck Restaurant and Lounge. With additions and alterations, the usable space measures about 20,000 square feet of public dining, banquet area and inn rooms over three floors, plus attic and cellar space.
A copper-topped bar anchors a dignified, convivial lounge that was lively with holiday revelers long after we paid our check. Two high-backed semicircular banquettes cut a figure eight through the center of the chocolate-brown fireside dining room, breaking up the space and dampening the sound in an effective way. Because of the high ceilings with chandeliers and bright white beams, the color feels peaceful and elegant, rather than just dark. From an interior design perspective, bravo.
By comparison, the kitchen is operating with an unrestrained, more-is-better philosophy that overwhelms, while our laconic server apparently attended the school of less-is-enough.
I ordered a lobster salad ($14) that came in a trough with so many disparate, uncomplementary ingredients I ran out of notebook paper. To name a few: whole blanched hazelnuts, dried cranberries, greens, some sort of cheese, candied papaya (I think), two canned cling peach halves in syrup, cherry tomatoes, orchids, cucumbers — the list goes on. There was also a ridiculous amount of butter-poached lobster that had lost all sense of identity in the chaos.
I found the canned peach so odd, I went back to the menu to confirm that the original concept had been sun-dried peaches, toasted hazelnuts, cranberry Stilton and peach Frangelico vinaigrette. It was as if the cold station ran out of some of the items in the recipe and put everything else in the kitchen on the plate by way of compensation. It was the kind of mess a child makes when released on a salad bar without adult supervision.
It wasn't an isolated problem. One of my companions had an absurdly large tomato and mozzarella salad ($ that would have been better served with a forklift rather than a fork. Three slices of bland cheese as broad as bread plates and thick as Texas toast were stacked over and above two equally and improbably large tomato slices. After four people ate as much of it as humanly possible, there was enough left over to make a pizza.
The kitchen could have met the $14 price point of the perfunctory charcuterie plate by decreasing the volume by 30 percent and increasing the variety and quality by 60 percent. It did have nice caperberries and cornichons.
At this point of the meal, we realized that our server had sent water to the table, but had never come back for our wine order. For not the last time of the evening, we had to stand up and wave to get someone to fetch her for basic needs. When we ordered our wines by name, she tetchily demanded: "Bin number!" as if we should have known better.
Our reception and treatment in the richly appointed bar had been far warmer. As we assembled and admired the furnishings, the bartender accommodatingly told us what she knew of the history of the place. It was 20 minutes past our 8:15 reservation when we finished hearing the story and were led through the dining room arch and we were quickly made to feel as if the server would have been happier to have finished her side work without the nuisance of another table.
Given the sheer volume of the clams, mussels, shrimp, scallops and lobster in the "Pappardelle a la Mer," ($2, the law of averages demanded that at least one of the mussels would be bad. Aside from that hard-to-avoid flaw, the dish was pleasant, but huge, with a simple seafood and white wine broth and well-managed textures on each of the seafood and pasta elements.
Three lamb "lollipops" (meant to be a $13 appetizer, but ordered as an entree by one of our party) were wrapped in thick, smoky bacon and served with a tart, tangy herb sauce described as "chimichurri." Tuscan veal ($26) was tender but salty and bland, in spite of shiitake mushrooms, cappicola ham, roasted peppers, a gelatinous demi, spinach and polenta.
Each week, five regular entrees are offered for a reduced price of $15. One of our choices was on the list, salmon Oscar, rich with crab meat, Hollandaise and cheesy risotto with charred asparagus. The fish was tender, but the overall effect was overpowering.
At the risk of further inconveniencing our server, we ordered coffee and dessert. The tartufo ($6) was a simple chocolate-covered ball of ice cream and cherries. The coconut cream cake ($ was enormous and more custardy cheesecake than classic coconut cream.
Dinner for four with two bottles of wine, appetizers, entrees, two desserts, coffees and a bottle of sparkling water (which did not appear on the check) was $245.16 with tax, before tip.
Beverage: (★★): 24 reds $22 to $79 (7 by the glass $6 to 10); 19 whites $26 to $39 (5 by the glass $6 to $. Lots of OK stuff and a couple of good things.
Service (★): Server disappeared frequently, lacked basic knowledge of the menus, failed to offer timely accommodations and seemed unhappy to serve.
Personality: (★★): Lackluster dining room service and a more-is-better food philosophy soured our impressions of a gorgeous, historic gem operated with pride and hospitality by a local family.
that would have been better served with a forklift rather than a fork. Three slices of bland cheese as broad as bread plates and thick as Texas toast were stacked over and above two equally and improbably large tomato slices. After four people ate as much of it as humanly possible, there was enough left over to make a pizza.
Logged
