It was, quite simply, a sublime experience. I have no recollection at all of what I ate (perhaps due to the bottles of wine we shared), but I do recall it was quite good.
Perhaps more than anything else it is the memories of service that remain, as it was of such a high level as to make other service in Charlottetown feel akin to being hit over the head with a blunt instrument: invisible when appropriate, witty and helpful when not, and never cloying.
The room itself is somewhat stark, but not unpleasantly so; all of the ghosts of Myron’s have been exorcised. The general effect was of stepping off Kent Street and into some other world, one not associated with Charlottetown in any way, more like eating in a Danish-inspired joint on Deep Space Nine. And I mean that in a good way.
It gives me a perverse sense of pleasure that Gordon has created a restaurant that, in the end, runs circles around the one his highfalutin former employers run out in the country. Bravo.