The Bistro

Cheddar French Dip is fabulous! Maurice is a great bartender and a lot of fun which is hard for me to admit considering he is a Michigan fan. Martina is an awesome bartender with tons of personality. Outdoor area is a great place to relax.

For a little corporate-​designed, bar-​slash-​restaurant in a chain hotel (Courtyard Marriott), I was a bit surprised that the taste of my meal was so good here. Tired from a flight, disappointed that there was no room service, and having had to return to reception because the first electronic key did not work, I needed some water to whet my whistle, and my friend Jack Daniels to listen to my woes.
The server (was it Martina?) came immediately and took my drink order. Then there was magic: No sooner than seeing her reach the west Texas horizon, she was already returning, with a Texas-​sized glass of water in one hand, and a near-​frostbite Jack in the other. Was there an old, ranch-​style well that she turned to pump water and Jack while changed direction to return to the table? I’m not familiar with the civil engineering in these parts, but it seemed plausible to me.
What’s good on the menu? She pointed to the filet mignon, which would be served with fries. And the soup? Wunderbar, she said, in her own little way («really good» was the exact quote): baked potato soup. I’ve been trying to eat a little healthier lately, but sometimes exceptions have to be made, even if they are from a young woman is a decade farther than I am from worrying about strokes and seizures. Bring it on, Dallas dearie.
The baked potato soup was wonderful, with large chunks of potatoes, a few streams of melted cheese throughout, and some bacon on top. (To tell you the truth, I’m a little tired of bacon on everything, but here is was fitting.) The steak came out as medium rare, or even a little less-​cooked, which is rare in my experience in a nothing little corporate «bistro.» The server brought the food, checked in with me a couple times, and beyond that was so much the codependent type. I didn’t take a recommendation for dessert; no reason to push the luck of my aorta.
My biggest problem with the place? In what suburban conference room did a table full of MBAs feel the God-​given right to accept the recommendation of the «creatives» at their ad agency to call this place not only «a» bistro, but «The» Bistro? I hope that Julia Child is still getting at least a wink or two of sleep in her grave. Noah Webster and Pierre Larousse are certainly not.