Extreme dining

A tale of two dinners at Maxwell-Silverman's Toolhouse

by Jim Johnson

Lincoln Square, Worcester
755-1200
Lunch Mon.-Sat. 11:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m.
Dinner 5 p.m.-9:30 p.m.
Sunday brunch 11 a.m.-2:30 p.m.
Major credit cards
Full bar
Handicap accessible

It's generally my policy to give restaurants a second chance. That, quite frankly, saved Maxwell-Silverman's Toolhouse from one of the most scathing reviews to hit these pages since the infamous "it sucks" wrap-up of East Side Mario's. It also allowed me to finish this past weekend with an almost textbook-perfect dining experience.

First, a brief aside. I have nothing but praise for the likes of Maxwell-Silverman's owner Gus Giordano. Instead of knocking down the old brick factory building that now houses the restaurant, he renovated it. Today, his guests sit surrounded by ancient machinery in a setting of exposed brick walls, wood-beam ceilings, and original heating pipes.

The industrial theme continues with old toolboxes that open to reveal the menu, an eclectic offering with imaginative approaches to seafood, veal, and chicken. Appetizers include basic choices like potato skins, calamari, and stuffed mushrooms, as well as more exciting fare such as baked brie, clams zuppa, and grilled shrimp with ginger-honey sauce.

Likewise, standard entrée fare like baked stuffed shrimp, broiled scallops, veal parmesan, prime rib, and fettuccine Alfredo are offset by less-common choices like fleurs de mer, a glorious mix of fresh shrimp, scallops, fish, lobster, and clams sautéed in red or white sauce and served over pasta.

The first evening started well with "Maxwell's Assortment" ($7.95), a platter piled high with fried calamari tossed with pepper sauce and accompanied by two grilled shrimp and two clams casino. Equally successful, the baked brie ($5.95) was cooked to the right gooey-to-firm ratio, topped with sliced almonds and served with fruit slices.

Although the gazpacho disappointed, thanks to a V8-like broth studded with boring vegetables, we still looked forward to a fine dining experience. No such luck.

Twice, we received the wrong orders. When the right meals arrived, my tablemate's tuna, was overcooked to a brownish gray. When we alerted our server, she swept the dish way without so much as an apology. A few moments later, she returned with the plate and explained that the chef had taken the same fish, added broth, cooked it further "to sear in the juices," and added more fruit "to complement the dryness." In other words, he cooked overcooked fish further and used fruit to make it seem less dry. It didn't work.

We both tasted the fish and found it dry and grainy. Our server said she could do nothing further, and my friend pushed the plate far off to the side.

My dinner was superb: a special of cheese tortellini served with shrimp and veal. The tortellini were cooked perfectly, while the veal was wonderfully tender, and the shrimp were sweet and moist. Light butter sauce added just a hint of richness.

A short time later, a host-like person came over to investigate the problem. "We've served it all night, and no one else complained," he chided us. "I've had it, too, and I must say I loved it. This is simply how we prepare it." No consideration that it might have been a bad cut or that it may have dried out while we turned away two wrong orders.

We expected an offer of an alternative entree. When that didn't come, we expected some concession on the bill. What we did get was an offer from our server for free coffee. "It's the most they'll let me do," she confided. "That's really too bad, too. Your dinner was so expensive." Little had we known that our two specials, recited without prices, came in at $17.95 each, among the menu's most costly items.

The experience was quite the opposite when I returned on my own a few evenings later. My server was enthusiastic, attentive, and cordial, and the food was exquisite.

I started with clams zuppa ($7.95), an octet of sweet littlenecks simmered in herbs, seafood broth, garlic, and some light cream. This was followed by a special, the "Chef's Surprise," where the guest describes some likes and dislikes, and the chef improvises. My description was simple: I wanted the fleurs de mer but with a light sauce and with cheese tortellini instead of fettuccine.

A massive platter stacked with fragrant seafood soon arrived. The shrimp were huge and succulent, the lobster (cut up) was tender and sweet, the clams and scallops were likewise tender and fresh, and the swordfish -- two large pieces -- was moist. What made the dish, however, was the delightfully fragrant white sauce. When I spoke highly of it but had questions about the ingredients, my server returned with the chef (which would have been quite appropriate during my first visit). He had cut the cream base with fish stock and white wine to compensate for the heaviness of the tortellini. He had also added capers, tarragon, garlic, and onion to bring out the flavors in the seafood.

The moral of the story: If you have a bad experience at a restaurant, give it a second chance. And, if you own a restaurant, teach your serving staff the following words: "The customer is always right."