Mickey Mouse Cuisine  

Disney goes well beyond amusement park junk food at it's flagship California resort.

 


Disneyland is one of the great world democracies. Tickets offer universal access. The three hotels at Disneyland are of slightly different grades, though not obviously so. Any skepticism I held about the matter was dismissed the night I arrived with my family: musician Dave Grohl (Foo Fighters, Nirvana) was standing in line like everyone else to check into the Grand Californian Hotel.

Fine cuisine, on the other hand, is not democratic. If our pal Dave Grohl arrives at Spago without a reservation, they find him a table. A reservation at a restaurant like the French Laundry is a valued commodity, cherished like a Fabergé egg-and don’t even think about taking your mouse-eared pre-teens there.

So Disney’s decision to bring the elite club of haute cuisine to the mass-market world of amusement-park resorts is of no small consequence. Disney’s goal isn’t simply to provide food that’s "good for a theme park," but good by universal foodie standards. To assess whether it was true, I set up a strict regimen. I would check into a Disney hotel and for three days I would take every meal in a Disney-sanctioned restaurant, interrupted only for the occasional zip through the park in order to bolster my appetite. I would be like a monk, my focus absolute-save for my two kids who would demand every three minutes that we go on California Screamin’ for the ninth time that day.

I arose early my first morning and marched with the eager crowd toward the park’s gates. But I was eager for flaky croissants and serious scones, not gut-wrenching rides. La Brea Bakery is a Southern California icon that sparked the modern artisan bread revolution when it opened in L.A. in 1989. I beelined for the Downtown Disney La Brea, the real Magic Kingdom for a carb-lover like me. Yet, at 7:30 a.m., it was still closed. Real bakeries aren’t closed at 7:30 a.m.

At 9 a.m. I returned to the bakery to find a long line snaking out the door. After dutifully waiting my turn, I ordered a palmier, a ginger muffin and a plain butter croissant. With a large coffee, my total came to almost $16-steep, even by theme-park standards. Disappointing, too: the muffin had the days-old texture of coffee-shop chains at home. The palmier was dry, and the croissant was a small step above grocery-store quality. Where have you gone, Nancy Silverton?

An afternoon of G-forces wiped my mental slate clean so that my stale memories of La Brea had faded as I waited for my table at Catal, a flagship Downtown Disney restaurant. In the 1980s, Joachim Splichal played Batman to the frenetic Wolfgang Puck’s Superman. Puck created celebrity-magnet Spago, while Splichal created the esteemed Relais & Châteaux restaurant Patina. The siren call of expansion finally found Splichal, and he now operates three restaurants at Disney: the soft-Mexican Tortilla Jo’s, the lackluster Naples Ristorante e Pizzeria and the fine-dining full-court-press that is Catal.

Set over two sprawling floors, Catal has a menu incongruent with its location. Mere steps away, people are scarfing down hot dogs; here, your server gently puts a plate of Spain’s famed jamon iberico-arguably the highest culinary expression of a pig. Perhaps you’d like to reward the 45-minute wait to ride the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror with a bottle of Château Cos d’Estournel-from the legendary 2000 vintage no less-for $185 (U.S.)? (That’s around the cost of two park admissions-and about one-third what you’d pay at a Canadian restaurant.)

One of the oddities about dining at Disney is that well-crafted, thoughtful food like Catal’s tapas-size plate of empanadillas of Spanish cheeses and Yukon gold potatoes with salsa verde costs the same-$9-as a bacon cheeseburger at the Tomorrowland Terrace inside the Park. Catal has its flaws, though, mostly resulting from trying to run fine dining on a massive scale. Our quail entrée was scarily undercooked. And even if you don’t have kids, you better learn to like it when they run 50-yard dashes in the restaurant’s main corridor.

The Matterhorn of fine dining is the Napa Rose, situated in the Grand Californian Hotel and Spa, and one of the only temples of degustation owned and operated by Disney itself. It is also the only temple of degustation that is located kitty-corner to an establishment called Storytellers Café, which offers a Chip ’n Dale Critter Breakfast. It’s a noisy room, but in a festive way, with the added benefit that the din of the Italy-meets-Northern-California open-concept keeps the shrieks of jacked-up children somewhat muted. The menu is classic and pricey, but after a few days in Disneyland you lose all sense of sticker shock, so options like a side of roasted organic broccoli with applewood smoked bacon and tangerine hollandaise seem quite reasonable at $10. But it was the kid’s menu that had me wanting to slink down in my chair, don some mouse ears and try to get away with ordering grilled prime beef tenderloin with lemon-whipped potatoes and petit green beans for the spectacular price of $13. As I looked around the room, I realized that if you treat kids like adults, they act like them. Table after table of young ’uns silently enjoyed the luxe fare.

On the other hand the stellar wine list (a Wine Spectator Best of Award of Excellence winner) had me hopping around like a kid on a sugar high. The Yellow Pages-size collection of rarities, oddities and classics is one of the best in all of California (the state, not the theme park version). I selected an impossible-to-find viognier from cult winemaker Alban, which at $56 (U.S.) was a steal. (It went terribly with my perfectly roasted medium-rare walnut crusted lamb rack, but I couldn’t help myself.) The place was pricey, but no more so than dozens of other SoCal stalwarts that would have served everything with a side of hot condescension to anyone who dared to bring their kids to eat.

In my case, that acceptance came with somewhat mixed results. On our final day, as my daughter and I slowly neared the pitch-black top of Space Mountain, she mentioned that we should start eating more beef tenderloin at home. All I could do was throw my arms in the air and scream. wl

 


OUR SISTER PUBLICATIONS
ADVERTISEMENT