The Monarch

This place is phenomenal! Not only is the food great, but the service is exceptional!
Loved the PEI mussels. The sauce burst with so much flavor, you can't stop dipping the side of bread it comes with to devour every last drop. I tried the glazed shortribs and duck confit and both so good. Can't wait to go back.

Went in for drinks with girlfriends and couldn't resist ordering the mussels. They were great, as were the drinks! We left at close and had a wonderful time--will definitely be back.

After my recent experience here, I would whole-heartedly sign a petition to bring the Uberstein back.

The fact that I had never once set foot in the Uberstein should tell you exactly how I feel about this place.

I'm not sure whether the food or cocktails were more disappointing, but I might lean towards the cocktails because they are $11 each, and I've had better ones at the local VFW Post 7975.

I salute you, grizzled veteran, for being able to make a drink with 2 ingredients with far better results than this wretched concoction of sherry-campari-bitters-chartreuse with a drop of paint thinner masquerading as a "modern" twist on something that should never have been imagined, much less created, in the first place.

Now, if the food were simply decent, i might have avoided the dreaded 1 star review, but they also managed to completely Munson that up too. The wings are ludicrously small; so miniscule that I wouldn't be surprised to hear about a dire shortage of cornish hens crippling the bottom line of Jewel's across the neighborhood. And not only that, I guess their idea of "classing" up such a staple appetizer is to completely disregard unnecessary components like crispy breading/skin and sauce. From what I can gather, the Monarch believes the best way to serve up chicken wings is to throw them in a vat of dry rub and then shake'n'bake the soul out of 'em. I'm actually surprised I wasn't offered chopsticks as my utensil of choice to consume these unrecognizable, retarded offspring of such a glorious bar tradition.

The rest of the meal succeeding in living down to the vast disappointment of the opening course. The french onion soup was basically a gooified salt lick, the burger was edible yet entirely forgettable, and the mussels, oh my, the mussels...Let's just say that we all know what bad mussels taste like, so no amount of broth will ever mask the sensation that you are literally eating a bucket  full of crustaceous-flavored turds. Now, finding only 1 or 2 of these palate wreckers might offer a passing grade, but on this night, the Monarch transformed my taste buds into a veritable septic tank. Thankfully my stomach has the consitution of a locomotive, but I fear for the next poor sap who might be "adventurous" enough to choose this item as an "out of the comfort zone" pick.

Instead of patting himself on the back for his cosmopolitan refinement, he'll be spending the rest of the night washing his mouth out with month old forgotten brining solution specifically made for necks'n'gizzards...because that would still taste better than forcing down lumps of mussel manure.

In closing, the Monarch should issue a challenge to  the Burger Baron to determine whose "kingdom" sullies their respective royal title in the more trangressive of ways.