Mistral is pure decadence. The restaurant itself is stunning – literally oozing provincial French minimalism from every surface. Glorious, huge windows bath you in otherworldly light. Beautiful people show you to your table and serve offer you drinks. As for the food? In the immortal words of George Takei, "Oh My!"
The first time I went here was for dinner. I had a seasonal heirloom tomato salad and lamb shank. I've never since found any better version of these dishes elsewhere. It was epic.
Then I went for brunch.
Dude, the french toast is brioche bread covered – literally covered – in graham cracker crumbs. Then it's topped with creme fresh. Drizzle some pure maple goodness all around and you've got yourself a bonafied religious experience on a plate. I cannot describe adequately describe the first time I put it in my mouth. The clouds did indeed part. It was glorious.
More importantly, brunch at the Mistral is an affair. You should dress nice and be on your best behavior. Yes, you will probably have a foodgasm... but just don't let anyone see it. Thankfully, your manners are rewarded with pomp and circumstance.
Own or manage this property? Claim your listing for free to respond to reviews, update your profile and much more.