Dammit if they don't blow my reservation again. This makes The Phoenician zero-for-two in welcomes, and I really cannot believe the laxity. They are so cordial and courteous on the phone and then, when you get there, it's "who are you?" Because the room is not full, at least the recovery is acceptable this time. We receive a polite explanation for the foul-up and are immediately shown to a comfortable banquette in The Terrace dining room. This is a handsome venue done in a basically beige motif with rose, peach and lilac highlights in the carpet and wallpaper, and plenty of natural light flooding in from the near-to-poolside patio. Sunday champagne brunch is the occasion. Although the Terrace features Italian cuisine on its daily menus (since this is the resort's main dining room, "why?" is not an unfair question), I still feel that brunch is a good way to measure the broad capabilities and concerns of a resort's dining program. One gets to see and sample so much at one time. Sheer eclecticism is confirmed by our waiter, who proclaims that the Phoenician brunch offers "one of everything you could ever want." And, he goes on, if by some miracle of oversight a passion remains unmet by the menu, "we will have the chef prepare anything we don't have." This bold and paradoxical offer, which, of course, becomes a running gag throughout the meal, is even funnier when the waiter has to be asked three times to bring a cup of coffee. Truly, though, this brunch does not lack for variety. Two good-size rooms are required to display the bounty of the hot food, cold food and dessert displays. More impressive is that enjoyable edibles outnumber unsuccessful savories by about a 2-1 margin across the board. At the multitiered cold display the winners are the pates, particularly salmon served with a variety of herb-laced sauces, and perfectly textured three-layer vegetables with a Southwestern flavor profile. Also outstanding are generous fresh shrimp, smoked salmon and fresh fruit presentations, and an excellent mustard-based potato salad. On the negative side, bread products are only average and include the ugliest bagels I have ever seen. They look like soft pretzels baked by drunken elves and don't do any justice at all to the delicious oily smoked salmon. Many of the big bowls of prepared salads and dressings (often runny but also flavorful) are displayed without serving utensils, a situation the staff does not correct until directed by customers. And by all means, Phoenician, lose those silly giant turkey slices wrapped around the giant pickles. Six different hot-food stations comprise the best part of this brunch. Unfortunately, there is a jinx associated with my presence on the Phoenician property, and a small power failure knocks out waffles and pasta as soon as I step into the hot-foods room. Fortunately, omelets, crepes and egg specialties, prime meats, and baked fish and chicken more than make up for the slack. Particularly enticing among the hot-food offerings are unique omelet ingredients such as caviar and chopped fresh herbs, the delightful truffle and tarragon sauces served with beef tenderloins and roast veal, and the attractive mix-and-match variety of fresh pastas and Italian sauces that are available when there is electricity. Succulent baked salmon, creamy cheese blintzes and perfectly poached eggs Benedict also win enthusiastic praise from my guests. The weak link in this luau is forged at the dessert tables. Here, too, there is great variety including brownies, spice bars, babas au rhum, trifles, mousses and a seemingly endless assortment of cakes and pies. In the tasting, however, most of this stuff proves workmanlike at best, lacking the deep, moist, buttery richness of truly great pastry work. Granted, with all that has proceeded, including an endless outpouring of Freixenet sparkling wine, the senses are blunted by this point. But there is no denying that a lot of this sweet stuff tastes mostly like stabilized shortening. After we pay the considerable tab of $25 per person plus tip--making this the Valley's most expensive Sunday brunch-- we continue a discussion of the meal as we roam the Phoenician grounds. We agree the food is acceptable enough, but there's also a vague sense of something missing. Both at brunch and on our walk, what should seem elegant comes off as stylized; what is meant to be classy seems rather cold. For me, a moment of revelation comes when I stop to pick up a brochure at the concierge's desk in the lobby. I briefly thumb through this expensively produced, full-color document loaded with pretty pictures of the resort. And it hits me. There's not a single picture with a human being in it. At this early moment in its history, the Phoenician simply does not have much personality. Great resorts always seem to develop a warm entrepreneurial quality among their staffs and a clubby camaraderie among their guests. Right now there is simply a mishmash of personal styles on both sides of the equation, with hyperbole, hesitancy and haphazardness forming an uncomfortable alliance. So far, the Phoenician is an architectural statement without a sincere human dimension. Writing down people's names when they call to make reservations may be as good a place as any to start. Brunch at the Palm Court in the Scottsdale Conference Center also starts with a slight stumble. A well-meaning but ineffectual bus boy just cannot seem to get the coffee and juice orders right. When the juice is finally poured, it is at warm room temperature. That's it. Those are my complaints. The rest of the experience is wonderful. There is a lovely seductiveness to the Palm Court, and this is as true at brunch as upon any other occasion. More than a physical statement, the tone here is elegant, leisurely and peaceful. The food and service efforts are focused and confident, and guests are sincerely catered to. One can get a little high just off the ambiance. The Southwestern color scheme and decor highlights--muted pin-spot lighting, expensive floral and table appointments and the beautiful, soft piano music--are all part of a premium package of good vibrations. This is not a brunch that needs relentless champagne refills and, in fact, it is not a champagne brunch. Actually, there's a lot to recommend against heavy consumption of sparkling wine at a big meal. The result of such intake is usually, according to one gastronomic writer, "a sour, gassy mess in the stomach." The Palm Court orchestrates a mild indulgence by offering an excellent private-label California champagne that is both spicy and dry--a perfect accompaniment to the cornucopia of brunch taste sensations--for $2.50 per strawberry-garnished glass. As for food, there is maybe half the variety of the Phoenician brunch. But here is a kitchen that is going for quality rather than quantity. Because of the discriminatory approach to the menu, all of the food offered here has the dual virtue of conscientious preparation and unique flavoring. While my guests from Wisconsin are moaning, literally, over creamed herring, I become rapturously involved with some artichoke bottoms stuffed with crabmeat, a chicken salad made with water chestnuts and sour cream, and a deliciously cheesy tortellini salad. We all do serious damage to the fresh oyster and shrimp display. And here the bread products are exceptional, including thick-sliced crusty loaves, exceptional croissants and righteous bagels. In fact, the bakery goods, especially the desserts, may well be the best part of this superb overall effort. Don't hurry past the hot foods, though. Try a freshly made crepe with a rich seafood Newburg mixture, or select a surprisingly light and delicious Polynesian chicken with wild rice, and don't miss dauphinoise potato casserole baked with cream, butter, onions and Swiss cheese.
And still, you simply must leave a lot of room for dessert. From pecan pie to petits fours this is the real thing; cakes and confections so buttery, light, moist and intensely flavored that you're likely to scream with delight (or moan if you're from Wisconsin). In addition to the fine food, service is competent and courteous. Our waitress, Karen, proves a valuable guide through this early-afternoon trail of temptations. My favorite moment, though, comes when the restaurant manager himself asks our permission to start breaking down the hot-foods display, a gesture noticeably absent at the Phoenician, where the buffet rooms are simply closed at 3 p.m. sharp. Perhaps the most amazing thing about the Scottsdale Conference Resort brunch is that it only costs $14.50 plus tax and 15 percent service charge. It adds up to a people-pleasing experience. And in the resort racket, that's what it's all about. The Terrace, the Phoenician Resort, 6000 East Camelback Road, Scottsdale. 941-8200. Brunch hours: 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., Sunday only. The Palm Court, Scottsdale Conference Center, 7700 East McCormick Parkway, Scottsdale. 991-3400. Brunch hours: 10:30 a.m. to 2 p.m., Sunday only
