I’ve been sick for a week now. Thanks to all the cold medicine I’ve been hitting or the immense amounts of godknowswhat up my nose, I haven’t been able to taste anything since last Wednesday. But my little cousin was in town from Ohio, and I couldn’t not take the poor kid somewhere cool.
So we went to “Top Chef” contestant and should-have-been-the-winner Angelo Sosa’s new casual burger joint, Social Eatz. If you can get past the fact that a Z has been added to every item on the menu–BURGER’Z! TACO’Z! SIDE’Z and SWEET’Z!–it’s actually a really cute, neighborhoody kind of place with what I understand is pretty tasty food.
I, of course, couldn’t verify the tastiness for myself thanks to my cold, but here are some photos to get your mouth to watering:
None of us could resist ordering this burger after seeing the giant banner proclaiming that it won Eater.com’s Greatest Burger in America competition, and while I think the New Yorkers in the bunch still walked away with our Shake Shack and Blue 9 bias still intact, the Ohio kids really thought it was the best they’d tasted, and nobody argued that it was one fine burger.
For me, it was a little too small when compared to the half-pounders you get at places like Cozy and Jackson Hole. For my boyfriend, it was a little too juicy, which is totally a not-real complaint when it comes to burgers. And for my cousin and his friends, the fact that they won’t add cheese to the burger was a major blow.
But why would you need cheese when the soft egg bursts all over the burger and then solidifies into this?
Hot dogs in this town always let me down. I know I’m the only one left, but I’ve never been to Crif Dogs in the East Village or Bark Hot Dogs in Prospect Heights. Yet I somehow expect that the hot dogs elsewhere will compare to my expectations of those places. I want a hot dog PILED with crap. I shouldn’t be able to pick it up unless I want to lick it off my shirt later. The diner in my hometown in Ohio serves hot dogs with chili, cheese, and onions for $1. ONE DOLLAR.
This was a sausage lounging on a thin bed of relish for $8. I won’t judge it, having not been able to taste it, but the look of it did not bowl me over.
Even with all of my sickness, I got a hint of citrus when I bit into one of these guys. That, I think, is a very good sign.
I’d be a terrible food blogger if I rated the place on presentation alone, but certainly everything looked good enough to entice me to try again when my cold subsides. And I don’t think I’ll have a problem getting in again: the place was nearly empty at 8 p.m. on a Saturday night. Maybe it’s the out-of-the-way location or the way it seems caught between wanting to be a sports bar and wanting to be a trendy Asian joint along the lines of Sea in Williamsburg or Spice Market in the Meatpacking District. I never mind not having to wait in line for a seat, though, and just hope the eatz are better than the socializing.
For the longest time, I was saying that the best meal I’ve ever had was at Tom Colicchio’s Craft. And maybe it still is the best meal I’ve ever had. It was my first tasting menu, my first meal over $100, my first time eating bay scallops and sturgeon and cocoa nib. Since then, I’ve had meals that have blown my mind more, but there’s sure a lot to be said for almost being made to cry over some Brussels sprouts for the first time.
Since then, I’ve had pretty stellar experiences at Craftbar and Colicchio & Sons, so my boyfriend and I were pleased to get to try Chef Colicchio’s newest venue, Riverpark, which is situated aaaaaaaaaall the way over on 29th Street behind the infamous Bellevue Hospital, overlooking the East River. It turns out that the interesting views are really the only reason to go.
My boyfriend was a little surprised when an entire baby octopus was planted in front of him, but it was pretty impressive. Chargrilled and just slightly fishy, it had a great firm-but-not-chewy texture. We both loved the cilantro on top, but I thought the clams tasted of funk. In general, it was just a little overwhelming to be handed the whole mollusk; a thoughtful preparation of octopus parts is more our speed.
The dense pasta coupled with the thick sauce made for a rich, homey dish. I loved the crispy herbs in contrast to the soft peas, and the classic combination of long-cooked lamb and mint proved its worth once again. I was looking forward to what the horseradish would bring to the dish but unfortunately couldn’t taste it. If I think about one dish from this night, it’s this one, just for those paper-thin greens.
Served over super-buttery potatoes, this was mushy texture after mushy texture, so every bit of that crunchy fennel was welcome. I liked all of the flavors that were present but noticed almost immediately that something was missing: spice. For me, the dish really needed something to brighten it up.
I’m only now beginning to actually enjoy seafood a little, so it was a major step for me to order this as my main dish, and luckily, it didn’t let me down. The sear on the scallops was just perfect, and I loved the lemony flavor of them. The bacon on top was extra-crunchy, and the vegetables on the side were extra-tender. I love the onions, especially. It maybe wasn’t the most soul-satisfying dish I’ve had, but I pleased myself by enjoying it.
The entire dessert menu was impressive, but my boyfriend and I decided we had to go for the very craziest thing on it. We love soufflés, and we love beets, so how could it be bad? Well, it was bad, and we knew it was going to be from the very moment it hit our table. It just looked wrong. And then our server took a spoon to scoop the center of it out and pour in the créme, and it was clear that the thing was much less a soufflé and much more an omelet.
It was so eggy. So eggy that we couldn’t eat it. We tried the beet sorbet and liked the way it was not sweet at all on its own but actually tasted like dessert when eaten with the pistachio brittle. Still, we were so disappointed with the soufflé that we couldn’t even enjoy it.
To tell the truth, I was almost a little excited to write a negative review about it, because we’ve been going to so many great restaurants lately that everything has been four and five stars. But when I almost apologetically mentioned to our server that the egginess had turned us off a bit, he said that the chef would be happy for our feedback, because it was the first night the soufflé had appeared on the menu, and they weren’t sure how it was going to go over.
The restaurant entirely made up for it by sending us a plate of the most wonderful housemade sorbets and ice creams in creamsicle, brown butter, and pineapple.
It kind of pains me to give Riverpark such a low rating, but all of the dishes were just so-so. Nothing blew our minds, and nothing offended us, but we had such better meals at Craft and Craftbar that our expectations were high. The most my boyfriend could muster was, “It was amazing . . . that I ate a whole octopus.” And I think that about sums up my feelings, too. Go for the views of the water and the creepy old Bellevue buildings, but try one of the other Colicchio restaurants for the food.
As a fairly new food blogger originally from three states away, I sometimes feel out of the food-blogging loop. And as a pig farmer’s daughter, I really love me a good pork roast. So it was a delight to be invited to eat a whole suckling pig at The Breslin Bar & Dining Room with one of my favourite food bloggers, Chubby Chinese Girl, and her pals Henry from Ramblings and Gamblings, Tia from Bionic Bites, Addie from Gypsy-Addie’s Food Diary, and other friends who actually eat things without blogging about them.
The first thing you notice about The Breslin is just how gastropubby it is. It’s a bar, but it’s the kind of bar where the bartender’s serving more burgers than beers. Every inch of wall space is covered in something farm-related–mostly ceramic animals in all shapes and sizes–and all of the fixtures are old-timey. The place is dark but for the bright light coming from the sparkling white open kitchen in the back. And we especially loved the use of what appears to be the original ceiling, which was cracked and peeling and beautiful.
I’m really not an appreciator of salad. I get that some people like light, fresh foods, but I’m going to chase my oysters with a big buttered steak every time. Our first course was a salad even I could’ve eaten as a meal, though. The Caesar dressing was just so flavorful, the dried herbs so crunchy. The anchovies weren’t fishy at all, really, but just added some salty depth. I would order this again in a second.
And then the pig arrived as the entire restaurant spontaneously broke into applause.
Its little piggy face was right in front of me, its eyeless sockets staring at me and its puffed ears floating alongside its head, begging to be popped like balloons at a county fair dart game. It was much smaller than I’d expected, but I guess we were feeding a table of nine and not a whole neighborhood of smalltown Ohio hillbillies.
Our pig-carver deftly removed the legs from each side and then tonged shoulder, belly, loin, and butt onto our plates.
My plate of crispy skin and shoulder was heavenly. The forkfuls alternated between completely falling apart and so crunchy I couldn’t cut them. It was all of the best things about pork with the benefit that I could sample all of the cuts in one dish.
My boyfriend’s experience wasn’t quite as good as mine, because the skin he got was floppy rather than crispy. I had to give him a piece of my skin before he understood why everyone was salivating over it. I guess that’s one of the side effects of EATING A WHOLE PIG.
It was served with sides of potatoes roasted in duck fat, roasted fennel, broccoli rabe, green sauce, and red sauce. The potatoes were the star with their extra crispy/extra fatty exteriors and soft insides, but really, all of the accoutrements held their own. The garlicky broccoli rabe and tender fennel were both spicy to accent the sweetness of the pork, while the chunky red sauce of peppers and tomatoes only added to its sweetness by tasting wildly of apple pie.
The apple that had been roasted in the pig’s mouth, on the other hand, was funky. My first bite was just nice, mushy apple, but my second bite was freaky, pig-saliva-flavored mushy apple. Lesson learned.
We spent an hour or so really ravaging that carcass, peeling back the cheeks and breaking off the ears, making excessive mentions of the butt meat and trying the doubly-flavoured neck meat.
Even my boyfriend, the salad-lover, found himself ravenous.
In the end, only this
and this remained.
And that’s when they brought the chocolate tarts
and ice cream.
The tart was very good, especially the parts with course salt sprinkled on top, but the ice cream was the really delicious part. I don’t want to pretend like I have any idea what to compare the flavor to, but the ice cream was extra sweet and just had a really wonderful smooth texture. I wondered if there was Marshmallow Fluff or something mixed in.
This was a difficult rating for me. On one hand, I really appreciate the novelty of being able to eat an entire pig in a fairly small NYC restaurant. I appreciate the work and care that had to go into preparing it. The side dishes were all better than expected and were flavorful enough not to become just afterthoughts next to the pig. I’m still thinking about that ice cream. But at the end of the day, if I’m going to spend $85 for a plate of food, I’d rather have it be an uncommon preparation made with ingredients I have to Google before I leave for the restaurant. Had this been anything but a whole pig, it would have been much less expensive, and there wouldn’t have been any floppy skin to deal with.
But my boyfriend said, “I mean, I just ask myself how much better they could have done with that, and it seems like, for what it was, that’s about as good as you could expect,” and I think that’s reasonable. It was a really neat experience, and I’m very glad I got to be a part of it. I found out that for me, eating an animal that still looks like itself isn’t weird at all! And I met some great people in the process.
Proving I like seafood enough to make a trip to Per Se worthwhile has been my goal for a couple of years now. I’ve made an effort to eat every oyster, every bit of fish roe, and every octopus mosaic my boyfriend, Kamran, has offered me in the hope that I could weasel the tasting menu out of him. So when he finally relented, it felt like a real victory for me. Even if he really just wanted to reward himself for finishing the New York bar exam.
Getting a reservation at Per Se is quite a complicated maneuver, at least in our experience. We watched OpenTable for weeks and never saw a Friday or Saturday night free, and calling the restaurant was always fruitless, too, but they’re very quick to offer to put you on the waiting list for a stretch of three nights. Starting a week ahead of time, you can also check OpenTable for weeknight availability. I put us on the waitlist for a Friday, Saturday, and Sunday and did get a call about a Sunday spot early in the week, but we saw a Thursday night on OpenTable and took that instead so we wouldn’t be drunk on food and wine for Monday.
And all of the work was definitely worth it. Here’s the chef’s tasting menu in all of its having-to-wait-for-it-makes-it-even-better glory:
I’m a lover of choux (especially its pronunciation), and this half-a-bite of pastry stuffed with cheese was an excellent indication of what was to come. It tasted exactly like a Nips cracker! But didn’t leave the nasty soggy bits clinging to my teeth.
Biting into this was like eating a fishy potato chip. With chive!
At this point, our server brought me a tiny cushioned stool for my purse (apparently this is a thing now) and a Per Se notepad. I was taking notes in the little 3″x5″ notebook I always use, but apparently he thought it was too small and offered me the notepad. I declined, but he left it at the table just in case, and I ended up liking it and the protective cardstock cover that wraps around it so intricately that I’ve since used it at other restaurants, no doubt causing jealousy and scorn.
If you’ve never had oysters because you’re afraid of the texture or don’t know how to eat them, these are the first you should ever try. Unlike raw oysters, which you sort of massage between your tongue and teeth to extract the flavor before swallowing them, these cooked oysters fell apart in our mouths. That pure, clean ocean flavor I associate with oysters was still there, but otherwise, it was like eating a bowl of dumpling soup made extra-thick by the tapioca. Caviar is one of the more recent fruits of the sea I’ve begun to sample, so I usually find myself remembering what it is and getting weirded out halfway through any dish and leaving some of it behind; this just blended with the thick broth and the bite of the scallions so well, though, that I finished every last bite.
Jose’ Dhont, Blanc de Blanca, Oger MV
The custard filling this eggshell (one of the best presentations possible, right?) was unflavored save a slight egginess, but I think it was the dense texture that was the point of it. The flavor came from the rich black truffle ragout, a buttery layer of liquid on top of the custard. The chip was oddly chewy but made for a nice truffle vessel.
We were given salted and unsalted sweet butter, warm brioche rolls, and this array of salts ranging from Hawaiian volcanic to Himilayan to deep ocean. We basically had no idea what to do with them, so we spread a little butter on our rolls and sprinkled a little salt on top. Because of the tininess of the rolls, we were each only able to sample two or three of them. We were a little bewildered. As expected, we couldn’t taste the differences between them, but the texture differences were . . . interesting.
Kamran called this “the baby food course” due to the texture of the dish’s focal point. The panna cotta was perfectly creamy, sweet, and salty with cool, refreshing tones provided by the apple and cilantro. The croquette, surprisingly, seemed like an afterthought; it was just a breaded chunk of ham. On the opposite end of the surprise meter were the simple hazelnuts sprinkled on top of the panna cotta, which were highly present both in their flavor and crunch.
This was the creamiest little sliver of foie gras with absolutely none of the bite organ meats sometimes have. We loved the ring of pepper on one side of the plate and the very pungent celery flavor from the glaze. We secretly wanted to spread it all over the soft rolls from the salt tasting course, but the crusty brioche was nice if extremely messy.
This dish was such a pleasure because it was such a surprise. The drab colors on the plate made us think it was going to be a boring, throwaway course, but in fact, both the fish and the garlic packed a punch in entirely different ways. The confit garlic was soft enough to be made into a paste with the slightest fork-touch and sweet enough to not even be recognizable as garlic. The sturgeon was soaked through with this wonderful salty, smoky flavor that really complimented our dark, almost leathery wine. But as always, we couldn’t used a lot more lemon in that lemon emulsion.
Selbach-Oster, Riesling, Kabinett, “Zeltinger Sonnenuhr”, Mosel 2009 Willi Schaefer, Riesling, Auslese, “Graacher Domprobst #6″, Mosel 2005
The meny changes daily at Per Se, so I was not only super-pleased but also a little relieved that it was a lobster night and not an octopus night. It makes sense that the colors in my photo look like neon puffy paint from the 90s, because this dish was a stand out. I wrote the word “buttery” down on my notepad three times, if that’s any indication of what the overarching flavor of it was. Even the romaine lettuce, probably the most boring ingredient ever next to boiled chicken, shocked me with how buttery it was. The crunchy melba with the springy lobster and the creamy puree was dreamy. The pairing of this with our wine made the wine taste like butterscotch.
Maybe it was the sesame, or maybe my mind was tricking me with the distinction between Pekin and Peking, but this dish did taste Asian-influenced to me. I loved the spicy radish with the cool cucumber and the crispy skin of the tender duck.
Patrick Javilier, “Les Tillets”, Meursault 2008
Beef heart! It was new to me, but the way it was sliced so thin made it taste as familiar as deli lunchmeat. The tenderloin itself was entirely undersalted, but we realized why when we tasted the salty accompaniments like the sour cabbage and soft potatoes.
Switchback Ridge, Merlot, Napa Valley 2007
This hard white cheese from Wales had just the right amount of funk to contrast the sweet yellow carrots (with their tops still on!) and to compliment the bite of the arugula. We loved the bacon, the spicy mustard, and the wheat beer pairing.
Allagash Brewing Co., “White”, Maine
This was a neat way of introducing the DESSERT ONSLAUGHT that was to following. The layering of different flavors in a cup is nothing new–I can’t count the number of times we’ve had a palate-cleanser of one or two bites thrown into a shot glass–but this one added a texture dimension that kicked it up a notch with everything from freeze-dried to foam. I can still taste the passion fruit meringue with its super-concentrated flavor.
The best thing about this dessert was that alienesque chocolate ball on the left. Its gelatin-like chocolate skin enveloped the chocolate mousse, so it was a weird, though enjoyable, soft-on-soft texture combination. Being a lemon freak, I loved the citrus gel and the way it so smoothly transitioned us into the next course of pure tang overload.
This was another dish that displayed all that the Per Se pastry chefs can do with texture. I’m a little disappointed that I didn’t pay better attention to the server’s description at the time, because this is certainly the first time I’ve ever been served Buddha’s hand, and not only can I not remember it, but I can’t even see anything in my photo that resembles soda. Maybe someone else who’s had the dish can remind me where I tasted it.
Felsina, Vin Santo, Chianti Classico 2001 Domaine Huet, “Clos du Bourg”, Moelleux, Vouvray 1985
“MIGNARDISES”: the barrage of post-dessert desserts that you have absolutely no chance of even making a dent in
The best. We only took two each despite the lesson we learned at The Modern, but that’s okay where there are THIRTEEN KINDS OF SWEETS coming your way.
I mean . . . come on. These are all of my favourite things in one neat little tri-level hinged box. To call these desserts “the best way to end a meal. ever.” is to do them a total disservice. The truffles were solid on the outside, creamy on the inside, and the kind of complimentary flavors that make you want to start over at the beginning once you’ve had all three. One of the macaron flavors was cinnamon, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t let Kamran have a single bite of any of those. The caramels weren’t the super-chewy, get-stuck-in-your-teeth kind but the super-homemade, melt-in-your-mouth kind.
These little slivers of candy were about the thickness of a chive and packed that much flavor, too. Even the anise one was delicious. We didn’t want to waste the already-nonexistent space in our bellies, so Kamran just shoveled handfuls of these into his jacket pocket so we could enjoy them for days afterward. Don’t tell anyone.
These sweet nuts were dusted in about a pound of cocoa each, making for a thick layer of chocolate to bite through. It was perfect for those people I have nothing in common with who like not-sweet desserts.
This one-bite dish really did taste just like buttered popcorn! The outer shell was solid and had the crunch of the popcorn bits on its side, but the inside was pure creaminess.
I like coffee, but I love coffee ice cream, so it was a real delight to dip my spoon into my little cup and find out it wasn’t filled with liquid. The beignets were perfectly light and fluffy and tasted much better with the coffee than they do with your usual chocolate sauce.
And that was that! We didn’t get to eat nearly as much of the dessert deluge as we wanted to, and I’m sure we could’ve knocked some more of it out had we been able to stick around longer, but A tasting menu with wine pairings is always much easier in thought than in execution. Which isn’t to say I wouldn’t do it over and over again a thousand times.
Everything about Per Se is impeccable, from the service staff who know just how much attention to pay you to the houndstooth place settings to the ribbon-tied chocolate cookie sandwiches they send home with you. The view overlooking Central Park is one of the more romantic in all of NYC (so be sure you request a seat near the window when you make your reservation), and the decor is deep-hued enough to feel rich but modern enough to feel unpretentious. The food is the kind you remember long after you’ve forgotten what you had for lunch just yesterday, whether it be the actual taste of it or just the way your spoon felt in it. It’s truly a special kind of restaurant where you feel like the chef really considered everything from flavor to texture to what little extra might really knock your socks off when he imagined each dish. You sense that this is a restaurant always striving to do better than itself.
Having left both Bar Boulud and DBGB feeling like I was missing what all the fuss was about, I was hopeful but not convinced about Daniel and the third Michelin star it received this year.
To celebrate my boyfriend, Kamran, finishing law school(!), we ordered the 6-course tasting menu with wine pairings. We had hoped to try the 8-course menu, but it’s not available on the weekends due to the increased crowds, and in the end, there were more than enough surprises that we definitely didn’t need the extra courses.
amuse bouche:
The texture of this was as creamy as it looks.
We failed to catch what this was both when our server told us and another server told the table behind us, but it was hammy and smoky with balsamic mustard, I believe.
Kamran rightly suggested that this would’ve been better warm, but I have a hard time complaining about bread that literally drips butter as you tear it apart.
I know it’s hard to see, but there’s a little tower in the background of this photo. That’s a duck rillette. If you don’t know anything about rillettes–and I didn’t until Kamran told me–they’re made by salting meat, cooking it slowly in fat, shredding it, and forming it into a paste with the fat. I thought it was much more flavorful (salty!) than the mosaic itself, and I liked the non-gelatinous texture more, too.
J.J. Prüm, Riesling Kabinett Graacher Himmelreich, Mosel, Germany 2008: I always order Riesling, and I can’t imagine wanting anything other than this one now that I’ve had it. Having only been drinking wine for a short time, I’m still awful at picking out specific flavors, but this wine just screams, “GRAPEFRUIT!” Yum-my.
Even as someone who’s only now beginning to appreciate seafood, I’ve been thinking nonstop about this dish. I loved the crunchy hearts of palm capping the ends of the crab roll, and the slices of fennel on top had such the perfect pungent bite to compliment the fresh oceany flavor of the crab.
This was the big surprise dish of the night for me. Since mackerel is a very fishy fish, my boyfriend told me I should save the piece floating on carrot for last in case the simple poached version was too much for me to handle. And it’s true that the flavor came through forcefully and unhampered by the accoutrements of the other preparations, but I actually missed it when it was masked. The preparation with the caviar was very fresh and lemony, while the carrot preparation was sweet and had whole salt crystals on top.
Domaine Bailly Reverdy, Sancerre Chavignol, Loire 2009
This dish had everything both in terms of texture and flavor–the grittiness of the pasta, the bitterness of the rabe, the smooth broth, the segments of the shrimp, and my favourite part, the spicy saltiness of the chewy chorizo. To us, it tasted like the filling you find in Totino’s Pizza Rolls, and I definitely don’t mean that in a bad way. (The Totino’s slogan is, “Kids have a lot of favorite things, but Totino’s will always be their favorite favorite.” I’m no kid, and they’re still my favourite favourite.)
What makes for an elevated eating experience is simple ingredients made extraordinary, I think, and the coco beans here did that for me. I made an audible “mmm” sound that Kamran had to shush upon my first bite, because they tasted so bacony it was like being home with my mom’s baked beans. The scallop was perfectly cooked, and the broccoli tempura was such a guilty pleasure.
Domaine Drouhin Meursault, Burgundy 2007
Kamran and I agreed that in a blind taste test, neither of us would’ve guessed this was fish. It tasted just like a steak. A steak with ketchup and mustard, to be exact.
Our server explained what Vadouvan is to us, and I wanted to be a little offended, but then I figured that I’d rather him treat me like I know nothing than miss something important because he expects me to know everything. This dish was another bit of clever trickery, because the chicken jus poured over the Vadouvan spice made the fish taste just like chicken. I loved the crustiness of the potatoes and thought the dish could’ve done with more of that and less of the limp spinach.
Copain Tous Ensemble Pinot Noir, Anderson Valley 2008
I can never have enough of the slightly sweet Meyer lemon, so it was disappointing to me that the citrus flavor was barely noticeable, though that was partly due to the way the lamb was especially flavorful.
This reminded us of the beef cheek we had at The Modern, which was our favourite dish of the night there. We didn’t really get to try the little potato bite you see to the right there, because in my effort to cut it in half, I flung it across the room.
Bosquet des Papes, Chateauneuf du Pape Cuvée Grenache, Rhone 2001
sweet, sweet Epoisses
We wanted to add a cheese course to the tasting menu, so our server sent over the fromagier and sommelier to work out a pairing for us. We asked for five cheeses ranging from soft to hard, and he happened to choose Epoisses for us, which is my favourite cheese. He also chose one that was supposed to taste like potato but reminded us of the shell of a peanut. The sommelier said his immediate feeling was a 1983 Madeira boal but that a Riesling would also be nice, but since I always order Riesling, I convinced my boyfriend to get the boal. What I didn’t realize was that it was FIFTY-FIVE DOLLARS PER GLASS, so I half-wonder if the sommelier was just pushing the most ridiculously-priced wine on us. Or maybe the most expensive wine is expensive for a reason, because I loved its spicy fruitiness and its hints of maple syrup.
D’Oliveira, Boal, Madeira 1983: (What a cool bottle, right?)
Though I still liked it, this was my least-favourite of the desserts. The gingerbread was a little too funky in flavor for the light pears, and the soft texture of the fresh pear didn’t stand up to the firm gingerbread like the crisp pear chips did.
Chateau Pajzos 5 Puttonyos Asz, Tokaji 2000
If only every chocolate cake was this chocolate cake. 1) GOLD. 2) Crunchy exterior. 3) Liquid center.
Rivesaltes Domaine de Rancy Ambré, Roussillon 1996
Our server had asked if we were celebrating a special occasion, and as cool as it seems to be all, “Nah, this is every Saturday for us,” I couldn’t resist mentioning Kamran’s law school achievement. He was embarrassed, but it was worth it for horchata ice cream.
Like unwrapping a papoosed newborn, being presented with these fresh madeleines in their linen bunting made my little heart swell. They weren’t even the best madeleines I’ve had, but they were so buttery, warm, and soft, with that slight crunch to the exterior you expect and adore.
I wasn’t even able to snap a photo of our golden plate of mignardises (bite-sized desserts) before one of the managers came to the table and offered to give us a tour of the kitchen, along with a chocolate tasting. After hours of eating and drinking, Kamran and I didn’t think we could handle another bite, so I attempted to respectfully decline the offer. I’ve never understood people who brag about kitchen tours or make a point to meet chefs; it’s not that I don’t admire chefs and the way they run their kitchens, but I’m no home cook who wants to ask about techniques. I’m just there to enjoy the food and know I can’t offer anything more than a “nice work!”.
But the manager talked us into it, and I’ll admit that it was interesting to see how many cooks were in the kitchen, how bright and clean everything was, the different stations for each of the courses, the chef’s table in a private room above the kitchen, and how Chef Jean Francois Bruel was able to expedite everything while shaking hands and taking photos with us.
We were just so full of wine, though, that we couldn’t even muster a single question for him. Literally, I shook his hand without telling him my name, complimenting a dish, anything. It feels like a wasted opportunity in retrospect, but it’s not like my saying “that beef was real tasty” was going to change either of our lives.
The manager sat us down at a table in the bar area with a couple of glasses of cognac and this plate of flavored chocolates, which were all much too small to pack that much flavor. The basil was my favourite, but it’s also my favourite herb, so I’m entirely biased.
A server came by with these and said, “I heard you didn’t get to finish yours.” We had just been talking about what fools we were to not just stuff our other madeleines in our cheeks as we were being dragged to the kitchen, so it was one of those above-and-beyond moments that make you want to recommend the place to other people. The fact that the plate of petit fours included a mango-flavoured French macaron like the one at The Wright that originally made me fall in love with macarons made it too perfect.
This was as close to perfect a meal as Kamran and I have had in NYC. From the little stool beside me for my handbag to the outstanding food to the truly exceptional service, Daniel was worth every one of those three Michelin stars and more. The classic preparations and stunning decor made for such an over-the-top, romantic spot.
Kamran agrees with the perfection of the experience but has a slightly different opinion about it being the restaurant he’d most recommend to quote-unquote foodies. Daniel and Momofuku Ko were approximately the same price, but they’re as different as the cuisines they serve. If Daniel is the archetype for modern haute cuisine, then Ko is its punk rock cousin. Where Daniel makes all of the rules, Ko breaks them and serves shaved frozen foie gras on top.
Ko, I guess, is where you go when you’ve tired of all those expense account luncheons you’ve been invited to and just want to be served some beer in your wine pairing, and Daniel is where you go when you still have room to be impressed by candlelight and peekytoe. Either way, I’m now officially able to pronounce the name correctly, and that’s worth the price alone.
5 donuts: transcendent experiences
4.5 donuts: extremely awesome meals
4 donuts
3.5 donuts: good eats
3 donuts
2.5 donuts: food I could have made
2 donuts
1 donuts: dinners not fit for the dogs
