SALT | Bounty of the County | Albany Chefs Food and Wine | Wine and Dine for the Arts (June 29th, 2013, Schoharie, NY.)

It's been quite a while since I've used Blogger to publish content. So, here's a Fotki widget (Fotki is my photo hosting service of choice) that allows you to cycle through photos from the June 29th, 2013 event SALT (Schoharie Area Long Term Recovery Group) dinner, silent auction, etc. at the Carrot Barn in Schoharie, NY. The event was co-produced with Bounty of the County, Albany Chefs' Food and Wine, and Wine and Dine Festival for the Arts. Lotta political muscle in the room and top chef talent in the kitchen. Fun event, picturesque setting.



http://public.fotki.com/jasonspiro

and more photos here:

http://public.fotki.com/spirojm

(I ran out of space on the old Fotki account and started a new one, have yet to renew either one as a "pro" account with unlimited space, full sized downloadable images and no ads. Thank you.)

Catching Up With Top Chef Champ Stephanie Izard

Early on in season four, when it was too soon to predict the sweepstakes and betting pools, it was hard to tell if Chef Stephanie Izard was a dark horse or a bright star on the Top Chef show. She was good, but was she super-talent? Episode two, she almost got the boot.  It wasn't long before Stephanie was winning challenges with distinction.  Chef Izard was a good pick in the betting pool on any given week--hardly a predictable or typical chef--she consistently produced dishes that translated, and even jumped through, to the other side of the TV screen.   

I was working in the very busy kitchen of an expensive dining room the season that Stephanie won.  As the S4 wore on, she picked up more and more votes of confidence from the best line cooks and sous chefs in the building.  I'll admit, I was rooting for Richard Blais, but Stephanie's confidence and finesse were more in evidence with each episode.

When the final episodes began, she reported on camera that she’d spent the break on a culinary tour of Southeast Asia.  This was quite possibly the move that gave her the advantage, edging out Blais and outpacing Lisa in the finale.  She'd expanded the breadth of her experience.

Why all this exposition on what’s practically ancient TV history? Well, I like the Top Chef show. It’s the only serial reality show that I take seriously. I think good TC competitors are ‘for real’ in the food world. There’s a certain amount of casting that may take precedence over talent, but that just makes it more interesting for the viewers at home who want a little drama. The casting decisions help make the first eight weeks more fun as each odd duck or fish out of water goes home. The best cheftestants can make it, have made it, in any pro kitchens. (More on this notion at another time.)


Chef Izard is an established culinary star on the Chicago restaurant scene.  She's opening The Girl & The Goat in about ten weeks in the west loop of Chicago, at 809 West Randolph.  This amiable, globe trotting chef was kind enough to devote a few minutes of a busy morning to answer a few questions.

Jason Spiro:

How's the weather out there? 

Chef Stephanie Izard:

snow snow snow.

Jason:

Can you tell me about the Vietnamese food scene in Chicago?

Stephanie:

will answer what i can.  really can't help with the vietnam part... i LOVED it there, but have not eaten much around chicago.  i have found some very awesome and authentic thai places that are just as good as anything i ate when i was there.  but you have to ask for the special menu, as the main menu is often americanized a bit so as not to scare the average person off.  if you wanted fermented black eggs and random animal parts you have to ask for the special menu.

Jason:

How do you like deep dish pizza?

Stephanie:

not a fan of the deep dish to be honest.  i grew up on the east coast so i like NY style.  was bummed when i first moved here as even places called NY pizza are nothing like it.  but now, there is an emergence of neopolitan style pizza with awesome thin crust from wood fired ovens and very simple toppings.  this makes me happy.  spacca napoli is my favorite.

Jason:

What's the story with your meat purveyors & where do you try to buy meat from?

Stephanie:

we have a lot of local meats from IL and WI.  pork, goat and beef are available and myself and other chef in the area try to use as much local product as we can.  i also often turn to allen brothers for amazing meats.

Jason:

Is there something you've seen, felt, or heard lately that found its way into your head and onto a plate as food?

Stephanie:

i went to an awesome japanese place in vegas recently and it was truly inspiring.  they use japanese coals on the grill which burn hotter and give amazing flavor... pretty sure those will find a place in our woodburning grill when we open. 

Jason:

Were you ever tortured by a chef, or work for a screamer or anything?

Stephanie:

every day at the first fine dining place i worked.  the chef was an award winner, and was a total cock.  he screamed constantly...rather than have that earn him respect, it made us all hate him and for me, that is not motivation to do a good job.  but i guess in the end it turned me in to the kind of chef i am.  i try to encourage hard work and save the screaming for when it is really necessary.

Jason:

What's a dish you're making for friends or family right now?

Stephanie:

since it is nice and cold here, i like to take all of the leftover meats (prime chuck, short ribs, goat, lamb) in my freezer from events, add some pineapple, apples, pears, tomato and such and make a 24 hour stew.  delicious.


http://www.stephanieizard.com/

E-Mail Interview with Toby Young

Happy New Year.  Here is my one-off e-mail interview with Toby Young. Mr. Young is a funny and insightful author and journalist, with a long and storied history in the U.S. and U.K. publishing worlds. He catalogs his journalism and blogging efforts here: http://www.nosacredcows.co.uk/blog/index/2/, and you may follow his Twitter feed at @toadmeister http://www.twitter.com/toadmeister. -- JS/tse


Jason,


I'll try and answer most of your questions below, but reviewing restaurants is only a small part of what I do. I'm not a food writer in the sense that Frank Bruni is. In my time I've been a movie critic and a drama critic and I review books fairly regularly for the Wall Street Journal. In addition, I've co-written three plays, all of which have been produced, and I co-produced the film version of How to Lose Friends & Alienate People based on my book of the same name. Earlier this year, I co-wrote and co-produced a 90-minute docudrama for British television called When Boris Met Dave and I'm currently making a three-part television series about my efforts to set up a charter school in West London. In truth, writing and talking about food takes up about five per cent of my working life.


--Toby

JS: Did you ever think you'd become a food critic, reviewing restaurants, when you were getting into writing for periodicals?

TY: No, I didn't. I was offered a restaurant column in the Evening Standard in 2002, not because I knew anything about food, just because the editor liked the way I write. In Britain, restaurant columns are plums handed out to editors' favourites.

JS: How did any early experiences, as in your relationship with food as a kid, or as a young adult, help inform your food writing?

TY: The editor who gave me my first restaurant column told me I couldn't write more than a paragraph about the food because "food writing is boring". She wanted me to write about the sociology of restaurants instead.

JS: And what might be a formative food experience for you, something that elevated food from fuel for the day to something special?

TY: I went on a driving tour of France with my parents as a teenager and we plotted our route with the aid of the Michelin Red Guide. That's the first time I became really interested in food.

JS: What did you think about food writing as you began to do it?

TY: As I say, I never wrote much about the food whenever I wrote about a restaurant -- and still don't.

JS: Did you just review restaurants or were you able to bring your style or your social sciences education into play?

TY: Yes, I'm more interested in what makes a restaurant "hot", why certain cuisines are "in" and others "out", what dictates a restaurant's lifespan, etc. Restaurants are the stage on which a lot of contemporary issues are played out, particularly issues of class and status, and understanding them involves more than just understanding the food. How individual dishes are prepared, what ingredients are used, where they're sourced, etc ... that's maybe 10 per cent of the story.

JS: Now you have worked for a number of television programmes.

TY: I've done a few guest spots as a judge on British food shows and I was a contestant in a food reality show that -- rather surprisingly -- I won.

JS: What was it like working with Marco Pierre White?

TY: I've never worked with him, but I've reviewed a few of his restaurants. He's very conscientious about schmoozing food critics and I was given the full court press on one occasion -- he came and picked me up in his Range Rover, drove me to a pub restaurant he'd just opened in Newbury, told me I was the most important critic in London, invited me to come shooting with him at his estate in Berkeshire, then dropped me home again. I've never heard from him since.

JS: Has being on television changed things for you, as in have you been afforded with celebrity status in your own country?

TY: Nope. In fact, I'm recognised much more in America than I am in my own country because of Top Chef. There's no doubt that people I encounter who've seen me on the programme are much nicer to me as a result -- and that's very pleasant, obviously. But it's probably a good thing that I don't live in America as all the attention would go to my head.

JS: And of course I'd like to know how things have changed since you took on the Top Chef gig. My own comment on that is that you've relaxed into your role. You seem comfortable and it's nice to see a good rapport with Gail, Padma, Tom. How deep do those judges table discussions go?

TY: Yes, I think that's right. I approached it very much as a British food critic in season five, cracking wise about the food, being outrageous, etc. Because that's not the way food critics conduct themselves in America -- your critics tend to take their job much more seriously -- I came over as a bit of a twat. I tried to tone it down a little in season six, conduct myself with more decorum. I also get on well with Tom, Padma and Gail -- we have a good rapport. They've all been very nice to me, not at all stand-off-ish, which helps.

JS: I wonder if Gail's education, a BA in Anthropology from McGill and graduated summa cum laude, figures into the way she sees the proceeds.

TY: She's smart, that's for sure -- whip smart. And she's a very down-to-earth, unpretentious, warm-hearted person. She's just a great girl all round.

JS: Likewise I'm wondering how your pretty remarkable CV informs what you see around you on the Top Chef. When you first started, there was a quippy or epigrammatic quality to your TV character that is still present but we see more of a human side or simple reactions.

TY: I've tried to be a bit more simple and direct. I don't think fans of the show like it if you're too obviously trying to show off.

JS: Do you take a lot of shit from people here? Like people yelling stuff out of windows if they see you driving? You seem to get into it a little bit, as in you have a sense of humor about it--like you retweet people's hostile remarks for example...

TY: People are mean about me in their blogs and on Twitter, but no one's said a harsh word to me in person. Most Americans are very polite, particularly when confronted with a guest in their country -- it's one of the things I love about visiting.

JS: And how has your enjoyment of food or knowledge of it changed since you began? Can you still enjoy dinner out and hang up the critic hat? (I used to drive my girlfriend absolutely crazy, like she didn't want to go out to dinner with me, because I had enough front of the house training to be able to see everything going on in the room... It was only last year that I decided to just give up and enjoy myself. It was a combination of going to Per Se, and also reading a comment from Marco Pierre White about how he is the perfect customer, he just eats and leaves and doesn't make a fuss (I suppose he means at restaurants he doesn't actually own).

TY: Because I write about food in a newspaper, my friends are very quick to volunteer their opinions about the restaurants we're eating in. They hand down judgments as if they were food critics, using all the jargon: "I thought the Sea Bass dish was very well-balanced, but I could have done with more crunch." I can't get a word in edgeways.

JS: Finally, what do you think about food criticism in general? Is anyone writing as well as Frank Bruni across the pond there, and who do you like as far as non-fiction writers, food science, cook books, history, just areas/authors other than restaurant critics?

TY: I don't read many American food critics I'm afraid, but I like most of the ones we have over here, particularly AA Gill, Giles Coren and Matthew Norman. My favourite contemporary American author is Tom Wolfe.

Thank you Senator Gillibrand for bringing our attention to obesity, and healthy school lunches

Some background.

Here's information about obesity by state from the US Center for Disease Control:

http://www.cdc.gov/obesity/data/trends.html#State

Here is an advocacy group that produced a biased, incomplete report based on the CDC data:

http://healthyamericans.org/reports/obesity2009/

Here is a news article based on the 'agenda filtered' data. "Dog," says the man, "bites man."

http://www.time.com/time/printout/0,8816,1909406,00.html

The AP wire story from Yahoo! News:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090702/ap_on_re_us/us_med_obesity_rankings

Mr. Ruhlman, I'm ready for my cheesecake shot (factory farmed salmon)

An investigative piece on Cheesecake factory purveyors. Factory farmed salmon & fish, sustainability, local food.

Lunch snack

Run water lightly over a whole piece of matza.  Shake out excess water.  Break into uniform shape e.g. 2"x4" rectangles.  Dust in mix of semolina flour, rice flour, potato starch, baking powder and salt.  Pan fry in olive oil heated to medium-high temperature.  Serve with powdered sugar.

35 @ wd~50

Hello again. I celebrated my birthday at wd~50 last night. It was an experience that exceeded my expectations. Dewey Dufresne got the party started with a bottle of the house champagne. He assigned the excellent Evan as our front waiter, and hosted/officiated/sommiered for a while before leaving. He decanted the excellent '86 that my dad brought with us, and chilled the abysmal '73 after opening and smelling it. His efforts were much appreciated but the '73 still tasted like vinegar and cherry. Oh well, non-vintage year. In approximately 17 years of recent memory, we've had good a '73 on half a dozen occasions at most. And they, like me, are not getting any younger. But hey, I'm not much of a complainer. I only make note of these events as reportage. Dewey made me feel at ease. I may have picked the destination, but he set the course to the end of the dinner when he told me to relax and enjoy myself... only after making several jokes including one cute one about me being 21 this year. He inhabited several modes of Shakespearean clown that evening, enough said.

The wine cellar at wd~50 is a cozy space that worked perfectly for our party of eight. It was quiet and private so we could focus on each other, but I didn't feel isolated. The music was an unobtrusive mix of latin and jazz. Evan spieled as well as the best, answered all questions and hosted graciously. The runners were also charming, especially the hilarious Salamia. Everyone at my favorite restaurant is bubbling with controlled humor. Before Dewey left, my dad told him something to the effect of, "your son is very creative, a really great chef." My dad's always taken me to great restaurants and always been uncompromising and frank about his impressions. I observed, indeed I checked in with, his steady, growing pleasure with the kitchen's balance between presentation and great flavors and textures. In recent years, our tastes have differed somewhat on service and food in fine dining--so it was great to see him in accord with the environment.

Now, the food... I looked more to my companions than myself to gauge responses, expectations, reactions to flavor, technique, texture and portion size. I think on the whole a bunch of conservative eaters were very suprised. I have always said, in trying to sell the dining-out experience to skeptics, that Wylie is first and foremost an excellent chef. My dad's immediate first impression of "shrimp noodle, carrot, cumin, peanut" confirmed that an avant-garde construct is irrelevant if the old-school gourmet keeps an open mind. And, let me say, the "shrimp noodle" first course was probably my favorite. It had an odd, familiar scent. Then I dipped my fork into the carrot, cumin, peanut gel and tasted it. Real pleasure. Combined it with the "shrimp noodle" (apparently a kind of shrimp scallopini or carpacchio, if you will...) and I was on an astral plane. I stayed there through "grilled corn pebbles, lime mayo, scallion," "Knot foie," "Hamachi tartare, wakame, sake lees tahini, grapefruit-shallot," "Eggs benedict," "Crab tail, soybean noodles, cinnamon dashi," "Chicken liver spaetzle, pine needle, radish, cocoa nib," and "Beef tongue, cherry-miso, fried quinoa, palm seeds."

Let me take a break from transcribing to reflect, before I move on to dessert. Family faves were the corn pebbles, knot foie, bennies, crab-in-'noodle' (broth, noodle and meat all getting high marks), and the beef tongue. I liked them all and was so very happy to have an almost totally new menu. The highlight for me, though I loved the rich, almost pungent beef tongue paired with the very subtle cherry miso, was the "spaetzle." I cannot express how excited my palate was to wipe amazing, perfectly sauteed (or fried) little pieces of chicken liver along the side of the bowl and then taste liver and pine needles. Pine needle emulsion. (Though I didn't cry midway through dinner like I did when I had the five course dessert tasting menu a couple of months ago, I definitely hit an esctatic plane when the pine needle scent travelled to the top of my palate and beyond.) The crab tail had a lovely charred taste inside the soybean noodle and the 'pasta' rested in a tasty, hot, cinnamon infused consumme. And working backwards, I am crazy about the grapefruit shallot component of the hamachi dish and the little dots of kim chee on the duck knot foie. The corn pebbles were strange, but incredible (and paired wonderfully with the lime mayo), and I kept picturing them throughout the meal and during the drive home. While we ate that course, my aunt commented that the texture and the smoke of the dish reminded her of smoked oysters.

My rotten teeth are evidence of either a long standing obsession with sugar cereal (only recently curtailed due to a less tolerant stomach) or poor dental hygiene. So really, it's impossible for me to say, "I don't like sweets." I like sweets. I like Coffee Nips. I ate ice cream all winter long. Now that I make a point of eating in better restaurants or ordering tasting menus, I've tried some great creations... What I don't like are boring desserts. Cheesecake is to a restaurant as hack comedy is to every city and town. In other words, pervasive and unimpressive. Ergo I don't tend to order cheesecake or boring desserts even if it's the best cheesecake in the History of the World Part Two. Looking for something new.

Dessert @ wd~50 is an experience on par with the hot food. The pre-dessert, reportedly created by sous chef Sanchez, "Yogurt, olive oil jam, rhubarb" got high marks from the whole table. My enthusiasm for this dish was tempered only because I'd had it before, and because of some nostalgic sense that it isn't fair to be able to have rhubarb in late July, even if cryo-vac technology extends seasonality or renders it somewhat obsolete. It's wonderful to be able to experience the texture of raw rhubarb without having to taste raw rhubarb. And the rhubarb shoe leather was neat too.

Then, possibly the best dessert I've ever had, the "Jasmine custard, black tea, banana." This course and the next course, I was watching my dad's girlfriend Kyra poke at and leave the food on the plate. Thankfully her son Boris snapped up whatever she left on the plate. The next course, "Toasted coconut cake, carob, smoked cashew, brown butter sorbet," he did the same thing: she left behind a mostly untouched quenelle of brown butter sorbet which Boris eagerly fork-speared and ate whole. The cake had a really nice balance between moisture and firm dryness that encouraged combining the decadent sorbet and restrained cake. Whenever I could, I tried to combine all the components of the desserts into single bites; indeed throughout the evening rather than permutate component effects I tried to have whole experiences. (Was that a properly rendered sentence?)

Ex-gf Tara wanted to sing happy birthday. Evan accomodated by bringing down the house idea of "birthday cake," which was exceptional. Cold dessert, dark chocolate encased in white chocolate. I'm pictured setting fire to the edible lampshade, the flavor of which I forget (my fault for obscuring my senses while indulging a latent pyromania). And everyone got to sing happy birthday to me. I tried to stay present and in the moment for that song.

By the time the petit-fours or mignardise arrived (again, thanks to the staff for letting us have eight chocolate envelopes for free along with the "yuzu ice cream-marcona almond"), my senses were pretty well sated.

At this point my "role" as "food blogger" becomes blurred, because I want to thank the staff for such a great evening. The front of house staff, the smile of the hostess, the focus of the manager, the bartenders who make me cocktails that aren't on the menu, the exceptional chefs... I feel lucky, no reference intended. Thank you again.

I was invited to see the kitchen (customary gesture) right when they were pretty well weeded. So I stayed at the entrance and watched Wylie on hot apps, all focus. The quiet and observant Heston, mustachioed guy, intense, precise Sanchez, dapper genius pastry chef Stupak... what a night. What a show, I could watch from behind the expediter's station for as long as they allowed. Especially at that pace. Full dining room, and every station producing, at 10:40pm.

I'll have four "with," and a zippy burger

Four "with" at Famous Lunch

The two best mini-hot dogs joints in upstate New York, and possibly the world, are right across the river from each other. Do you like the Capital Region? These two restaurants relieve my basic tension with this geographic area. Actually there's plenty to recommend this region, lots to do, and all sorts of interesting people... and let me leave it at that. Otherwise I might start cursing and spitting uncontrollably.

What made me a fan of the mini dog? Growing up in Albany, we had Hot Dog Charlie's. The works and meat sauce on six or eight mini dogs and getting a side of onion rings was a pretty typical aspect of my Hot Dog Charlie's visit. The french fries, I could do without: I don't like serrated cut fries from a bag of frozen. So if you choose to find one in Troy, Lansingberg, Guilderland, or wherever, enjoy. There are good locations and bad locations. I have nothing more to say about Hot Dog Charlie's this week.

Take exit eight on 787, stay in Watervleit, and go to 25th street near the Citgo station.



GUS'S

Watervleit, NY. Gus's Hot Dogs. An endearing Greek family runs this amazing little restaurant in a Ukranian section of Watervleit. Mini dogs with the works, Greek burger, Sausage sandwich, Cheeseburger with meat sauce. The Greek burger is a green pepper and onion hamburger on a bun. There is no cheese in the "works." The meat sauce is a spicy, not too saucy, red and brown, chuck filled concoction.

Great place to walk up to the window, order outside, and get a quick meal. There are park benches. They plant flowers every year throughout the paved yard. In the colder months, one can sit at the counter or at one of two booths. Often an old Greek man, or the old woman who owns the place, is seated near the booths splitting hundreds of hot dog buns with a machine.

My usual routine is go inside, get a seat at the counter, look around for a Troy Record newspaper, order my food, and eat. Then, hopefully, my indigestion is on the mild side. Not overeating key if I don't want to suffer, but I do find on the whole that their competitor Famous Lunch is a little on the cleaner side.

FAMOUS LUNCH

Troy, NY. Famous Lunch. Also Exit 8 on 787. Take the Green Island Bridge to Troy, to the corner of 5th St. and Congress Avenue. Great place for some dogs "with," a Zippy burger, homemade french fries, or a deluxe breakfast. Good sausage sandwiches, too. Again, no cheese with the works. Owner Scott, who inherited the business from generations of his family (they've been open since 1932), always appears to be around making sure things run okay. An impressive blurb from Gourmet magazine (written by a guy who now works for the Village Voice) sits on the wall with several other glowing write-ups.

The most important element is the meat sauce. Large stock pots are made twice a week, so the taste can vary a bit from visit to visit--but the meat sauce always tastes fresh. It's homemade, and presumably the guys making the stuff are cooks, not bakers. I'd venture to say there's some tasting going on, and anything made "to taste" is going to vary from cook to cook. I always like the sauce, even when it's a little sweet. Sometimes it's a on the darker side, a bit fatty with a sustained bite. My only note is that the buns, and the onions, are a bit cold. It hardly affects the pure pleasure I experience when eating the dogs. (The fact is these elements don't sit on the grill, so the trade-off is something I have to accept. I am very susceptible to the smallest amount of cross contamination. Indeed, sometimes I think I make myself suffer on purpose. But, I think the key to the quality at Famous is the separate griddle just for the hot dogs. The buns, and the dogs, go nowhere near a raw burger, eggs, or sausage sandwich.)

Visits to these two restaurants make me wonder whether I am a gourmet or a gourmand. I've been told to slow down, that I wolf my food. Well, I'm that excited by these hot dogs and until recently I'd eat as much as I could until full-to-bursting. Perhaps it's the the texture, the mouth feel, of a Gus's cheeseburger with meat sauce or a Famous Lunch mini-dog "with," rather than the taste. I'd almost believe it if I wasn't always already on a vigilant look-out for great meat sauce.

Expect a part two and three to this series, covering mini-dogs across this region of the great Empire State.

The 2008 "Augies" at Pier 60

The Culinary Institute of America hosted their Leadership Awards dinner at the Chelsea Piers in Manhattan on Thursday. Katie Lee Joel emceed and Dr. Tim Ryan (president of the CIA) hosted. Wolfgang Puck, Alfred Portale, Melissa Kelly, and the Brennan family of New Orleans each recieved awards.

The awards show was also a fundraising effort for a not-for-profit school—through cost of admission, an auction, and ancillary fundraising, one expects they netted needed cash. Still, the school spent money to give the affair an ultra-professional look, with numerous valets and a photographer posted at the entrance. An open bar, featuring a signature pink margeurita-tini, and a flurry of canapés, softened up the crowd. Everyone lingered by the bar despite numerous announcements, musical stings, and flashing of lights. Then the gates between the bar and the banquet room began lowering slowly from the ceiling, causing a few to quip about the imminent danger of being crushed.

Waldy Mouluf and Daniel Boulud were among the quipsters:

Daniel Boulud and Waldy Malouf.

Chef Alison Awerbuch and Chef Phil DeMaiolo were credited first on the menu. (While the classic French based cuisine merits attention, the highlight of the evening was an "intermezzo" of frozen lime mojito presented in a lime wedge. This sharp, salt and pepper sorbet was quite the palate cleanser.)

Katie Lee Joel (Billy Joel's wife) hosted the event, pictured here behind the scenes, consulting her notes and her iPhone:

Katie Lee Joel with iPhone.

Chef Chris Lee, executive chef of Gilt, introduced Alfred Portale, crediting him as a mentor and relating some of his wisdom about the food business. "Most important," Lee quoted Portale about the restaurant, "it's a business." Then Tim Ryan presented Portale with his "Augie," named for Auguste Escoffier:

Portale accepts his "Augie," from Dr. Tim Ryan.

This reporter caught up with Alfred Portale later to snap a candid with Chris Lee:

Chefs Alfred Portale and Chris Lee.

Me to Portale: "How many nights a week are you on the line?" Portale: "Four." "What are you going to do when you retire?" "Make wine."

Next, Chef Larry Forgione introduced Melissa Kelly, chef of the growing empire of Primo restaurants. Kelly is a passionate gardener and practitioner of charcuterie. Between awards, I spoke with her husband Price Kushner about the experience of running multiple restaurants. I got the impression that Kelly has a gentle but very firm hold on her restaurants, employing a rock-solid staff who perform to her specifications, obviating the need for Gordon Ramsay style heavyweight tactics. Central to their philosophy are relationships with local farmers, producers and purveyors.

Chef Melissa Kelly, C.M.C. Dale Miller, and bread man Price Kushner.

Charles Gibson, former host of Good Morning America, introduced chef of the year Wolfgang Puck. Gibson remarked that as a broadcaster, "you gotta be careful with that name." Anecdotes about Puck's randy sense of humor and his skiing abilities prompted chuckles from surrounding tables.

Charles Gibson.

Puck thanked his numerous business associates from Chinois and Spago. His brief but lively speech related a few key points in his culinary career, beginning in Austria in 1963, with stops in the midwest and Los Angeles. While he admitted he hadn't attended the CIA, he testified to its relevance, stating that Paul Bocuse sent his son there.

Tim Zagat (his wife, Nina, in attendance but not at the podium) presented for the Brennan family of New Orleans.

Tim Zagat.

The Brennan family, credited with enormous courage and generosity in post-Katrina New Orleans, were in turn generous with their own praise. Without the cooks and staff not in attendance at the lavish affair, they said, none of them could be there to accept awards.

The Brennan family.

Of course these events are never without their goodie bag of parting gifts. I have to give thanks to Abigail Kirsch of Catering Relationships for a mouth watering bag of caramel-currant-nut popcorn drizzled with dark and white chocolate. And of course the generous Dr. Joel Spiro of Albany, New York, for inviting me to the event.

Baxter St. and Aji Ichiban

I've had a craving for Vietnamese food lately. The urge to fulfill this need in Albany is not so great, but here in New York it is much stronger. I've wanted to try Bun, but now with all the intrigue going on there, I'm not so sure. When I saw a picture of sweetbreads in a pho soup I'm surprised I didn't immediately start lurching there, zombie-like, only to stop after a hundred and fifty five miles and devour hot broth, noodles and thyroid.

So today I headed down to Baxter to revist an old favorite, New Pasteur. Somehow I got turned around on Canal Street, mistaking west for east, and I couldn't find it. I wandered up and down Baxter and settled on Thaison, or Thai Son. Luckily the signage also read "Vietnamese Restaurant." I looked inside two other restaurants on the block, missing New Pasteur, and Thaison looked the busiest.

Very quick service. They drop a menu, drop a large cup of steaming hot green tea. I scan the menu, close it after a couple of minutes, and someone is right beside me to take my order. She answers my question about the broth of the noodle soup I want, and we're off. I order Dac Biet, and Cha Gio. Beef soup and fried spring rolls with a meat and vegetable mixture.

There's a brief span of time when I notice some interesting "speacials" on the wall--I might have ordered the pig foot and beef soup instead--and then the sprouts and thai basil appear on my table. A minute later, a cook insistently strikes his bell several times, and my very large bowl of soup appears. The thin slices of beef floating on top are just barely cooked in the very hot broth. I was able to sample these slices while they were still almost raw, quite a treat. The broth, at least to me, suggested a stock made out of many animal bones--chicken, pork, and beef. It appeared to be rather fatty, with little globules faintly shimmering on the surface, but the soup broth was either very fresh stock or had indeed been skimmed because it tasted lean and clean. The requisite cilantro didn't overpower anything. As I dug through the not-overcooked vermicelli noodles, I found beef bacon, tripe, tendon, and several other cuts of beef. Thin strings of beef with a slightly serrated look intermingled with the noodles and added a welcome chewey, almost squid-like texture to the mix.

I was pleased to mix in a little thai basil and sprouts as I went along, but I didn't overdo it, in an effort to keep the soup hot. The broth must be hot--and this broth was served hot, and it stayed hot, until I dumped a handful of sprouts and basil in towards the end. By then the spring rolls had arrived, with large leaf lettuce, mint, and orange dipping sauce. While I was eating the soup a busser or waiter reached over me awkwardly to place some condiments in a rack next to me on the table. I added a healthy drop of a homemade spicy chili sauce with a light paste consistency to a side plate, wrapped up my spring roll in lettuce and mint, alternatively trying each roll with some chili sauce, some mint, some sprouts, and the orange sauce/oil. These were perfectly adequate spring rolls, glistening with oil which the dough soaked up as they cooled, on the meaty side with some interesting looking vegetables shredded between the meat.

Usually I stay for the slow drip coffee with condensed milk but I felt that the tea was adequate for lunch, so I got the check. $9.50 for a perfectly filling meal full of familiar, pleasing flavors, fresh veg, crunch and mild spice. As I walked out and looked back, I found that New Pasteur was immediately to my right. But I didn't turn into a pillar of salt.

Thaison
89 Baxter St, New York, NY, 212 732-2822

As I was walking downtown to eat lunch, I nearly passed a bright boutique with a colorfully painted window. Then I stopped. I'm not much for candy shops, but after passing so much great produce I was feeling a little guilty for not going native more and stocking up on something interesting to cook with at home.

Most reviews of Aji Ichiban bring up a consistent theme, you can get anything here for cheaper elsewhere in the stalls and supermarkets throughout the neighborhood. But it's all here, sweet and savory treats. All of Aji Ichiban's dried fruits, roots, meat, and fish have sample dishes atop the bins. I was intrigued. Hesitantly, I tried a coffee plum, then a dozen other fruits. "Try the ginger," said the sales girl, "everyone likes the ginger." I passed; I know what ginger root and ginger candy tastes like, but then a few bins down I found the lemon ginger candy. Wow. A few steps to the left and a row of dried fish beckoned. Tiny cubes of dried tuna, flaky chips of squid... smoked fish, sesame fish... my personal favorite was the Hokaido shredded squid. I turned around and inspected the two wrapped candy islands in the middle of the store. A row of multicolored chocolate "stones" in five or so bins looked wild, but they had no samples. And the ingredients listing didn't indicate the presence of actual chocolate, so I passed. I got a half pound of dried coffee plums, another half pound of preserved perilla plums, some small rice paper-toffee rolls called "White Rabbit" (the red bean toffee is yummy), and a tin of preserved Chayote. The chayote chunks in the tin are well kept, moist, spicy dried specimens of fruit. Eleven dollars for the lot.

Aji Ichiban
167 Hester Street (Elisabeth/Mott), New York

Bouchon Bakery revisited; a great croque monsieur

Great scones. I have to hand it to them, I'm going back. Maybe I was a little judgemental at first. Overall they're expensive, so to get a so-so dessert slice for 8 or 9 dollars is not desireable. To have a firm, baseball sized rasberry scone, a bit crumbly and a bit glazed, afer a savory bacon and chive scone shaped like a loaf... was a study in contrasts of texture, moistness, and the sweet to savory spread. Notably, these items were not expensive--between two and four dollars.

Bouchon Bakery
Time Warner Center, Columbus Circle, New York.

Fairway on 74th and Broadway has a great Croque Monsieur for $6.50. The bread has an omelet consistency, airy firmness rather than crunch, until the sandwich contents give way--warm ham and sliding melted swiss providing great pleasure. It came with a nice spring mix with vinaigrette and some little pickles.

Fairway Cafe
74th and Broadway, New York.

wd~50 again

We arrived at 8:35, we were seated by 8:40, and of course my third dining companion was already there. I insisted that we be five minutes early for our 8:30 reservation, but my friend's last minute pedicure had to happen at 7:45. (While waiting at Beautiful Nails or Exceptional Health, or whatever, some friendly banter about his burgeoning metrosexual tendencies ensued, perhaps in order to alleviate my growing anxiety about making the rezo.) Like my friend "Brenda," (or Gael Greene, to be more precise) I like to be absolutely on time for dinner reservations, especially when they're on the late side. Inevitably, if we start late, we're the last to leave the restaurant.

As soon as I entered, I looked back to the open kitchen and to the passe. No Chef expediting. Where's Chef, I ask? He's on his honeymoon. Where? In Hawaii. Congratulations, Chef. So we were to be in Kevin Heston's capable hands that night; no problem, it's wasn't the first time.

After a few minutes, we were seated, and we sat down with great expectations. I, to be swept away by, and Brenda, to be dismissive of, Chef Wylie Dufresne's food. By now the world knows all about Wylie, with his New York Times write up, and TV appearances. I am an unabashed fan of the chemistry kids, as Ted Allen might call them.

I believe that Wylie is in part questioning the assumptions that underly what our dining experience consists of, and what constitutes dining out. He and his chefs laboriously experiment with, and reconsitute, a variety of ingredients. The idioms include nouvelle American, tapas, classic French, Asian riffs... but my reference level is not sufficient to comprehend all the flavor combinations. I know, having worked my way through most of the menu, that the flavors and textures work for me. He's playful, he obviously has fun, and he knows his stuff.

One of the most striking elements of a dish from Wylie's kitchen is the way one can approach it from the different portions on the plate. My experience thus far is that the canape format works best. It can be eaten whole, in one bite, as in an amuse bouche. Since he often provides two to three of these bites, I will take the time to unravel the presentation and eat each component individually, savoring first the way the dish stacks up as a whole. Then I take each subsequent bite apart, savoring the cooking techniques, the exactitude of the prep, and the secrets behind the flavor combinations.

On this particular trip, I was not up to my usual vivacious, voracious form and I needed help with the ingredients and preparations. Maybe I just like to see servers spiel food. We had a good one, as usual, self-professedly strong on the food side, who when asked recommended the wine we'd decided on among ourselves (the only sure-fire Pinot Nior under $60, an Au Bon Climat 2006).

After we ordered, our amuses arrived in dashing, curvy rameikens. Though it was meant to be consumed in one bite, I picked it apart, enjoying the elements of the fish wrapping, the pickled and smoked flavor, and the granola on their own. A strange, subtle, perhaps Korean inflected dish; a sedate and colorless, yet intriguing start.

I ordered the grilled octopus as an appetizer. It arrived as two long tubes of seafood. The first bite was a strong reminder of the taste of octopus, an excellent meat full of flavor. The tiny shreds of lychee shoe leather function both as a deep hued color contrast to the starkness of the octopus tube but also yield pleasure as one tastes both the lychee and campari in congress. A subsequent bite of the octopus, once plates had been passed, felt less satisfying, as I was left more with the impression of a chewiness and left wanting for the sensitivity of a lightly sauteed, simple piece of octopus. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the dish as a whole, as the net result of the creative interplay by young chefs.

It's why I go there. Frankly, I am bored with "good food." Cheek in veal demi, St. Jacques preparations, thyme everywhere, with requiste starch and veg... I am desparate to escape from this mode of fine dining. Granted, Wylie's kitchen doesn't provide the same consistent level of comfort that a traditional Italian or French kitchen might provide--but frankly, I'd rather be left with questions such as, "Why sous vide the fish?" or, "why reconsititute an ingredient that is better fresh?" than wonder why the kitchen couldn't be bothered to put a little white pepper in the mashed potatoes. There are more pressing concerns on the avant-garde of gastronomy. I prefer a series of questions in my head to an ache in my belly; in the case of the former, I want to research and investigate the history of the ingredients Wylie uses, what their typical place is in their own terroirs and in season. Thankfully, in the case of the latter, I have never left wd~50 with the slightest hint of indigestion. Presumably this is due to their immaculately clean kitchen and sanitary approaches to food preparation.

I tried the fried quail, which was a meaty piece of the juicy bird, encased in a little cake of what appeared to be carmelized, panko sized bread crumbs. I believe the final prep took place in a sautee pan, as the cakes left a bit of an oily residue on the plate and in my mouth, slightly overwhelming and mildly unpleasant. However, the counterpoint to this dish, a "banana tartar" was exceptional, dressed in a cream sauce and sprinkled with a slighly tart and spicy herb. How raw banana fits both in the appetizer section, and with a game bird, is an event that again leaves me asking a question.

Finally the corned duck, that I've had before, which I like very much. I had a realization perhaps a week before the last time I tried this dish (six weeks ago), where I had so tired of bacon wrapped canapes and menu items that I vowed never to have one again. I stood firm on this: no bacon wrapped shrimp, tenderloin, or scallops. Then I waltz in to wd~50 and order the corned duck--it leapt off the page at the time, inspiring intense curiosity. Eaten as a whole it's a very pleasant experience, like eating duck with a bacon texture, with the crunch of a crostini and the freshness of microgreens on top. This time around, I found the horseradish cream (creme fraiche?) to be a little on the sharp side and the bacon to be a bit soft--it hid the secret ingredient from all but the initiated, the amazing tiny slice of garlic sauteed in honey. The salt-yeast paste lightly smeared on the toast was also obscured, but it's an element that reveals itself to either the hearty of palate or those willing to completely unravel the dish and examine it in its component parts. And when all way said and done, during the ride home, I realized that I'd eaten a bacon wrapped canape! Granted, it was wrapped in on itself... but I'd been duped!

Then the soup course, which I insisted on. I wanted my companion to try the French onion soup, which I contend is a most cool riff on a classic food item. Frozen cheese is surrounded by a pectin; the cheese maintains its shape in the onion consomme and then explodes on contact with the inside of the mouth. A wafer thin crouton rests on top of the miso-style soup cup along with a healthy smear of emulsion of carmelized onion. Another frozen ball of cheese rests on the wafer, meant to be eaten by itself or perhaps dropped into the soup. Either way it completely evokes the taste, if not the texture, of the top layer of bruleed cheese and carmelized onion typically found adhering to the edges of the crock and underneath the cheese brulee. The wafer on the rim of the cup is a little treasure on display to be eaten, rather than one that one must plunge a spoon into and risk burning one's mouth to taste the flavor.

However, I had the popcorn soup, which was really strange. I ate a creamy soup broth that tasted liked popped corn. "Orville Redenbaccher, I believe," our server informed us when I questioned him about it. A reconsituted shrimp disc rested in the soup, along with a half disc of jicama. I believe tamarind was present either as a drizzle on the surface of the soup or as a sugary element on top of the jicama. I finished it, playing with the thick popcorn soup broth on my spoon while we waited for servers to clear our plates on this rather busy night.

On to the main courses. I wanted to order the flatiron steak with coffee gnocchi for the table, as I've enjoyed it so much in the past. But since they ordered the lamb and the pork belly, I felt that so much meat would be overkill. So I ordered the ocean trout.

This, I was informed, was cooked sous vide. I have to wonder what was in the bag as it slow poached--how did they achieve the vivid red? Perhaps the low temperature maintains the look, even feel, of the raw fish without the risk, bacterially speaking, of eating raw. The rootbeer-date, black soybeans, lovage, and forbidden rice all provided interesting counterpoints to the main dish, spread symetrically along the fish's length. Interesting, though isn't really a fair or a truly descriptive word. While the fish had a tenderness and flavor that satisfied me on its own, I felt that pairing it with each of the components, particularly the tiny lovage leaves, brought the protein into new contexts. The crunchiness of the black soybean clusters reminded me a bit of Ripert's homemade rice crispies, the rootbeer gave a welcome sweetness to the fishiness, and the green, shredded, forbidden rice was... well, strange and alien, but good.

The pork belly was satisfying as usual--deep flavor, evenly cooked, though perhaps a bit on the dry or chewy side. But what can one expect, it's stomach muscle, no? I just recall it being a little springier on the palate last time. The caper emulsion satisfyed me with its tang, not so much bringing to mind the pickling or brining that most capers undergo, and along with the exceptional marinated "ancho" pinapple provided a harmonious whole. Of course pineapple and pork work together. That's what's so exciting about these dishes--I have multiple impressions on the palate while I eat, but also I can ruminate on the "why" of the component pairings until potential answers come to mind. In instances such as this, Wylie, his chefs, and Dewey remind me of good vintners or viticulturists, who can fine tune a short run wine vintage and elevate the craft of production to artistic dimensions.

Finally, the lamb loin. A dish to play it safe with. When my companion questioned why she couldn't have her lamb rare, as she always has it, the server warned that the "fat cap" (did he mean "cap fat"? or is this semantic nitpicking?) on the lamb made a medium rare preparation more appropriate. We insisted on rare and it arrived without the fat cap. I must admit that the flavor and the components of this dish were most successful from a traditionalist's standpoint. Lovely, firm potato noodles rested in a consume. A pretzel consume. What? Yes, a clear broth that tasted of pretzel. What can I say, it worked. Along with the mustard crumbs, a series of chunks and cubes that looked like dried dijon mustard cake (though very mild in flavor) to the side of the protein, and the steamed mustard greens, the dish sang with a simplicity and tenderness that would put a few Zagat-hyped Italian joints to shame that I've visited in the past several months.

I stop myself, though, leaving the last piece of lamb for someone else, and plunge back into the difficult ocean trout. Why sous vide fish? What are these strange elements surrounding it? Do I eat them together? I like these questions, I like the confusion, I like the intellectual and emotional search I must make in order to arrive at conclusions. While the crispy soybean cake lacked a little subtlety, I was not turned off. Dufresne makes me wonder what he grew up eating. In turn, I think back to what comforts me and what I expect out of food. Being part of this stage set, being given this experience, is to me a form of success on a level beyond the pursuits of most restaurants thirsting for two NY Times stars. The sense of play, the refusal to remain completely beholden to the past and to old modes of presentation, the desire to redefine what constitutes "au point" or the perfect preparation for an ingredient--it's what keeps me coming back. These are thoughtful men and women. Perhaps, like me, they're tired of traditional dining out. Though I'd bet their home cooking is quite different from what they make in the restaurant (excepting their family meal, which I've heard is "the best in New York City"). I'd imagine that wd~50's chefs enjoy the same home cooked meals we all do. Nonetheless, come service time, they raise the bar, they stock the bar differently, just as Vongerichten did before them once upon a time. Enough pontification, on to dessert.

First we were given a "pre-dessert," a lovely item from the tasting menu described in print as "yogurt, saffron, raisin." Another riff on yogurt and granola, I think, as little specks of oat dotted the dish. Raisin was presented as a puree underneath the dish, a light, mildly sweet, almost airy, dark liquid, and also as currants. The whole raisins were very strong, probably marinated in the saffron.

Warm gianduja, ice milk, hazelnut, fennel

The coconut ice cream, the wonderful, if a bit sickly sweet cherry chocolate morsels, the startling combination of warm jianduja "tartlet" with ice milk, the strange comfort of a brown butter base for a sweet dish... These three desserts had consistent elements--a kind of advanced ice cream making, shocking ices with savory, smoky garnishes that made for a very satisfying sweet ending to the meal. And two petit fours, a nice faux-marshmellow that I'd had before and a wild chocolate menthol ice cream in a toasted short cake. A riff on tempura ice cream that I can really get behind; the cold of the ice, the pleasure of chocolate cake, and a secondary taste of menthol. The lingering aftertaste, an intermingling of all the flavors, was a testament to the success of this tiny cake.

A four course dinner for three with two coffees and a $58 bottle of wine was $327. Despite my unrealized desire to please my dining companion with this new cusinine, and the slow pace of a very busy Monday night, in hindsight this was an exciting meal.

Tuesday at Bernie’s; Sasabune lead in; Fall round-up

Le Bernardin, Tuesday, January 8^th, 9:30 p.m.

Of course Chef Eric Ripert's reputation preceeds him. Yes, it is acknowledged that Le Bernardin is one of a select few top rated New York City restaurants. In New York, in most major cities, and perhaps just about anywhere, one is able to get a great meal, approaching the quality of a three star Michelin restaurant. True, you may not get the five Mobile gas cans or the Home and Country stamp of approval, but great meals are available. I had one of the best meals in St. Thomas this post-Christmas season. This dinner wasn't at any of the forty an entree ersatz gourmet places scattered throughout the island that cater to the tourist trade, it was held in the home of the owner of Bill's Texas BBQ. Bill can really cook and I had a wonderful spread consisting of collard greens cooked in ham hocks, rice, black eyed peas, corn bread, and bar-b-cued chicken. The barbeque sauce was exquisite, a forward palate-consuming hot that gave way after several minutes to a subtle, persistent sweetness. On his porch, I treated myself to a few Grey Goose and tonics and looked out at the harbor and beyond to St. Croix. The sun set on the beautiful scene.

But this isn't about home cooking, it isn't about great meals, it is about perfection. Ripert's meal was stellar, absolutely the best meal of my adult life.

The night before, at Sasabune (401 E 73rd St), I was promised excellent omakase. It wasn't until Tuesday until my friend delivered, picking up the check on the Chef's Tasting Menu at Bernie's. No, the night before, I was the subject of a prolonged torture, featuring the combined efforts of the chef and my friend's girlfriend. It was a numbing repetition of perfectly fresh fish and cell phone interruptions. I will admit to a near priggishness when it comes to etiquette. But I don't enforce my policies, and as such my rules become mere pronouncements to the, if you will, stolid air, hollow with reverberations against emptiness. To wit, drink less before dinner, stay off the fucking cell phone (text if you must), focus up and pay attention, and please, for the love of all that is still left holy in this world, stop drawing attention to yourself. Yelling above the din, in other words, is not recommended. And cigarette addictions are passe. You just don't need a cig that badly--really, you don't. At least at Sasabune, they don't stop coursing you when you get up for a cigarette. Otherwise, I would have been really pissed to sit through that big bunch of bullshit.

The basic issue was for me not so much the company, which I actually quite enjoyed, but the prep executed on the food. Citrus vinaigrettes and soy marinades predominated. No matter how much I enjoyed the duo of cod cheek and ground cod shoulder, everything looked and tasted the same. I was desperate for a cute little squirt of jalapeno emulsion, reduction, or cream as I might experience at another neighborhood omakase joint. The Upper East may kind of suck, overall, for being able to differentiate great Italian fare from average, for a dearth of affordable fine dining establishments, or great third world ethnic fare, but it does provide a couple of good omakase joints. Seki dwarfs Sasabune in terms of creativity and variety of presentations, and until a much later hour. At 8 o'clock I was bored to near desperation by a monochromatic series of color and textures. So much white, off white, bone white, light brown, tan, etc... so much soy, so much citrus. Not all bad, mind you, and all of it quite fresh, so very fresh.

The money shot was, of course, the crab roll. Great. It's like the bad sex that never ends--thank god it's over, and okay, the orgasm wasn't that bad (indeed, it was good), it just came after what seemed like two hours of nothingness. A restaurant that can reduce the potential excitement of a platter of fresh white albacore to an exercise in banality is one that will keep its one Bruni star for lack of trying.

Flash back to earlier in the day. I was in the city for a meeting about website maintenance, with a great client, and then for a Tuesday dinner. A reservation had been made at Sasabune, a surprise omakase for Monday night. But I still had my obligation to provide a Tuesday 9:30 p.m. reservation. Thus far, I've gone for a mix of foodie classics and modern fare, e.g. Frank's near the meat market (glory days have faded completely), more promisingly wd~50 (my persistent favorite), or Spigolo. Spigolo, I liked--I like solid two star Italian fare that doesn't stray too far from the idiom and doesn't make me sick. Spigolo's front of house staff and their sous chefs deliver the goods, with an extensive (if not a little expensive) Italian wine list.

I say to the famous lady, "I'd like to eat where the chef's on the line. Like, owner/operator."

"Brenda" rattles off a few choices, stuff I dutifully take down in the notebook. Something in my manner must have clued her in. There was a challenge, a gauntlet had been thrown, I had a real dinner to provide for a food initiate. She says, "Oh, Eric just got back to down. He just called me to give me his cell phone number."

I was reviewing web site details with one of Brenda's employees just five minutes earlier when Eric Ripert called to give her his new cell phone number, and to say he was back in town. And I missed it. First, Brenda can't find Eric's number. She's written it on a piece of paper that's disappeared, and she wants to call him back to get me the reservation. I wish it were all part of the game, where she then gets to call Le Bernardin and get his cell phone number, as an exercise in or a play on New York City restaurant power. But I think she just misplaced the number. She calls the restaurant, and then, "Hello, Eric, this is Brenda. My friend would like to get a reservation tomorrow night. He wants to eat where a chef's in the kitchen, isn't that sweet? Well, he'd like to eat at, what time? Tomorrow night at 9:30."

So, immediately, almost unbelievably, it's set. I have a reservation at Le Bernardin and Brenda just said my name into Eric Ripert's cell phone. Life is at that moment is bursting with potential, exploding with excitement. And I scored a short-notice reservation at a four star restaurant, typical wait two months.

Words are in inadequate to describe the total perfection of my experience at Le Bernardin. It was a relatively affordable meal of chef's tasting menu with wine pairing.

Perilla, plum of the west village

NYC on a Tuesday. My friend and I found ourselves walking down Seventh Avenue. with the intention of eating a quick dinner. I realize we may actually have time and be able to walk in to Perilla. After a little bit of confusion wandering between a bunch of crisscrossing West Village Streets, we hit Jones, take a left, and there's the restaurant with big windows and beautiful signage. It looks crowded. The bar is full, there's a four top up front with no one on it, and to my eyes there are no other tables free. I ask the floor manager, John, if he'll take a walk in. The hostess walks us to the back, and we're seated right next to the entrance to the kitchen. I'm not picking up the check on this one, so I'm the defacto female, and besides, I want to check out the action, so I take the seat with my back to the wall. This is just what I wanted--if the restaurant had been quiet, I would have asked for the worst seat in the house. It used to be that being seated by the kitchen was an insult, an annoyance, a consequence of plebean status, not being "in" in the restaurant world, or maybe just because one didn't slip the maitre'd or the captain some "big bill" relative to the economics of the time. Anyway, I was happy. I got to see the silverware bin, two server's sodas, the order computer, some ramikens, a relievedly clean and uncluttered space, and the comings and goings of servers and the occasional chef, for most of the night. The acoustics are such that the sound doesn't really bounce out of the kitchen; in fact I really heard no kitchen sounds at all.

Menus are dropped. Legible, short, no tasting menu. Service is quick--they drop bread and a little round ramiken of olive oil. The bread is fresh enough, but I'm not crazy about the olive oil. It reminds me of grapeseed oil, and I'm not too hip to that. Then the waiter asks us if we want tap water, to give us the option to upsell ourselves to bottled. Tap is fine. The water glasses arrive, quickly, but they are both slightly different sizes! Maybe I'm getting OCD in my old age but to me this is an odd quirk for a restaurant that's been open six months or so. They've broken that many glasses? They don't buy the same exact kind when they reorder? Anyway, I got over that, and noted that while the staff doesn't deliver the glasses while holding them by the bottom third, at least it was below the top quarter.

We both decide to get beers and move on to final menu selections. The first things that catch my eye are the pork belly and the game bird, so I just go with, well, the first things on the menu, yes, but stuff that appeals to me. My friend gets an endive salad and the hangar steak. We talk about sharing the food amongst ourselves, like, "I want to try that," which develops into a misunderstanding. My friend orders for us, which I barely notice. The waiter asks if we're sharing, and that implies share plates. I hate share plates and split orders, as a server, as a customer, as a line cook, as a general principle. I feel the hint of an odd intimation, and then I feel a little emasculated, so I clarify by telling the server, "I'm not comfortable asking for sharing situations. I'm getting the pork belly, my friend is getting the salad, I'm getting the game bird, and my friend is getting the hangar steak." Okay, he goes away.

Now the game begins. I get to watch my server interact with the tables to my right and left. I watch the floor manager make a regular tour front to back several times. I note the decor, the simple white painted tin ceiling, the tasteful yellow paint on the walls. I think it was the correct choice to go with no table cloths. In this nouvelle American cuisine world, it appears to be as "in" as the pork belly on the menu to have bare tables. (Attention old school diners, this is no excuse to tip fifteen percent, this is a twenty percent (okay, before tax if you insist) kind of place.) I suppose it makes flipping the table a lot easier, and considering how close together the two tops are along the wall where we sat, it'd be difficult to do a full reset with linens. Not that I felt the tables were too close, mind you. Indeed I was afraid of being a little cramped or hemmed in but I felt pretty comfortable. And, as I said, I got to eavesdrop on our server's technique. Allow me to wrap up on the general decor by commenting on the server uniform. Blue jeans, tucked in black shirt rolled up with 1/3rd of the arm exposed, belts, and white aprons. Casual uniform, okay, but there were some deviations. One guy had his wallet in his back pocket and his pants were on the baggy side--another off note along the lines of the water glasses but not such an egregious offense. They get away with it because it's "casual" fine dining, but still, I'd encourage a little more belt tightening, if you will, among the staff when it comes to neatness. Then again, a good number of the customers were wearing t-shirts, and I saw no ties within my field of vision. Who besides me cares?

Next I listen to the curly haired, skinny server deliver suggestions to the couple at the table to our right. I hear some superlatives, none of which I can remember verbatim but I'll give you the gist. Okay, "great" or "fantastic," "really nice" or "wonderful" are not ways to describe food. Try "savory," "meaty," something "with a hint of" something, "rich but not overbearing," anything but superlatives or, god forbid, "I like it." (Yes, he recommended a menu choice because he liked it.) Who cares what you like? In order to find out what that means, I'm going to have to engage you in conversation about what your food preferences are, and frankly I neither have the time nor do I care. He ends up recommending the game bird to the lady, successfully, but he blows it with the hangar steak. When asked to describe it, he calls it, "gamey." Gamey? The game bird is gamey. The hangar steak, I'd go for something like, "a very flavorful cut of meat, much more so than, say, filet, or even strip. The chef prepares this cut so that it's very tender." Anyway, the dude orders the fish, so whatever.

I did get a kick out of seeing the beef carpacchio come to their table. Really beautiful plating. I wasn't jealous; our food was great and I can order it next time, but it was a very attractive looking dish with one "roll" placed vertically against another resting horizontally on the plate.

Now, on to our food. My friend's salad featured some nice endive that was miraculously not too bitter. I was shocked at how mildly bitter the endive was, so I can only assume some careful produce selection is going on behind the scenes. The rather voluminous salad featured a mildly sweet vinaigrette. Surrounding the whole affair were several pieces of well done bacon, fine julianned and then halved. A nice casual circle around the salad, an inviting visual pop. A nice mix of flavors. The micro greens weren't totally useless or ugly, either, so kudos to Perilla's purveyors. My pork belly was very nice; the outer skin was crisped very well, with a mildly pungent, grilled flavor. It didn't slice completely through all that easily, but this is a difficult issue. (I don't know enough about pork belly to discuss the viscosity of each layer of fat and muscle and how to assure either a uniform temperature or an easy slice of the knife.) My friend was crazy about the pork belly, ate some, wanted more...

The main courses arrived, along with the two sides we ordered. I got the risotto and my friend got the brussel sprouts, which were placed side by side at twelve o'clock to each of our plates. My game bird had the aforementioned mildly sweet light brown roux. My friend's hangar steak was centered on the plate, stacked in small squarish pieces over a bed of creamed spinach, with a sweetish demi surrounding it. Rare as ordered, a slight touch on the mid rare side if you're an ardent flesh eater, but I am turned off by any truly undercooked meat so for me, perfecto. My curiosity was piqued by the spinach, so much so that I forgot to pay attention the spaetzel on my own plate until nearly the end of the entree course. Here's where, I think, Harold played with home cooking in a very straightforward way. This was not creamed spinach reconceptualized and formatted into flavor cubes, or emulsions: it was good ol' creamed spinach that should remind you of a much better version of the box of crap from the freezer section of the supermarket that my mother never served me with anything she made (at least as far as I remember). But I liked the presentation, with the spinach peeking out, and once I tried it I really liked it. All in all the hangar steak dish worked perfectly. The feature itself, the steak, had a pronounced depth of flavor, it was tender, and it didn't require cutting into smaller pieces (although one certainly might if they were so inclined; after all, mastication is of paramount importance for good digestion). I wish I could recall what sensations played on my palate as I ate the steak.

I enjoyed the game bird. My sense of it is that it was cooked sous vide and then the crisped skin was added in final plating; I'm no CIA man, mind you, but it was a fairly tender and juicy bird with a pronouncedly crisp skin, so I can't imagine the effect was achieved by "flashing" it or by salamander. My only criticism is that the crisp skin tasted almost exactly like the crisp of the pork belly. Simple seasoning is a great overall strategy but tactically this was a failure in my tastebuds' estimations. I didn't enjoy tasting the same basic flavor in the crisp of each of my courses. The bird itself was juicy, though, and a good portion. It was savory, and I could enjoy a little sweetness when I dipped it in the roux. I never got around to enjoying the spatzel. It was sort of scattered on the left side of the plate, and I missed it until I realized I hadn't eaten it. It just looked like a not-perfectly-realized garnish rather than a good accompaniment. Which, it turned out, it was--I liked the flavor of the spatzel, though it was a tad dry by the time I got to it.

We both loved the risotto, it had a unique quality to it. It was presented in an au gratin dish with what appeared to be a slighly bruleed top. Again, my memory of my palate's reaction, flavor component wise, is failing me, but I do remember yet another dish with a good depth of flavor. As the fork came away from the plate, thin little strands of cheese clung to the uneaten risotto, stretching a bit before breaking. It was a nice touch that visually accented the rich taste and moistness.

I didn't order the brussel sprouts. I don't like brussel sprouts. I dislike the texture of that vegetable. The two kinds of nuts and the mildly salty sauce imparted a sour sensation. My friend liked it, though. We were both filled up enough by the portions in general, so he took a healthy serving of brussel sprouts home with him. I meant to try it later to discern what I liked and disliked about it... but again, that's what separates me from the professional. Where's my follow through, my tenacity? I guess I'm just too ambivilant about brussel sprouts or I just plain forgot.

The server showed us the kitchen. The cook's stations wrap around the room, then an electric dishwasher. The girl with big glasses on the dishwasher looked like an extern or stage, but who knows?

I don't want to end what is basically a very positive recounting of a fine meal with a negative, but I have one more note for the servers. I understand you want to keep the meal at a good pace. But when you see that I'm done, even completely done, try counting to three before you whisk away my plate. Just give me a moment to breathe before the plate disappears, a second or two to reflect on my dish with an empty plate in front of me. (Also, a "may I take that for you?" wouldn't kill you in certain situations, even though the silence was pretty golden.) After all, we were the last seating of the night, so no excuse can be made in the realm of turning our table over for more diners. At least the service was quick and attentive, enthusiastic and accomodating. We liked the food.

Culinary Adventures

First let me say that I spent a pleasant Sunday afternoon tooling around the City (of New York, of course). Crossed town to the Time Warner center to pay homage to Per Se. Excitedly rode three escalators to the entrance, nervously entered--then I was greeted by a hostess and two managerial types. They were kind enough to let me look around, and I apologized for appearing in street clothes ("It's okay," one replied, "it's Sunday afternoon.") As I left, and thanked them sincerely, the French suit joked that they'd send me the bill at home.

Bouchon Bakery. I'm not overly impressed, though I will return for take out snacks or even a sit-down. Pan au chocolate--wonderful pastry, light, a pretty, rectangular croissant--once cut into quarters each piece had maybe 1/2 an ounce of chocolate. You do the math--not bad, but not great. Perhaps that fits in with Keller's notions about how much of a component is necessary to express the full spirit of a dish, but to me it smacked of bad (though well distributed) portion control. (Or maybe I like chocolate; do I want to be overwhelmed by it? Perhaps. Pour some ganache on me, as the song goes.) The fig pound cake was extremely attractive, with three small candied slices on top of a small, perhaps 5-6 oz. portion of sweet pound cake with fig in the middle. The fig garnish slices were sickly sweet, the poundcake itself was just about delicious, so overall I'd worth the five or so dollars. The coffee cake was good--the most straightforward pastry of the few that I purchased. No complaints there. A refined, good portion, tasty and well recieved by the friends to whom I served it later in the day. Then, I went into the restaurant proper, to the bar for an espresso. Perhaps I should have sat for a prepared dish, but the whole thing smacked of Starbucks, done up in a more high end context with a traditional restaurant staff structure--host, bussers, servers, chefs, bartenders, barbacks--but a Starbucks feel nonetheless. Starbucks is getting into the business of serving food with their coffee. Why wouldn't Bouchon Bakery open in a few airports to compete?

Totally average, machine dispensed espresso. Still, I felt compelled to tip 60% to the poor culinary school externs eeking out an existence picking up a few extra bucks at their weekend cashier job, and 40% to the sullen bartender who responded to my criticism of the espresso with "can I get you anything else?"

I understand real espresso machines require more training, upkeep, and depreciate in value more quickly, but come on... give me a real coffee drink. And I thought I could get some french bread or brioche for take out! What a shock, what the heck, I wanted some good bread to serve at home.

Drove over to Chesea Market (Bowery Kitchen) to pick up a Messermeister shellfish knife. I highly recommend this thing if you work raw bar. (It does bend, though, but at least it doesn't chip, so buy several, they're cheap.)

After dark. wd~50. Perfect service. Totally accomodating. Unpretentious. Comfortable banqettes, and some free standing tables. No tablecoths. A certain Vong-iness to the lighting, decor, art, and color schemes that made it clear one was in a fine dining establishment. The open kitchen looked spotlessly clean. Our server picked the perfect wine for me based on my description of what I liked and what we were willing to spend. He walked us through every component of every plate. Bartender was good, most every signature cocktail was a winner. All the dishes were everything I wanted in terms of having a gastronomic experience. Highly intellectual, daring yet sensible flavor and texture pairings, great plating technique, quality prep. I found components of the fois dish to be a little gelatinous but at not boring in terms of flavors, ingredients, and presentation, just not what I'm used to--and since what I'm used to with fois can border on pedestrian, this was refreshing. Beef tongue was thin and tender. Smoked eel was pleasant, with deep flavor, presented sort of like sushi. Entrees. The sea bass was a bit overcooked around the edges. Their french onion soup challenges, comforts, and suprises you, all at the same time. Loved the flatiron steak paired with coffee gnocchi. The pork belly with pear and apple vinegar shoe leather (I don't recall exactly what was in that shoe leather, or whether it was served with the beef tongue, but in any case I loved it.) was visually appealing, very subtle flavor, and didn't feel too fatty. Dessert was wonderful, we had the creamsicle and the cherry chocolate mousse.

It was a reasonably priced meal for three, clocking in around $300. My only regret was that it was Chef's night off... but exec. sous chef Kevin took care of us.