vengroff

And when you do go, be sure to say hello to our favorite minibarador, the soft-spoken young man pictured here: I'm drawing a total blank on his name, so someone who has been is going to have to help me out. But putting that aside, his story is interesting. He was living in Cleveland when Jose and Steve came out to cook at a special event. He worked the event and discovered that what Jose was doing really resonated with him. Arrangements were made, he packed himself up and headed east, and now he's behind the minibar.

Make sure you call ahead about the wine. I have heard conflicting things about the corcake policy. You can also do fine, as we did, starting with the 1+1=3 vintage cava and then moving on to the viognier.

That's great, Sara. I think you will really enjoy it. The key to the photos isn't so much the camera (Canon G3) as the flash (Canon 420EX E-TTL) Now what I really need to do is get a remote unit and a second 420EX, and then I'll be in business. For example, I could do a much better job lighting this liquid center conch fritter. The fritter itself was great. It popped in your mouth like a giant caviar egg. The inverted springy egg holder it came in matched the springy platfotms that held each diner's pkace a few inches over the table. Some people played with the bouncing plates all evening, others put them aside, but most simply let them wobble just a tad as each dish was presented.

Here are the previously discussed chocolate-covered corn nuts.

Towards the end of the meal, my camera focusing skills were suffering a bit from the combined effects of cava and viognier, but I have to post this picture of Steve's mango soup with pop rocks. This is a dessert for all five senses. You even hear the popping as it is placed in front of you. Our minibarrista (minibarador? minibarman?) told us that it is made with imported Spanish pop rocks. We would expect nothing less.

You might want to consider putting a group of six on the Acela for a quick trip down to DC. I'm sure Jose, Kats, and the rest of the minibar crew would take good care of you.

Earlier on, we did get a taste of the more traditional guacamole, which was used as to fill a jicama-skinned ravioli. It appears on the left in the photo below. The one on the right is filled with tuna ceviche.

Corn Nuts? As in the greatest giant toasted corn snack ever to come out of Urbana, Ohio? Indeed. Corn nuts were also presented with a chocolate coating at the end of the meal.

Another dish we with clear origins in the original Cafe Atlantico concept was guacamole. But in this case, the the only thing it had in common with their standard tableside preparation was that it was assembled in front of us. The elements, from bottom to top, were onion gelee, sliced avacado, tiny wedges of lime, spicy tomato sorbet, and cilantro. No chips were required, as the deconstructed guacamole was topped with crunchy crushed corn nuts, for both taste and texture. I don't knoe if the famed pacojet was used to produce the sorbet, but however it was made it was certainly tasty.

But we all know that potato foam isn't just for serving with meat any more. Here it is, paired with vanilla oil and caviar in a classic Cafe Atlantico combination that predates the minibar.

OK, here's a truffle huffer. And here is the meat and potatoes dish that was served with the napkin. This dish required use of the spork to lift from the plate. I don't recall whether the woman to my right at the bar ate the beef, but I do know that her days of vegetarianism came to an abrupt end when she sampled the foie gras truffle.

Here are two of the mango ravioli that others have mentioned in this thread. The one on the left is stuffed with avacado, and the one on the right contains anchovy foam. Each is a single bite, but each goes through a series of flavor transformations in your mouth. First you taste the wrapper, then the filling as it squirts out, and finally, the combination of the two.

In some cases, the chefs behind the minibar aren't alone in employing new techniques to put the dishes together. Several of them, like this Caesar salad, require final assembly by the diner. In this case assembly consists of picking up one of the jicama and lettuce rolls and using it to break the egg yolk and then stir the dressing together. When the dressing is combined and has coated the bottom half of the roll, you pop it in your mouth. Very few of the courses require the use of traditional silverware, and none is provided (unless you count a stainless steel spork as tradional). In order to give you a sense of scale, that is a quail egg, not a chicken egg.

Upon arrival at the minibar, we were presented with a small bowl of chicken popcorn. As a guest, I looked at this bowl, just as you are looking at it on the screen now, and thought to myself that it was simply a bowl of popcorn with chicken powder on it. Where is the novelty in that? True, you don't see powdered chicken on many menus, but surely the good people at Knorr and Lipton's have long since perfected the art of powdering chicken. Then I tasted it, and found myself challenged to think about the experience a little bit more. What exactly are Jose and Kats up to? They have produced a dried essence, in powdered form, quite likely by employing processes normally reserved for industrial-scale food production. Now I understood, and throughout the meal the message was reinforced: what is happening at the minibar is that tools and techniques from industry and laboratory processes are being employed to transform the form, the function, and the meaning of food. But why would one expect these industrial processes produce something that is any more pleasurable to consume than factory-produced mass dreck? That's like asking why Payard makes better pastry than Hostess. It's because behind the process there is a creative vision. The vision isn't about shocking, joking, or deceiving the diner. It's about pushing the boundaries of the dining experience. This requires abandoning the idea that the stock pot, the saute pan, and the chefs knife alone are up to the task. The new tools of the trade aren't found at the local restaurant supply store, they are found on the pages of the latest Edmund Scientific catalog. Those who employ them are changing the culinary landscape forever, one bowl of popcorn at a time.

First, some disclaimers: 1. I have never been to El Bulli. 2. I have never been to Trio. 3. I have never been to WD50. And now, to the meat of the matter: The minibar at Cafe Atlantico presents the most profound challenge to the fundamentals of dining out that I have ever experienced. It has opened my eyes in a way that very few other experiences ever have. I am reticent to believe that the emporer is wearing a new suit of clothes, for I have found his wares the pinnacle of sensuousness and fashion. As I said to my dining companion while we were still sitting at the bar, it was like watching a color television for the first time after having only ever seen black and white. The average viewer, and I include myself in this category, simply could not fathom what the experience would be like. I will post some pictures soon, but they cannot conceivably do justice to what is going on at the minibar. If you don't already have a booking, pick up the phone and arrange one for the earliest possible moment.

If you are willing to share your recipes with the rest of us, there always recipeGullet. It has a mode for printing recipes; here is an example. If you have suggestions that you think would improve the printable view, by all means make them.

Charlie Palmer Steak is probably the only big note of late.

Joe, Now I understand what you are talking about. The Jaleo-2941 range is, as you say, something different than the Maestro-Citronelle range that Yannick appears to be shooting for. I agree with John W. If I was putting money into a food and wine driven $3 million place, it would have to be in the city. As for Kinkead's Colvin Run location, the landlord's pitch had to be, "Look, we've got Tiffany, Loius Vuitton, Gucci, etc. You won't find a more concentrated population of ideal customers anywhere between 5th Avenue and Buckhead." The only problem is that plenty of them eat interesting food and drink $400 Bordeaux in the city on the corporate card or their favorite attorney, pharmacutical rep, IT sales rep, or lobbyist. When they go out with their spouse and two teenagers, they may be just as happy with Legal Seafood or the Cheesecake Factory. Or if they do go higher end, they still don't spend in quite the same way.

The former yes; the latter, no. Just last Thursday a friend of mine went to Maestro on I believe one, or possibly two days notice. I'll check with him and confirm. I don't think you can do that on a weekend night, can you? Well then hopefully Yannick is reading, and will change his plans before it's too late. We're not really talking top flight here, are we?

I find slicing the breast across then going down and under best. Um. Know what I mean? I think so. Next time I'll try with a thin carving knife. With the chef's knife I used I didn't do a very good job of turning the corner from the vertical slice along the breast bone to the horizontal cut along the rib bones. When the bird is flattened, this corner gets a lot sharper.

One of the differences between the city and the suburbs is that in the city you have more access to mid-week big-spending (especially on wine) deal makers who want to keep their clients happy. I suspect that a place that is full of this type of customer Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights is a lot more lucrative than one that is filled with special occasion diners on the weekends. If you can successfully cater to both markets, which I believe Michel Richard does, you've got the makings of a great operation.

A question for all the spatchcockers out there. Once your chicken is roasted, how do you prefer to carve it up for service? With the patented Fowke stretch truss, I was able to remove the leq quarters and carve boneless supremes with a total of four strokes of the knife. I had a little more trouble boning the breast on a spatchcocked bird and ended up kind of mangling it. Maybe I'm just not used to the angles and need more practice?

Nothing like being run out of the place by the French women's World Cup football team. They dance loudly and carry a big stick.

Make that six, contrary to what the title says. But your point stands.

Not happy with the rock star chef cover? Ripert's the only one who looks like he is really getting into it.