tupac17616

Okay so maaaybe this isn't the right thread for this, but I figured this would be as good a place as any to share what I had for dessert tonight... Chocolate. With bacon. Pretty decent. Though a little too much smokey flavor, and the texture (a few chunks of chewy bacon fat inside) left something to be desired..

Been away from this thread for a while, but no time like the present to get back into it... Pasta con le sarde My own weird spin on it. Sauteed some arugula and a bit of garlic in olive oil, added currants, red pepper flakes, splash of sherry vinegar, and, of all things, cinnamon. The fresh California sardines were "grilled" (if we can call what the Cuisinart Griddler does as such) separately with just a nice Ligurian olive oil and salt, then placed on top. Final dish was a bit more agro than dolce, surprisingly, but pretty darn tasty if I do say so myself.

Allora, I don't think I've ever contributed to these "Cooking and Cuisine of..." threads, but no time like the present. Pasta con le sarde My own weird spin on it. Sauteed some arugula and a bit of garlic in olive oil, added currants, red pepper flakes, splash of sherry vinegar, and, of all things, the tiniest bit of cinnamon. The fresh California sardines were "grilled" (if we can call what the Cuisinart Griddler does as such) separately and then placed on top. Final dish was a bit more agro than dolce, surprisingly, but pretty darn tasty if I do say so myself.

Nice. Thanks, Julien, for the photos. Now looking forward to this place even more than I already was...

I agree with u.e. on all points he made. Sorry to hear your overall experience was not better, LPShanet!

Et voila... (pictures can be seen HERE) I recently found myself in Pocantico Hills, NY. Not in the this-is-where-I-happen-to-be-on-planet-earth-right-now sort of way. Rather, I found myself in the sense that I was reminded what it is that makes food such a passion for me. More than just a restaurant, and more than just a farm, Blue Hill at Stone Barns is a place that nourishes both body and soul as it shows you if not what the link between farm and table should be, at least what it can be. When I first I took the short train ride up from the city last spring, I was there for the restaurant. I was there for food. But a walk around the grounds before dinner left me with a feeling I could not easily pin down. Something about the place just clicked for me on a fundamental level. Maybe it was the fresh, quiet air or the pink-and-purple paint in the sky as the sun set. Maybe I had eased right in to the slow pace of the ducks and cows I saw roaming the grounds. Or maybe, always my mother’s son, my green thumb was just coming out amidst this beautiful agricultural backdrop. That first dinner was great, but I knew I would have to return for more, literally. My trip back would be about more than just food, and I would make that trip with, or more accurately for, my mom. Far too modest to admit it, she is a veritable encyclopedia of gardening. She’s also always quick to point out when what I think is new is actually just old again. The exchanges go like this: I come home, the prodigal son-gourmand, having squandered all my money in far-away lands. I tell her about the latest trendy, “cheffy” ingredients I’ve seen popping up on menus. She nods as she considers this thoughtfully. Then she smiles and informs me that she is growing those very things in our back yard and has been doing so since long before I was born. And didn’t I realize that? Needless to say, even before she saw the pictures from my first trip or an episode of Oprah that featured Stone Barns, it was clear that this particular farm-restaurant duo was the ideal place for this particular mother-son duo to celebrate her birthday this year. We pulled up to Stone Barns around 10:30am. We were eight hours early for dinner. The Insider’s Tour — a backstage pass to the farm and restaurant led by the very capable Ellen Baum — would start at 11, but first we had breakfast from the Blue Hill Café. Pain au chocolat for the lady; a cheddar-and-chive scone and cherry focaccia for me. My kind of energy snacks before a guided hike around the farm. I can’t condense this incredibly cool, several-hour experience into one line, but I can tell you a bit about what we saw. I can also tell you how very highly I would recommend it to others. We saw animals — sheep, turkeys, chickens, pigs, and cows — making their happy homes in the pastures and barns. We saw fields and gardens and green houses with plants and flowers too numerous to name. In short we saw what makes this nearly self-sustaining, almost utopian place tick. Lunch would also come from the café and would be eaten, fittingly, on the same ground from which it was harvested. The mid-day menu had heirloom tomatoes layered with local goat cheese on focaccia, chilled corn soup, and several other tempting items I would have happily ordered had dinner not been a few short hours away. Instead we got a few things — okay, everything — on their pay-by-weight buffet. Roasted beets lent their crimson hue to a tangy local goat cheese spiked with fresh dill. Blanched shell beans were tossed with shallots, scallions and a pistachio vinaigrette. Farro came dressed with a fruity olive oil and corn so fresh it was milky. And how could I forget the roasted carrot and potato salad, or the egg salad that came to us courtesy of the chickens we had just seen clucking around the coop? A single chocolate chip cookie and a cold glass of Ronnybrook milk put a cap on this simple but satisfying lunch. We spent a while longer there on the farm, sometimes exploring, sometimes doing nothing at all, but all the time realizing what a great day it had been and what a great evening it would be. Later we stepped back into the restaurant, now dressed in our Sunday best. The hostess led us into the beautiful dining room we had seen empty that very morning, now full of smiling faces. We got a glass of Lieb Family Cellars Blanc de Blancs from Long Island to kick things off with some celebratory bubbles. Choosing what to eat was easy since during the summer about 80% of what the restaurant uses comes directly from the farm, eliminating the need for a traditional menu of composed dishes. Instead, you see a list of the incredible bounty of ingredients that chef Dan Barber and his crew have gathered on that particular day. Then you simply choose the number of course you want, sit back and enjoy. But while I love such surprises, my mom sometimes does not. Which is a roundabout way of saying that she’s not such a fan of some of the strange things I eat. Imagine our delight when the staff listened so closely to each of our likes and dislikes that it would turn out to be as if the kitchen was cooking a meal customized just for us. Not listed as part of the eight-course Farmer’s Feast ($125) were a slew of amuses-bouche that would soon flood our table. At times, the staff could scarcely find room to put the plates down — a very good problem to have — so we just had to keep eating. Such is life. The first few bites included a melon slushie with coppa; and small tomatoes and yellow squash skewered on a wiry “fence”. and Any drink goes down smoother with a pork chaser, I think, so the melon slush was a nice start. And the tomatoes and squash were the first of many fruits and vegetables we would have that night that had scarcely been manipulated by the kitchen. Clearly, they had confidence in the natural flavors that were coming out of the ground there. Next we had little melon and watermelon balls dusted with black pepper. some warm bread and butter, a crusty, country-style sourdough and a puck of soft, unsalted, respectively. Apparently Blue Hill’s resident charcutier Adam Kaye had been MIA for a little while, but they still scrounged up a nice selection of cured and smoked Berkshire pig for us, much to my delight. We had saucisson sec, mortadella, lonza, and a cute little block of heart and liver terrine sandwiched between chocolate wafers. All were quite good but the terrine was especially memorable for its strong, unadulterated liver flavor. When I gave this description to my mom, she noted that she was not suffering from an iron deficiency on that particular evening and she politely pushed hers my way. The tomato “burger”, though, was far too good for my mom to sacrifice. In fact, that tiny sweet bun holding a mound of tomato confit made her smile so big I was worried she might trick me — “Hey, look over there! A relatively obscure chef nobody in the room besides you would recognize!” – and steal mine as well. A skewer of eggplant wrapped with pancetta, rolled in sesame seeds, and fried was proof that even in fancy restaurants, there’s something satisfying about food on a stick. The inside was warm and creamy while the meaty exterior provided a bit of crunch. That was followed by “face bacon”, their poetic name for rounds of crispy cured and smoked pig head meat. And the last (but not least) of the fruits of the Fry-o-lator were some potato chips threaded with sage, and deep-fried chard leaves. These all tasted so good that I momentarily considered asking if they could just deep-fry the rest of our dinner. Sticks of warm flat bread came with salted butter and fresh ricotta (each from the chef’s family’s farm in the Berkshires), and an amazingly smooth eggplant puree. To season any of the above there were tomato and arugula “salts” (dehydrated tomatoes and arugula each ground to a fine powder and mixed with salt). We dabbed at the somewhat bland ricotta, then quickly dispatched the very good butter, only to find we had actually saved the best thing for last. The eggplant puree, especially with a touch of tomato salt, stole the show for me. Our first actual courses arrived and my mother had the Tomato, watermelon, mozzarella “cloud”, bacon, while I had just a touch of Plate Envy. Her dish had fat wedges of both wonderfully ripe fruits, a warm piece of fresh mozzarella with bits of basil in it, and a cool, thick blob of mozzarella-flavored foam she dubbed the “cloud”. A basil-spiked vinaigrette tied it together and a crown of bacon topped it off. Under normal circumstances, my mom is a generous woman. With this plate in front of her, alas, she did not share. I don’t mean to imply that my dish — Bluefish with paddlefish caviar, tomato, pig’s ear vinaigrette — left me unsatisfied by comparison. Far from it. A small block of raw fish sat on slice of heirloom tomato so thin it was translucent. The briny paddlefish caviar provided the salt and the vinaigrette gave these fresh and light flavors a bit of depth. Diced bits of pig ear added to an otherwise traditional vinaigrette were responsible for the unctuous, gelatinous texture in my mouth. A younger guy came by with a large wooden tray full of heirloom tomatoes. More than a dozen kinds, many of which I had never heard of before, save the green zebra, pineapple, and persimmon varieties. My mom’s eyes lit up and I was pretty sure she was thinking the same thing I was — perhaps we should pry the tray out of this guy’s kung fu grip and run for the hills. Oh, wait. These are the tomatoes we’ll be eating in a just a few minutes, you say? Well, in that case… Pretty soon that tray was replaced with Tomatoes, grilled stone fruit, tomato sorbet, purslane, stracciatella. This seemed a perfectly fair trade to me, since this dish was wonderful. The sweet grilled nectarine and peach segments accented the slight tartness of the tomatoes, and those warm fruits served on top of the cold sorbet made for some really enjoyable temperature contrast. (I’m also pretty sure my mom asked me twice: “Did you taste that sorbet yet? Wow!”) And see, I haven’t even mentioned the creamy strands of torn mozzarella yet. Yeah, I think you could say this was a good dish. You could also say the next one — Celtuse with yogurt, pine nut butter, yogurt foam — was the standout course of the meal. Who would’ve thought I would be so enthusiastic about a variety of lettuce, especially one that exhibits characteristics of that other oft-maligned vegetable, celery? The knobby root of the vegetable was served raw, simply shaved into ribbons that had a refreshing, almost watery crunch reminiscent of celery. The leaves, meanwhile, were wilted and served warm on a slate tile smeared with a thick, Greek-style yogurt and a salted pine nut butter. Each component on the plate sang a nice tune of its own, but the combination of them all was symphonic. Next my mom had the Corn ravioli with tomato and basil sauce. She didn’t say a word for the next several minutes — the woman was focused — but “summertime on a plate” was how she eventually summarized it. I quietly wondered if autumn were already on its way, as she had used a piece of bread to dispose of every last morsel of whatever season had been set in front of her. Meanwhile, I had a glass of riesling (Weingut Günther Steinmetz 1994 Mülheimer Sonnenlay Spätlese) that proved an exceptional match for the Hudson Valley foie gras, roasted peach. This was a simple ode to the Moulard duck, a species whose highest calling is achieved in a few ounces of its buttery liver. The warm chunk of roasted peach here was sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. The wine, fruit, and foie made for a very happy combination. The next edible show-and-tell brought eight different types of heirloom beans, one of which my mom immediately identified as Cherokee Trail of Tears beans (she’s grown them before, of course) and all of which came with enthusiastic explanations. Enthusiasm about beans — these guys clearly like working here, I thought to myself. As a diner, you definitely feel that. And I, for one, really appreciate it. In any case, the dish that featured those beans — Soft-cooked Blue Hill farm egg with heirloom beans, chorizo broth — was quite good. The runny yolk added viscosity to the thin but flavorful broth. And the beans, cooked until tender but not mushy, were delicious. A very close contender for the savory highlight of the meal was the Blue Hill Berkshire pork chop, belly and boudin blanc, eggplant puree. The Berkshire breed is, simply put, a pig that is raised to taste like a pig. It bears practically no resemblance to the plastic-wrapped “other white meat” at the local grocery. This pork chop was cooked to a rosy pink on the inside and it was certainly the most tender and flavorful such cut I’ve ever eaten. The belly had a crispy top layer of skin that gave way to thin layers of meat and fat stacked on one another like playing cards. And the boudin blanc was nothing short of incredible. The texture was almost like custard, and it had an intoxicating mélange of spices I later found out included nutmeg, mace, cinnamon, coriander and white pepper. I wondered who was happier — those pigs feasting outside or the diners feasting inside? I think we were both winning. My mom’s first stomach (i.e. the non-dessert one) was getting full, but we only had one savory course left: “New World, Old World” cheeses, some classic French cheeses paired up against their artisanal American counterparts. That night’s match-ups were Sainte-Maure vs. Hoja Santa and Brillat-Savarin vs. Andante Dairy Minuet. Unlike the Beijing olympic games, America won both events here. I generally prefer cheese unadorned, but the accompaniments — Blue Hill honey comb and pickled ramps — were tasty even if the stale, lifeless walnut bread was not. The first dessert was a knockout — Roasted apricot, blackberries, lemon verbena ice cream, elderflower gelee. The apricot in particular almost defied description. It was hot, sweet, soft, and sour all at once. The stewed blackberries were also warm, in contrast to the cool backdrop provided by the ice cream and gelee. This dish was also the first indication that pastry chef Alex Grunert makes a mean batch of ice cream. Then came the Yogurt mousse, corn ice cream, huckleberries, corn sabayon, corn pâte de fruit. Corn hadn’t popped up in the savory side of the meal for me, so I was happy to see it here. I was starting to see that you don’t simply eat this guy’s ice cream, you luxuriate in it . It is intensely creamy but immensely flavorful at the same time. Here was a cob’s worth of fresh corn flavor condensed into a cold mouthful. The mousse, the huckleberries, and the rest of the accompaniments were all a great supporting cast, but this dish was, to me, ultimately about the ice cream. My mom is a chocolate fiend, but I had not clued the restaurant into her mania. So I was thrilled to see our waiter emerge from the kitchen with a candle in the Flourless chocolate cake, gooseberries, strawberries, ginger ice cream. She quietly made a birthday wish before blowing out the candle. I made a wish too, hoping the desserts would just keep coming. But alas, this brownie-like cake was to be the last dessert. It was rich and fudgy, and the tart gooseberries and the incredibly sweet little strawberries were delicious. But again, I couldn’t look past the great ice cream. I considered buying Chef Grunert a drink, and perhaps inquiring as to whether or not he has any unmarried daughters my age. But in the end I only asked for another round of corn ice cream, which was happily provided. With corn flakes, no less. I love that guy. Floating around the room like a mobile garden, we had seen the tisane cart go by a few times, so we couldn’t pass it up. Our waiter snipped little pieces of every single herb — pineapple sage, chocolate mint, opal basil, eucalyptus, and probably twenty others I am forgetting — for us to smell before picking the combination we wanted for the infusion. I went with anise hyssop, fennel pollen, and lemon verbena. And I really enjoyed it, especially with a touch of Stone Barns honey melted in. My mom had long since reached critical mass, so we asked for the mignardises to be boxed up. In addition to the plums, watermelon marshmallows, and passion fruit chocolate bon bons that were presented on the slate, they packed a few strawberry macarons with chocolate ganache, and they even gave us a jar of their strawberry preserves to take home. (I’m eating them on warm buttered toast as I type. I am happy.) A cab was now on its way, but in the meantime our wonderful waiter Adam chatted with us in the entryway. We talked of local goat cheese, composting methods, and the ways in which Stone Barns continues to become more and more self-sustaining. He was smiling, we were smiling, and something struck me. An intangible Blue Hill ethos was everywhere here. In the fields, the barns, and the kitchen, in the dining room and ultimately on the plate, you could feel it even if you couldn’t pinpoint it. To source ingredients here, the chef needs only to look out his window. It’s so simple. Why, then, is this symbiosis of farm and table so rare? I wanted to ask Dan Barber this very question, but he was out of town that night (kudos to chef de cuisine Josh Lawler, by the way, for holding down the fort gracefully in his absence). Was Barber on vacation, you might ask? Nope. He was at Slow Food Nation in San Francisco, of course, doing his part to counter those trends that champion technology over taste. Rebellious in their simplicity, people like Chef Barber and places like Stone Barns help ensure that, with any luck, the movement to lessen the distance between farm and table will continue to not only survive, but flourish.

Could you expand upon this a bit, Culinista?

No menu or notes, just relied on the pictures I took and looked back a few days later to remember what we'd eaten. Between my mom and I we were able to piece it together for the most part. Definitely a lot of food. The foie gras was great. The only ingredient I really missed on the savory side was corn (the corn ravioli was for my mom, who has tried foie gras just once and determined that was enough for this lifetime).

I know it's been said before, but damn, Humm's duck is good. Finally got to try it last week. Only my second visit during Humm's tenure. So nice to be back. The duck is friggin' huge, might I add. My mother, having just had the suckling pig as a middle course, passed about 3/4 of hers my way. Which, now that I think about it, means that I ate essentially an entire duck as part of a four-course meal. Dude.

Definitely worth the trip. From Texas, no less. We made a trip to NY specifically for Blue Hill. Or more specifically, to celebrate my mom's birthday at Blue Hill. We basically spent the whole day at Stone Barns. Breakfast in the cafe followed by the Insider's Tour of the Stone Barns operation (which was quite cool, by the way). Lunch from the cafe, a little more exploring on our own, and a bit of chill-out time in the afternoon. Farmer's Feast that night, seated across the room from none other than BryanZ, who I saw on the way out. Hard to say enough good things about the overall experience. It was really fantastic. I agree with Bryan that the service is exceptional. They are there when you want them, and they disappear when you don't. And what's more, there is a clear sense of enthusiasm among the staff. Lots of smiles. Everyone seems like they genuinely want to be there. Knowledgeable and very helpful but not overly formal, the service was almost Danny Meyer-esque, shades of Eleven Madison Park where we had dined a few nights before. I can see what Bryan is talking about re: the grounds and buildings. At times it seems like a huge museum exhibit of a farm rather than an actual working farm. But the tour we took quickly dispelled that mental image for me, really showing us more of the guts of the place. The dining room, is very pretty. Reminiscent of Gramercy Taven's farmhouse sort of feel, with bonus points for at one point having been, in fact, a farmhouse. About the food, I will do a more detailed write-up later, but my favorites of the night (see menu below) were the celtuse dish and the Berkshire pork. They make a mean boudin blanc. Unlike Bryan, I also really enjoyed the desserts, in particular the roasted apricot dessert and all of the ice creams, which had wonderful texture and really clear flavors. I wish I could help Bryan out with the fish ID, but we had no such thing (nor did we have the turkey or lamb neck, for that matter). Our menu was as follows... (Lieb Family Cellars Blanc de Blancs) Melon slushie with coppa Tomato and yellow squash "fence" Melon and watermelon with black pepper Bread and butter Charcuterie: salame, bologna, lonza?, heart and liver terrine sandwiched between chocolate wafers Tomato "burgers" Roasted eggplant wrapped with pancetta and sesame Face bacon Potato and sage chips, fried chard Flat bread with Blue Hill butter, Blue Hill ricotta, eggplant puree, tomato salt, arugula salt Tomato, watermelon, mozzarella "cloud", bacon Bluefish with paddlefish caviar, tomato, pig's ear vinaigrette Tomatoes, grilled peach, purslane, stracciatella Celtuse with yogurt, pine nut butter, yogurt foam Corn ravioli with tomato and basil sauce (Weingut Günther Steinmetz 1994 Mülheimer Sonnenlay Riesling Spätlese) Hudson Valley foie gras, roasted peach Soft-cooked Blue Hill farm egg with heirloom beans, chorizo broth Blue Hill Berkshire pork chop, belly and boudin blanc, eggplant puree "New World, Old World" cheeses (Sainte-Maure vs. Hoja Santa, Brillat Savarin vs. Andante Farms Minuet), Blue Hill honey, pickled ramps, walnut bread Roasted apricot, blackberries, lemon verbena ice cream, elderflower gelee Yogurt mousse, corn ice cream, huckleberries, corn sabayon?, corn pate de fruit? Flourless chocolate cake, gooseberries, strawberries, ginger ice cream (Tisane with anise hyssop, fennel pollen, and lemon verbena) Corn ice cream (encore), corn flakes Mignardises: Plum, watermelon marshmallow, strawberry macaron with chocolate ganache, passion fruit chocolate bon bon

I am not sure if it is the modest nature of David Kinch that has given you the impression that Passard is his mentor. Passard seems to see it slightly differently. Passard said in last month’s issue of High Life, British Airways in-flight magazine, that his two favourite restaurants are Manresa and Gunther’s in Singapore. He said, “I identify with chef David Kinch’s philosophy". About David Kinch's food he said, “his dishes are like poetry on a plate, the work of an artist. We are chefs of similar souls”. ← Ciao, degusto. If I am correct in assuming you are the "European eating partner-in-crime" whenever David is in the French/Italian riviera that he once referred to in an after-dinner chat, then odds are you know much more of his nature than I do. But I think influence is a two way street, and defining who is the mentor and who is the mentee between these two great chefs can be difficult. I think the "similar souls" comment could have come just as easily out of either chef's mouth. Passard's comments reflect the same sense of humility I've always felt in Kinch. Lucky us that these two great chefs, both technicians and artists at once, feed off of one another's philosophies. I think their close relationship probably makes both restaurants better.

Great question, Le Peche. Without a doubt, David Kinch is at the top of my list. Followed by Alain Passard and Mauro Uliassi. The chefs I most admire in the US, France, and Italy, respectively.

definitely. I don't know about u guys, but I'm tired of typing

I highly disagree with the first part of this, and agree completely with the second. Does one develop some sort of foodie "street cred" by supporting or bashing a popular chef/restaurant? I personally don't think so (though a quick read through the Momofuku Ssam thread on the NY forum, as u.e. mentioned, is a clear argument against me, as are blog posts like this). Is it somehow cliche to favor a restaurant so many other people happen to favor also? To be the 1,000,000th person to praise Thomas Keller, Alain Ducasse, or Alain Passard? I don't think so. Indeed, public opinion (and by that I mean, at the most basic level, voting with our dollar) can separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak, making good restaurants thrive while bad restaurants (eventually, at least) are more likely to fail. But figuring out which are "good" and which are "bad" is hard to do. And our only mechanism to do so is to either try them ourselves or to read about other people trying it for us. And in that case, we can only hope the blogger/writer has spoken their mind honestly. Nobody benefits from the publication of such articles/blogposts if the opinions represented in them are toned down based on a fear that it will somehow "come back around to them". I did not mean to imply anything of you in particular (if anything, it was dagordon's "Not Arpege" comment that I was reacting to), but rather as a general observation of what one might read in blog. You raise a very good point, and I hope my reaction above to the two recent slams of Manresa above doesn't somehow put me in this category. For every restaurant that is able to remain in business -- whether serving dinners that cost $5 or $500 -- I think there it is a good reason for it. I don't always understand it when places I hate thrive or places I love fail, but restaurant success is not random luck. Different diners have different predilections, when it comes to what they want to eat, how much they want to spend, and ultimately, where they want to eat. One set of these predilections, though, is by no means "better" than any other. Like I said above, people can hate Manresa (or any other restaurant I like) all they want.... it won't stop me from going back. I'm not afraid to tell anyone I like it, and I'm not annoyed when somebody tells me they don't. If this dish has not changed since he was serving it last year, the soup is hot, and it's poured tableside into a bowl that has a quenelle of the ice cream in it. (I remember reacting to this course by telling my friend that I felt like standing up to give him a high-five across the table. I thought it was delicious.) Certainly. The most difficult part is trying to figure out who those semi-trusted sources are in the first place, and even then, there are no guarantees. Agreed. Although there are some times, I'll admit, when my usual reaction of "Aw, that's too bad" becomes something more along the lines of "Sucks for you!". Very well explained, Max. I think your observation about a stance that assumes a limited number of visits paints a perfectly clear picture of the "norm", so to speak, is a very astute one. You said it better than any of us could have.

Smart man. I should have thought of that!

Bernard Antony's comte alone makes me think I disagree with you on that. The rest of his cheeses and the well-executed classic desserts (souffle, tarte aux pommes, a beautiful looking millfeuille) make me certain that I do.

I certainly agree with this, but the sad part is that the inverse is not true. People who do not know a restaurant very well might think they are learning a great deal by reading about it on eGullet. Yet on this board, just as with other public forums, the people who take the time to post are usually those with polar opinions. "Worst" and "best" is often all you get, with no in-between. Few and far between are the posts with a "nonfiction" point of view. Not that my own posts are always shining examples of it, either. I find it incredibly difficult to strive for objectivity in evaluating an experience -- eating -- that satisfies us so much on such a fundamental level. People who do not know a restaurant very well don't know what the author has purposefully omitted. Nor do they usually know the tastes of the author, or their biases. Indeed, how is someone unfamiliar with a restaurant to easily judge the validity (or rather the relevance to them personally) of the subjective reviews they come across online? I would say that you simply can't. I don't know dagordon, and I've spent probably a grand total of about 18 hours in his home city of Philadelphia. I very rarely visit the Pennsylvania forums on eG (well, except to reminisce about Capogiro). And in fact, I'm pretty sure his Manresa invective is the very first post of his that I've ever read. Likewise I don't know sygyzy. Don't know where he is from, how he came to choose Manresa, or why he has 5 types of artisanal soy sauce in his cupboard. But I know enough about my own reaction to this particular restaurant that the aforementioned lack of familiarity with the authors is not a problem. Their negative experiences frankly won't have the slightest affect on me personally. That said, if I don't chime in with a rebuttal, I'm not doing my part to champion a restaurant and a chef I believe in. How is the next person who types "Manresa" into the Google search box going to know that these disappointing experiences at Manresa are not the usual? Or that not everyone agrees that the restaurants is not as great as it used to be? If I keep quiet, and don't wax poetic -- about the tomato and corn dish 2 years ago, or the "Forest floor: hunting for mushrooms..." dish last fall, or the fact that on every single visit Chef Kinch comes up with 20 or 30 ways to put a smile on my face -- then how will others ever have a useful sample set of opinions? I love Manresa, I love David Kinch's food, and I will continue to visit this restaurant again and again. Every time, my excitement about going back is palpable. You will hear me say it. You can see it on my face. I am always thrilled, gleeful even, and on a deeper level just so friggin' happy to be going back that if you saw me on those days you might think I had won the lottery. Lucky us to be able to be armchair chefs, evaluating every little nuance of what was and what was not prepared to our taste. Lucky us to be so accustomed to the staff in fine dining restaurants waiting on us hand and foot. Lucky us to be able to make direct comparisons to arguably the priciest 3* restaurants in Paris. Lucky us. Lucky us? I would argue that knowing (or more accurately, thinking that one knows) too much is a bad thing. As people develop that "been there, done that" attitude with food, they completely lose the beauty of the fundamental human experience called eating. As soon as dinner becomes merely a business transaction, the joy is sucked right out of it. What a sad, sad situation to put oneself in when to not approach a new restaurant (or an old favorite) with a sense of joy, of excitement, of curiosity, of passion. Going in with the right frame of mind is, I think, a recipe for success in having good restaurant experiences. But perhaps even more so, I think it's a recipe for happiness. Lucky us.

Yikes. Two pretty bad reports in a row. I agree with you both and with u.e. that the staff often feels like the "new crew". I've been 6 or 7 times over the past couple of years, which might not be often enough to make any judgments on that being "the usual", so to speak, but I think many of the servers over my visits have seemed just plain uncomfortable. Normally I'm too focused on my plate to pay much attention to that, but it's impossible to ignore completely. Nor should one even have to at a restaurant of this level. That said, Kinch's food sings to me in a beautiful way. I think he is one of the most talented chefs on the planet, and Manresa is my favorite restaurant, bar none. While Passard is clearly a very heavy influence on Kinch's cooking and indeed his mentor, I don't think Kinch or anyone else involved with the restaurant intends Manresa to be a CA branch of l'Arpege or even "Arpege lite". Manresa has a sense of place, through and through. Monterey spot prawns, abalone, santa barbara uni, vegetables picked that morning that came from their farm 45 minutes away... I don't claim to know a whole lot about wine, and I've only had the full pairing with the extended menu (my default choice) once. But while I wasn't blown away by it by any means, I didn't come away as disappointed and unhappy with it as both of you seem to have been. Maybe my ignorance is bliss when it comes to wine. In any case, I think a short letter/e-mail to either Chef Kinch or general manager Michael Kean, to tell them about your experience would not be a bad idea.

Elie, thanks for the write-up. I'm as surprised to read something about San Antonio on eGullet as you were to hear about Le Reve being here! Funny that you just there on Friday. I have not been in over three years now (loved it at the time), so I decided to try my luck at getting a table this past Saturday to give my younger brother a nice send-off before he left for college the next day. Chef Wiessman and co. were on vacation until the night you had dinner, I think, and are only serving on Fridays and Saturdays during August. I tried calling to reserve while they were on vacation, but the voicemail box was full . So I checked Saturday to see if they had any cancellations, and even walked in personally to double-check/beg. Maureen, in a very nice and smiling way, basically told me "Sorry, buddy, you're out of luck" . Ended up having dinner at the complete opposite end of the spectrum, at Dough Pizzeria, which, I have to say, has become my favorite restaurant in the city right now. Glad you enjoyed your meal, FoodMan. And please, let me know when you plan to come back to SA to tackle the whole menu at Le Reve. I'm definitely game!

l'Arpege -- 8-course lunch tasting 135€, 10-course regular tasting 360€, truffle menu probably 450-500€ l'Astrance -- 70€(110€)/120€(190€)/190€(290€) for 3/5/8 courses, respectively. Prices in parentheses include wine pairings, which I'd recommend here. Ledoyen (lamest website ever) -- 88€ lunch, 180€?? dinner Repaire de Cartouche -- lunch 15-25€, dinner 40€ Violin d'Ingres -- 3 courses for 45€, 2 courses for 34€ Le Baratin -- lunch 14€, dinner 38€ Spring -- 4 course Menu du Marché 42€ Le Comptoir -- 5 courses for 40€ Le Chateaubriand -- 4 or 5 courses for 42€

And freeze to death... ← Where's your sense of romance, u.e.? I don't know the first thing about what is and is not open around Christmas, but I do know that between your three "L'A's" the choice is not easy. Based on my limited experience (not yet been to L'Ambroisie), I would definitely go for l'Arpege if you've not been before.

That near-death feeling at the end is my favorite part. Sweet, sweet excess.

Finally got around to writing about a meal at L'Astrance back in March of this year over on this thread.

L'Astrance (pictures available here) I know this may come as a shock, but beneath my intimidatingly macho 6′2″, 160lb exterior I’m a sensitive guy. There I was in Paris — a city others inexplicably call the City of Lights though I’ve always known it as the City of Macarons — and something was bothering me. I thought about what I consider to be the peripheral issues of traveling — things like monuments, museums, and parks — and how in the previous week I had completely ignored them. But my worries were squashed when Adam wisely pointed out that l’Astrance is just across the river from the Eiffel Tower. Surely there could be no better place for a walk while we all engaged in the sort of post-game commentary that inevitably follows this kind of meal. And besides, I always manage to see plenty of sites on the way to and from restaurants without even planning to. We were having lunch with a certain Parisian friend of ours, so there was even more cause for excitement. Julien is a gentleman and a scholar of many disciplines, and over the course of the meal we were glad to hear his insight on topics as wide-ranging as macarons, poissonneries, and the best cookbook store in the city. We had plenty of time to chat about such things since we chose the longest degustation menu offered at l’Astrance — eight courses. Taking the time to experience other cultures first-hand has always been a priority of mine. Not that the menu we received when we sat down looked like anything more than Chef Pascal Barbot’s grocery list from that morning. But I knew the correct answer to the maître d’ Cristophe Rohat’s question of how many courses we wanted — trois, cinq, ou huit? — was definitely ©. Considering the previous night’s drunkenness libational excesses, Adam almost passed on the wine pairing. Luckily our female lunch companion saw the error in this reckless moderation and asked for the full pairing. We happily followed suit. Supporting my friends has always been a priority of mine. A quick word about the wines, by the way. I’ll just list them below in the order they were poured. I’ve never been a fan of note-taking during a meal, so much of this information was gleaned from the sommelier after the fact. As as such, some of it is incomplete. But with that digression out of the way… We started with glass of champagne and a couple of hors d’oeuvre. The first was Brioche tiède au beurre de thym, a thick slice of toasted brioche spread with butter and fresh thyme. Neither the bread nor the butter was bad, but neither was extraordinary either. Maybe Jean-Yves Bordier was slowly turning me into a butter snob, but I was surprised to see Barbot coming out of the blocks with something unexceptional. On the other hand, the Cuiller de parmesan crémeux that came alongside the brioche made for quite a nice beginning to the meal. This spoon held a small orb of spherified parmesan that had the depth and richness of the cheese, but an ultra-smooth, semi-liquid texture. This was soon followed by thick slices of delicious crusty bread made by Jean-Luc Poujauran. Dr. Loosen 2006 (Wehlener Sonnenuhr??) Riesling Kabinett Then we took shots. And by that I mean we had a shot glass full of Purée d’asperge verte, yaourt au sésame, lait au champignon. This layered concoction of asparagus purée, sesame yogurt, and mushroom-infused milk foam sounded almost like a health drink, and regrettably it sort of tasted like one, too. The nearly-raw asparagus was wonderfully fresh, but to my taste the purée was at worst bland and at best undersalted. The yogurt added a tangy undertone, while the foamy mushroom-infused milk brought a light creaminess and subtle earthiness (not to mention a boost of calcium and protein. Take that, Jamba Juice.) I wasn’t particularly fond of this dish on its own, but the Riesling we drank with it made me change my tune. The pairing was phenomenal, a symbiotic relationship between food and drink. The next dish didn’t need any help from the wine, although some champagne would’ve been appropriate to celebrate what a masterpiece it was. I’m talking about Chef Barbot’s famous Galette de champignons de Paris et foie gras mariné au verjus, huile de noisette, citron confit. Any raw food dieters out there take note — this layered “cake” was not cooked. Instead, the chef layered thin slices of raw button mushrooms with verjuice-marinated foie gras. These layers sandwiched citrus zest between them that brightened up both the flavors and the colors of this beige creation. The base was a thin, crispy layer of brik dough. Sprinkled on top was some intensely earthy porcini powder. And served alongside all this was some tart lemon confit and a dab of hazelnut oil that added a nice depth to the dish. I think what made this dish so special was the staying power of its flavors. The first taste sensation was the subtlety of the raw sliced mushrooms. Then a bright punch of acidity from the citrus. And finally a lingering richness on the tongue from the foie gras and the hazelnut oil. It was really a dynamic experience for the palate, and it was a dish I won’t soon forget. The next time you’ve got a spare lobe of foie gras laying around the kitchen, you should definitely give it a try. Loimer 2006 Grüner-Veltliner “Kamptal” We took a short trip to Thailand with the Langoustines juste poelées, soupe thailandais, legumes et fleurs de printemps. A few langoustines were halved and quickly pan-fried to get some browning on the flesh side. The seasoning was incredibly subtle, a sure sign of Chef Barbot’s confidence in his fresh products. The langoustines had been heated just to the point of limbo between raw and cooked. Their texture ranged from slightly firm on the outside to tender within. On the side of the langoustines was a frothy soup with some classic Thai ingredients: coconut milk, lemongrass and ginger. Spring vegetables and edible flowers added bright colors to these bright flavors. This was really a fantastic soup, and in combination with the langoustines, a very enjoyable course. Clément Klur 2004 Riesling Wineck Schlossberg (Alsace Grand Cru) Then we had some more asparagus, and thankfully it was cooked a little more this time — Asperges vertes et blanches au cumin, purée de cédrat, sauge cassis, amandes caramélisées. Fat stalks of green and white asparagus were seasoned with cumin and Andean silverleaf sage. The former brought a smoky aroma while the latter smelled of blackcurrant (hence the name in French). What I mistakenly took for a quenelle of potato purée on the side was actually citron, which brought vibrant acidity to the dish along with the candied citron zests scattered around the plate. A few caramelized almonds provided a contrasting texture and a nutty sweet flavor. Domaine de la Louvetrie 1993 Muscadet Sèvre-et-Maine Fief du Breil (Jo Landron) We had a couple of fish courses, the first of which was the Sériole sautée, coquillages cuisinées légèrement, purée des légumes verts, confit d’agrumes. A piece of sautéed yellowtail came flanked by a small abalone and a plump mussel. The shellfish were slightly firm outside but soft within, while the yellowtail was fork-tender and flaky. Each had been seasoned only with salt (if even that), allowing their clean natural flavors to come through. A green purée that we couldn’t identify brought a vegetal component to a dish that would have been totally out to sea otherwise. Yet another appearance of citrus confit created a nice flavor balance between salty, bitter, sour and sweet. Pierre Gonon (2006??) Saint-Joseph Les Oliviers (Blanc) Next came the Saint-Pierre cuisiné lentement, chou-fleur, piment doux, câpres, puntarelles. This filet of slow-cooked John Dory was served with cauliflower dressed with a sweet-and-sour (and salty) combination of capers and sweet red peppers. There were also a few pieces of puntarelle, a slightly bitter Italian green vegetable in the chicory family that none of us had tried before. Those are the spiky things in the picture that look like the lovechild of an asparagus tip and a shrimp head. They were crisp and delicious. But the fish here was unfortunately overcooked. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it tough, but we all agreed it was a bit on the firm side. Whether that firmness can be attributed to the cooking method (I’m not convinced by slow-cooked fish) or just plain human error, I don’t know. But that misstep dragged down an otherwise quite flavorful course. Bodegas Toro Albalá 1922 Viejisimo Solera Amontillado ?? Then we had a simple but great dish of Poitrine de porc, haricots blancs, émulsion de chorizo. This thick slice of pork belly with equal layers of fat and meat was meltingly tender. It rested on a little bed of small white beans in a delicious chorizo emulsion rich with chili and paprika. This was exactly the kind of dish I would have expected from a disciple of Alain Passard — a straightforward and to-the-point composition of flavors combined with great ingredients and great technique. We all really enjoyed this dish, Julien so much so that he snuck downstairs to ask for a second round. This request was kindly obliged, much to my delight. There’s a special place in heaven for people like Julien. Causse-Marines 1996 “Mysterre” Vin de Table (Patrice Lescarret; Dix ans de voile) There’s also a special place in heaven for whoever cooked the Poularde de Bresse aux morilles, fondue de parmesan, sauce au vin jaune. I assumed this fattened young Bresse hen had been roasted but Julien pointed out that it was cooked on the stove. Whatever the cooking method, the results were firm yet juicy flesh and delectably crispy skin. This was a million miles away from that boneless, skinless, lifeless bird that often passes for chicken where I’m from. We all agreed the poularde was undersalted, but the staff were quick to help us remedy that. Underneath the meat was a creamy parmesan fondue, sautéed morels, and a sauce enriched with vin jaune, all of which made for a delicious backdrop for the bird. Really a stunning dish, and certainly one of the best of the meal. Dessert time finally rolled around, starting with the Sorbet piment-citronnelle, or lemongrass and hot pepper sorbet. This is the kind of thing Thomas Keller might ironically call “IcyHot” on his menu (though I can’t say I’d recommend this for a topical analgesic…). Cold and hot danced on the tongue at once, making this a great palate cleanser as we segued to the sweeter end of the meal. Joh. Jos. Prüm 2003 Graacher Himmelreich Riesling Auslese Adam later asked us which dish had been our favorite of the meal, and my knee-jerk reaction was the Sabayon à l’orange amère, nougatine (though I later allowed that it was clearly the foie gras). This light and frothy bitter orange sabayon was spiced in a way I found just intoxicating. There were pieces of nougatine at the bottom of the dish, providing a sweet crunch that really complemented the silky sabayon. Yet another composition that was relatively simple and focused yet utterly delicious. I also very much enjoyed the Tartelette pistache-abricot, mousse de rhubarbe. The tart dough contained little bits of pistachio and dried apricot, and the rhubarb mousse it held was airy but thick like shaving cream. I would even recommend that Barbot bottle and sell it as such, although I’m pretty sure it would leave people licking their own faces incessantly. The mousse was sweet but the natural tartness of rhubarb was still allowed to shine through. Really nice. The sweets kept coming, and next was the Mousse au safran et citron vert, sablé breton. A small cylinder of saffron mousse dotted with tiny bits of lime zest sat on top of a buttery, crumbly little cookie. Our friend noted that the mousse tasted sort of like Trix cereal, which was funny but true. Silly rabbit. I found the mousse to be quite flavorful, and by now I was certainly impressed by Barbot’s effective use of citrus in both his savory and sweet creations. I’m not surprised that he was once quoted as saying he simply could not cook without it. The Lait de poule au jasmin also elicited memories of home, or in this case a home cleaning product. Adam asked me what I thought this Jasmine-infused eggnog smelled like, and my response was ♪♪ Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean ♪♪. The odd thing is, as much as I didn’t care for the smell, I actually liked the pleasantly sweet taste of the eggnog and the creamy feel on the tongue. Not too bad at all. They brought out a little basket of Madeleines au miel de châtaignier, or chestnut honey madeleines. These little cakes were good, but I couldn’t help think about what a big difference it makes when they arrive warm. In any case, finally winding things down we had a plate of fruits frais, including grapes, orange, mango and medjool dates. All the fruits were very fresh and of great quality, with the dates being so exceptionally good that we got a second round of them. We had come in around 12:30, but by the time all was said and done it must’ve been around 5:00. It was a dark and rainy day outside, so it didn’t look like that little walk by the Eiffel Tower was going to happen after all. But what did I care, really? Sightseeing is not the reason I travel. I came to Paris to eat, drink, rinse and repeat. And so far that was going quite well. I’ve read assessments of l’Astrance ranging from "weak" to "excellent" and everything in between. And maybe just one visit doesn’t allow me to rest firmly in any of those camps. But I will say the place made an awfully good first impression. Barbot’s cuisine is calculated and graceful, deftly combining a few great ingredients with studied technique and a dash of whimsy to create something singular in every sense of the word. The wine pairing arranged by sommelier Alexandre Jean was so skillfully done that I was nearly in disbelief. To be quite honest, a few of the dishes didn’t thrill me on their own; nor did some of the wines. But the combinations of the two that Jean and Barbot dreamed up that afternoon were truly alchemical, completing and challenging and enhancing one another at every turn. My first reaction to the service from M. Rohat was that it was a bit cold, but as we interacted more I realized he simply exudes the same sort of confidence that shined through on our plates and in our glasses. This small team in the kitchen and the floor creates a restaurant that is comfortable in its own skin. Crisp and delicious in more ways than one.

Thanks for the kind words, Paula. Others here can offer much more experienced insight than I can, but for me the most enjoyable meals from this Paris trip were probably: Low -- Chez L'Ami Jean, Chez Michel Mid -- Au Trou Gascon High -- L'Arpege, L'Astrance, Pierre Gagnaire Well, my thoughts also wander to Laduree, Gregory Renard, and Poilane. But I assume you were talking restaurants!