tupac17616

Ling, great stuff so far, and I'm excited to find out that more is on the way! Your pictorial has me craving some of the delicious stinky tofu I had last month in Shanghai. Thanks for sharing the experience with us!

You know you're reading eGullet when...

On short notice, your best bet for Per Se is to call the day before or day of and see if they can fit you in on a cancellation. A lot of people have had pretty good luck doing this, and as a solo diner there you will probably be treated better. If you're already planning JG or L'Atelier one evening, both are easy walking distance from Per Se. I see no harm in stopping by in person. Smile. Be nice. Look hungry. I did this successfully once (my back-up was EMP, so I figured it was win-win).

Ah, one of my favorites. I see some bright orange poking through the top layer of grated cheese there. Do you top it with the egg yolk rather than using it to sauce the noodles? I've seen it done that way before, but usually prefer to have the creaminess throughout so I mix it through off the heat.

Certainly. And you'll be treated just fine.

These photos probably belong in the Anti-Dinner, but hey, you gotta start somewhere. I recently returned from my first trip to Bangkok, and it's a testament to what an amazing food city that is that I purchased Thai Food on the very day I got back. A few days ago I started with something incredibly basic -- nahm prik gapi, or shrimp paste relish. I wasn't really sure what to expect from this, so I wanted to taste it with something pretty neutral. Steamed jasmine rice, sauteed bak choy, and sauteeed tofu did the trick. The condiment on the upper left is just fish sauce and Thai chilies. The verdict: I really loved it. Maybe not so much with the tofu I had with it the first night. But on the following days, when I used it as a dip for raw cauliflower, it was wonderful. Anyhoo, here's a (pretty bad) picture: Last night, I sort of improvised something based on something I tasted from a street cart in Bangkok's Chinatown. There I had a plate of simple steamed mussels with an amazing dipping sauce. So at home I simply took some New Zealand green-lipped mussels, steamed them, then bathed them in a condiment made with fish sauce, shrimp paste, palm sugar, lime juice, fresh mint, garlic and shallot. A little knob of butter swirled in at the last minute didn't hurt either. Authentic? I highly doubt it. But tasty? Oh yes. This will be repeated soon.

Not the greatest food pictures I've ever taken, that's for sure, but last night's dinner was just so tasty that I had to post it. I recently returned from a trip that took me, among other places, through Tokyo and Bangkok. Last night, I recreated some of the great flavors I found in those two cities. First was mugitoro, which is grated yamaimo (Japanese mountain yam) served over barley rice I followed that up with New Zealand green-lipped mussels which I first steamed, then bathed in a condiment consisting of fish sauce, shrimp paste, palm sugar, thai chilies, fresh mint, shallots, garlic, and fresh lime juice. Ah, and I swirled in a little knob of butter for good measure. Never hurts.

Kiar Eat and Kiar Chocolate both sound great, man. Best of luck with each of those ventures. Can't say I ran across any market -driven Thai with modern Western techniques during my short time in Bangkok. But I'd love to see that vision thrive for you there. Hopefully it's just what the city's been missing. I'll be back as soon as I can for sure, and when I do, I'll look you up. P.S. I just put two and two together and figured out this was probably your handiwork. I'd say Bangkok has some fun things in store from you... Cheers

Oh I certainly agree. But as long as the food stayed at a level as high or higher than the other NYC restaurants you mention (and that was usually the case), I figured it was justified.

I sure will, tb86! Not for nothing have I been checking around online for cheap flights every day. The city made an absolutely wonderful first impression. I wonder what the summer is like there... I'm not sure I can wait for the (relatively) cooler, presumably drier months to roll around again! I miss the old L'Impero and the old Alto. I'm sure chef White is a talented guy, but I feel like his menu lacks some of the simplicity and clarity of Conant's (his wonderful polenta, for example). Following the experience at those two NY restaurants, What kind of project do you have planned there in BKK? I just wept a little inside as I thought about the river prawns. Even just grilled and served with the piquant dipping sauce. So good.

Actually, it's un bombolone. But not a bad guess, Pan.

I'm glad you enjoyed them, Swicks. You're certainly not alone in your thoughts about the prices. I agree that the pricing scheme can be maddening at times. In the case of the L'Oeuf de Poule and Le Caviar Oscietre (the cappellini & caviar dish which carried the same price tag if ordered a la carte; now are both $125 I believe), I think that as AvsKick21 pointed out, it's the generous mound of osetra caviar that's the culprit. Such a price tag carries high expectations, which were certainly met, even surpassed, with the egg. The cappelini on the other hand would have felt like a waste had it not been part of the tasting menu. As for the pricing of the tasting menu at the various branches, Adam will have a better idea about this than I do, but from what I've read, I get the impression that the Vegas branch is actually the cheapest of all of them, and New York the most expensive. I don't recall the exact prices, but I'm pretty certain both Tokyo and Paris (also both on our site) were cheaper than NY.

Well, not currently my favorite, actually. But close. Anyway, I hate to make this thing run on and on, but we couldn't leave you without dessert. As always, pictures can be found HERE. Dessert at L’Atelier usually began with a palate cleanser titled Le Yuzu Vert, a small shot glass of green yuzu granité with a lemon verbena gelée and a thin layer of cachaça, which is the national drink of Brazil. The tartness of the cachaça was moderated by the slightly herbal gelée, making the mouth-feel very fresh rather than bitter and tongue-cringing. This dish was served ice cold which further amplified its refreshing power. A larger portion of this would be overkill; but as a segue into the sweeter end of the meal, this dish does a fine job. On later visits, this was replaced by coconut ravioli with lemon-mascarpone mousse. A delightfully successful result of spherification, the coconut “ravioli” bridged the gap between liquid and solid. An ultra-thin film gave way to the creamy center, making for a burst of coconut flavor on the tongue. This delicious “ravioli” stayed afloat in a pleasantly tart lemon gelée, and beneath that was a luxurious mousse of lemon and mascarpone. Truly a stunning transition to dessert, it both cleansed and reinvigorated the palate for the treats still to come. Less successful, though, was the most recent pre-dessert Aaron sampled: almond panna cotta with strawberry-tomato confit, and strawberry foam. What sounded like a tasty combination on paper was surprisingly bland and ultimately lackluster. The texture was not the problem; there was a nice progression from custard-like to light and airy. It was the overly muted flavors. Neither almond, strawberry, or tomato were really able to stand up and get noticed. Definitely not one of his favorites. Now how can we even begin to talk about Le Sucre? It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what makes this sugar sphere filled with raspberry mousse so special, since there’s so much to it. Is it the perfectly spherical shape? The beautiful color? The spectrum of textures and temperatures? The sweet flavor of the airy mousse tamed by the gelée? The gentle cracking sensation from the first bite? Actually, it’s all of the above. This is certainly an exceptional dessert. The paper-thin sugar piece is blown into a perfect sphere in a process very similar to glass blowing. The thin sphere is then filled with a duo of ethereal fraises des bois and mascarpone mousse, set off-centered on a clear glass bowl, and garnished with a tart raspberry and blackberry coulis, pistachio dust, Kirsch gelée and vanilla ice cream. The precision of this sphere is almost alarming — a perfectly round sphere, this is no oblate spheroid or any nonsense like that. The balance of the flavor is also impressive, with the sweetness of the mousse filling contrasting very nicely with the slightly salty pistachio dust. Texturally, this dish is, in all honesty, brilliant. With the first shatter of the shell, tiny crispy pieces of sugar are let loose into the mousse, creating a lovely textural equilibrium — each bite is just as interesting as the previous. A later incarnation of the same dish included saffron mousse and pomegranite curd — an equally stunning combination. And aside from the flavor and texture, this dish is absolutely gorgeous. Just look at it! We do hope to see its production with our own eyes one day, but until then this beautiful creation will remain somewhat of a mystery. It should be noted that Le Sucre has since been taken off the L’Atelier dessert menu, perhaps somewhat due to seasonality; but we do hope that it comes back shortly. It’s a masterpiece. While Le Sucre the most interesting dessert we’ve ever had, there are still some others that need to be mentioned. Le Baba, for instance, includes a large piece of yeast cake soaked in rum, set atop diced pineapple infused with fresh thyme, and topped with caramel ice cream and a luscious sabayon. The strong hit of the booze and the herbal note of the fresh thyme kept this dish from being overly sweet. The baba, as always, acted as a delicious sponge as it soaked up the flavors of the other components. Certainly a very tasty combination and a nice change of pace for those who may are looking for a good non-chocolate option. Also quite nice was La Poire, an almond soufflé served outside the ramekin with poached pear and bitter almond ice cream. Granted, the fact that the soufflé was served outside of a ceramic dish should have no effect on flavor; but it certainly had an effect on temperature as this cooled down very quickly, especially with the adjacent ice cream. Additionally, one of my favorite parts of a soufflé in general is the crispy layer on the sides and bottoms where the batter sticks to the ceramic. This did not have that. That being said, this had a memorable almond flavor, and pairing it with poached pears, slightly bitter almond ice cream, and toasted almonds was a very tasty combination. Not quite so nice was a dessert simply entitled Le Soufflé, a caramel soufflé that came resting in a shallow pool of chocolate soup and bitter orange ice cream. We each took the first bite — confusion. Then a second bite — disappointment. There was no third bite. This was absolutely horrible. The ice cream was utterly tasteless. The caramel had been burnt, lending an exaggerated bitterness to the soufflé that was not to be tamed by the other accompaniments. The chocolate soup was like an insipid, clumpy, unstirred serving of Swiss Miss. Just a terrible dessert all-around. This remains the one and only thing we’ve ever sent back at L’Atelier. Fortunately, other choices offered fabulous consolation. They say the first step to recovery is to admit the problem, and I will be the first to tell you: I have a chestnut addiction. So when I saw Le Marron on the menu, I knew it would one day be mine. This dish consists of chestnuts with liquid chocolate-filled croquettes, dates, and a chestnut soup. The chocolate croquettes were incredible — self-contained bursts of cocoa flavor that literally exploded in your mouth. The warm chestnut soup was delicious on its own, with a rich chocolate sauce lining the outside edge of it, allowing a bittersweet harmony in each spoonful. When I had this, the condensed milk ice cream was literally flavorless; but Aaron ensures him that this was a fluke, as every time he’s had it (and there were many), the sweetness of the ice cream brightened up and carried the rich flavors of the chestnut and chocolate wonderfully. The chopped dates were also a great addition. Aside from Le Sucre, this was by far Aaron’s favorite dessert, and one of his favorite dishes at L’Atelier, period. Not usually something either of us would order, a surprisingly good choice was Le Chocolat Noir, a molten chocolate cake topped with a chocolate tuile, vanilla ice cream, and served with coffee mousse and whipped cream. My first though: why the coffee?! Nobody likes the coffee jelly beans; why would anyone like the coffee mousse? I need not have worried, though, as the flavor of the mousse was very gentle and by no means offensive. My favorite part of this dish was definitely the semi-liquid chocolate in the center of the chocolate cake. The center didn’t quite ooze out; but, it hung out just around the cooked/undercooked line. It wasn’t too sweet, either, which was really appreciated. On my latest visit, I sampled Le Sensation Chocolat crèmeaux au chocolat guanaja, sorbet de cacao au biscuit oreo, ground oreo shell encrusting a thick chocolate mousse and covered with a ring of guanaja chocolate. With each bite, the crunchy bits of oreo weaved their way into the creamy mousse, making each spoonful interesting. The dish was actually served at room temperature, so when I cracked the ring chocolate, it actually melted rather than got in the way. This might be the darkest colored dessert I’ve ever had; nearly perfectly black. Yet as I ate it, he couldn’t help but think of Jell-o chocolate pudding. Not such a bad thing, I suppose, but considering the apparent complexity of this dish, I doubt that’s the first association the pastry chef would like to come to mind. A cool and refreshing alternative to the chocolate options was Le Pamplemousse, chilled grapefruit segments with an olive-scented gelée and and mint sorbet. Definitely on the lighter side of desserts, just in the vicinity of ordering sorbet or fresh fruit, to which my response is always “Get a real dessert!” This dish lets the bitter flavor of the grapefruit come through a bit too strongly, which I never particularly enjoy, so I probably would not get this a second time. That being said, the mint increased the cool-winter-breeze effect of this dish. Afterwards, I felt like my mouth took an ice cold shower. The olive-scented gelée was barely detectable, overwhelmed by the grapefruit’s acidity. On another visit Aaron sampled Le Riz, a milky rice pudding served with caramelized apple and rosemary ice cream. This had very good potential. Unfortunately the portion was microscopic, with two tasteless strips of puff pastry making up the majority of the dish’s volume. The sweet and herbal combination of caramelized apple and rosemary was a delicious one, and the rice pudding itself (an entire teaspoon’s worth, no less) was very tasty. Ultimately, though, the portioning left this dish a little out of balance in his opinion. Being a slight hypocrite (see two paragraphs up), one night I just felt like having ice cream and sorbet. Les Glaces et Sorbets du Jour offered just that. There were perfect quenelles of mint and vanilla ice cream, as well as mango and grapefruit sorbet, resting on a bed of fresh blueberries and a few coarse chunks of vanilla bean gelée. The best of the bunch was probably the creamy mint flavor, with a refreshing herbal aftertaste. A thin tuile stuck in the top provided a nice textural contrast, and while essentially flavorless, a light foam atop the ice cream did make for a pretty presentation. Another simple dessert that was nonetheless quite satisfying was Les Tartes Tradition, a selection of miniature tarts. The five flavors included: lemon; dark chocolate; apple; milk chocolate & salted peanut; and cinnamon. Aaron found the best of the bunch to be the milk chocolate & salted peanut tart. The texture of the chocolate portion was not unlike that of a Tootsie Roll, and this rested on layer of crunchy and salty peanut brittle. Great contrast of both flavor and texture. The other tarts were very enjoyable as well, offering a whole spectrum of tastes: sweet caramelized apple, pleasantly tart citrus, rich bittersweet chocolate, and spicy cinnamon. With the tarts sized the way they are, this might also make a nice round of petit fours if shared among two people. (Or so I would think. Aaron never really wanted to share…) Occasionally the gods would smile upon us in the form of a plate of cannelés at the end of a meal. These wonderful little treats from Bordeaux are as tasty as they are beautiful. Essentially small cork-sized, rum-soaked pieces of brioche, they get a wonderfully caramelized exterior from the copper pans in which they are traditionally cooked. A crisp, slightly chewy outside gives way to the boozy sponge-like inside. L’Atelier’s version is certainly commendable, if not quite in the same league as Petrossian Bakery on 7th Ave. near 58th Street. Lastly, absolutely no L’Atelier experience is complete without a small plate of macarons. I’m pretty sure there has never been a time when I haven’t asked for five or six more rounds a few extra of these wonderful French delicacies. Flavors we’ve encountered have included raspberry-mascarpone, chocolate, and lemon, each of which I consider to be the freshest and best tasting macarons available in Manhattan. Period. Aaron agrees — there is no better place to enjoy our favorite French pastry. There are three important characteristics that I always consider, all of which L’Atelier gets right nearly every time. First is clearly the flavor. When dealing with certain varieties like citrus or chocolate, it’s really easy for macarons to become cloying. There is a fine line between sweet and too sweet; and in my experience, especially with lemon and raspberry, I find them almost always too sweet. Not at L’Atelier. Second is the texture — one of the most divine sensations is the first bite into a macaron where your teeth gently sink through meringue without any pressure. When a macaron has been sitting around for a while, the point where the crème touches the meringue become a bit soggy and get chewy — I believe there should be no chewiness in a good macaron. Again, never a problem here — always fresh at L’Atelier. Third, is the meringue to crème ratio — too much of either one kills the gentle macaron, and often violates the first and/or second rules as well. I think that the ideal height of the ganache layer is around a fourth of the total height of the cookie. L’Atelier always get this right, too! Every time, these treats are such a satisfying way to cap off a meal. This makes L’Atelier a nice post-dinner destination for a second or third dessert, coffee, and a few tasty cookies. One of the many elements that makes this restaurant so strong is the portioning. Most tapas-sized portions are just enough to share; but, not nearly enough to cause palate fatigue. It’s also the perfect size for ordering several dishes or, at times, just one or two and a light drink. While the dishes clearly reflect the organized passion of chefs Robuchon and Suga, the experience is customizable such that it literally molded to our cravings every single time. A first time visitor to New York might be overwhelmed by the weight of his Michelin guide. Actually, this culinary capitol is intimidating for food passionate residents alike. But we can say fairly strongly that if we had the chance to visit only one restaurant in this special city, it would be L’Atelier. This workshop has consistently provided, plate after plate, dishes that have reminded us why we love food so much. We can only hope that you have the opportunity to indulge here in the near future … just don’t forget your appetite.

Thanks for the info, Alex!

Indeed. My friend did the same thing the first time at Per Se.

Actually it's a cappuccino semifreddo unless I'm mistaken. The hot donuts with the cold semifreddo is a great combo, and I don't even like coffee most of the time!

Alex, thanks for sharing the photos. Looks like a great meal. Shirako at TFL, eh? I'll be damned. I had shirako on a recent trip to Tokyo and loved it. Could you possibly tell us a little more about that particular dish? It looks wonderful. (Also FYI, the waiter was probably saying "milt")

Interesting. Did you get to taste this particular dish, Bekki? If so, I'd love to hear what you thought about it.

Interesting. I can't say that I agree. While the food at Bouley is often, as you experienced, boring and/or poorly executed, I think the rooms are beautiful. I can't say I would ever use that adjective to describe the room at EMP. Glad you enjoyed EMP so much. Cheers.

So it's been quite a while since anyone here has had anything to say about L'Atelier, but my friend and I have finally put together some thoughts on the many meals we've had there. It turned out to be pretty long, so we broke it up into three parts (basically, appetizers, main courses, desserts), the first of which is below. Pictures, for those who are curious, can be seen HERE... No matter the time of day, my appetite, my clothing, or my food preference, L’Atelier always seemed like the right place to go, and I think that’s a really important quality of a favorite restaurant. Considering the amount of times we’ve eaten here, it would not be an exaggeration to say that Aaron and I have tried everything on the Fall 2006, Winter 2006, Spring 2007, and Summer 2007 menus, and even some of executive chef Yosuke Suga’s experimental dishes. Maybe this is why L’Atelier is perhaps our favorite restaurant in Manhattan. L’Atelier’s location inside the Four Seasons Hotel might suggest a level of stuffiness, but this is quickly eliminated by Joël Robuchon’s unique sushi-bar style seating, which forces complete strangers to talk with, rather than about, each other. This setup also means that the final platings are done directly in front of diners, allowing them to have an increased appreciation of the work that goes into each course, while cleverly hiding the messier kitchen elements behind closed doors. The energy from the adjacent Four Seasons cocktail lounge also flows into the restaurant, setting a lively tone without airs, something that is very much appreciated in contrast to many other haute French restaurants where the only sound is that of cutlery hitting the plate. Instead of chandeliers, oil paintings, and exquisite gold-leaf molding, L’Atelier’s decoration comes from the food itself, with vases of vibrant orange carrots and green cucumbers sliced daily and put on display. The restaurant uses pervading black undertones to place further emphasis on these vivid colors: the placemats, plates, and countertops all keep one’s focus solely on the food. Even the staff is dressed in black uniforms. Against this black canvas, the halogen spotlights ensure that every detail of every course is highlighted. Each meal at L’Atelier begins with a basket of miniature baguettes and rolls. The bread is made with a high-gluten flour which creates a slightly elastic interior; the perfect texture, in fact, for returning soup bowls in spotless condition. The crumb is not dense, and the crust is light and crispy — the product of allowing a small amount of dough to naturally expand to size. Be warned, though — it’s very easy to fill up on these rolls, and while delicious, they are just the beginning. The amuse bouche remained fairly consistent through our visits to L’Atelier, a foie gras parfait with port reduction and parmesan foam. The saltiness of the parmesan contrasted with the sweet port reduction, and both flavors complemented the warm, silky-smooth foie gras mousse. A very rich, and very welcomed, introduction. I once read that the number of pleats in a chef’s toque represent the number of ways a good chef can cook an egg. If that’s the case, someone deserves a huge crease for L’Oeuf de Poule, a stunning dish that we tasted the first night at L’Atelier. A chicken egg was first slow-poached, then flash-fried inside a golden nest of crispy strips of brik pastry. Surrounded by crème fraîche and tiny bits of smoked salmon, then lavishly topped with a mound of Osetra caviar, this presentation was nothing short of spectacular. I am always in awe of the egg, a self-contained nutritionally perfect ingredient that serves as the foundation for an infinite number of recipes. With this dish, Robuchon pays homage to this divine ingredient, luxuriously salting it with caviar and diversifying its texture by adding crispy bits of fried batter. Aside from the absolutely beautiful presentation, the well-rounded flavor was both fundamentally satisfying and intellectually stimulating. The incredibly generous portion of caviar ensured its distribution lasted through each bite, which was delicious even after the egg was already just a happy memory. With an astonishing $98 price tag a la carte, both the cost and the flavor of this dish are over the top. Having at least one egg dish in every meal at L’Atelier always seemed like the right thing to do. And with the familiar comfort of eggs and toast in the morning, L’Oeuf coque sans coque was a great example of why. The preparation could not have been simpler. A soft poached egg placed atop a spicy eggplant stew redolent of cumin. Surrounding bits of crispy croûtons and a thin triangle of toasted bread lent a nice crunch that contrasted the oozing egg yolk. A light buttery foam on top of the egg added yet another texture, bringing a light airiness that the dish would have otherwise lacked. I would be happy to wake up to this any day. Another tribute to the egg is L’Oeuf cocette, a soft-boiled egg topped with a lightly foamed mushroom cream, vibrant green parsley puree, and a few sautéed chanterelles. There’s something inherently homey and satisfying about eggs, remarkably even when served in a martini glass in the Four Seasons Hotel. The first dip of one’s spoon into the glass sends the rich yellow yolk oozing throughout the rest of the ingredients. The mushroom cream added earthiness without weight and the beautiful green parsley puree added necessary brightness with both its color and its herbal flavor. A simple piece of grilled bread, perhaps, to dip into this rich concoction would have been added a nice touch. Next one might want to move on to some soup, and if it’s warm out, there are few more refreshing options than La Tomate en gazpacho aux petits crôutons dorés et amandes fraîches, L’Atelier’s take on the Spanish classic. A small bowl of chilled tomato soup, resting on a bed of ice, and studded with fresh almonds and miniature croûtons. This soup was a bit Frenchified, perhaps, as it was a bit creamier than your typical gazpacho. Yet that textural change made the soup more interesting, I thought. There were also streaks of aged balsamic which added a little bit of tartness to a few special bites. Aaron was not quite so taken with this dish, but I found it to be a winner. If it’s cold out, the options are even better. The late autumn menu brought La Châtaigne, a chestnut velouté with celery foam and foie gras. This is my single favorite dish from L’Atelier (and, apparently, Aaron’s). It’s also the single most delicious dish I’ve ever had in the US. Chestnut and foie gras: what a brilliant combination. The warmth of the nutty velouté with the creamy foie gras was nothing short of enlightening. The addition of celery foam added a textural element that bridged the gap between liquid and solid; and even more importantly, brought a hint of vegetal bitterness to tame the sweetness of the chestnut. The ratio of foie to velouté was immaculate, ensuring that each bite had some of each. In every regard, a truly stunning dish. Le Potiron en velouté au lard fumé et croûtons dorées was another fabulous soup blending the warmth of autumn in the form of pumpkin, with the everlasting satisfaction of smoked bacon. A beautiful study in contrast, just thinking about this dish makes me hungry. Each element contributed its unique texture to this complex soup, keeping it from ever becoming monotonous. Every bite had a different blend of crunchy, creamy, and smooth with the croûtons, crème fraîche, and velvety pumpkin broth. The smokiness of the bacon both complemented and tamed the sweetness of the pumpkin. Some croûtons remained crunchy while those toward the bottom softened up. There was no need, even, to submerge bread in this soup. At least, not until the very end, when I sent my bowl back sparkling white. There were times I wasn’t quite sure if soup or pasta might make a more fitting early course. In such instances, I went for Les Ravioles, which offered the best of both worlds. A captivating preparation, with tiny foie gras ravioli floating in a warm, rich chicken broth with spiced crème fraîche. Somehow, each bite managed to consist of both pasta and bouillon, making this very enjoyable to the very last spoonful. The texture of the ravioli was also very interesting, as there was a delightful popping sensation in my mouth with each bite. These satisfyingly intense bursts of flavor were not unlike eating larger fish roe, only instead of that salty brine you got the unmistakable fatty goodness of foie gras. The dollop of crème fraîche made some spoonfuls of the broth slightly richer, and its cool temperature added a very pleasing contrast to the warm soup while adding a bright top-note of flavor. Seeing its beautiful plating going on at the bar, it was impossible not to want to try Le Caviar Osciètre, a generous spoonful of Osetra caviar atop a roll of capellini very lightly dressed with tomato sauce. Pretty to look at, no doubt, but this is a dish that ultimately left both Aaron and I unfulfilled. I think the biggest problem in this dish was the lack of textural contrast — the tender capellini (generally unworthy of being called “pasta” anyway, according to Aaron) and moist caviar proved to be a monotonous combination. And as for flavor, the capellini didn’t have much at all, with its tomato dressing too bland to be lifted even by the briny caviar. Disappointed with that pasta dish, Aaron thought Les Spaghettis might do the trick instead. L’Atelier’s rendition of spaghetti alla carbonara was something he had read about as an off-the-menu specialty from the Paris location. The dish was served traditionally: just pancetta, egg, black pepper, parmigiano-reggiano cheese, and spaghetti. The small cubes of pancetta were rendered just until translucent without being overly crispy — exactly the right point. The rich yellow-orange color was evidence that only egg yolks we stirred in at the last moment. In the hands of lesser cooks, this sometimes leads to small coagulated bits of egg rather than a creamy sauce, but that was not the case here. Aaron found this dish to be over-priced, at $40 for the two small half-portions. But other than that, his only knock against the dish was that there only a smattering of black pepper, an essential ingredient in this Italian classic. Instead of such rich beginnings, sometimes I just wanted to start a meal with something cool, clean, and light. Perhaps even something raw. In such instances, Le Thon Rouge is a nice choice. A simple plate of lean tuna sashimi garnished with sun-dried tomato oil and a light sprinkle of fleur de sel. It’s hard to critique this dish since its primary ingredients are so simple and so good, and I’m always impressed by the humility of a chef who can take a step back and let nature sing on its own (*cough* Kinch). This tuna was impeccably fresh, and the coarse fleur de sel added a nice crunch with each tender piece of fish. The tomato oil added richness and a complex sweetness, rounding out the cool, salty combination of tuna and fleur de sel. We saw this dish many several times during the course of our visits, most often as a complimentary treat from the kitchen. But I probably wouldn’t specifically order this dish again. Not because it wasn’t delicious (it was); but because I think there are more interesting dishes to sample, and stomach space is finite (or so people tell me). Besides, if all I’m after is fresh raw fish, there are plenty of delicious Japanese restaurants in New York. Another cool appetizer was the surprisingly lackluster Le Homard, paper-thin turnip slices encasing chunks of lobster meat bound together with a sweet-and-sour emulsion and a bit of rosemary. These lobster “ravioli” were often presented as a trio, but the single one seen below was sent out as a “gift from the chef” one evening. Surrounded by cracked pink peppercorn, the aroma became almost floral, complementing but not contrasting the natural sweetness of the lobster meat and the turnip. In the end, though, this combination was perhaps a bit too sweet. I guess it turns out that even haute versions of lobster salad are not much more appealing to me than traditional ones. A similar presentation with equally unsuccessful results was Le Crabe. A very light way to begin a meal, with large chunks of blue crab sandwiched between two slices of avocado, topped by crisp sticks of tart green apple and drizzled with almond oil. The combination of crab and avocado is tried and true… and boring. The strongest praise Aaron could offer for this dish was to call it “inoffensive,” and I tend to agree. Yes, the crab was tender, the avocado creamy, and the green apple crispy, but one can only stand so much of the sweet-tart combination of the three. Nothing explicitly wrong with this dish, yet it was far from riveting. The very first dish I tried at L’Atelier was L’Oursin, sea urchin in a lobster gelée topped with cauliflower cream. Before even receiving this course, I couldn’t help but stare in awe at the plating in process — each drop of green parsley mayonnaise placed with surgical precision, perfectly matching in size and spacing, in a ring atop the bed of cauliflower cream. Unfortunately, this dish offered more style than substance as the extremely delicate flavor of the sea urchin was overwhelmed by the excessive amount of lobster gelée. Aaron was disappointed as well, pointing out that the temperature of the dish was a bit too cold, which kept some of the more subtle flavors from emerging. Another light dish is La Langoustine en carpaccio, only this one is not fried, or even cooked for that matter. Thin slices of raw langoustine were lightly garnished with roasted poppy seeds, chives, and edible flowers. Thinly sliced langoustine “carpaccio” is one of the most interesting edible textures, feeling somewhere between solid and liquid — I am never sure if I should use a fork or spoon. Its tender texture is, however, not accompanied by a fatty mouthfeel, but is actually rather lean with a clean finish. The flavor was somewhat in-between a lobster tail and a shrimp, with an incredible softness. A scattering of poppy seeds added a textural crunch. The chives added an herbal freshness and a slight bite. I’m not too sure what the other elements did because aside from color differentiation, they weren’t very noticeable. Despite its simplicity, this was a magical dish. Another interesting preparation with that same ingredient was La Langoustine en papillote croustillante, a single langoustine wrapped in paper-thin brik pastry with a single basil leaf visible inside. Served alongside this was a dab of vibrant green basil pesto. What first struck me as incredible with this dish was the apparent lack of oil. This langoustine was deep-fried; yet it neither felt, looked, or tasted the least bit greasy. Second, the crust was strikingly thin. The first dish that comes to my mind for comparison is shrimp tempura, where the batter often becomes distracting due to its thickness. But here, the brik adds nothing but a fine crisp layer contrasting against the tenderness of the langoustine. Perhaps the biggest evidence of the crust’s thickness is its shatter effect, where the first bite literally showers tiny fragments of the coating onto the plate, much like the first bite of a fine croissant. Neither of us were thrilled with La Coquille Saint-Jacques, a single scallop served in its shell with seaweed butter. In fact, I would say this is one of the weakest dishes we’ve ever had at L’Atelier. With such a minimalist presentation, there is no room for error. Unfortunately, every time I’ve stubbornly ordered this dish, I found the scallop to also be overcooked — hard and firm. Practically floating in (admittedly very good) Échiré butter, it almost seemed more about the butter than about the scallop (”Wait… the butter dish is already on the counter,” Aaron quipped when this was first set before us). The natural sweetness of both the butter and the scallop were unfortunately masked by the dried seaweed used to season on the scallop. This contrast, in most cases much appreciated, was overwhelming here. I never thought to combine scallops and truffles, or really any kind of shellfish and truffle; but as it turns out this combination works really nicely, particularly because the muted flavor of scallops are highlighted by the fragrance of the truffle — rather than competing, these two ingredients actually enhance one another. But for me, it was the milky foam that really brought La Saint Jacques en mousse together, since I don’t think truffles simply grated directly on scallops would have done much more than serve as a distraction. This addition also created a scope of texture, starting from the gentle airy foam as you work your way to the slightly chewy scallop, and finishing with the crunchy accompaniments, all being accentuated with the scent of truffle. While I’m not the biggest proponent of table-side service; for truffles, the fresh shaving can really allow one to fully appreciate the aroma. But even without that extra flourish, this was fantastic. The boundary between pet and edible dinner guest always seemed to confuse me, particularly because I would eat just about anything. Rabbit? Okay. Cute little suckling pig? Why not. (Don’t start this conversation with Aaron unless you want horse or dog brought up…) But frog?! I thought about the moral implications for a second minute, then my carnivorous stomach made up my mind for me and I ordered Les Cuisses de Grenouille. Too often, frog legs are unnecessarily greasy and messy to eat. But as haute French chefs are wont to do, the chefs at L’Atelier, well, frenched the bones. The resulting meat lollipop encourages the use of hands (though Aaron generally needs no such encouragement) without leaving the fingers greasy afterwards. The crispiness of the batter nicely complimented the slight chewiness of the meat, without it feeling excessively oily. The parsley coulis added some vivid color to the plate, but did nothing to save this dish from ultimately being quite boring. And honestly, those three Lilliputian frog legs look pretty pathetic all by themselves on the plate. There are certainly better options on the menu. To be continued...

That book really came in handy as I wandered through the city's wonderful food stalls on a recent trip. Enjoy!

I'll join the game: Malvasia!

For pastry, chocolate, confections, ice cream, etc, I really enjoyed Boule. If Google Maps is to be trusted, it's about 20 mins from your hotel, but it's basically a straight shot down Wilshire for the most part.

Totally agree. Augieland is great. Welcome to eGullet!

Inquiring minds want to know which aceto balsamico you ended up with. Where did you get it? And how did you like it?