[The Fat Duck 2003]

thanks lxt for such a comprehensive review.  The menu sounds almost exactly the same as when we went 2mths ago.  Couldn't he be a little more seasonal? Otherwise I really can't see anyone wanting to go back and try the same food more than once.

Charlene, assuming that a fair amount of research is involved in creating each dish at Fat Duck, it is reasonable to imagine that it would make the process of menu turnover a little more difficult. However, I do agree that should I visit the restaurant again, the same tasting menu will not be as appealing. I wonder how much emphasis chef Blumenthal gives to seasonal ingredients and whether he ever considered adjusting his menu to reflect the seasonal market. For instance, while asparagus was in season during our visit, and we had the opportunity to enjoy this ingredient at Sketch, but we didn’t see anything on the menu at The Fat Duck that used asparagus.

I would think that at some point the menu should become more flexible and as a diner, I would be thrilled to see what chef Blumenthal can do with seasonal ingredients. Does anyone else know how often the menu is changed at The Fat Duck?

[The Fat Duck 2003]

Big Ben, with its magnificent and remarkable coherence of character and almost abstract lucidity and elegance in the London fog, purged a long, full-bodied boom, striking eight times, waking us from the reverie of the magic of the sight and turning our original plans to stop at the hotel before our journey to The Fat Duck into a ghostly dust of wishful thinking. Ten minutes. That was all we had to turn my consort’s short-sleeved shirt into more appropriate gentleman’s attire and to make it on time for our 9:15 p.m. dinner.

A blue shirt, a yellow tie at the nearest store, no time to try on a nice-looking jacket, a taxi, a sigh of relief and a striking realization that we left the restaurant directions at the hotel.

“Mīdnhäd” said the cheerful taxi driver. The station you need is “Mīdnhäd.” After pausing for several seconds, while calculating vertical and horizontal derivatives of the word we heard, my consort finally exclaimed “Oh, Maidenhead!” “No sir,” said the cab driver. “Mīdnhäd. You are not saying it correctly.” I figured that another layer of foreign accent on top of my cute current one would not have a significant consequence on my existence, and, to our driver’s satisfaction, I fully submitted myself to his attempt to give me yet another English lesson.

A ticket, a bathroom, a phone call to the restaurant notifying them of our possible delay, and two pairs of strained eyes frozen to the bulletin board in the waiting area of the Paddington Railway Station.

I could see the sweat leaving wet streaks on my consort’s brand-new shirt as he saw “Delayed” next to our train number displayed on the board. With British punctiliousness, the time of delay shown was one minute, and in about 45 minutes we were cruising the picturesque village of Bray in a taxi on our way to the restaurant.

As soon as we entered the small lobby, a sense of a get-away home, away from the diverse abundance of city wealth, where every element of the room contributed to the concept of a rustic retreat with modern accents of abstract yellow-green paintings on the walls, seemed to create a contemporary atmosphere for those who fear the word “contemporary” -- who feel that they must move with the times yet are not quite comfortable entirely abandoning their roots.

We were taken to a back room separated from the front by a partial wall partition with a modern artwork sculpture of a fireplace. Wooden beams in the center of the room and an unrefined low ceiling lent charm and character, and a niche in the back, filled with wine bottles, provided homey comfort. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t find such juxtaposition of styles appealing, but all elements of the interior though they argued, seemed appropriate.

On the first page of each menu was a short, spirited preface by Chef Blumenthal, which betrayed the most sacred secret of the serious diner. After reading that “eating, above all should be a thing of pleasure and, dare I say it, fun,” there was no doubt in our minds that putting our fate in the hands of the chef was the way to go.

Generally, my consort doesn’t favor wine pairings and rather prefers to order one bottle or two half-bottles to accompany our food. The idea of having eight glasses of wine seemed to be excessive as well, and I asked our manager to suggest a bottle of wine that would go well with most of the dishes. He, however, was so passionate in assuring us that our experience would not be complete unless we try the wine pairing, that we followed his recommendation and didn’t regret that decision, but one thing at a time.

We started with the sherry aperitif of Manzanilla Solear, A. Barbadillo

Palate cleanser: Green Tea & Lime Sour.

A small shot glass of yellowish mousse of frothy raw egg whites with green tea and lime juice infused with a dash of vodka for a little added zing opened our dinner. Light and foamy, with a sweet but not intrusive flavor, the mousse had a dominating crispy citrus finish, tickling the back of my tongue and leaving an exotic perfume in the background. The purpose of this dish was to cleanse our palate – to clear the taste buds, preparing them to receive the next dish without competition from other lingering flavors. The dish performed its purpose perfectly, refreshing my mouth and perking up my mind, and, in fact, I preferred this version of a cleanser to a more usual sorbet type, for instance, which generally numbs my palate with its wintriness.

Amuse 1: Oyster On a Half Shell with Passion Fruit Jelly and Lavender.

A plump oyster, hidden by a blanket of bright-yellow passion fruit jelly with a touch of lavender, sherry and several flakes of Chinese pepper (?), rested on a white creamy shallot mousse and was served in a rough and irregularly shaped shell placed on a bed of a coarse fleur de sel and presented on a white, rectangular plate. When speaking of oysters on the half shell, what comes to mind is a taste of clean ocean breeze, and a drop of lemon, a little mignonette sauce, a hint of black pepper, or a dab of hot sauce that seems to be just right not to overwhelm the oyster freshness. However, the condiments of this amuse did not impede but rather enhanced the natural taste of the oyster, in my opinion. The passion fruit jelly was salty with a slight tropical tart tang, which only stressed the oyster sweetness, and the sherry provided a mild bitterness. The combination of sweetness, saltiness and bitterness was well balanced, and I found this dish interesting.

Amuse 2: Pommery Mustard Ice Cream, Red Cabbage Gazpacho.

A scoop of beige mustard ice cream ornamented with brown mustard grains left swirls in a purple liquid of slightly chilled, intense cabbage broth. A finely diced cucumber rested on the bottom of the soup plate and added a neutral, fresh counterpart to the pungent horseradish flavor produced by the amalgamation of the mustard ice cream, sherry, tamarind and the broth. A tenderly sweet and creamy flavor penetrated my mouth upon sampling the ice cream, only to leave a bitter finish in the background as I swallowed it. These two layers of flavor, sweet and bitter, were very distinct and seemed not to interweave.

My grandmother used to make red cabbage borscht for me many years ago, and as soon as I tried this amuse, an abundance of childhood memories was brought back immediately. My Bubby’s borscht was a hearty, peasant, winter soup served with sour cream and filled with shreds of cabbage, pieces of beets and chunks of potato swimming happily in the broth. The impression I had from experiencing the familiar flavors but in such an elegant and delicate presentation was that of a pumpkin that has turned into a sparkling coach. Absolutely wonderful.

First Course: Roast Scallop – caramelized cauliflower purée, jelly of Olorosso sherry.

I loved this dish. The roast scallop in the center of the plate touched a splash of a golden-brown cauliflower puree. A slice of marinated cèpe mushroom, two (golden and black) raisins, one black olive, and cubes of the Olorosso sherry jelly were tossed around the scallop. Though the combination of scallop and cauliflower is far from novel, the concentration and intensity of flavors from the extremely sweet and almost rare scallop, which was perfectly browned on top and sprinkled with finely grated salt and black pepper, and the condensed sweetness and an amazing natural flavor, brought out by caramelizing process, of the smooth, rich and luscious cauliflower purée were just divine. In contrast, the Olorosso sherry jelly was much subtler in taste and brought a hint of bitterness and sherry aroma to the dish.

We drank St Peray 2000 Cave de Tain L'Hermitage, Rhône.

Second Course: Crab Biscuit – roast foie gras, crystallized seaweed, marinated salmon and oyster vinaigrette.

A thick, elliptical piece of nicely roasted foie gras, sprinkled with chives, was placed in between delicate, dark-brown crab tuilles garnished with sesame seeds, and rested on a very lightly marinated raw and fatty salmon covered with a thin sheet of dry, crystallized seaweed. The elements were positioned in the middle of the plate in a puddle of off-white, lemony, oyster vinaigrette enriched by swirls of balsamic vinegar, poured on top of the edifice, adding another layer of acidity to the dish. It was an interesting dish whose components and their compatibility could be placed in a queue of skepticism in one’s mind, but eventually defeat all doubts. The thin and crunchy rounds of tuilles, utilizing a concentrated crab reduction and maple syrup, had a distinct nutty, crab essence and their sweetness very well complemented the rich taste of the slightly overcooked (for my taste) but creamy and extremely flavorful foie gras. The crab flavor wasn’t discordant and the seaweed rather echoed the chives’ freshness and brought a salty counterbalance to the dish. The raw piece of fatty salmon lightly marinated in olive oil had a coriander tang and lacked strong fish taste, adding to the foie gras a lusciousness of texture and fat. The first bite was simply striking and the combination of elements wasn’t as incompatible as one could’ve originally thought. A good, solid dish that still left me wondering in the back of my mind.

We were served Riesling Kabinett 1994, Bassermann, Pfalz, Germany with this dish.

Second Course: Cauliflower Risotto – carpaccio of cauliflower, chocolate jelly.

I enjoyed this simple dish. Risotto sprinkled with chives rested in the crater of the big, white plate, and was decorated by an abstract coral of dry cauliflower. A thin piece of chocolate jelly and cocoa powder dust gave the risotto an appealing and contrasting color. Everything in this dish was about the cauliflower. The creamy and buttery risotto enriched by Parmesan, tasting slightly similar to rice pudding, provided a rich texture to hold the intense and overwhelming cauliflower flavor. The unsweetened cocoa powder was almost undetectable until you tried the chocolate jelly, which made the bitter taste of chocolate more distinguishable and offset the black pepper and curry spices in the risotto quite nicely. The chocolate seemed to play the role of a secondary spice to complement or offset other spices which all seemed to be very well balanced in the dish with the main ingredient, cauliflower, shining brightly.

The wine we drank with the risotto was Rioja Reserva Capellania 1997 Marques de Murrieta, Spain.

Third Course: Poached Seabass – velouté of Borlotti beans with rosemary and vanilla.

A wonderful dish. A transparent, medusa-shaped glass bowl held in its basin a thick fillet of sea bass, which hid the beans under its body, was bathed in a bubbly light froth of vanilla foam and was generously garnished with finely chopped chives. The poached, perfectly done sea bass, moist and tender, with soft and gentle flesh and mild flavor, brought out a clean and sweet taste as the vanilla foam penetrated its flesh, creating a melt-in-your-mouth effect. The foam had a quite strong vanilla tang, but upon being mixed with the reddish Borlotti beans (which in my mind were usually associated with sausage or meatballs and certainly not with a delicate fish) that had an intense and salty flavor and were cooked with morel mushrooms and bits of toasted red pepper, balance was achieved, and the vanilla merged into the other elements bringing lightness to the hearty accompaniment. This was the dish I most enjoyed all evening.

We had St. Veran 2001, B. Morey, Burgundy with this dish.

Third Course: Poached Breast of Anjou Pigeon – pastilla of its legs and cherry, pistachio, cocoa and quatre épices

Since my consort was enjoying the pigeon so much and I was quite happy with the seabass, my recollections of this dish may not be accurate as I had just a little bite. Deep-red plump and tender pigeon breast slices wrapped in bacon, meat on the bone and a triangular crispy pastilla in the middle of the plate were encircled by the creamy-green pistachio foam. Sketchily tossed roasted pistachios and two quarters of baby beetroot(?) completed the composition. The perfect, medium-rare meat was not very gamy, but was delicate in flavor, smooth and tender and rendered slightly acidic juice with each bite. The meat, however, was mild enough not to leave a long aftertaste. The pastilla accompanying the dish was a nice twist on the traditional Moroccan pastilla where a parcel of wafery pastry is usually filled with an exotic concoction of pigeon meat, almonds and spices and sprinkled with sugar just before serving. A crispy shell of chef Blumenthal’s pastilla, stuffed with shreds of pigeon meat saturated with cinnamon, cardamom, a touch of vanilla, unsweetened chocolate and cherries was slightly sweet and seemed to take away attention from the much milder taste of the pigeon breast. The beetroot with its earthy taste worked well with the pigeon and the spicy and sweet roasted pistachio added creative touch to the pastilla. A very nice dish, but I was taken by the seabass too much to appreciate the pigeon dish in full.

We drank Priorato 1998 Les Terrasses Alvaro Palacios.

We were finally done with our main courses and an anticipation of two desserts filled our thoughts with sweet expectations. Meanwhile, a young waiter approached our table holding a spoon in his hand encouraging me to taste its content. Naturally, I attempted to rescue the spoon from his hand, which, to my surprise, met his quite firm resistance. Finally, after several unsuccessful attempts, I realized that the gentleman was determined to feed me! Somehow I missed that part when reading about the restaurant and was certainly taken aback.

I always thought that there was something very intimate in the process of being fed. I was so unprepared for this course of events that an abundance of thoughts, ranging from questioning whether the young gentleman was showing his affection in front of my husband to the uncomfortable feeling of losing the status of adulthood, were voyaging through my mind. My whole life flashed before my eyes and paused at the unpleasant point of my mother trying to force-feed me oil fish at my early age. Whatever the contents of the spoon were, I simply can’t describe as I was too occupied with processing multiple layers of information at the time. According to our waiter, it was mashed potato purée with maple syrup topped with several dice of lime jelly. This is where I started questioning the word “fun” mentioned in the preface by chef Blumenthal, as I was curious whether the fun was intended to be ours or his in this particular instance.

After the mashed potato palate cleanser, whose role was to neutralize carryover effects of our savory dishes, we were presented with a thin disc of white chocolate topped with small dark beads of Sevruga caviar, which had a very pronounced taste of salt and sea. The experimentation with savory flavors, specifically, with salt and sugar where both stand distinct, brought back memories of our lunch at Sketch several days before. If you held the caviar with the chocolate long enough on your tongue, upon melting, the combination would also produce a somewhat bitter flavor. I personally thought that the chocolate should’ve been just a little bit softer to allow the full amalgamation of flavors, and that Sevruga was too strong for this amuse. A different sort of caviar, less pronounced and more delicately flavored (Ship or Beluga, for instance), would’ve fit better.

It was time for another palate cleanser, and a small box of parsnip cereal was placed in front of me. While my consort explored the facilities of the restaurant, I struggled to open a very well-sealed, small, airtight bag of cereal. I assume this was supposed to be another fun part, which I would’ve certainly preferred to escape. The milk was poured over the dried cereal at our table. Like in the cauliflower risotto dish, which was all about cauliflower, this dish was all about parsnip, where the milk and the cereal merely provided a body to hold the prominent flavor of the parsnip brought by the chef from Alsace(?). I enjoyed this little amuse which smoothed the savory flavors lingering in my mouth and prepared us for dessert, but not just yet.

One last touch to clear our mouth: a shot glass of bright-green lemon sugar and a long vanilla stick, and we were ready for a Mango and Douglas Fir Purée dessert. I wasn’t quite sure what was the purpose of the vanilla stick other than to force a child-like behavior of licking the stick to make the sugary content adhere and then licking the stick again to remove it. I wondered whether the chef has a secret spyhole where he enjoys watching his customers.

First Dessert: Mango and Douglas Fir Purée– bavarois of lychee and mango, lackcurrant sorbet, blackcurrant and green peppercorn jelly.

A rectangular piece of yellow mango and lychee(?) custard topped with a thin layer of jelly was sided with a plump drop of yellowish lychee mousse(?) on one side and an oval scoop of dark-violet blackcurrant sorbet crowned with a thin, rectangular sheet of beetroot tuille on the other. A thick, bright-yellow stroke of mango sauce and tiny cubes of blackcurrant jelly placed on top of the custard and on the plate completed the composition. Chef Blumethal often compares beetroot with blackcurrant due to the similar acid contained in both. Indeed, the beetroot tuille had rather a sour taste and complemented the intense blackcurrant sorbet very well. The lychee mousse was a little bitter and had a quite pronounced lychee flavor. I enjoyed the idea of combining exotic tastes with an earthy, rich and deep blackcurrant flavor.

An intermediate amuse of red pepper lollipop; a small, rectangular piece of beetroot jelly coated in sugar; and a cylinder of basil blancmange with a crystallized fennel branch on top, placed in a flowery pastry shell reminiscent of a candle; arrived shortly after we finished our first dessert. The very thin chip of red pepper lollipop on a toothpick had a little bite and reminded me of the Gagnaire Strawberries and Red Pepper dessert we had at Sketch. The beetroot jelly was just slightly acidic, and had a very distinct taste of beetroot, not blackcurrant like our waiter attempted to persuade us. However, I must agree that the natural sweetness of the beetroot was apparent, and it forced me to start wondering why beetroot desserts were not common. The basil custard brought freshness and a very slight sweetness with just a tang of bitterness.

Goldackerl Beerenauslese 2001 W. Opitz, Austria was served with this dessert.

Second Dessert: Délice Chocolate – chocolate sorbet, cumin caramel.

A dark-brown almost black cylinder of chocolate mousse with a shiny, sticky and viscous chocolate skin was accompanied by the light-brown chocolate sorbet resting in a puddle of cumin caramel sauce and crowned by very thin and shiny, irregularly-shaped, crystallized caramel-chocolate cloak. This was a stunning looking dessert. As my fork penetrated the soft mousse, it encountered light resistance from the caramel base, which produced a cracking noise reminiscent of the sound of a broken glass when being stepped on. The interesting sound persisted upon my eating and resonated in my ears with the same cracking sound. As it appeared, the chef utilized space dust he brought from Spain to achieve this effect. It was certainly a dish that demonstrated that sound could be an influential part of a dining experience. Frankly, it was the most disturbing dish for me, and I didn’t enjoy it as much, as all my senses were directed toward getting rid of the unpleasant crackling sound dwelling in the back of my throat, on my teeth and in my head. Perhaps people with good pitch are more sensitive to such novelties, since my consort certainly enjoyed the dessert, but I wasn’t pleased with this extra feature. The mousse was rich, smooth and creamy and had a slightly lighter texture than the classic chocolate mousse. The chocolate sorbet echoed the chocolate mousse in taste but with a delightfully light sorbet texture, and the caramel sauce and the chip complemented the crunch caramel base of the mousse very well.

We had Maury Solera 1928 Selection Gerard Gauby.

A nice cup of espresso and absolutely delightful petit fours -- a thin, almost translucent sheet of bacon caramel and tobacco chocolate-- brought our three-and-a-half hour dinner to the end.

The service was admirable and personal. Our reservation time was the latest available since the kitchen stops taking orders at 9:20 p.m. Our late arrival didn’t seem to affect the care with which we were served. Every wait staff member was knowledgeable, helpful and willing to indulge our curiosity. Not for a second did we feel rushed or too persistent with our questions. The restaurant staff was extremely good: not too intrusive, and at the same time always there when needed. Aside from the usual routines performed impeccably, if my consort were to leave the table, a service member would wait at a respectful distance assessing whether I would prefer company until my companion returned.

A couple of jokes, a little bit of a chit-chat with the folks who helped us through the dinner upon our leaving an empty restaurant; relief on both sides (we from the overwhelming impressions and satisfaction, they from a long and tiring day), a taxi, a Maidenhead train station, an hour of delay, and a very specific smell of the hotel room reminding us that it was only our temporary home.

Conclusion:

We came to the conclusion that Chef Blumethal bases his cuisine on the comforting glow of the classic while sparking a new flame of creativity. We didn’t find too much radicalism in flavors and tastes -- perhaps challenging, on occasion, on the intellectual level, based on the preconceptions we tend to acquire over the course of our lives, but certainly quite appropriate on the sensual level. The dining experience was logically structured with a perfectly balanced progression from one dish to another. In some cases we felt that the small, intermediate dishes, playing the role of palate refreshments, were more of a medicine rather than a gastronomic experience, and though they certainly performed their function perfectly, they were not at the same standard of delectableness as the base courses of the menu.

The approach Chef Blumenthal takes seems to be far from minimalism. The complexity and the number of elements in one dish can sometimes be overwhelming, and despite the fact that all elements may fit well in flavor and texture with each other, there may not be unity, in my opinion, where one would be able to say that there is nothing else he would like to subtract from the dish. There were several occasions on which I would note that the dish was just as tasty without one or another component, like salmon in the crab biscuit, or Olorosso sherry jelly in the roast scallop dish.

In his preface, Chef Blumenthal suggests that our health, mood, environment or cultural background may explain why “one food can taste so good to one person and so bad to another,” and though I do agree that certain circumstances may affect one’s preferences, the reports I’ve read on people’s experiences ranged from negative to thrilling. I keep wondering why food based so strongly on science doesn’t provoke a more balanced reaction. Whatever the rationale is for such polarized perception, we stand on the side of those who enjoyed the experience substantially.

The creative artist is not content to use signs that have become conventional, but in his search for what is the truth for him he constantly modifies and changes these signs. We often say that such an artist is ahead of his time. What we really mean is that the public has not yet learned how to read his work correctly. He himself lives with his work, grows and changes with it, and sometimes cannot understand why other people cannot see as he can. On the other hand, people do not expect to have to learn to see, and therefore condemn that which is unfamiliar. Perhaps one of the reasons lies in our innate conservatism and just like the critics who accused the Impressionists of being social anarchists (where Degas was regarded as sordid because he did not idealize his laundry women and ballet dancers, or disguise his nudes with classical allusions or when Seurat was accused of taking an unnatural delight in ugliness because he chose to include factory chimneys in his landscapes), we sometimes find it difficult to acknowledge an acceptable marriage between marinated salmon and foie gras. Time will make it right for many, but as to us, as much as art was employed in Chef Blumenthal’s cuisine, it was certainly basic and tasty, and we plan to enjoy it again on our next trip to London.

[An Englishman In New York]

Thank you lissome for being a wonderful hostess who invested more time into making her guests happy than into enjoying the evening herself. Your sacrifice has not gone unnoticed.

Lissome, we brought smoked sable, salmon and sturgeon with bagels and cream cheese so that our Englishman would have a taste of real NY ethnic food. Andy wasn’t quick enough, however. The fish was gone in about 10 minutes.

Suzanne’s humus was spectacular. What can be better than a dish full of fresh and roasted garlic!

I enjoyed meeting those I’d never met, and seeing all my old friends.

[Sketch]

Jonathan, interestingly, we had lunch the day after at Gordon Ramsay. I made a mistake in my original post mentioning it among the restaurants at which we had dinner. GR offered several prix-fixe menus, one of which was a seven-course “Menu Prestige” for about £80, and was served also at dinner. It seems that at least GR keeps a couple of similar options open for those who are interested in food for both lunch and dinner.

Originally we had a dinner reservation at Sketch, as I was concerned that the lunch may have not been at the same level as dinner, but we switched our reservation to lunch per the advice of a knowledgeable acquaintance. I browsed through the Sketch dinner menu as well, and it seemed that the lunch prix-fixe was in no way downplayed.

However, considering the cultural trend in London, according to your description, do you think that the quality of a lunch experience is in general in any way less than that of a dinner? I wonder whether any members had both lunch and dinner at Sketch and what is their opinion.

[Sketch]

Jonathan, I enjoyed writing about this meal as it provoked very pleasant memories.

One more thing to mention: According to the restaurant staff, the “Lunch Casual” menu will be changed seasonally giving one the opportunity to try new dishes at a reasonable price four times a year.

Clerkenwellian, on the contrary. Lunch at Sketch was cheaper than dinners at Fat Duck, Petrus, Gordon Ramsay and even Tamarind. The so-called three-course lunch was £48 (two courses £42), which is quite reasonable for the number of actual dishes served. I suspect that the lunch experience is not much different from dinner and much more affordable. In my opinion, it is worth the trip and the money.

[Sketch]

As soon as we entered the lobby, we were struck with a sense of ubiquitous absurdity, conforming to the nightmares of one’s surrealistic dream, epitomized by the conversion of curves, lines, bands, and lavishness into grotesques. The dirty-gray plastic chairs, akin to rococo, emerging from the wall on your left; distorted floor-mounted synthetic red lips in the tradition of Dali hiding in the corner on your right; and a grand beige marble staircase awkwardly plastered with resinous litter of an unidentifiable, brown-violet substance, were all rather incongruous and devoid of any redeeming grace and seemed to impose farce on otherwise marvelous spectacle of graciously and artistically applied wealth.

The Lecture Room on the second floor, where we had a reservation for lunch, showed more restraint in the juxtaposition of styles, only with a touch of modernity, and accented the extravagance of the reign of Louis XVI, noted for the splendor of his courts in Versailles and Paris. We were led through a door in a modern, yellow-red iridescent glass wall into the room, rising approximately 30 feet with a beautiful cupola-shaped plasterwork ceiling, which added a sense of refinement and space. Before we had a chance to get accustomed to the plush, burgundy tufted armchairs at our table in the back of the dining room, and right after we ordered the prix-fixe (casual) lunch, five little plates of amuses were brought to our table all at once.

Amuse 1: Ginger Bread with Greek Yogurt.

This was a nice amuse that seemed to be based on a traditional recipe with a little twist. A droplet of white, creamy, sweet-sour yogurt crowned the toasted and slightly spiced, miniature round ginger bread. The taste of the yogurt was so intense that even the small amount was enough to offset the saltiness of the bread and make a statement.

Amuse 2: Cod Fish.

Tiny cubes of firm and lean white cod marinated in lemon juice were mingled with finely chopped fresh and roasted red pepper and sprinkled with flakes of cilantro and just a tiny amount of tarragon(?). The firmness of the fish went well with the crunchiness of the fresh pepper, and the refreshing and clean taste of this amuse was a nice contrast to the ginger bread dish.

Amuse 3: Flat Bread.

This dish was simply a basket full of thin strips of toasted flat bread. Considering that the first amuse was also bread-centric, this one seemed to be excessive unless introduced to prepare one’s palate for the next amuse. We, however, were not given instructions from the restaurant staff whether the order of amuses, brought to our table simultaneously, mattered.

Amuse 4: Chestnut Cookie with Foie Gras.

An oval plate was filled with grated off-white chestnut flesh, serving as a decorative foundation to secure the vertical position of the two delectable, miniature dark-brown chestnut sandwiches, padded with orange foie gras mousse, inserted into the chestnut sand. The slightly crackled, but perfectly round, chestnut chips were so delicate that a very gentle touch was required to prevent them from crumbling between one’s fingers. They were distinctly sweet and salty at the same time and wonderfully complemented the mildly bittersweet-toward-sweet, sensual taste of the mousse. The mousse was light and thin, almost runny, and lacked a distinct foie gras flavor which forced me to confirm the description of the dish with the waiter, who disclosed that one of the major components of the mousse was mango. One nibble, and I was smitten.

Amuse 5: Sauerkraut Sushi Roll with Salmon Roe.

When the waiter presented this dish, the sauerkraut description escaped me perhaps because sauerkraut was always, in my mind, an accompaniment to a hearty, peasant, Eastern-European “crude” meal like spaetzle or polenta, and the idea of sauerkraut wrapped in delicate seaweed and topped with salmon roe didn’t seem too plausible and appealing. The surprise of realizing what was inside the roll was surpassed, however, by the surprise of how well this combination worked. The trick was that the seaweed wrapper nourished the sauerkraut with ocean flavor, which became reminiscent of pickled seaweed salad. It was a real treat.

As soon as our plates were clean, a set of five starters was placed on our table all together. Some of the starters were served warm, and what struck me was that even if the warm appetizers were supposed to be consumed first, there was only a slight chance that all of them could’ve maintained their original temperature. It seemed doubtful that the kitchen accounted for this scenario. It did seem, however, that the most logical progression of the dishes was by following the order in which they were listed on the menu even at the expense of some dishes getting cold.

Starter 1: Basmati Rice Pilaf with Peas, Tip of Asparagus from Pertuis with Parmiggiano Reggiano.

The whole essence and success of this simple and nice dish lay in the perfection of both the ingredients and their execution. Three neatly overlapping, bright-green, meaty asparagus tips rested on a bed of warm Basmati rice mixed with green peas, corn and raisins, shaped like a burger and positioned in the center of the plate. The Basmati rice, sweet and salty, was fluffy, with each grain individually separate, was infused with a tantalizing aroma and delicious fragrance complementing the Spring freshness of the barely cooked, crisp and tender asparagus very well, and had a flavor of slightly toasted nuts.

Starter 2: Asparagus Royale.

This dish continued the theme of asparagus, and seemed to have the best effect if eaten right after the rice pilaf appetizer following the menu listing. A chilled, soft-green asparagus mousse of a smooth consistency, sprinkled with chopped toasted pistachios, was presented in a small white cup. The lightness in texture of the royale contrasted with its rich and creamy taste. It was hardly seasoned, and would’ve been absolutely bland had the concentrated taste of asparagus not tenderly reconciled with the reticent mildness of the mousse. Though I understood the concept, this starter left me cold.

Starter 3: Lightly Spiced Confit of Tomato Slowly Cooked, Arbusier Honey.

This dish was intense, especially after the almost neutral-tasting Asparagus Royale. A small amount of tomato water, tomato jelly, a tiny bit of a honey-based sauce and a spice (red pepper) to offset the honey sweetness were injected into the flesh of the skinned whole tomato, which was roasted long enough to partially absorb the mixture, but not to lose its perky shape. Then, the tomato was placed in the center of the plate in a puddle of thick, orange tomato sauce, crowned with a honey-sweet piece of fried tomato skin and voila: the unsurpassed, most intensely flavored tomato. It was a very nice appetizer indeed.

Starter 4: Caramelized Grilled Scallops with Soya and Green Lime Juice.

This appetizer was wonderful and would’ve been great as a main course. One perfect scallop, white as a pearl, rested comfortably on a bed of a nicely sautéed chopped onions and a dark-brown soya sauce. The scallop was a little overdone, but its texture was still moist, soft and almost cushiony, and the sweetness burst forth from the luscious flesh on my first bite into a rainbow of flavors. In fact, the sweetness of the scallop was so profound that it wasn’t overshadowed by the more intensely sweet onions and stood out well in contrast with the slightly pungent and salty soya accompaniment. By the time I got to this dish, it had already cooled down a little, though it didn’t lose all appeal. I only wished that it had been brought to the table separately.

Starter 5: Fondue of Sweet Onion “St André,” Creamed Gnocchi with Gorgonzola, Dates and Nuts.

The bottom of a small crater in the large round plate was coated by the fondue, hidden from the eye under a pile of salty, small cubes of gnocchi, pine nuts and toasted slivers of almonds and half of the cloyingly sweet date stuffed with one hazelnut. The gnocchi, when sampled separately, were so salty that it became apparent that all elements of the dish had to be eaten simultaneously so that the extreme saltiness of the gnocchi could offset the extreme sweetness of the date, and the fondue and nuts would complement the creaminess of the gnocchi and provide a greater balance. It wasn’t a bad starter, but nothing exceptional.

We desperately needed to have a break before the main course and decided to take a quick stroll around with a possible stop at the lavatory. The modest door to the bathroom, located on the second floor right across from the entrance to the Lecture Room, didn’t promise any surprises, but upon entering the room, I found myself inside a music box and a vortex of elaborate insanity. The décor – with black reflecting tiles, dim lighting, irritating music playing one leitmotif over and over again like an annoying ice cream truck; crystal-encrusted walls inside the stall imitating a spider nest; a colorful crystal cross on the toilet back, blessing each and every one for whatever they were about to do; and an unbearable heat apparently produced by the mechanisms responsible for the extra effects – was outside all aesthetic preoccupations. Unless one were to accept that “beauty must be convulsive or cease to be” (Breton), he would agree with Chagall that it was “…the most tragic show on earth, man’s most poignant cry across the centuries in his search for amusement and joy.”

For the main course, one could choose between fish and meat dishes, and we, of course, ordered one of each to have a chance to sample both.

Main Course: Grilled “Sea Bream” with Lemon Butter, Crushed Potatoes, Thin Slices of Dried Tuna.

When the dish, covered with a silver dome, was presented before me, my level of alertness increased in the anticipation of ultimate pleasure from inhaling the aroma of whatever was sizzling inside. As the dome was removed however, my concern about the senses became secondary, as what I saw on my plate could have been nothing else but a living creature with dorsal, thoracic, caudal, abdominal and other fins coiling on its body like snakes on the Gorgon’s head. Even after the waiter politely explained that such a visual effect was achieved as a result of the hot and the cold air waves blowing against the paper-thin, almost transparent, dried tuna slices set vertically on top of the fish, it was hard to accept that the fish or at least parts of it weren’t in some sort of a living state. That was when we were extremely sorry that the restaurant staff didn’t allow us to take pictures of our meal, as we could’ve made a little movie with our digital camera.

A meaty fillet of sea bream sat on top of the lightly cooked white cabbage in a puddle of a thin potato-based sauce. The fish was nicely browned, but a little overcooked and slightly dry. (Overcooked fish, for some reason, seemed to be a pattern with my fish orders in London.) The wonderful, gentle potato sauce was enriched by lemon butter and endowed soft acidity, soothing the flesh of the fish, and the cabbage, cooked to a state of fresh crispiness, added brightness to the flavor of the fish. The tuna skin had a slightly smoked taste and upon falling off the back of the fish into the potato sauce infused it with smoke. I generally don’t favor dry smoked fish, and would rather have had the dish without that flavor. The combination of the potato sauce and the cabbage with the fish was wonderful, and had the fish been less cooked and served without the tuna skin (my personal preference), the dish would’ve been excellent.

Several side dishes accompanied the sea bream course: A bowl of baby spinach salad dressed in a light vinaigrette, a tuna mousse mixed with tiny bits of cucumber and chives on toasted Italian bread, and lightly cooked vegetables (turnip, shallot and beet root) presented in an eye-shaped, white plate.

Main Course:Pekin Duck Stuffed with Paris Mushrooms and Foie Gras, Vegetables Purée Made with the Cooking from the Duck Legs, Spring Cabbage.

This was a very nice dish. Three cylinders of duck, stuffed with the mushroom-foie gras mélange and encircled by the duck jus, were positioned randomly on the plate, with one central piece atop a mound of the cabbage salad covered by the blanket of a large, fried cabbage leaf. A vegetable purée made of cabbage, leeks, shallots and eggplant(?)cooked in the duck jus had a tiny bit of a soy tang and was set on the side. The duck meat was cooked beyond medium-rare (which seemed to be by design), but was lean, almost velvety and mild with a robust flavor from the stuffing which was dominated by the taste of mushrooms sautéed with chopped onions. The foie gras, cooked long enough to develop an acute liver taste, merely lent a background flavor to the stuffing. The cabbage salad, sprinkled with chives, was creamy and added a nice nuance to the dish, and the vegetable purée reminded me of an eggplant spread that my grandmother used to make.

A separate plate holding a duck leg with sautéed, crispy thin onion slices on the side came along with the stuffed duck. The skin of the duck leg was nicely caramelized and had a slightly sweet flavor, but the meat was overcooked and a little dry for my taste.

Desserts were excellent, and despite our having been quite full, we finished every single dessert amuse and dessert down to the last drop and crumb.

Amuses included one cube of creamy marshmallow with a sprig of rosemary sticking out like a feather on a hunting hat; a small chocolate cylinder, the bottom of which was coated with a caramel sauce and chopped nuts, and its top crowned with a wooden stick holding three perfect blueberries coated in sugar.

Dessert 1: Lemon Jelly of Menton.

This was a simple and a wonderful dessert. The diced fruit (I can’t recall which one) was resting on the bottom of a round cup under the delicate, light and airy lemon jelly with the perfect balance between the acidity and sweetness.

Dessert 2: Menton’s Lemon Biscuit.

The biscuit, saturated with lemon juice, hosting tiny cubes of lemon rind(?), was topped with a small scoop of the lemon sorbet and crowned by a thin pineapple chip. This dessert continued the lemon theme, but provided more body and a more intense flavor.

Dessert 3: The “Montargis.”

Small, caramelized meringue balls and caramelized almonds were served in a raspberry sauce and were a little too sweet for my taste.

Dessert 4: Strawberries and Red Pepper.

This dessert was very interesting, and I enjoyed it the most. A rectangular cylinder made of caramel (?), with a distinct, but not overbearing, red pepper spice, was filled with fresh strawberries resting on top of the strawberries mousse. The little bite of the red pepper added a certain extravagance and piquancy to the dessert.

At the end of our lunch, we ordered espresso, which was served with melted chocolate and one perfect fresh raspberry in a Chinese porcelain spoon. That berry was the sweetest, freshest raspberry I have ever tasted, and I wondered whether it was injected with raspberry extract to intensify its flavor. :)

The desserts were so inspiring that at the end of our trip we visited Sketch Patisserie, where we sampled almost all desserts on display.

Conclusion:

Our lunch at Sketch was interesting and imaginative in both flavors and textures, and we thought it was probably the best meal we had in London. Each dish prepared you for another adventure either through following the theme of the previous course or presenting the main element of the current dish (whether vegetable, fruit, meat or fish) in different manners and preparations to educate and amaze your palate.

Unlike the eclectic and eccentric Sketch décor, the juxtaposition of well-established classic cuisine and experimentation in food was engaging and parallel to Chagall’s work for the Paris Opera, a majestic 19th century building, where the historic structure absorbed the dreams of a modern painter, and where the cherubs and rosy clouds of Jules-Eugène Lenepyeu’s academic frescoes yielded to the power of the “dreams and creations of the singers and musicians” brought to life by the hand of Chagall.

[Cafe Boulud]

Thank you Lady T. I enjoyed the description of your recent trip to NYC as well. Next time you visit, perhaps we can join forces.

[Cafe Boulud]

Felonious,

One of the best desserts with rhubarb I’ve ever tried was several years ago at Union Square Café. Since that time, I became fond of the vegetable and found myself in search of rhubarb desserts. The rhubarb-raspberry dessert at Café Boulud was a little disappointing, though. A very thin layer of the rhubarb mixture ground to a smooth consistency was topped with the crème brulée and presented in a round pâte brisée shell. The shell was too thick, in my opinion, and the rhubarb layer was almost undetectable under the strong ginger taste of the crème brulée. I didn’t think that crème brulée's texture went well with the crust either. However, the soup dessert was truly wonderful.

Did you have a chance to try roasted salmon with the sorrel sauce? I’d be interested to hear a comparison of the version served by Café Boulud and the original from Troisgros.

I didn’t pay much attention to the vegetable menu (Le Potager), which contained mostly pasta (handmade “penne verde” with morel mushrooms, ramps and Parmesan) and ravioli (sweet pea ravioli with spring pea ragout, romaine, aged pecorino). Would you suggest ordering these items or other items where pasta is presented as a side dish from a different menu?

I didn’t find the approach at Daniel to be dressed to impress. I thought that each element of each dish at Daniel would’ve fit and complemented each other perfectly even if the dish wasn’t presented so elaborately on the plate. For instance, I thought that the hamachi appetizer at Daniel was more interesting than at Café Boulud. The smoothness of the fennel/avocado custard stressed the buttery texture of hamachi wonderfully, and the fennel with its citrus overtone added that special tangy tang without overburdening the dish with sweetness. It was a much more delicate combination of flavors than the one suggested by chef Carmellini. I am not sure whether the two can be compared though other than to say that I preferred Daniel’s version.

Had we not been presented with the “house gifts” and relied only on our own selections, my impression of Café Boulud’s cuisine would’ve been that it was well-executed comfort food that provided reassurance, but little excitement. However, the asparagus and black bass dishes persuaded me otherwise. I am very curious to see what the chef’s tasting is and how he would match the dishes.

[Cafe Boulud]

I wonder if the objection to cameras was to flash photography or to cameras in general. Does anyone see where I'm going with this . . .

Interestingly, I inquired whether using the camera without the flash would be possible, but the answer was negative. I tried to understand the rationale behind such a strict rule, but frankly failed, nor was I able to get a straight answer from the service staff. Instead, we were offered a tour of the kitchen where we would’ve been allowed to take pictures, but I respectfully declined despite my husband’s furious attacks on my leg under the table. I tend to feel intimidated by the kitchen and often think that visiting it may ruin the magic of my dining experience. Sadly, we were offered and rejected taking a kitchen tour at Union Pacific as well. Perhaps next time.

Mogsob, rule number three: ask more questions than the service staff can answer, and you’ll get an invitation to visit the kitchen.

Pixelchef, thank you very much.

Awbrig, as soon as I get my camera back from my daughter...

[Cafe Boulud]

A small foyer led us to the low-ceilinged main room with leather chairs, banquettes along the wall, cozy tables set closely, dark wood, mirrors supported by decorative metal screws, contemporary art works echoing the theme of neutral brown and pastel-green color tones and a bar along the wall stressing the casualness of the setting. The room wasn’t littered with a dainty potpourri of feminine debris, but rather provided a sense of a solid, respectable, unpretentious neighborhood bistro, comfortable in an unostentatious manner, for the nattily suited gentlemen and family members of what seemed to be the more “blue collar” Fifth Avenue inhabitants and occasional gastronomic tourists.

I generally enjoy early dinners before that uncertain look appears in the eyes of the service staff, overwhelmed by the immensity and intensity of their duties, and their excessive optimism melts with the increasing numbers of filled tables. We arrived at 6:30 p.m. sharp, while the restaurant was only half full, and were shown to a table near the path to the kitchen just across from the bar and not far from the captain‘s station. It wasn’t the best table in the house, but I liked the fact that we were positioned conveniently to more easily attract the attention of the service staff should any questions arise, and we settled down with no objections.

The five-part gastronomic “dance suites” on the menu consisted of the “French classic and country cooking” exposition, “the rhythm of the seasons” part, “le potager” - inspired by the farmers‘ market, “le voyage” – world cuisine with Thai, Vietnamese and New Orleans-inspired dishes, and the specials of the day including stellar sautéed soft shell crabs. The $95 five-course chef‘s tasting sounded attractive, but, since it provided only one possible dish for each course, we calculated that between the two of us we’d be able to sample seven or eight courses for the same price by building our own tasting from the menu. When my consort gently indicated that I of course could be in charge of ordering as usual, but he’d rather not have three main courses instead of four appetizers, and that he was not sacrificing his Duet of Veal for anything else, I realized that my plan to sample the famous Le Saumon a L’Oseille (roasted salmon with sorrel sauce), compliments of Troisgros’ recipe, was shattered as I wasn’t about to sacrifice a highly recommended roasted duck, which proved to be an excellent dish indeed.

An amuse of rose-shaped creamy goat cheese with a slice of minuscule bright-red cherry Heirloom tomato and a miniature potato chip presented in a Chinese porcelain spoon represented the start of our three-and-a-half hour dinner.

Marinated Japanese Hamachi -- ruby grapefruit, Jicama, ginger-spice dressing (La Saison menu.)

Five overlapping, thin slices of the hamachi, crowned with daikon, roofed the mixture of several green soy beans (edamame), a piece of sweetish marinated tomato and diced, firm, crunchy and slightly sweet Jicama that was reminiscent of a juicy and crisp Asian pear. A stroke of bright-green sesame-seed purée on one side of the hamachi edifice and a piece of fresh, deep-red flesh of bloody orange on the other completed the composition. The yellowtail had a silken, buttery texture and a subtle, nutty flavor, which contrasted with the more direct but not intrusive taste of the cumin crust girdling each piece. The combination of spices and Jicama sweetness along with the very light acidity of the pickled daikon and orange offset by the earthy and nutty sesame sauce was very nice. I enjoyed this appetizer.

Big Eye Tuna Tartare -- radish, sesame, cucumber (La Saison menu).

This was a simple dish with clear, subtle and well-balanced flavors. The buttery and luscious claret-colored tuna saturated in a sesame oil was diced into ¼-inch pieces, mingled with a smooth, mashed version of the tuna meat and presented as a small burger sprinkled with black sesame seeds and topped with very lightly pungent hair-thin filaments of radish and cucumber marinated in rice-wine vinaigrette (?). It was a well-executed, but not an exciting, dish.

La Paté de Canard et Foie Gras -- country style paté with foie gras and smoked duck, dried fig chutney, purslane-frisée salad (La Tradition menu).

A thick, rectangular piece of the rich, heavy, hearty, coarsely ground and chunky paté with pieces of pistachios and fat was a bit dry. The fig chutney provided sweetness, and the frisée salad drizzled with vinegar provided acidity. I would’ve probably enjoyed this rustic dish more had it been served with pickled beets or cornichons and mustard.

Sautéed Soft Shell Crab -- round carrots, fresh and pickled ramps, sauce Grenobloise (Specials of the day menu).

To me, a soft shell crab, quickly sautéed in a vinegary or lemony brown butter and caper sauce, displays such an unguarded simplicity that I expect nothing more from this dish but to be just a walk down memory lane. I was pleasantly surprised, and this turned out to be a fantastic appetizer.

Two medium-size creatures, shiny from the sauce Grenobloise generously poured over them, were cozily positioned atop one another on a bed of baby spinach and pickled ramps and were surrounded by tiny, about 1 1/2" cute round carrots adding a vibrant, deep-orange color to the dish. The tiny flakes of flat parsley in the sauce, several capers and moist croutons completed the composition. The perfectly sautéed crabs, crunchy on the outside, despite being saturated with the sauce, and soft and tender on the inside, released moisture along with a natural heavenly sweetness on my first bite. The butter in the sauce mixed with lemon and vinegar turned into a thick emulsion, had an acidic vinaigrette tang, and in combination with the gently sweet crabmeat, complemented by the full sweetness of the carrots, was not overbearing but rather created a perfectly balanced harmony of flavors. Capers and the texture of the soft croutons nicely offset the oiliness. No doubt, the round carrots added that extra to the dish that made it special.

Being disappointed with the pictures we took at Daniel, we were equipped with the digital camera and were determined to succeed this time. Imagine how surprised I was when one of the managers approached our table, after we took the first picture of our appetizer, and in a polite yet dry and firm manner informed us that we were not allowed to take pictures in the restaurant, and that in fact the policy applied to all three Boulud restaurants. Considering that the main dining room was relatively small, the request seemed reasonable and wouldn’t have provoked any additional objections on our part had the manager not stated that this rule was indisputable in all the restaurants. I couldn’t help but mention that at Daniel we were not only permitted but also encouraged to take pictures, which brought sincere surprise to the face of the manager who firmly stated that it couldn’t have possibly been the case. The conversation was conducted very politely, however, and raised my curiosity rather than provoked an unpleasant feeling which could’ve affected our evening. Nonetheless, we were presented with two wonderful dishes compliments of the chef to compensate for our possible inconvenience, for which we were tremendously grateful, as these dishes comprised one of the best experiences of our meal.

Ohio Asparagus, Bacon, Spring Garlic Sauce

Truly inspirational. Several sprigs of baby asparagus with meaty pulp were carefully wrapped in smoky and crisp bacon, set on top of the thick, off-white garlic sauce and were encircled by several rounds of rich, deep-brown meat reduction. In my view, the secret of asparagus success is to cook it just to the stage of tender crispness, and serve while the spears are still bright green. However, the version presented to us was contrary to my previous preference, yet proved to be excellent. The asparagus, with perfectly compact and pointed tips, was cooked far beyond crispiness, but the result was such that the asparagus, having absorbed the concentrated intensity of flavors of bacon, garlic and the meat reduction and being further enhanced by the provided accompanying sauces, tasted just superb. It would be hard to imagine this dish to be rendered any other way.

Steamed Black Bass in Lime-Coconut-Ginger Broth was our second gift. A white, juicy, delicate, light, tender, and airy filet of steamed bass with a very mild flavor and a beautiful grayish, shiny skin was bathed in a delightful off-white broth, releasing a wave of fragrant aroma that reminded me of a Thai coconut chicken soup with a subtle combination of soothing coconut milk, piquant ginger root and tangy citrus but without the spicy peppers that typify Thai cuisine. It was the sourness of the broth that complemented the fish so fabulously.

Duet of Veal – braised shank, Swiss chard, basil, roasted tenderloin, carrots, orange (La Saison menu).

I didn’t find this dish interesting. Three rare and moist medallions of the thick and tender veal were positioned next to a slightly dry braised shank resting on top of the chard leaves with a piece of marinated tomato, onions, carrots, and several slices of caramelized(?) orange rind off to one side. Though the chard leaves were enhanced by butter and garlic, I didn’t think this accompaniment was enough to enliven the meat, which didn’t have sufficient flavor to stand on its own, in my view.

Roasted Duck “New Orleans” – dirty rice, braised celery, pecan-thyme glaze

This dish didn’t exhibit any sophistication, representing instead a dignified decadence with Cajun overtones, but it was certainly excellent. Five tender, medium-rare rectangular pieces of warm (not hot) Pekin duck on a bed of dirty rice enriched with roasted green pepper bits and ground giblets were surrounded by a concentrated and intense meat reduction. The rice had absorbed the flavor of the meat, had a little white-pepper sharpness and was moist and perfectly cooked so that each grain was separate yet soft. The roasted pepper added freshness to the rice, and chopped pecans brought a wonderful crunch and earthy tone. The only sweetness in this dish was the natural sweetness of the bones and meats from which the meat reduction was prepared. The dish was decorated with fried parsley. Very nice, indeed.

We drank a bottle of 2000 Coudoulet De Beaucastel Côtes du Rhône.

At the time we finished our main courses, Charles, a General Manager, stopped by to make sure that we felt well pampered, and we were presented with another compliment of the house, which was supposed to serve as intermediate refreshment before our desserts.

Lime Soup with Mango Sorbet

This was a wonderful dessert. The soup containing small, accurately carved cubes of mango and pear (?) had a mango sorbet, crowned with a caramel tuille, floating on the surface and was served in a small soup cup with two handles and the name of the restaurant imprinted inside. The flavor intensity progressed from the barely sweet pear toward the more intense mango cubes and achieved its culmination with the full and intensely flavored mango sorbet offset by the gently acidic lime soup. You could taste the nuances of each fruit even when taken together.

The Rhubarb-Raspberry Tart with Ginger Crème Brulée and Rhubarb Coulis and the Mango, Pineapple and Pear sorbets we ordered were quite average. The real treat, however, was a basket of Madeleines. There is no better way to evaluate food then when your body is no longer craves calories. At the time the Madeleines arrived, the thought of consuming anything else certainly provoked little excitement, and we simply asked whether we could take them with us. How delightfully grateful we were, however, when our waiter suggested that he prepare us a fresh basket to take home. Now I felt obliged to try at least one on our table. I picked up a Madeleine almost mechanically, but as soon as the warm, soft, light and cushiony texture of this wonderful treat melted in my mouth, I couldn’t stop until I saw the bottom of the dish. I thought they were even better than at Daniel.

We drank Muscat de St. Jean de Minervois, Roussillon with our desserts.

The service was a little erratic, but the way they handled our little photo incident was admirable. All dishes were well presented, but along with excellent dishes, we had good but not very interesting ones as well. Our impression was that some of Café Boulud’s dishes were more adventurous than what one could find on Daniel’s menu, and that “Le Voyage” and the specials of the day are the menus to which one should pay closest attention. Though Café Boulud follows the Daniel’s leitmotif of clear, distinguishable flavors, it seems that chef Carmellini also experiments with more exotic flavor and texture combinations.

[Pearl Oyster Bar]

I don’t generally enjoy climbing up into a high bar chair, being squeezed by other folks and catching curious looks from my communal neighbors taking a peek at my plate. Pearl is an exception. Their slightly peppery, thin and smoky clam chowder with finely diced potatoes, medium-sized chunks of soft and sweet clams and small bits of bacon, and a warm lobster roll on a toasted and sweet bun nicely saturated with butter always gave me a pleasant twinge. This time, my expectations weren’t fully met, though I still prefer Pearl to Mary’s.

The clam chowder was thick, less smoky than usual and just a little bland, where one couldn’t feel the ocean delivered by the briny and tangy clam juice. The lobster in the lobster roll was too cold, but the chunks of the lobster were bound by the mayo nicely. The bun was not toasted enough and the inside became soggy quickly. The shoestring potatoes accompanying the lobster roll looked like a haystack and were superb, maintaining the satisfying balance of softness and crunchiness.

Fried oysters were so heavily breaded that one had to launch an expedition to find the oyster meat in the crumbs of the “Amazon.” The steamed clams were big and sweet but so mushy that holding one by the neck would force the belly first to separate from the neck, looking like a giant eye, and then quickly engage in the process of disintegration. The clam broth, which I generally like to sip at the end, mixing it with the left-over butter, was not as intense as I would prefer. The soggy strawberry-rhubarb pie wasn’t worth breaking my diet.

Better luck next time.

[Union Pacific (Closed)]

This dinner, which I shared with macrosan, was my fourth and by far the least successful meal at Union Pacific in a relatively short period of time. I could have attributed our disappointment to a less fortunate menu selection this time had I not tried some of the same dishes previously with much greater satisfaction. It was almost like two different kitchens had attempted to construct dishes based on the same recipes. Could it be that Union Pacific is generally not consistent or that it was one of those rare off days? Is it that Monday is a day to avoid dining at this restaurant? Is it that Chef Dispirito was out that day? If he was and his absence adversely affected the kitchen, how will it affect Union Pacific when he opens his new restaurant and will deprive Union Pacific of his presence most of the time (just a speculation)? I have to admit that the difference I experienced between my previous and the latest visits was staggering.

I am going to attempt to selectively combine my impressions of all recent meals I had at Union Pacific.

-----------------------------

Several steps inside the entrance, I was facing a small wooden bridge amidst the melodic and refreshing sounds of a tinkling waterfall and a pond with blossoming artificial miniature lily pads and floating candles all of which gave a grandiose focal point to the paradisiacal setting, creating an illusion of an exotic world of miniature bromeliads and vines of rose moss, and tied a small lobby and the main dining room together.

Little touches of the Amazon theme persisted upon my entering the main room with a high, fabric ceiling displaying a night sky with stars and supported by metal arcs; a lizard pattern imprinted into the banquette fabric; red satin walls plastered with metal panels in the shape of a jungle plant’s branches; and elaborate rails on the second floor echoing the wall theme. Interestingly, the décor, which could so easily leave the impression of vulgarity, instead delivered something of an exotic grace. The lighting was subdued and soft, stressing your contour and at the same time hiding and soothing unwanted wrinkles and tiny skin imperfections, lending a warm feeling of comfort and reassurance.

We were seated at a round corner table facing the frosted glass partition separating the kitchen from the dining room, where you could see shadows moving in a rehearsed and regimented dance. The table with side-by-side seating was wide enough to allow for a comfortable space between you and your dining companion and at the same time provided just the right level of coziness for conducting a private conversation. Unlike macrosan, I have nothing against banquettes and was quite comfortable though I will certainly take his preference into consideration the next time he blesses New York with his presence. :raz:

On my previous visits I started with an amuse of baby green asparagus, a little overcooked for my taste, topped with paper-thin shavings of aged pecorino cheese that added a tangy and fragrant tang to the asparagus, in a slightly acidic mushroom reduction. I found that amuse more interesting than the duck confit macrosan and I were served this time.

Fragrant Ceviche of Red Snapper

This was an excellent appetizer. The flesh of the red snapper, white with occasional pink engraving, had a firm texture and a very distinctive nutty sweetness with a hint of an ocean flavor that was accentuated mostly by salt, and by a slight residual acidity from the marinade. The fish was sprinkled with fennel seeds, grated, marinated fennel pulp and orange zest(?) and was encircled by a concentrated carrot-colored sauce made of orange zest, lime zest, olive oil and tomato oil which added additional acidity and another level of freshness. The composition ended with tossed baby greens and edible flowers.

I had this appetizer soon after my visit to Annisa where we tried ceviche of tilefish. I have to say that in comparison to the highly acidic marinade and strong-flavored accompaniments that overwhelmed the natural flavor of the fish in Annisa’s version, the Union Pacific ceviche was just delightful.

Sautéed Foie Gras with belimbing and toasted pistachios

A buttery, soft and smooth rare piece of foie gras was accompanied by a celery root purée, pistachios, and a thin, rectangular piece of slightly sweet, pickled belimbing fruit and rested in a brown butter sauce enriched with belimbing juice. The dish was very good; however, the sauce contained too high a level of acidity from the pickled belimbing for my taste for the sweetness in the background.

Lamb Tartare with Chipotle and Golden Raisin Emulsion

The first time I had this appetizer I was pleasantly surprised by not only the complexity of flavors, but also their perfect balance. The smooth raw meat of a lamb burger enriched with minced chipotle peppers, shallots, chervil and other herbs was accompanied by grilled flat, matzo-type bread. The meat came from a two-week-old baby lamb and had a very mild flavor contrary to what I expected. A sweet tone from the golden raisin emulsion was almost undetectable and melded with the natural flavor of the lamb very well. There was no doubt that on my next visit, I would order this appetizer again. I could never imagine that the amount of raisin emulsion, for instance, would be increased by a factor of 10 so that the dish simply would turn into a lamb jam where “the only thing I couldn't taste was lamb.” (macrosan) Very sad indeed.

Tamarind Lacquered White Pekin Duck

I could see the shade of disappointment slowly wandering down macrosan’s face as he started this dish. Unfortunately, I didn’t try his version, but I can certainly imagine how easily this dish could’ve been spoiled.

The first time I tried duck at Union Pacific, it exceeded all my expectations. Five rectangular slices of a mild, tender and juicy White Pekin duck breast in an intense and full-bodied sauce (based on a duck reduction, mirepois, lime juice (not very distinguishable), red wine and white tarragon vinegar (?)), mingled with Mexican bean sauce, leaving green puddles on a dark-brown background, were set on a pile of diced plantains with tiny bits of bacon and baby asparagus. The duck meat was nicely rare, had a mild flavor and succulent texture and had a thin layer of fat, which wasn’t offensive. The plantains had a more starchy than sweet taste the first time I had this dish and were a little sweeter the second time (less preferable), and their smoothness and velvety texture complemented the duck well. The asparagus was a little overcooked for my taste. The accompanying sauce was infused with a distinct basil and tarragon flavor. The duck skin had grill marks and was glazed with a sweetish tamarind sauce which was of a perfectly balanced amount the first time and a little more intrusive the second time. Though the base, duck reduction sauce provided bitterness and acidity, the sweetness came from the tamarind glaze on the duck skin and plantains. I sincerely hope that the version of this dish I tried on my first visit is the standard, not the accident, and I was sorry to see macrosan not being able to experience the best of what this dish could be.

My choice for the second course this time was Halibut with young ginger, pork and shallot cracklin’ I was very unhappy with this dish. The halibut fillet was nicely cooked and the fish in isolation was quite tasty, but it was resting in a ginger(?) sauce so thick and sweet that I’d say it was rather a ginger jam (which was reminiscent of a rose jam). There was simply no way the pork and shallot dust on top of the fish could offset the cloying sweetness of the sauce. I didn’t finish this dish.

Steve, I am not very fond of their desserts and always considered them to be the weakest part of my dining experience at Union Pacific. However, this time in comparison, the desserts were certainly better than the rest of the meal. Previously I tried Mango and Papaya Carpaccio with Pineapple Sorbet with wide mango strips forming a circle on the plate topped with cubes of papaya, which were bound and tightened with gelatin. An oval scoop of a white-colored pineapple sorbet crowned the deep orange-colored mango “flower.” Vanilla seeds sprinkled over the mango petals added the last touch. It was a refreshing dessert, and I would probably order it again, but it was nothing that would call for a special attention.

Milk Parfait with Passion Fruit and Bittersweet Chocolate was interesting in presentation, but also not exceptional in taste. A cylinder of soft and creamy milk custard was topped with a thin layer of the passion fruit gel, thinly shredded dry dough strips, a thin bittersweet chocolate tuille and some fresh herbs (I can’t remember exactly which ones). A bright-green Mexican mint sauce surrounded the custard. It was also a refreshing and an interesting dessert.

Apple Tarte Tartin with Sweet Rice Sorbet was not bad, but not excellent. A soft but crumbly pâte brisée(?) (not the expected puff pastry shell) held a caramelized whole apple resting in a thick vanilla-caramel foam. The sweet rice sorbet had a flavor of rather sugary water, but provided a nice temperature contrast to the warm apple.

I like their sorbets and, less so, their ice creams. The sorbets usually have a very intense fresh fruit flavor with no artificial tang. The last time we had ice creams they included a bitter chocolate scoop, which had a nice bitter tone and was not too sweet; a vanilla scoop, which had a strong vanilla flavor with dots of vanilla seeds; and a caramel scoop, which was the best of the three.

I feel guilty for not posting about my wonderful experiences with previous meals at Union Pacific, and sincerely hope that our recent dinner was an unfortunate exception. Previously I was always amazed how chef Dispirito was able to achieve a remarkable level of complexity in merging different elements together without crossing the line between deliciousness and inappropriateness. This time however, the sweet flavors were exaggerated and dominated each dish. Out of five meals I have had at Union Pacific, this was the only time I left the restaurant less than thrilled.

Macrosan and I had Croze Hermitage Alain Graillot with our meal.

[Annisa]

When elegance is defined as “less is more,” leaving fashionable and formless, elaborate and pompous exempted from the execution; when “a designer knows he has achieved perfection not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away” (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry), then can an appreciation for quality be attained easing the burdens of life through light colors, fewer furnishings, thoughtfully placed elements and understated colors and textures without being overbearing or insistent. What struck me at Annisa was that the décor was a perfect model of economy, clarity of presentation, simplicity and elegance: Off-white walls; coral velvet banquettes and matching chairs; one rectangular, narrow frosted window in the back of the room; and a grand vase with long white-flowered branches in the front. Nothing to add and nothing to take away.

We were seated at the back of the room at a table with a banquette on one side and a chair on the other. A banquette seat permitted a wide view of the room, and a chair would force a diner to face the wall. I was kindly shown to the privileged banquette seat and was contemplating enjoying the meal, observing the room, and taking pleasure in the company. However, I had to give up my seat by suggesting it to my escort after observing him rotating his head desperately, presumably in an attempt to preserve a sense of control over the environment, and a clear disappointment in his own seat placement. Considering that I’ve witnessed similar behavior from several of my male dining companions, I realized that the only possibility to save the evening was to give up my seat. When all was said and done, I was facing the wall, the window, him, and my plate with excitement and a sense of wonder in an expectation of the 5-course tasting with matching wines.

Ceviche of Tilefish with Fig, Anchovy and Pistachio

Tender morsels of flat, white tilefish saturated with olive oil, with bits of pistachio and oily fig, topped with frisée salad curls were arranged on the plate to fill the rectangular pattern of balsamic vinegar that added a nice dark-brown color contrast to the dish. The firm white flesh lacked fat, but the fibers were softened by the (?) vinegar marinade. The Balsamic vinegar, so well resonating with the sweetness of figs, added yet another level of acidity, and the earthy pistachios gave the fish an agreeable balance.

The fish was sprinkled with coarse grains of fleur de sel. With the already high level of acidity and saltiness in the dish, I wouldn’t have thought that extra salt would be necessary, but the acidity contrasted with the grains of salt in such a way that it almost tasted neutral adding only a pleasant crunch and even freshness. This appetizer wasn’t subtle, but it presented an interesting contrast and combination of acidity, saltiness and sweetness.

The wine served was Livio Felluga Pinot Grigio 1991, Colli Orientali del Friuli.

Seared Foie Gras with Soup Dumplings and Jicama

This dish was certainly the star of the dinner. An abstract stroke of a Chinese black and balsamic thick vinegar reduction painted on a rectangular plate was sealed by a semicircular dumpling with enough transparency to reveal a dark-brown veal stock through its medium-thick skin. A rectangular piece of a seared foie gras with a dark-brown exterior matching in color the balsamic reduction topped the dumpling. I expected the soup to be very hot, but it was of a pleasant room temperature, and as I took a tiny nibble out of the top of the dumpling, the intense flavor of the veal stock enriched by the stuffed, partially melted foie gras flowed to the spoon and then to my mouth. The buttery and delicate texture of the remaining pieces of the firmer foie gras was contrasted by the fleshy tiny cubes of crunchy Jicama, gently adding just a slightly sweet flavor to it. It was a wonderful combination.

I spent my childhood watching my bubby make dumplings – the glory of her technique never stopped surprising me in how well she was able to predict the right dough thickness for different fillings so that the wrap would be strong enough not to break under the weight of the filling, but still be as delicate as possible to let the other ingredients shine. I thought that the dumpling wrap in the Annisa dish was a bit too thick. It didn’t overshadow the other components since they produced a pretty intense flavor, but it was far from being thin and translucent.

The sautéed piece of foie gras accompanying the dumpling had a crispy and savory dark golden-brown crust providing a nice firmness and almost a crunch to the raw interior. It was interesting to note the level of sophistication applied to the simple but delicious concept of a soup dumpling.

The matching wine was Piesporter Goldtröpfchen Riesling Kabinett 2001, Reichsgraf von Kesselstatt.

Butter Poached Wild Salmon with Brussels Sprouts and Chestnuts

A poached filet of salmon in an intensely bright-green leek purée enriched with lobster broth was topped with shredded, barely cooked leaves of Brussels sprouts echoing the sauce in color. Two halves of a Brussels sprout ”head” and one simmered(?) soft and sweet chestnut “brain” were positioned on each side of the salmon, and a long, thin straw of smoked salmon skin was swinging on top of the edifice. The smoked skin with its concentrated salmon flavor was an interesting contrast to the mild-tasting salmon flesh though I didn’t find it particularly pleasing. The leek purée was not intense and the crunchy Brussels sprouts offset the fattiness of the slightly overdone salmon well, but both of us seemed to conclude that given a choice, this dish wouldn’t have been on our list.

The wine served was Patricia Green Cellars Chardonnay 2001, Yamhill County, Oregon.

Crispy Skinned Breast of Duck with Piquillo Peppers and “Migas”

Five tender and moist medallions of the perfectly rare duck breast girded with crispy and almost crusty skin in a small quantity of a sweet, thin wine sauce reduction were padded with fresh baby spinach salad. Cubes of oily fried breadcrumbs, crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside, with the distinctive taste of garlic and bits of the roasted red pepper served as a bed for an adorable and tiny quail egg prepared sunny side up and were placed aside the meat arrangement. The dish had an element of rusticity and elegance at the same time and was enjoyable.

We drank Collioure 1998, Domaine La Tour Vieille, Roussillon.

Yogurt Panna Cotta with Chestnuts

A creamy and a light pure-white custard was crowned with a tight ball of a thinly shaved phyllo pastry and accentuated by strokes of the dark brown chestnut(?) sauce sprinkled with grains of caramelized sugar. It was an average dessert.

We received warm and attentive service from Annisa’s staff. Our waiter revealed that the excellent French bread was sourced from Amy’s.

Conclusion:

The level of creativity of the dishes was engaging visually and sensually. Little clever touches whether in the simple arrangement on the plate or more complicated dish implementation provoked our appreciation and an involuntary thought of sophistication that only a woman can deliver with such grace. Our overall impression was positive. However, both of us thought that though each dish was pleasing, the appetizers on the suggested prix-fixe menu were more appealing, that the desserts were weak, and that each dish was satisfying but aside from the Seared Foie Gras with Soup Dumplings wasn’t exceptional. Nevertheless, we enjoyed our dinner and will certainly return.

[Union Pacific (Closed)]

To “celebrate” the return of winter for one day last week, and in search of a satisfying meal in a place where my vocal cords wouldn’t have to be strained excessively in the mere attempt to be heard, we wandered into Union Pacific for a quick lunch and took advantage of their $20 prix fixe. The meal was certainly the highlight of my day aside from my company. The restaurant was mostly empty at 1 p.m., and the atmosphere was very relaxed with plenty of attention from the restaurant staff.

We decided to order two additional appetizers from the regular menu on top of the prix fixe, adding Taylor Bay Scallops and Tuna Tartare to our lunch .

Taylor Bay Scallops with uni and mustard oil

The dish was so beautifully arranged that one would not want to disturb the pattern of six shells elaborately carved with prominent heavy ribs varying in color from rosy pink through shades of brown, each hosting a perfect rectangular strip of tender white raw scallop flesh sprinkled with dark brown mustard seeds and uni alongside in a bath of transparent liquid, presented on a high pedestal of crushed ice diamonds and a cloth made of edible green and firebrick seaweed. Each piece of scallop was a bit briny with a very light taste of the ocean, but sweet enough not even to require any embellishment when eaten separately. The uni, however, was not of the perfect quality one would find at Sushi Yasuda, for instance. The dark yellow-brown roe had a creamy texture but without firmness, with notes of brine and acute iodine. However, as it melted in your mouth, the sweet flavor was unleashed and nicely wrapped around the sensuous texture of the scallop. The binding element was the liquid with a touch of unrecognized acidity that only accentuated the sweetness of the other elements and a very lightly wasabi-like tang with the nutty overtone of mustard oil. We couldn’t figure out the liquid component and were quite surprised to learn that it was tomato water. It was one of those dishes that brings a smile to your face.

Tuna Tartare with asian pear and fresh wasabi

Tuna burger processed almost to a creamy state with bits of scallions was topped with cilantro, basil, shiso leaves, yuzu and edible flowers. Cubes of fresh Asian pear were placed on two corners of the plate. A thin line of thick caramel sauce sprinkled with black sesame seeds circled the plate, and a piece of dry, slightly spicy and sweet pear chip completed the composition. Aside from the caramel sauce, which, in my opinion, seemed to be excessive and not very complementary, the appetizer was nice.

Aromatic Cauliflower Soup with pine nuts andTthai basil syrup

This was an enjoyable dish. The presentation was terrific, with a smooth cream-colored liquid dressed up with green dotted swirls of basil syrup and pine nuts resting in a puddle of pale-yellow pine oil. The aroma of the soup was tantalizing but not fully revealing of its silky texture and sweet yet intense flavor, enriched by the lemony and slightly spicy tang of the thai basil syrup offset by a bit bitter taste of oil and roasted nuts, leaving a lingering finish upon taking the first sip, satisfying only enough to make you want more. Grains of almost raw cauliflower on the bottom of the plate gave the soup the last touch of crunchiness. It was delicious.

Salmon with sea beans and cloud ear mushrooms

A nice piece of salmon filet lay on a bed of bright green sea beans and cloud ear mushrooms in a circle of artichoke puree, accompanied by a thin red wine sauce. The salmon had a wonderfully crisp skin, but was a bit overdone. The tangy and salty sea beans added a little crunch to the dish, and along with the soft texture and almost neutral tasting cloud ear mushrooms in a smooth, buttery artichoke pureé added an inventive twist to the flavor of the salmon enriched by the wine sauce that brought a bit of acidity an intensity to the dish. It was a complex and flavor-concentrated dish, which with a proper preparation of the salmon would’ve been more enjoyable.

Chicken Pot au Feu with baby root vegetables and red beet-horseradish broth

Two pieces of chicken breast were centered in a deep plate with the thin, burgundy beet broth garnished with curly parsley and sketchily tossed baby carrots, potatoes and a halved white beet. The chicken had such a great contrast of a velvety smoothness, which almost lacked the coarse texture of the meat requiring minimum chewing effort, and a crisp, golden, thick skin sprinkled with the coarse grains of fleur de sel. The lightly sweet and bitter taste of the broth was gentle in flavor with only a hint of horseradish, and was very enjoyable when eaten separately. I loved this simple and elegant dish and was happy it was included in the prix-fixe as I probably would’ve never ordered it from the menu on my own.

The desserts were ordinary aside from the sorbets consisting of mango, raspberry and grapefruit scoops presented in a flower pattern like petals. Each of the sorbets had such an intense flavor of its fruit, that the impression left was that of eating the real, ripe thing.

I can’t wait to return.

[How to approach an unfamiliar cuisine]

But that has nothing to do with being confronted with a Yassa for the first time. The following questions are raised;

1) Does this taste good?

2) Is this a good dish?

3) How does this dish reflect on the cuisine?

If your perception of an unfamiliar (and I’d like to stress this word) cuisine relies specifically on your previous experience and background, the chance of your being able to evaluate it properly and to be able to grasp its nuances is quite limited. My first acquaintance with Sushi many years ago, for instance, had provoked nothing but a revulsion though I was open-minded and looked forward to this exercise. After passing the point of unacceptance, a general satisfaction level was achieved, but the ability to distinguish gradation was still low. It took me some more time to obtain an ability to tell the fish apart. To distinguish the nuances of the quality of the product became easy and pleasurable afterwards, but would’ve been impossible had I not been capable of distinguishing tuna from salmon in the first place. From pure disgust, I’ve developed a craving, which has persisted for a long time. Therefore, the answer to the question “Is this a good dish?” related to any cuisine depends on how much time and effort one has invested to learn about it and may differ in answer based on these criteria.

Let me repeat a brilliant summation Toby made: “Learning about any subject can be an in-depth, lifetime experience, so I think you have to just give yourself time, years of it. Crash courses are just that.”

[Jean Georges and Nougatine]

One more thing I’d like to add. We were served two types of bread, French roll and rye, with butter and Armando Manni’s Olive oil, which comes from Southern Tuscany and which was so wonderful that it deserves to be mentioned. The oil had a pretty strong and complex flavor, bitter, sweet and soothing at the same time, with a persistent finish in your mouth, and it was wonderful with the rye bread. A tiny amount of this oil literally exploded with flavors in your mouth. I was disappointed with the rye bread which seemed to be bland up until I tried it with the oil. I know that aside from Jean-Georges, Vincenti in LA features this oil as well. What I don’t know is whether it is available at retail.

Lizziee, I didn’t understand the rice dish at all. It was so out of context with the rest of the dishes flavor-wise that I almost thought the purpose of this course was to serve as a palate refreshment just to prepare you for the next course. Considering that I had only one visit to Jean Georges, I may well be mistaken about Patrick’s job status; if so, my apologies. However, he was the person who graciously helped us through the whole dinner.

[Jean Georges and Nougatine]

Superb report, lxt.    You captured JG's "language" of flavor perfectly.  Sorry to hear the desserts are still not up to the caliber of the other dishes.

Thank you Cathy. Unfortunately, the desserts weren’t quite up to the level one would expect. The idea of having a variety of small desserts following the same theme was interesting, but as we were discussing it afterwards, it seemed that the most successful desserts were the lighter-textured or fruit-based ones. When the concept required a rich, luscious flavor as in the chocolate desserts, the result just didn’t have enough body, creaminess and silkiness. It seemed that the chef followed a concept similar to that of the main courses attempting to pursue the light and airy approach in constructing these desserts. However, in our opinion it didn't seem to work well, especially with chocolate.

After Daniel and Jean Georges- where's next for you lxt?

I feel slightly full after reading your 4 hour marathon.

scamhi, I am recuperating and taking suggestions for now. Which one would you like to hear about next?

THis is the dish on the cover of vongerichten book simple to spectacular, yes?  i just read through the recipe and it seems to match.

mikeczyz, that’s the one.

Funny, this dish rocked me. I still remember savoring it with a 1979 Gruner Veltliner. Not sure about the caviar. I believe I had it with Osetra but that could be faulty recall as it's been 4 years.

Christopher, it is my personal relationship with eggs that prevented me from fully enjoying the dish, though I could recognize the superiority of its execution. I just couldn’t judge this dish objectively on a purely sensual level. After years and years of consuming the same combination of flavors, I became unable to acknowledge eggs, especially with caviar, in any execution as an extraordinary and superior dining experience.

Osetra was caviar originally used, and actually Patrick, our captain, did mention that the flavor of the Thorn caviar they used was supposed to be close to Osetra, though I didn’t find a similarity other than in size of the beads. From what I was able to gather, Thorn caviar became available to the American market relatively recently. It is a little cheaper then Osetra though is very limited in quantity. As I mentioned before, I hadn’t had a chance to try it previously while living in Russia for many years. I don’t think it was available at that time since this is a newcomer.

pixelchef, thank you.

[Jean Georges and Nougatine]

As soon as we stepped into the narrow restaurant lobby that could accommodate no more than three couples at a time, we were introduced to modern minimalism, where the Greco-Roman legacy and the Gothic legacy of the Middle Ages were absorbed by the contemporary style adding another, the joint product of architect and engineer, of the "poetry and prose" of the building arts, which allowed its creators to conjure with upward space. Indeed, once we entered the main dining room, the relationship between space and décor became apparent, reflecting a moderate degree of affluence and elegance. The medium-sized room seemed to have the emphasis on simplicity: the neutral background, the beauty of natural woods and the restraint in color featuring mostly different shades of brown and light taupe palette. A window-wall transparency allowed the room to be flooded with night-light from the vaulted skylights and provided an open airy tone without diminishing the sense of intimacy. The room had a curiously calm and static quality, with no immediate appeal to the emotions but only to reason, enforced by the use of rectangular geometric forms defining patterns for a high coffered ceiling and walls where roundness, in contrast, was expressed only through the shape of tables and banquettes. The only other artistic touch, not to oppose but rather to continue the theme, were gorgeous, very tall, live lilies in the vase built into the center wall and sculptures of a violin on top of the two modest wooden cabinets standing on opposite sides of the room.

The contingent seemed almost to be an accessory to the décor. One wouldn't observe the glitter of cocktail dresses and sheer gowns, retro suits, fedoras and bow ties. It was almost like the whole atmosphere of the room forced women to cover their bare shoulders to merge into the conservatism of clean lines and elegant simplicity of the décor. The nattily, business-like dressed clientele were relatively young.

A family of three with a 6 p.m. reservation, in the eyes of the experienced restaurant staff, perfectly fit the profile of accidental diners whose gastronomic experience would be secondary to the anxious anticipation of a Broadway show. We were seated at a table located most unfortunately right by the entrance, where we could hear the breeze with every party entering the tiny lobby and announcing their names, and where the echo of the noise from the Nougatine room almost assured an unpleasant stereo effect as soon as the main room, which was practically empty upon our arrival, was filled. Our gentle request to be repositioned toward the center or back of the room was graciously satisfied, and we found ourselves occupying a center round table with a great view of the steel globe sculpture outside the floor-to-ceiling window. The tables were very well spaced; so were we around our table, as it became apparent at the end of our dinner, to accommodate the huge size of the plates containing desserts.

We decided to go with a Winter menu and a Jean-Georges tasting, starting with the amuse bouche that arrived on a large white rectangular plate with three delights comprising a composition of bright contrast colors and tastes. We were advised to begin in a direction from left to right with a Greek salad with feta cheese and olive sauce. A tiny, round, toasted brioche hosted a deep-green almost puréed, jellied mixture of vegetables mounded with a scoop of snow-white, soft and silky feta cheese topped with a dark-brown, thin olive sauce. If tried separately, each element of this amuse seemed not to have enough or have too much flavor to stand on its own, but was perfect in combination.

The next step in the amuse progression included cured salmon with sesame oil and sesame powder -- a vibrantly orange cylinder of the very lightly smoked (almost raw), buttery sweet and meltingly rich salmon in a bright-yellow sesame oil had distinctive belts of fat. A stroke of sesame powder, half white (cream-colored) and half black, positioned beside the salmon added a pleasant nutty and earthy tang to the sweet-salty flavor of the salmon and the bitterness of the sesame oil, when used for dipping. It was certainly one of the highlights of the dinner.

The last amuse -- a white sweet potato soup with curry and an apple chip dusted with curry powder -- was presented in a tall glass tube with the paper-thin apple slice visually serving as a lid. A little puddle of curry oil rested on the starchy, puréed white mass, which would've been bland, had the acidity of the apple and the piquant, tropical taste of the curry not added a necessary sharpness for balance.

Each amuse represented a component of the whole composition where the progression toward lighter color, from deep green to bright orange and white with the common element of yellow in the form of oils, was parallel to the progression of tastes, from light and airy green salad to buttery fish and starchy soup. It was quite enjoyable and very nicely done.

Winter Menu - Foie Gras Brulée, Pineapple Gelée.

In a clever twist on a crème brulée, the foie gras was processed almost to the state of creaminess, topped with a typical crème brulée sugar glaze and served on a toasted brioche saturated with pineapple juice. Several strokes of a bright-yellow, slightly gelatinized pineapple purée with sparks of red chili pepper completed the composition. The dish was interesting in how the buttery richness of foie gras was combined with the extreme lightness of the custard concept. It maximized the flavor of foie gras and at the same time transformed a dense texture into an airy, silky-smooth and light consistency. All the elements had to be eaten in combination to fully appreciate the essence of the dish. The sugar glaze gave a nice crunch to the custard and in combination with the pineapple purée presented a very pleasant balance of sweetness and citrus-savory acidity. My original attempt to sample the dish without the pineapple purée resulted in a less favorable assessment of the flavor balance, which seemed to lack the counterpart to sweetness.

Jean-Georges Menu - Egg Caviar.

A large round plate supported a smaller rectangular plate, which in its turn held a bowl with crystals of coarse fleur de sel serving as an anchor for a shiny, brown and what seemed to be soft-boiled egg, the shell of which was sliced at the top to make room for vodka- and lemon-infused whipped cream and caviar crowning the egg like a fancy bonnet. The layered edifice of plates added a visual effect of an altar where the egg was the centerpiece

The lingering taste of egg that is always present independently of what technique is utilized to prepare it can never give me enough sense of luxury that the texture of the egg or the fancy accompaniments could otherwise suggest. Neither caviar nor truffles can bring eggs to the next level of sophisticated dining experience for me, and are similar to blini, which will never rise above being just tiny pancakes from the nearest Deli even if served with caviar. Perhaps I am influenced by my childhood experience where eggs with caviar for breakfast were associated with each morning's pre-school routine, and blini with caviar with large family gatherings, but I can't judge merits of this dish objectively though I'll try to isolate my prejudice in describing it.

The scrambled -- not soft-boiled -- egg was milky and tender and had a jelly-like, melt-in-the-mouth texture. The light acidity of the cream and saltiness of the caviar gave the egg a nice compound flavor. The caviar had an unusually mild taste, very firm medium-size beads and a light-gray color. It was certainly not Beluga, the grains of which are much larger and have a little mushy texture. I also could recognize it as neither Osetra, which has a very distinctive nutty flavor and a brown-to-black-color beads, nor Sevruga, which has tiny grains and a very intense sea flavor. While I was attempting to decipher the origin of the caviar, my "archeological" diggings were noticed by our captain, who rushed with the answer to our table. The caviar appeared to come from a rare form of sturgeon, Ship sturgeon (also known as Thorn sturgeon). I hadn't had the pleasure to try this specimen before, and was pleased with the mild and clean flavor. In retrospect, this could've been one of the best executions of an egg dish, but I was left unmoved.

The second course:

Winter Menu - Peekytoe Crab Salad, Fuji Apple, Hot Mustard Froth.

An oversized, white plate with a wavy relief pattern as though permeated by a bundle of transparent stripes held, in its central crater, what appeared to be an infinitesimally small amount of chartreuse-colored foam topped with three slices of sweet and crisp Fuji apple. The bubbly and airy mustard spume swathed the layer of pink, shredded peekytoe meat resting on a cake of jellied cucumber puree. The mustard froth retained its ethereal airiness until the dish was entirely gone. It did, however, give the slightly sweet and delicate crab a tingle of pungent sharpness instead of overwhelming the taste of the meat with a rich mayo. The much cooler cucumber purée with a soft, succulent texture had a refreshing effect in combination with the warm crabmeat and along with the apple served to offset the mustard flavor of the foam. It was important to take all elements of the dish together to experience the maximum effect. My experiments to try each constituent in isolation weren't very successful: the cucumber purée was just bland, the mustard froth was too sharp, and the unadorned crabmeat tasted too plain.

Jean-Georges Menu - Sea Scallops with Caper-Raisin Emulsion, Caramelized Cauliflower.

Two of what looked like the horizontal halves of one plump scallop in a scoop of a mustard-colored sauce of a dense consistency were placed side by side on the rimmed center of the large, white plate. Each nicely browned scallop half was topped with a thin slice of crisp and lightly caramelized cauliflower floret. The scallop was garnished with fresh parsley, and sprinkles of nutmeg completed the composition. By the time I received this dish, the sauce was gone; therefore my conclusions are not complete. The scallop had a crisp top with almost translucent flesh underneath. The surprise was that the cauliflower had such an intense flavor that it became the focus of the dish where the scallop seemed to provide only a cushioning texture. My assumption is that both the scallop and the cauliflower relied on the sauce for flavor completion, and without it, I don't think I was able to appreciate the dish fully.

The third course:

Winter Menu - Steamed Japanese Sticky Rice, Wilted Bouquet of Mushrooms, Ginger Sake Dressing.

White sticky rice with thin slices of shiitake mushrooms piled on top came in a rice bowl. An accompanying warm, tan-colored, ginger-sake dressing with grated ginger sunk to the bottom was set in a separate small sauce holder. I was advised to pour the ginger sauce into the bowl with rice and mushrooms a little at a time. If the level of the rice’s stickiness were measured by appraising how well it stuck to one's teeth, this version would've had the highest grade. Neither rice nor mushrooms had a distinctive flavor when sampled alone. However, upon being saturated with the sweet and tingling dressing, the rice grains separated and acquired a plummier and firmer feel along with a mild sweetness. The spongy texture of the mushrooms absorbed the dressing to bring out the gentle fragrance of sake. With all its cleverness and chameleon-like flavor possibilities, I didn't enjoy this dish much.

Jean-Georges Menu - Young Garlic Soup with Thyme, Sautéed Frog Legs.

The soup was arranged at our table, and upon being poured onto the plates, released the bouquet of sweet garlic and thyme aromas. Two (?) sautéed frog legs were placed on the side of the soup plate, and the captain instructed us to saturate the frog legs with the garlic broth. The yellowish liquid was rich and warming but not too pungent. The density of the soup achieved by adding beaten eggs with the vinegar (not cream), according to our captain, gave the broth a pleasing creaminess but with a lusciously light texture. The tender translucent garlic slivers barely had a flavor and rather built a bulk for the soup. The floating sprinkles of tiny, fresh lemon thyme provided a nice lemon tang and added color to the dish. Despite the frog legs being a little overdone, though nicely browned on the outside, when coated by the smooth broth, they acquired a nice balanced flavor. The broth serving as a dipping sauce for the frog legs was still delicate enough to be enjoyed as a separate dish. I enjoyed this dish quite a bit.

The fourth course:

Winter Menu - Slowly Cooked Chatham Cod, Potato "Noodles", Crème Fraîche, Vodka and Caviar.

This is where the expression that caviar served properly (and the union of crème fraîche, vodka and caviar was made in heaven) can turn any meal into an event proves accurate.

A thick fillet of snowy-white cod with off-white stripes visually demarcating the large flakes was mounded on elastic potato ribbons bathed in the transparently-white and vodka-infused crème fraîche froth. A generous amount of the thorn caviar set atop the fish provided a beautiful contrast in color, and the intensely red flakes of chili pepper highlighted the composition. I like having cod in the winter as the meat is at its best this time of the year. It was moist, lean and had a mild and clean flavor, but it would've been neutral in taste had it not been for the accompaniments. The caviar gave the cod a perfect level of saltiness along with the luxury of the caviar texture and accentuated the clean and mild fish flavor on a more intense level. The combination of crème fraîche acidity, vodka, and chili peppers had an interesting tang lightly reminiscent of mustard. The potatoes were half cooked and had a raw crunch in them while still maintaining enough elasticity to be curled like pasta on the plate. Because of the texture, the potatoes assumed the role of vegetables rather than starch. It was an enjoyable dish.

Jean-Georges Menu - Turbot in a Château Chalon Sauce, Tomato and Zucchini.

A white, firm, flat fillet of turbot was centered on a plate in a deep-yellow Château Chalon sauce. A stripe of finely chopped green zucchini and tomato topped and visually bisected the fish lengthwise. The fish was sadly overdone. The zucchini was barely cooked and had a firm texture, and the sauce had a little sweet and nutty tang. I am not sure how the dish would've been had the fish been properly cooked, but of the two fish dishes, the turbot was less enjoyable.

The fifth course:

Winter Menu - Lemon Poached Lobster, Winter Vegetable Tapioca and Fragrant Gewûrztraminer Froth.

Slices of the moist tail meat were buried in the soap-like bubbles of the Gewûrztraminer froth and under the assortment of very lightly sautéed diced red and yellow beets, cucumber, pineapple and the sweet tapioca pearls. The waiter poured the chili(?)- based rich-brown sauce on top of the foam, painting several artistic circles around the pile of other ingredients. The meat was saturated with a distinct lemon flavor and was tender but not mushy. The sweetness of the meat was somewhat suppressed by the natural sweetness of the accompanying vegetables, but it harmonized well with the lobster's texture. The Gewûrztraminer foam with its varietal flavor of fruit and complementary balance of acid was a continuation of the vegetable/fruit theme, but the chili sauce zing brought the sharpness of spices along with it. Overall, this was a nice dish.

Jean-Georges Menu -Lobster Tartine, Lemongrass, Fenugreek Broth and Pea Shoots.

A toasted piece of baguette, which served as a structural support for the carefully arranged meat of a lobster tail and a small claw roofed with fresh and perky pea shoots, was set in a sandy brown-colored broth. A very lightly sautéed Thai long string bean was curled around the sandwich, and a dusting of bright orange, dry lobster roe was sprinkled over the plate, adding a nice final touch to the composition. The broth had a rich flavor and was reminiscent of a light Tom Yum Gung in texture and taste excluding the level of spiciness. It was interesting to compare the effect of the lemon grass on the lobster meat versus the lemon in the poached lobster dish from the Winter menu. Though this dish was nicely done, of the two lobster courses, we preferred the winter menu one.

The sixth course:

Winter Menu - Pheasant, Spiced Cocoa Emulsion, Black Truffle Gnocchi

Instead of the anticipated dish of gamy venison in which my consort developed an intense interest after he first sampled it at Daniel and which was indicated on the Winter menu we obtained in advance from the restaurant, we received venison-reminiscent, though still distinctly poultry-tasting, gamy pheasant. Five overlapping medallions of pheasant lightly brushed with mildly spiced, thin cocoa emulsion were centered on the plate. A stroke of puréed, dark olive-green spinach sauce was set alongside the medallions piled with short and thin slices of nicely browned fries and black truffle gnocchi tossed sketchily on top. The meat was moist despite the lack of fat, and the truffles added the subtle enigma of their pervasive perfume. The spinach sauce added a little bitter earthy flavor to the dish. The fries were not deep-fried but still had a little crunch in them and, as my daughter noted -- and I love when she makes her innocent observations -- it tasted just like at grandma's. Indeed, had the dish not been enhanced with the perfume of the "black diamond," it would've very much been like grandma's cooking. The rusticity of this dish seemed not to correspond to the exquisite and peculiar looking black-striped, pentagonal modern plate on which it was served.

Jean-Georges Menu -Broiled Squab, Onion Compote, Corn Pancake with Foie Gras.

A split and deboned squab with the skin broiled to a perfect golden crispness and the flesh cooked rare rested in a puddle of the thin, intense, sweet, onion compote (minus the onion solids) on the rectangular plate. The moist, dark meat had a rich and very succulent taste with an accent of the wild and was quite delicate in texture. The contrast and the perfection of the crispy skin with the tender meat were very pleasing. The dish was garnished with baby arugula salad drizzled with olive oil and lemon juice. The corn pancake with foie gras rested on the side of the plate, and a dusting of curry powder was generously applied over all elements of the dish.

When my gentle daughter presented me with the dilemma of explaining the origin of squab, I couldn't find a plausible euphemism for "30-day-old-baby-pigeon-before-it-learns-to-fly" to make the concept of killing a baby pigeon for food sound more appealing, nor did I think that my quite rational arguments, that historically, pigeons have played a significant role in the survival of our ancestors when they were living as hunters and gatherers, could have increased the level of her appreciation and had a desirable effect on her perceiving the dish at the level it deserved. My logical explanation was that a squab is, well,... a bird. I did well this time, and we all enjoyed this dish very much.

The seventh course (desserts):

The dessert menu was constructed of four options (Chocolate, Exotic, Citrus and Caramel), each of which represented an assortment of four tasting size desserts. We were entitled to three choices, but were presented with the fourth one as a compliment of the house, which was an extremely nice gesture from our captain. Since dessert provides an important completion to my dining, and I treat it with the same expectation and care as I would other courses, my heart was pounding in anticipation of the upcoming adventure. However, very sadly, my expectations weren't met. I won't go into details, but rather mention the desserts I enjoyed the most. We thought that the Exotic group of small desserts was the strongest among the four. I particularly enjoyed "Banana Beignets, Sesame Poppy Dulce de Leche" and "Coconut Riz au Lait, Passion Mint Sorbet." In the group of Chocolate desserts, the only one that attracted my attention was "Chocolate Caramel Mousse, Hazelnut Succès, Salted Peanuts." I didn't much care for the mousse, but the peanuts in the honey-based sauce poured on the plate at our table were wonderful.

A personalized birthday dessert (one of us was lucky to turn another page of his life that day) was too much for me to handle at the end, and I was able only to admire it from a distance. A tiny tray of little chocolates had the same fate, as did marshmallows brought to every table in a cart, where long strips were cut into small cubes by scissors right in front of you.

We had a glass of Brut Rosé Salmon-Billecart to start, a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape Les Cailloux, Andre Brunel, 1997 which our sommelier praised (noting that though 1997 wasn't a good year for Chateuneuf du Pape, this particular wine happened to be surprisingly good and he managed to get only eleven bottles), and finished with a glass of Mas Amiel, a sweet wine from Southwest France.

During our lengthy four-hour dinner, the restaurant's service was elegant and meticulous, worthy of the admiration of even the most discerning diner. After a slow start where we had to convince our captain that we were indeed interested in food and were not "tourists," we experienced the heights of what service can and should be. When compared to Daniel, at Jean-Georges the service was more engaged. My food-related questions were answered with extreme knowledge and willingness. I could admire a red flake in a Cod dish and have a captain, who would notice my interest, whispering in my ear that it was a flake of chili pepper the next minute. They managed to make themselves available right at the moment when you needed them despite the full house. Even if one preferred not to be noticed, I wonder whether it would've been possible. For instance, having a little trouble with the squab, at some point I gave up on my fork and, I thought, discreetly used my hands. As soon as I was done, I was the only one at our table facing a bowl of lemoned water and rose petals placed in front of me by a smiling waiter.

The water and wine glasses were always full. The utensils were placed with care and, if accidentally touched by the staff, were immediately replaced. We were helped in and out of the table. The dishes were covered to be kept warm for the duration of our absence, and if one of us happened to leave the table at the moment the next hot course was on its way, we were asked how the dish should be handled for the absentee. If one of us happened to spot the tablecloth, a fabric napkin was placed to cover the dirt. Based on one visit, I am not sure whether the quality of the service is consistent at Jean-Georges, but in our case, it was truly inspired.

Overall:

With regard to our dinner, we thought that the seasonal tasting was more interesting than the Jean-Georges tasting, and that the desserts, though beautifully presented, were the weakest part of the dinner.

With regard to the general concept:

I enjoyed analyzing and discussing each dish afterwards, admiring the cleverness and logical progression of some of the courses. I enjoyed analyzing the difference between Daniel's cuisine – where each element of a dish is independent and can be enjoyed either solo or in concert, and where one can observe how each accompaniment of the dish enhances the main element one at a time – and Jean-Georges' cuisine, where each dish is presented as an integrated whole with each element contributing a texture modification, innovative spicing, or temperature contrast, and where on top of everything one can get a world tour of Russia, India, China and Thailand in one dinner. However, aside from the fact that some of the dishes or dish elements were overdone, which indicates execution inconsistency, I was left either unmoved or neutral to some of the dishes or flavor combinations on a purely sensual level, as much as I enjoyed the concept behind them.

To express my final thoughts on Jean-Georges: In writing, the subtle combination of the traditional use of words plus an indefinable personal choice of them, the invention of new meanings, the giving of an old phrase a new twist, is what we call style. Jean-George certainly has a well-defined "language" and his own style in which he describes a compound blending of tradition with his own original contribution. However, Jean-Georges' style requires that a diner learn his "language" to avoid deconstructing his dishes into separate elements, for instance, and I wonder whether Jean-Georges needs more than one visit, for me, at least, to be able to fully enjoy its concepts and mastery.

[Verbena and Bar Demi (Closed)]

Rachel, my description of the décor was not only comparative, but also represented the opinion of other members of my family who had never visited Verbena. None of us found the restaurant décor appealing. I do find contemporary decor engaging as long as it is done with style and taste. That simply wasn’t the case with Verbena, and it became especially obvious upon attempting to view all components as a single composition. One might enjoy the lacquered cork finish of the tables in isolation, but in combination with other components of the restaurant, this element simply loses its appeal. A contemporary table of this sort would require chairs, not banquettes. The room should have a certain highlight either in color or furniture or perhaps some art work to offset the blunt colors. There were little details that crossed my mind at the time that escape me now, but this is what I meant when referring to the “uncertainty of a rather dry and blunt contemporary style.”

In my opinion, any successful entrepreneur should account for busy nights. The fact that the staff wasn’t able to handle the pressure is a negative point that the restaurant should take into consideration. In comparison, though I can’t recall whether I first visited Verbena on Friday night, the restaurant was as busy, and the overall service was not only excellent, but I received the whole tour of Chef Forley’s technique and philosophy with a detailed explanation by the waitress of each course and its matched wine. Even assuming that now I could’ve received more attentive service on some other day, the tasting menu has a completely different purpose which doesn’t require such involvement from the service staff because the whole philosophy of the restaurant has changed, and in my opinion not for the better. The ingredients were great, but anything that required a little more than a plain rendition of them, in our experience, suffered from one or another fault.

The fish soup came garnished exactly in accordance with the menu description. It was of good quality. What I found peculiar was the attempt to modify the taste of the broth by adding the parsley oil, which I thought transformed a perfectly nice flavor into something less favorable. There was nothing wrong with the soup, nor there was anything wrong with the parsley oil separately. I simply didn’t find the combination of the two pleasing.

[Verbena and Bar Demi (Closed)]

Originally, I didn't intend to post on Verbena. However, my meal, the day before Rachel and Jason visited the restaurant, so contrasted with the wonderful experience they described that I decided to invest the time in rendering my impressions. Here they are:

An outside view of a multitude of candles flickering with inspiration in the window of the restaurant created a sense of alluring sanctuary with its warm glow and invoked pleasant memories of my dinner several years ago, raising images of a tranquil and inviting atmosphere with a fireplace, subdued colors and fresh flowers. A tiny illusion of a corridor separated from the main room by a glass partition with imprinted herbs and flowers was pleasantly familiar, but as soon as we entered the main room, the familiar song playing in my head got disrupted. The restaurant was redecorated and looked quite different from what I remembered, expressing the uncertainty of a rather dry and blunt contemporary style. My offspring, not yet aware of how to “butter” the truth with evasive euphemism, in all her charming innocence made a loud assertion that it looked like a diner. I couldn’t agree with her more. The new décor has taken the turn from cozy to functional. The fireplace was eliminated providing perhaps a little more space but depriving the interior of its original charm. Bare tables exposing their lacquered cork finish, in contrast to being covered with beautiful linen tablecloths that used to set a romantic tone, were unappealing and cold. Pale walls, candle-shaped lights hanging on long cords and striped and flowery banquettes matching the brown tone of the carpet completed the décor.

Our reservation was for 9 p.m. At the time we arrived, the restaurant was full and the solid noise produced by the chatting crowd under the pressure of low ceilings was transformed into a high-energy value where even a calibrated noise measurement system and a noise algorithm would’ve failed to render a noise level analysis. With a bit of exaggeration, it was almost similar to standing by the shuttle engine at the time of its launch.

We were seated at a table with relative privacy and were approached by a waitress almost immediately. A Bloomberg water, a cup of a hot tea and bread were what we expected to see on our table at some point and time that could have been considered reasonable. Apparently our perception of “reasonable” sharply differed from that of the restaurant staff. To their credit, they apologized for the delay at the end of our dinner.

I had fond memories of having a tasting menu at Verbena several years ago. A smooth transition from one course to another, with a gradually increasing intensity of flavors where a process of gentle amalgamation of savory and sweet with the addition of herbal overtone, was daring, interesting, and quite satisfying, and I decided to repeat the experience by choosing a four-course tasting menu with wine pairing. However, it seemed that this time there was no concept behind the tasting. The dishes chosen didn’t represent a natural progression of flavors nor did they make a statement other than being separate entries where one’s dining experience was to be extended from three independent courses to four independent courses. There was also practically no dish that didn’t raise a question, but let me start from the beginning.

As a result of my inquiring whether it was possible to add one more tasting-size dish, Saffron Scented Fish Soup, to the tasting menu, the soup was sent to our table as a starter compliments of the house. The gesture was very nice and appreciated by all of us.

Saffron Scented Fish Soup – tomato, parsley oil, Parmesan cheese.

A bright orange smooth but thick broth, laced with several strokes of deep-green parsley oil and a long, thin, dark-red tomato slice floating atop and adding to the beautifully vibrant combination of colors, was served in a tiny white espresso-like cup. The soup had a base of robust tomato, barely touched by saffron, and when taken in isolation had a mild, pureed-fish scented flavor. However, the combination of the broth and the parsley oil produced a surprising and not very favorable effect, in my opinion, of a sharp fish-oil tang. The point was that I did understand and appreciate the concept. I was even amused by the result of the transformation, but I was simply not pleased with the effect, which shocked my palate rather than indulging it.

For the amuse I was served Hidalgo Manzanilla Sherry Cocktail.

First course:

Foie Gras Torchon – cranberry/cherry chutney, mache, toasted brioche.

A rich and dense foie gras torchon with a smooth and velvety texture was almost uniformly and perfectly pink all the way through and was served with mache salad lightly drizzled with oil and vinegar and set on the left side of the cylinder-shaped foie gras. A chutney of whole cranberries and cherries enriched with citrus flavor from small cubes of lemon rind was presented in a separate round dish and was a nice accompaniment of light sweetness and acidity to the foie gras when spread on a toasted brioche. Sadly, the dish was the only highlight of my dinner.

I drank Jacquesson, ‘Brut Perfection’ NV (Epernay).

Second course:

Steamed Wild Striped Bass - shiitake mushrooms, ginger, scallions,

Chinese black beans.

The striped bass, awash in a dark-brown, soy-enhanced broth with floating edamame, slices of cabbage and shiitake mushrooms, was served in a deep soup plate, almost buried under shoots of thinly sliced ginger, black beans, and scallions. The fish was moist and so tender that upon plunging my fork into the flesh, the impression produced was that of pillow softness. The ginger lent the otherwise slightly bland fish an enlivening sharpness and the combination of soft Chinese black beans and crunchy green soy beans was very nice. What ruined the dish for me was the sauce. Originally I thought that the sauce was meant to be soy-enhanced; however in my case, it was soy-based and almost cloyingly sweet. The amount of sauce in the dish suggested that it was served as a soup rather than a simple sauce accompaniment, but the "soup" was almost undrinkable when eaten separately. Therefore, upon finishing the fish, you were left with a bowl of undrinkable liquid. It was rather puzzling. The sauce was also so intrusive in flavor that it completely overshadowed the fish and all I wanted to do was to rescue the beautiful fish with its beans and ginger to a separate plate.

The paired wine was Chardonnay, Talley, 'Estate' 2000 (Arroyo Grande).

Third course:

Australian Lamb Duo – carrots, fennel, creamy polenta, rosemary-lemon jus.

A lonely, tiny lamb chop and a puff pastry cylinder stuffed with strips of braised (?) lamb on a bed of carrots and fennel with several seeds of green peppercorn and fennel and several pieces of roasted (?) garlic were almost lost on a big serving plate. A creamy polenta was served in a separate dish, and seemed to exceed the size of its main counterpart by a factor of two. It just didn’t make any sense. Why not combine the side dish with the main one at least for presentation purposes and why make the side portion so large? The polenta was smooth and very gentle in texture and flavor and almost reminded me of a fluffy mashed potato, but it was still a side dish. Was the purpose to accentuate polenta as a possible main dish rather than an accompaniment to it? The lamb chop was overdone though tasty, and this tiny fellow might have been satisfying had he had some company on the plate.

The wine paired was Kilikanoon ‘Siblings’ Grenache-Shiraz 2001.

My consort ordered Roasted New Zealand Venison with celery root, mustard greens, sweet shallots, dried cherries and port glaze from the regular menu. The medallions of venison, served in a large, oval plate, were cooked medium rare on the rare side, topped with an abundance of celery root and were generously saturated with the port glaze. I can’t recall the side dish. The dish would’ve been fine had the glaze not been so disturbingly sweet. It wasn’t that sweetness that one would expect to pleasantly offset the gaminess of the meat, but rather a sharp bittersweet taste that seemed literally to overpower the flavor of venison. When I saw my consort carefully shaking the sauce off each medallion then using just a tiny bit of black pepper and the polenta served with my lamb, I realized that the venison dish needed some improvement.

Fourth course - Dessert:

Crème Brulée, Tea Cake, Sorbet.

Verbena infused crème brulée was served in a small glass with caramel tuiles on top. Three madeleines sprinkled with confectioner‘s sugar were lying on the side of the plate, and the sorbet with verbena flavor was served on a different plate. This dessert brought back the memories of my previous dinner of several years ago. The crème brulée had a smooth and delicate texture and the herbal flavor emphasized the lightness of the custard. The tuiles, on the other hand, were hard and too thick to play well with the light and airy crème brulée. The madeleines were saturated with oil, which I didn’t find pleasant as well. The sorbet was wonderful. Overall, I did enjoy this dessert.

The restaurant staff was nice enough to provide us with a copy of their current menu, but if I were to describe the service during our stay in several words, I’d say that it was quite uninspired. I had such wonderful memories of my previous visit to Verbena that I really wanted to like this place. I left with sadness in my heart as I realized that I probably won’t revisit Verbena for a while.

[Daniel]

"The meal was pretentious -- a kind of beetroot soup with greasy croutons; pork underdone with loud vulgar cabbage, potato croquettes, tinned peas in tiny jam-tart cases, watery gooseberry sauce; trifle made with a resinous wine, so jammy that all my teeth lit up at once." - Anthony Burgess

Nothing in the meal served at Daniel was pretentious; however what was evident was its aesthetic and emotional impact on the diner: Starting with the subject-matter of each course clearly conveying the innermost mind of the chef and his intentions through applying different element combinations, followed by this excellent draftsmanship involving not only dishes’ preparation but a geometrical precision of the architectural composition on each plate to involve all senses including visual perception in the utmost attempt to appeal to the diner’s feelings and emotions. (Now, that sentence was pretentious ) If criticism and appreciation must be based on knowledge and experience, what Daniel was able to achieve, in my opinion, was to affect a diner on a very primary level of his instinctive feelings and emotions.

There was no sign of mannerism expressed in the engineering of dishes where pure analysis replaces individuality and creativity. All efforts were synthesized into a whole to produce works of “art.” If the accompaniment of a dish was a foamed sauce, it was not to pursue the artificial visual effect, but to add the air and lightness only to stress the main element of the dish not to overshadow it. Every dish had such a logical progression to it.

If you consider presentational effects involving in the dish preparation excessive, unnecessary and pretentious, then why not just disregard geometrical precision of works of Piero della Francesca, Stubbs, or Mondrian. Or how about those vigorous brushwork by Tintorett or Goya marvelously allied to the illusion of three-dimensional form? When a form is only a means to deliver the context, then it surpasses the level of mere pretension and mannerism. What it does; however, it adds another level of complexity to first engage one’s intellectual perception of the dish where long before the nose gets to sample the unexpected exotic smells and for each spice typical aroma, the eye takes an inventory.

Regarding pretentious service in Daniel, though I do feel comfortable in a formal environment, there was nothing pretentious in the gracious attempt to make each diner feel special and comfortable according to the widely accepted norms of etiquette and manners.

[Daniel]

Gee, did I really give her e-mail address in public?

Bux, I’ll be happy to erase this information from my post if you are concerned, uncomfortable or consider it inappropriate.

For the record, the complete current menu, though not the tasting menus, is available on their web site.

[Daniel]

Lxt

What a wonderful piece of writing.  I have a feeling that my anniversary dinner will result in a significant haul of 'brownie points'!!  In all seriousness I feel as if I've already been - I just can't wait to do it for real.

One questions if I may - how did you get copies of the tasting menus?  They're not available on the otherwise excellent web site and my requests via email have been met thus far only with silence?

Your help would be appreciated.

Regards

Dean

Dean, in the context of a discussion of slow response from Daniel's general email address, Bux suggested contacting Daniel Boulud's personal assistant at htolman@danielnyc.com. I now seem unable to locate this thread to point you directly to the original. After sending our request, we received a very welcoming response with all the information and more within several minutes.

If you fail to hear from them, PM me and I’ll forward you the copy of the word documents with their current 5-course and regular menus. Also please be aware that they tend to slightly change their tasting menus every now and then.

Daniel is a great place for special occasions and I hope it’ll be as memorable for you as it was for us. And if anything goes wrong, just mention Bux.

scamhi and herbicidal, thanks.

[Daniel]

Jinmyo- Thank you very much. I indeed enjoyed writing this report, but I must assure you that I enjoyed eating what is described in this report to a much greater extent.

Snowangel – thank you and I hope you’ll have nice dreams.

Bux – No, you weren’t there, but I took the liberty of mentioning your name while having a conversation with Pascal, our captan, and he did seem to recognize you right away. And you are correct, I have been careless in listing wines and have already corrected my error.

mike - thank you.

[Daniel]

Thank you LXT for that wonderfully detailed report, including the atmoshperics.  (Fading ladies and hanging flesh--worthy of a scene in a Visconti movie).  Aside from the venison, did your consort enjoy the meal as much as you did?  One criteria I use to rank cookery is whether a chef peforms alchemy--creating a taste and experience that transcends and transforms the ingredients.  David Bouley, at his early peak, did that.  Jean Troigros as well.  I suspect Robuchon, too, but alas I have not had the pleasure.  Your description of the skate implies this transformation.

Jaybee-the “fading ladies” were just for you. I had no doubts that this element of the story would move you the most.

My consort was not prepared for the “gala concert” and the whole experience not only had an element of surprise for him, but literally knocked him off his feet. He was overwhelmed, surprised, and extremely grateful, exclaiming that the bread was so good that it was all he really needed to be satisfied with the evening in the beginning of our dinner, and “I’d really like to live here” at the end. There was no sign of remorse or hesitation in paying our check. For us, every penny we paid was worth that and more for how much pleasure it provided us.

You are right. The skate was meant to be transformed. The value of the chef’s work depends first on the quality of his intention, and secondly on the success of the technical realization of that intention. Though I can clearly see an interesting concept behind the skate dish, I can’t tell you that I was able to fully accept a combination of a strong beef flavor with the skate texture, on my subjective level, of course. Perhaps psychologically, I’d expect a more robust flesh with such a strong sauce. However, it was very interesting.