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Had a really nice meal there last week, and took lots of photos. Both the photos, and my thoughts, are available here.

Thanks! I will definitely stop by. Judging from your photos, these look very tasty. Already on my calendar! These new flavors look fantastic, particularly fig and foie gras! But I am a bit hesitant to think that they will make the ganache center hard, dense, and thick like all the others I've sampled; although, this could work for more savory flavors. Nevertheless, I will be there to try! Thanks for the reminder!

I stopped by Pierre Hermé last week, and was very surprised by the excessive amount of ganache used for the macarons. As a big fan of macarons, I was disappointed. But, the individual cakes, particularly the Ispahan, were delicious. My complete report with photos is available here.

Man I've been having a tough time getting a reservation there ... I literally said next available time, any day, and time and they told me the next available reservation was not until next year! I think I'm gonna take a trip over to the restaurant in person, with my fingers crossed.

Thank you very much! Oh god, the rose-litchi macarons. Heavenly, indeed. The ganache question is really interesting; because a lot of it, to be honest, depends on quantity. Sometimes, I might prefer one or two ganache-heavy macarons to ten or twenty of the lighter ones. I guess it depends on whether or not you view macarons as icing-rich little cakes (in which case one or two is more than enough) or airy cookies (in which case, 40-50 a handful is a nice portion). I'm taking a trip to ladurée this afternoon ... that should be a lot of fun!

Les Ambassadeurs 10 Place de la Concorde Photos available here. Since 2004, Les Ambassadeurs has been the home Chef Piège, the former chef from Alain Ducasse who grew up in the farming hillsides of southeastern france, which perhaps explains his strong devotion fresh ingredients. Located inside the Hôtel de Crillon, however, this is no afternoon farm picnic. The dining room, in fact, might exemplify all of what I dislike about the atmosphere of haute french restaurants: baroque and stuffy. But despite what I believed to be a relatively uncomfortable dining space the food, in all honesty, was brilliant. While Versailles might symbolize the pinnacle of Louis XIV’s reign over France as a display of opulence, setting up a table in the middle of its hall of mirrors would probably be a bit uncomfortable. That’s how I felt dining here, as this room was laid, floor to ceiling, with marble accentuated by gold leaf molding. There were countless mirrors, each of which making the already large room feel even larger. There was no carpet, or really anything else that might have warmed this room’s coldness. Everything felt hard and cold, especially with the echos that spilled in from the adjacent hotel lobby. It was like eating in a grandiose hallway. Beautiful, indeed; just not for a restaurant. Perhaps this room was better suited for purgatory a hotel lobby or large public space as it lacks intimacy. Things started off sky high with a remarkable amuse bouche titled sur l’idée d’un plateau télé, platter of five small appetizers on a tray resembling a TV dinner. The serving of this course started with my waiter wheeling over a cart of an iced canister and small cups, the waiter then proceeding to spray carbonated carrot purée and lemonade into a small glass. The rest of these treats were placed on a tray which seemed perfectly designed for this purpose. The other amuses included Gâteau de foie blond selon Lucien Tendret version 2007, a beautifully layered glass of foie gras royale, émulsion de foie gras, and jus d’écrevisses (crayfish). This was the best part of the amuse selection. The warm creamy foie gras royale crowned by the cooler foie gras foam, a textural and temperature mix that indisputably awakened my taste buds. Some of the other items included a cromequis d’une pizza, a small pizza-flavored croquette which did indeed taste like pizza, the liquid contents spilling in my mouth with a single bite. There was also a variation croustillante d’un jambon et fromage, a sweet pastry cylinder filled with a ham and cheese crème. Very delicious, particularly the crêpe-like sweetness of the shell and the saltiness of the ham. Last was a wrapped bon bon of beurre de truffe noire à tartiner, a black truffle butter designed to be spread on the three loaves of bread placed besides me. Not like I accidentally ate this in one bite forgetting that it was butter for the bread; but, the wrapper could, potentially, be a bit deceiving. The momentum continued with the next course, langoustines and caviar: croustillantes, sushi, bouillon, and with golden Iranian caviar. Some say this is Chef Piège’s signature dish. The diversity of this plate was incredibly well-thought out, each preparation equally impressive. The langoustine croustillante was a large langoustine tail encrusted in a langoustine-flavored dough, much like ultra-thin strips of tempura. These crispy strips were ultra thin, allowing for the juicy crustacean to retain its moisture rather than absorb it. They were also slightly salted, further bringing out the natural shellfish flavor. Despite being deep fried there was, remarkably, very little oil and this was by no means greasy, a parallel to some of Japan’s finest tempura houses. It should be noted that the juiciness of this mollusk, perfectly hovering on the cooked-raw boundary, nearly gave me a shiver. Incredible. The bouillon had a very concentrated langoustine flavor. And while this was a thin soup, the small portioning and dollop of caviar and crème in the center kept it interesting. This was the lesser of the four variations of shellfish; but it was still very good. The third preparation was the sushi, raw langoustines wrapped with thin slices of cucumber and topped with caviar. A very simple preparation, the naturalness of which suggests chef Piège’s modesty as a chef, unafraid to let high quality ingredients stand out on their own. The freshness of the cucumber really contrasted nicely against the other preparations. Very fresh. Last, but certainly not least, was the bowl of caviar with a pleasantly salty finish. The first main course was the turbot two considerable portions of fish wrapped in a galette de Bretagne, a cookie-like pastry with a slight sweetness. This galette drew in moisture from the fish, making it slightly soft but by no means soggy — this cookie stayed crisp! In many ways, the galette was as a second-skin for the skinned fish, one that was slightly sweeter and more attractive than the original. It even had wafer-scales. Surrounding these turbot pillars was a coquillage of giant clam and green herbs, the more salty oceanic component to this already texturally diverse dish. It should be noted that the parsley leaves garnishing this dish are by no means raw and have been candied in sugar, maintaining their green crispy appearance from a quick blanching. The fish itself was succulent, and the mélange items surrounding this plate prevented this generous portions of fish from becoming monotonous. While this meal was progressing really nicely, this next course is what really stole the show and remains such a memorable preparation of sweetbreads. These ris de veau were prepared three ways, lait blanc, brun, and spaghetti carbonara. Michael Mina would have been proud. The first thing that struck me was the variety of colors and preparation for this single ingredient. What a beautiful plate: a heavenly spectrum of sweetbreads, the sauces melding together into a colorful gradient of flavor. There was also a gradient of textures, with the most crispy croustillante on the left, the semi-crispy carbonara with a crouistillante topping, all the way to the soft and rich white milk. The croustillante preparation was perhaps the lesser of the three, a creamy oblong encrusted in bits of dough rife with clarified butter. The textural contrast was fantastic. To the right was the sweetbread pâte wrapped in spaghetti, a tribute to the more classical yolk-based carbonara, although Aaron was quick to point out that this sauce was startlingly white for one based on egg yolk. The line of ham flavored brittle sitting atop deftly kept this dish texturally interesting and diverse. And last, but certainly not least, was the white milk. Oh god. This rendition was spectacular; but certainly not for those trying to save a few calories. The velvety milk accentuated the buttery sweetbread, adding a slight hint of sweetness which was countered by the little circular bacon-flavored crisps sitting on top. Wow. Following dessert came the cheese course, two large carts of cheese wheeled over by three people. Each cheese had an individual glass dome covering it which was certainly pretty; still, this did prevent any aromas from the fine cheeses from surfacing. I was still pretty hungry getting kind of full from all the food, particularly the heaviness of the sweetbreads. I selected five cheeses; livarot, Fourme D’Ambert, St. Marcelin, Abbaye de Citeaux, and Comté. I enjoyed the light caramelization of the 4-year-old aged comté very much, though it was not quite so intense as in Guy Savoy. Though, my host mother was quick to inform me that the correct pronunciation of comté leaves the “m” silent. The apex, however, was in fact the Fourme D’Ambert, an incredibly creamy blue cheese that’s relatively light on the tongue. I generally like strong blues, particularly Bleu D’Auvergne and Bayley Hazen; but this was really fantastic. After finishing my cheese, I was handed a light popsicle of chocolate and almond coated almond sorbet, which cut through much of the cheese flavor left behind in my mouth from the previous course. Nothing particularly interesting; but I did feel surprisingly fresh afterwards. Next up at Per Se The French Laundry was a selection of mignardises which, starting from the bottom up, included a biscuit moelleux sangria et noisette, a selection of quite a few macarons pomme Granny, as well as miniature pastries described as paille d’or framboise. Even though I sent it back empty, this silver mignardise container was startlingly heavy. It’s always a good sign in my book when I have to handle macarons carefully, which was the case with these granny smith apple treats. The top and bottom meringue layers began to slide around each time I lifted one, a sign of their freshness. The tart apple flavor with slightly grainy texture was surprisingly nice, too. I didn’t much like sangria and hazelnut cookies, that flavor combination seemed a little off to me. As for the gold and rasberry pastries, very tasty; though, I would have liked to see a little more of a rasberry center so the flavor wasn’t so overwhelmed by the dry pastry. I was also given a box of 35 dark chocolate truffles. It wasn’t clear whether or not I was able to take this home with me, so I finished all of them right then and there tasted a few and moved on to some of the other goodies. I will say that I was very curious to find out if all of these were the same and, as it turns out, they were. Surely an excessive amount of chocolate. The next course, still before dessert officially arrived, was particularly interesting. A cup of miniature “baguettes,” with liquid chocolate and popping sugar. The waiter recommended that I dip the bread stick into the chocolate, and then coat with the bursting sugar. Definitely an interesting sensation in my mouth, tiny explosions with each bite; but the flavor of the chocolate was slightly disappointing and I ended up having my cracking sugar fun with just a spoon. Alas, the dessert. And a beautiful dessert it was: a cylindrically-shaped verbina leaf sorbet with strawberry center surrounded by a meringue cage. A generous scoop of frais des bois was added at the table. The cage was decorated with gold leaf flakes which, visually, contrasted beautifully against the bright white cage and luscious red strawberries. The fresh lemon flavor from the verbina leaf sorbet added a nice hint of citrus with each bite of sweet meringue and wild strawberries. After my dessert, in Japanese style, I was brought a hot towel to cleanse my hands before the tea cart rolled over. I’ve never seen this done in a French restaurant before; but I’m a firm believer that every restaurant should adopt this: a warm towel before and after each meal. This cart contained a variety of fresh herbs, my decision boiling down between mint and verbina, where I ultimately chose the verbina. The waiter cut the leaves in front of me and placed them into the pot to steep. About 5 minutes later, he poured a bit into my glass, as if I was tasting a fine wine, and asked me if it was “ready.” I opted for a few more minutes, I like my tea strong. This was a light and soothing way to end a substantial meal. This was a marvelous meal. Chef Piège’s creativity and culinary craftsmanship really came through in every course. Despite the somewhat awkward dining room, it is indeed beautiful and truth be told, my attention was so focused at what was on my plate that I didn’t pay much to my surroundings. For all visitors to Paris, I would definitely recommend taking a visit to Les Ambassadeurs. I left that night with an enormous smile on my face.

Pierre Hermé 72, rue Bonaparte Photos available here. Macarons are my favorite cookies. There's something very special and unique about the versatility of these texturally perfect special treats: light enough for a snack, fancy enough for a gift, yet tasty enough for anytime of the day. Is there any meal that wouldn't pair perfectly with a macaron? I certainly can't think of one. They even come savory, as seen with the foie gras macarons at Eleven Madison. You can only imagine my excitement to find out that Pierre Hermé would be along my walk to school, and also, ironically, on the way back from the gym. But so far, in the two weeks that I've been here, I'd always woken up a little too late and had to walk quickly to classes without time to stop by. And by the time classes end, Pierre Hermé was always closed. My nutritionist friend would be proud; that is, until this past Sunday, when I made it the day's goal to stop by while it was open, and finally taste the wondrous goodies Pierre Hermé had to offer. I stopped by just after breakfast, only to see a long line of hungry people standing outside. I tried to convince myself that this line wasn't for Pierre Hermé; but that thought was quickly interrupted by the defensive voice of a macaron-hungry french woman telling me, "the end of line is back there, sir." What did she think, that I was going to cut? God ... who would so such a thing. Though people have been known to do crazy things while under the influence, of macarons. My stomach and I waited about twenty minutes before being admitted to this reputed macaron heaven. Upon entrance, I glanced at the extensive selection. This was going to be difficult. Carefully, I decided to get one of everything try a few things here and there that looked appealing. Since the weather was nice, and since there were no tables inside, my friend and I headed to the Luxembourg garden with our four boxes and three bags of reasonable amount of pastries to eat à l'extérieur. We found a nice bench in the sun, and decided to start with the macarons, clearly, a beautiful assortment of pastel-colored treats. The first victim was the Truffe Blanche & Noisette, a glittering tiny cookie of white truffle and hazelnut. The surface literally shimmered in the sunlight, the sparkling film transferring to my fingers which soon became iridescent as well. There was quite a bit of crème in this cookie. Nearly a third of the cookie, perhaps more, consisted of this crème layer. This made the cookie somewhat dense and, as a result, a bit heavy. The first bite was indeed pleasant, the savory taste of truffle followed by a cool and sweet vanilla crème finish. But, while the flavor was enjoyable for the first bite, the excessive amount of crème became cloying. As for the beautifully colored Rose macaron, it should be noted that I generally dislike Rose-flavored macarons. In fact, I cannot recall anything rose that I would willingly order a second time. This macaron was the exception. It was exquisite; essentially a light crème flavored macaron with a slight hint of rose petal. Its scent, paradoxically, was nothing of rose; but the flavor was there! It tasted as I expected it to smell, and it smelled as I would have expected it to taste not knowing that it was rose, that is. Frankly, this was the first rose macaron I've tasted that was not reminiscent of soap, a memorable feat in my book. This was the highlight of the Pierre Hermé macarons, for me. And, unfortunately with the other macarons, it was sort of downhill from here. Next up was Infiniment Vanille, or infinite vanilla. It should be said that vanilla and pistachio are my two staple flavors for comparison, so I certainly looked forward to this. Sadly, it did not taste much like vanilla. I waited for the strength of the vanilla beans to kick in; but eventually, I gave up waiting. It was really bland, and I was disheartened. Additionally, and most upsettingly, the texture of this was awful. Despite having waited for the macarons to adjust to the proper temperature, the crème layer had a texture of refrigerated butter. No good; way too dense. The fourth macaron was the Mogador, Fruit de la Passion & Chocolat au Lait, a melange of milk chocolate and passion fruit. The texture of the crème was heavy, very similar to cake batter -- way too pasty! That being said, the flavor was a balanced mix of chocolate and fruit, with the first taste being of bittersweet chocolate, and the second being the sweetness of passion fruit on the finish. This was not at all excessively sweet and, as said in the three little bears, it was just right. The cocoa powder dusted shell, while pretty, certainly did make a mess! But I can certainly sacrifice a clean shirt for some macarons anytime. Next came my second staple flavor, and generally my favorite, pistachio. This macaron would be a little different, however, as the ganache was of white chocolate rather than pistachio. Perhaps that's what made this excessively sweet. The taste of pistachio was somewhat muted as this tasted a bit more like vanilla than pistachio. The green color of the inside was also very bright, which felt overly artificial. There was slightly less ganache in this macaron, which made it more texturally appealing; but the flavor was just too sweet. I first thought I had accidentally purchased double pistachio macarons; but after the first bite, I was very quickly reminded that there was indeed another green flavor: olive. This macaron, titled Huile d'Olive & Vanille, was surprisingly tasty at first. Mainly because it tasted like essence of olive rather than actually tasting like an olive. But, this quickly changed when there was a solid piece of green olive in my cookie. What the? This flavor completely assulted any sweetness of the cookie, the acidity of which cut through any form of pleasantness this cookie had to offer. There was also a bit of a metalic aftertaste that irritated me. Eesh. The final three macarons were up, and I began this countdown with chocolate. So thick! I couldn't help but think of a marshmallow-less s'more, a bar of chocolate placed between two cookies. Why was this chocolate so thick? Where was the crème? Where was the love?! This did indeed taste like chocolate; but it didn't taste so much like macaron. Too much chocolate! Oh god, chestnuts. I do indeed have a strong attraction to chestnuts. The next macaron was of chestnut and matcha green tea. I was disappointed that they did not have just chestnut; but I kept an open-mind and embraced the new flavor. But the texture was awful. The pastiness of the matcha green tea weighed down the entire cookie, the texture of which was very similar to marzipan; only a vibrant green. Too heavy for a macaron, I think. The green tea flavor also removed the distinct whisper of autumn that chestnuts give. I couldn't consider the green tea anything more than a distraction. The macaron degustacion finished on a higher note, with a Pléntitude Chocolat & Caramel, a dual-colored macaron with a chocolate top and caramel bottom. My friend commented that this had a slightly burnt taste, which I appreciated very much, as the combination of this flavor with the fleur de sel really grounded this cookie and prevented it from falling off the cliff of too sweet. Caramel on the edge of burnt, with fleur de sel, is a brilliant combination. The texture was still a little too dense for me, with a significantly thick layer of crème; but the flavor was wonderful. Finishing up with the macarons, we moved on to the cannelé. My favorite cannelés are at Petrossian Bakery in New York. I do have a small theory that tap water drastically effects the flavor of cannelé, which could possibly explain why New York's Petrossian bakery has the most delicious cannelé; but, texture is also crucially important and somehow, Petrossian always gets that right. For me, the magical part of cannelé is the first bite through the outside layer, which if made properly, is chewy and tight at the same time. A cannelé should never be dry, and the inside should be so rife with moisture, like a fresh bread pudding. This cannelé was very dry, likely a factor of my arrival at the store in the early afternoon. The shell was crispy and began to flake. I almost wanted to take a spoon and scoop out the inside, which was indeed tasty. Next up was the plain butter croissant. The artisanship of this pastry was very clear: a thousand fine layers blanketed together with butter in the shape of a crescent. Maybe I arrived too late because this was parched! Granted, there was a shatter effect; but I had to forcibly break this thing apart, with both hands! Pulling or tearing would not suffice. Ouch. The almond croissant was a bit more interesting: perhaps the icing acted as an insulator locking in the moisture. But while the texture was a bit fresher, the distribution of almonds was a thin tube throughout the croissant, making each bite very uneven. Aside from that, the icing was wildly sweet, evocative of cake frosting. While definitely more enjoyable than the butter croissant, this was too sweet for me. And now for what I believe to be the golden jewels of Pierre Hermé, the tartes. At least all of the three that I sampled were magnificent. Oh god. The first off was titled Désiré, what I believe to be a round pistachio-crusted lemon crème, layered with wild strawberry and banana compotes, supported with a lemon-accented biscuit, and garnished with whole wild strawberries. At first glance, this looked like it would be dense; but then, I lifted it up. Extremely light! The ground pistachio let me poke the outside without the crème sticking to my fingers, the resilience of which was much like prodding an ultra-soft marshmallow. Oops, I poked too hard ... looks like I get the first taste; oh well. What a pleasant balance of textures! This dish was carefully thought out. This dish was by no means monotonous. Each soft bite was sprinkled with the crunch from the pistachios and finished with the lemon biscuit at the bottom. There was no one particular flavor that dominated, the banana, lemon, and strawberry joining together. The bites with wild strawberry were particularly fresh, a reminder that sometimes nature supplies quite wonderful ingredients that don't need modification. Mmm. The Victoria was next, an almond dacquoise crowned with a pile of fresh pineapple, mint leaves, lime zest, and coconut atop a coconut crème. My first bite of this was a reminder of summer, a cool refreshing splash of succulent pineapple and mint, with the comfort of coconut crème. Essentially, this was the piña colada of tartes, with a very balanced flavor profile: those black specks are not vanilla beans. It's black pepper. It sounds startling, I know; but don't hate. Those specks added a hint of spice that made this impressively more complex. It should also be noted that there was not a single dry part on this entire tarte -- every single corner was teeming with moisture. Another hit, in my book! But, save the best for last. Isaphan - biscuit macaron à la rose, crème aux pétales de rose, framboises entières, avec letchis. This rose macaron was filled with rose petal crème, whole raspberries, and lychees! What an engaging combination: rose and lychee. But before we get to flavor, this presentation was visually gorgeous, especially the sugar "dew" that beaded on the rose petal sitting atop. Beautiful. The raspberries were flawless as well, and aligned perectly with the hollow-side down. It became clear very early on the level of care and intricacy that went into this. The flavor was also stunning -- a gentle rose crème which tasted like vanilla but smelled mildly like rose, accented by the crisp lychee and raspberry, with the ultra-fresh meringue from the macaron. Something about eating this just felt delicate and elegant, as if magnificence were edible. Amazing. This pastry tasting ended on a relatively good note with the Kugelhopf, although candidly, it's very quickly put in its place by the one I had at Alain Ducasse. I thought this was excessively sweet, which can be seen by the excessive amount of sugar. In addition, this Kugelhopf had quite a few raisins, which only amplified the sweetness. It was a little dry by the time it met its maker, with the crust soaking up the internal moisture with each bite. So, what did I think of Pierre Hermé. Did they have the best macarons I've ever tasted? Will I never be able to eat macarons from anywhere else again? Is it worth flying to Paris just to taste these treats? Do French people just do everything better? I would say no to all four of these (with an emphasized no on the fourth one). I found all the macarons (every one) to have way too much ganache: this is the Pierre Hermé trademark. Some people like it; for me, it's cloying and makes these delicate cookies too dense. Some of the flavors were very original, particularly the white truffle and hazelnut -- I almost want to dissect it and remove half of the crème, that would fix a lot of the problem. As of right now, the best macarons still lie at L'Atelier, New York; although my pâtisserie list is indeed large and that is bound to change. I would, however, say that Pierre Hermé was much stronger with its tarte selection, particularly with the Ispahan. Were I to return only able to purchase one thing, the Ispahan would definitely be it.

wow, it's alarming difficult to get a reservation at L'Ambroisie. the next available date for 2 people, giving no restrictions whatsoever (anytime, anyday) is mid-december!

bonjour mademoiselle -- the continental breakfast runs around 30 euros, including service and tax, which is what i would recommend.

Thanks Braden for such a fun time. I really liked #13 ... there was this very distinct "fresh cream" taste that I thought was special. Tat, and the fact that the texture was very light airy, made this my favorite of the bunch.

Guy Savoy 18, Rue Troyon Photos available here. After taking a look at Guy Savoy’s autumn menu, full chestnuts, squash, and truffles, I knew I had to take a little trip over to the 17th for some seasonal indulgence. The restaurant is situated at the dead end of Rue Troyon, an arm’s reach away from the Arc de Triomphe. For those who are daring enough to drive there’s even valet parking, or at least a uniformed guy who looks like like he’d park your car and actually return it. Despite arriving nearly forty-five minutes early, I was promptly seated without hesitation to begin a five hour meal that would ultimately leave me disenchanted. The restaurant itself is divided into several small rooms, making the atmosphere a bit quieter and comfortable. Due to the size of the rooms, there were no middle tables: everyone had a wall. The decor was modern, with multicolored glasses, plates, and miniature butter cups making each table a bit more fun. The ceiling of the room in which I ate had a faux skylight, illuminated by a blue-tinted fluorescent light mimicking end-of-the-day sunlight. The ambience was a bit more light and jovial than I would have expected from a Michelin three star restaurant, which was refreshing. I started with a glass of champagne and began to slowly peruse the menu. Glancing through the menu, there were several dishes that caught my eye; particularly, tout châtaigne, an all chestnut soup and turbot et champignons à la mode d’automne, turbot and seasonal autumn mushrooms. I knew I had to try soup d’artichaut à la truffe noire, perhaps Chef Savoy’s most famous dish, despite the off-seasonality. Decisions, decisions. There was a tasting menu, “Le Menu Prestige,” but there were several dishes that I would have wanted to substitute (veau cuit lentement en bouillon, quelques racines en compote et champignons de bois, slowly cooked veal with a vegetable root compote and wild mushrooms, and poêlé de moules et mousserons, jus “terre et mer,” a poêlé of mussels and foam with a “land and sea” sauce to name two). But then, my hands accidentally flipped over the page where I saw a very special menu, “Couleurs, Textures et Saveurs,” an 11-course extended tasting that featured every dish I wanted to try, without any substitutions necessary. Done! The restaurant had quite an extensive selection of bread, over 15 types, in fact. Country, whole wheat, olive, raisin, almond, sourdough, chestnut, and rye, to name a few. The breads, most impressively, came in such interesting shapes and sizes. One of which was a gigantic ring with stegasaurus-like spikes. I really wanted to try that one; but it didn’t seem to be available for cutting. The first amuse bouche was truffled foie gras pâte and “toast” served on a skewer. The toast had indeed been toasted; but it was at room temperature by the time of service, making it more like a croûton. This hard texture was unappealing. But the nuttiness of the foie gras and the fragrant truffle oil certainly did jump start my senses. The second amuse was served rather creatively, a duo of chanterelle soup with a baby potato filled with minced chanterelle and topped with a small caramelized onion. The soup came in an espresso-sized cup conneced to an upside-down cup that covered the potato. I really enjoyed the mushroom soup, particularly the warm hearty consistency, which was surprisingly dense with flavor. The boiled potato, on the other hand, was bland. A little salt could have gone a long way. The first course of this tasting was L’Huître en nage glacée transparente, a single suspended oyster in a transparent gelée. The presentation for this dish was very original, a cold clear glass bowl sitting on top a bed of seaweed, invoking images of the sea even before the tasting began. Sitting on top of the oyster was a small piece of sea urchin, the shape of which was flattened due to the weight of the gelée. I was told to eat this in one bite so as to let all the flavors mix at once. This did indeed taste like the ocean, the cool gelatinatious texture of the gelée and sea urchin blending with the smooth surface of the oyster. What a nice way to begin a tasting menu. I’d never tried raddish leaf before, a part of the raddish that is often discarded; but in the next course, turbot et champignons à la mode d’automme, turbot and autumnal mushrooms, the leaf added a really fresh and crisp contrast to the cozy olive oil mashed potatoes. This dish consisted of filet of turbot sitting atop a bed of olive oil pommes purées, surrounded by small wild mushrooms, rolled white radish, and white radish leaves. I really liked the firm texture of the turbot, which magically held its shape after each bite, when combined with the soft potatoes and crispy radish leaves. My biggest problem with this dish was the rolled white radish, which was surprisingly wet. The water from the radish began to pool around the perimeter of the olive oil potatoes, creating a stark temperature contrast that seemed a bit sloppy. That being said, it was amazing to me how much flavor could be locked into these radish leaves. The spiciness of the leaves added a bit of dimension to the turbot, both in terms of flavor, temperature, and texture. Overall, this dish was very nicely balanced. It’s pretty hard to accurately depict how excited I was for the next course: tout châtaigne, or entirely of chestnut. For me, no food more powerfully incites images of the fall than chestnuts, except perhaps pumpkin and white truffle. I look forward to chestnuts every summer, and a big smile came across my face when I saw them on the menu. Unfortunately, I was really disappointed. This next course was three large chestnuts, a chestnut crème, and wild mushrooms. The dish was sauced table-side with a chestnut soup and foamed milk. The chestnut broth was incredibly thin, having the consistency of low-fat milk. This thin texture did not adequately support the firm starchiness of the chestnuts. In addition, the soup had an indiscernible chestnut flavor, and was much more reminiscent of milk than chestnuts. The chestnut crème in the center had a similarly dull flavor. This dish had so much potential. The most beautiful course of the night came next, Colors of Caviar, 4-layers of colorful crèmes and foams stacked inside a transparent glass cup. From top to bottom, a truffle sabayon, green bean gelée, fromage blanc custard, and chestnut mouse. There was a lot going on here. I was instructed to eat all four layers at a time with my mother of pearl spoon. I enjoyed every layer in this dish except the fromage blanc, the acidity of which assaulted every other layer, particularly the truffle sabayon. The airiness of the sabayon only emphasized the truffle’s fragrance; it was a very intelligent decision to make that the top layer. Each layer utilized the caviar for salting which ensured that it’s flavor was not muted. Aside from the clashing of the fromage blanc, this was a pretty interesting course. Next came the highlight of the tasting, homard bleu juste grillé racines oranges, blue lobster grilled for an instant with orange root vegetables. Let me start by saying lobster jus and puréed carrots is a wonderful combination, especially during the fall. The carrots were so finely puréed that they seemed to float on the plate, the flavor of which at times pointed in the direction of butternut squash. I do think this dish was a bit under-sauced, especially on the lobster tail, which seemed to dry out from the lack of sauce. But the lobster was timed just on the verge of undercooked, something I really appreciated. There was a random radish leaf standing upright in the carrot purée, which frankly had no purpose in this dish other than for variety of color; but the flavors of this dish were so rich, I just pushed it to the side and my eyes quickly tuned it out. Following the highlight of the meal was also the low point, foie gras de canard rôti et nage de chou rouge avec choux frisés au raifort et moutardes, roasted foie gras in a broth of red beet. The foie gras was cooked for quite a bit of time, making the texture a little firmer than I would have liked and preventing me from tasting the creaminess of the liver that, for me, is one of its strengths. The flavor of the beet broth was too intense, making it difficult to taste anything other than beet. Similarly, the raifort was too strong, pummeling all the other flavors on the plate. The plate was also burning hot which continued the cooking process of the already over-cooked liver. This was no good. One of Chef Savoy’s better known dishes, soupe d”artichaut à la truffe noire, came next, an soup of Jerusalem artichokes with lentils and black truffles served with a “brioche feuilletée aux champignons et beurre de truffe,” a brioche layered with mushrooms and truffle butter. It’s incredible to me the way this soup captured the flavor of artichokes, to the level where at some points, if I were blindfolded and texturally inept, I would probably say I were biting into the heart of a summer fresh artichoke. The texture of this soup was really special, hearty with just a touch of grain to remind you that this is indeed a vegetable soup. The fragrance of the black truffles were quieted by the broth, perhaps table-side shaving would have fixed that as I had a difficult time smelling them. That aside, this was definitely a very nice soup. The truffled mushroom brioche sure did smell nice, and the table-side buttering was kind of funny; but I don’t think it added much to the soup — it’s not like I was going to use it for dipping. As a little intermezzo, I was brought a small cup of truffled squash consommé, a rich and creamy introduction to the meat course to follow. Last of the savories was pigeon poché-grillé, polychromie d’endives crues-cuites, a textural mix of pigeon poached and grilled, with endives both raw and cooked. This competed with the Colors of Caviar dish as being the most colorful of the evening, with the burgundy colored endives complimenting the rare game. The pigeon sat atop a bed of caramelized endives, which were incredibly sweet, a nice balance to the salty pigeon. The dish was drizzled with a few drops of parsley oil, adding forest green to the pallet of colors. Aside from the caramelized endives, which was definitely among the best preparation of endives I’ve had, the game was rather lackluster and the raw endive salad seemed misplaced. Next was the cheese cart. Oh, the cheese cart. Unsure of where to start amongst this diverse selection of French cheeses, I asked fora small wedge of pretty much everything, minus a few generic cheeses I don’t particularly like like époisses and brie. Let me note that the table to my right, with only two cheeses, kept glancing at my two plates of 20 cheese with a bit of plate envy, or, perhaps they simply thought I was crazy. The highlight of this cheese tasting was the 40-year cave finished comté, a hard cow milk cheese with nuances of caramel. Last came the desserts, prunes à la syrah, granité aux poivres and noir, prunes in syrah with a pepper granité, and dark chocolate sorbet atop a chocolate tart. Both of which left me rather unfulfilled. The syrah was way to overbearing on the prune ices, making it very difficult to taste anything remotely plum-related. And the chocolate could have benefited from a little fleur de sel, the presence of which always seems to make chocolate desserts more interesting. The highlight desserts came along with he bon bon trolley where, as usual, I opted for one of everything. Particularly interesting was the raspberry cheesecake which was just under-sweetened and even a bit salty, to actually exaggerate the flavor of cheese. The texture of this was light and fluffy, unique for cheesecake. I also very much enjoyed a small cake of pistachio, raisin, and coconut. The small cake was mostly fruit and nuts using the bread only as a binder to hold everything together. While the waiter was working hard at the bon bon trolley, another waiter brought me a warm prune petit four that had just a slight smell of coffee. What a difference a warm pastry makes. A waiter placed a lemon scented mashmallow in my hand, as if I didn’t have any say in the matter (I dislike mashmallows very much and this one was no different). One of the petits fours from the bon bon trolley had a hidden surprise on the bottom, which when flipped over, revealed the Guy Savoy logo. I was disappointed by the vanilla and chocolate macarons which were very hard; but, I liked the cherry Madeleine. The Madeleine actually didn’t come from the dessert trolley, it was brought out warm from the kitchen. Again, what a difference a warm pastry can make. Overall, I enjoyed my experience at Guy Savoy; but it was underwhelming. The restaurant remains so traditional at its core that it seemed afraid to take risks. A lot of the dishes were a bit bland and at times, frankly, boring. Some of the dishes, particularly the all chestnuts dish, had tremendous potential but materialized to be only fair. Would I return here? Absolutely; but not too soon, there are too many other restaurants in this city!

I took a little trip here yesterday for breakfast. What an excellent croissant. I'm hoping to return tomorrow bright and early for some warm pastries. Does anyone have any other pâtisserie recommendations in the 6th ? In the meantime, I'm typing up my thoughts of my recent Alain Ducasse dinner. A bit disappointing. Thanks !!

hi julien -- i stopped by alain ducasse again and two separate staff members insisted that the spreads were made in house. it's very possible that they are unaware of the actual source. are you absolutely sure it comes from an outsourced manufacturer? also, would you have any more information on BE? i want to stop by and pick up some bread! thanks!

I hate authoritative vague words and phrases if they're not further elaborated. Sometimes I use them myself; but, I try really hard to avoid them: well-cooked perfectly cooked just right good the best in the world authentic

Alain Ducasse à l'Hôtel Plaza Athénée 25 avenue de Montaigne Photos available here Off the plane and into the restaurant. I began my Parisian adventure with breakfast pastries at Alain Ducasse at the famous Plaza Athénée, an old-world hotel constructed in 1911 on Avenue Montaigne. My early arrival meant that some of the pastries were still warm. What a nice way to say hello to the city of lights. The first thing that struck me about this dining room were the stunning chandeliers. Each of the three was surrounded by a delicate flurry of suspended crystals, reflecting the morning’s sunlight in rainbows across the room. It was ethereal. The hotel’s famous “plaza red” was brought through the recently renovated lobby into the restaurant in the form of table cloths and seat backs, and even the labels on the dozen Hediard jams covering each table. The space certainly had baroque elements; but the more modern colors and carpeting prevented the dining room from feeling stale. It was incredibly warm and comfortable. The other diners were a mix of hotel guests and businessmen wearing both jeans and suits. I suppose that is the contradiction of a hotel restaurant: since many room rates include complementary breakfast, an enforced dress-code would likely raise complaints. And, I wouldn’t have been able to sample the most delicious orange brioche I’ve ever tasted. The service here is on a different level of attentiveness and refinement than I have experienced at any other restaurant in New York. Keep in mind that this was only breakfast. I’m pretty sure I could have asked for anything, and while the object of my request may not have been available, I’d be confident that an earnest attempt would have been made to get it. After being seated, I was asked if I would like fruit juice. I was not given a selection of juices to choose from, which made sense when I noticed the woman next to me drinking strawberry juice: there was no selection because everything was available! Not yet confident to order special requests in French, I kept it simple with a glass of OJ and a café au lait. After the drinks were poured, I was brought an extensive selection of pastries. I knew right then that this was going to be a good year. The selection of pastries included a variety of bread rolls: viennois, campagne, et complet, as well as traditional pastries including brioche au chocolat, pain aux chocolat et éclats de noisettes, pain aux chocolat et amandes de Sicile, croissant noise-citron (sweet, country, and wholewheat), (filled with almond cream and covered in lemon frosting), and a croissant plaza réalisé au beurre noisette et vrai miel d'acacia (made with hazelnut butter and acacia honey). One thing became immediately clear: I would have to go to the gym every day. Otherwise, I might die. After that thought, a second plate of pastries was brought to the table: bostock - tartiné de crème amandine (almond cream tart), a roulade aux fruits confits, and Kughelof (a brioche scented with lemon and orange blossom). Perhaps I should be going to the gym twice a day? I started with the plain croissant, the softest and lightest croissant I have ever experienced. I used to think I liked the “shatter effect,” the aftermath of the first tear of a crispy shelled croissant that leaves flakes on the plate. Not anymore. This crust was indeed crispy; but it was so thin, that it broke silently, letting out a gentle puff of moisture. The flavor was of rich butter; it gently hovered on the fine line between sweet and savory which my jet-lagged palate appreciated very much. The equally impressive pain au chocolat, or chocolatine as they say in Paris (or at least they do here), was filled with sweet milk chocolate and sprinkled with hazelnut chips. My eyes wondered to the panettone style chocolate brioche, then to the chocolate-pistachio bread, and last to what would be the highlight of this selection of pastries: the Kughelof. Aside from the Kughelof’s scent of lemon and orange blossom, this brioche was rife with moisture. I’m pretty sure that if I squeezed the brioche over a sink, milk would have dripped out. The gently sugared surface added a level of non-cloying sweetness that was the perfect company to a cup of coffee. Another remarkable feature of this brioche was its weight. I’m not sure how it was possible; but this was dense and light at the same time. But to the thought of this brioche possibly violating the laws of physics, my stomach simply replied, “mmm.” Lastly, as part the “one of everything” rule, I was onto the bread. At first the bread seemed a little dull compared to the sensational pastries I’d just experienced. But then I noticed these three small cups of what appeared to be homemade spreads. They sure were. Unsure of when these were brought to the table, perhaps since I was so immersed in the flawless pastries, I asked for a description of each. I was given souvenir d’enfance en pâte à tartiner chocolat-noisette (a childhood souvenir home made chocolate and hazelnut spread), beurre de cacahuètes mélange de beurre baratte et de cacahuètes caramélisées puis concassées (churnned butter mixed with caramelized and crunched peanuts), and confit au sirop d’érable souvenir d’un voyage à Montréal, une interprétation originale d’une recette crémeuse et onctueuse à base de sirop d’érable réduit (crystallized maple syrup, a souvenir from a trip to montréal; an original interpretation of a smooth and creamy recipe with reduced maple syrup). Lord, I was glad I asked. The caramelized maple syrup was unreal, a spreadable version of the maple candy typically found in upstate New York, Vermont, and even Montréal. The sweetness and variety of these house made spreads breathed life into the bread, which no longer appeared dull. What a spectacular way to begin my stay in Paris. While I don’t yet have a basis for comparison in France, this was certainly stronger than any pastry selection I’ve had in New York. After my meal I lingered at the table for what seemed like an hour. Not because I felt like an inflated francophile embracing “café culture;” but because I was so full I was afraid that if I got up I might knock something over. Moderation, it seems, will be one of my challenges. I look forward to returning in the near future; only next time, for dinner.

HAHA !! Next question, how many complete pies (not slices) of pizza?

Leaving in less than 24 hours ... I should probably start packing :-\.

That's a good question. The chef mentioned something about 40,000 Japanese in Buenos Aires (this is not scientifically supported by any means), mostly from Okinawa. I was surprised myself at the chef's unexcitable reaction. Maybe it was just a long day? Maybe my Japanese is so awful it doesn't warrant recognition? Who knows! But he was a very serious chef; in general, it was hard to make him laugh or smile.

Just checked out Tailor last night after waiting quite awhile for this opening. I was very disappointed. My complete thoughts, with full photos, are available on A Life Worth Eating; but here's the summary. I opted for the "cocoa tasting menu" followed by 3 plates a la carte. In order: - Squid salad, cocoa croutons, mint - Chocolate gnocchi, brussel sprouts, lime purée - Foie gras, peanut butter, cocoa, pear - Chocolate-miso cod, cauliflower purée, argon - Duck and eel terrine, chocolate consommé, sweet mango - Beet ravioli, cocoa caviar, orange, tarragon - Butternut squash cake, cocoa sorbet, walnut beads, maple - Soft chocolate, sesame ice cream, mole - Warm peach & tomato ricotta purée, black sesame caramel - Rum braised banana, mustard ice cream, brownie butter cake - Blueberries, black olive cake, yogurt sorbet The presentations for all these courses were fantastic. The flavors, on the other hand, left me unfulfilled and confused. I appreciate Chef Mason's creativity very much; but at some point, every chef needs to take a step back and look at the flavors on the plate. Why were their brussels sprout leaves with chocolate gnocchi? Granted they help vary the color; but they did so at the expense of flavor. I also found nearly all the dishes to be too sweet, even some of those from the salty section. I would consider waiting a bit for the restaurant to work out the menu; it seemed a little schizophrenic.

Yuki Pasco 740, Congresso Tonight I visited Yuki, a sushi restaurant reputed for being the most “authentic” in Buenos Aires. A group of friends and I tried to go last Friday night without a reservation and were told they were completely full — this was the first time a reservation appears to have been actually necessary. This time, however, I was more prepared. I made a reservation and went by myself. The restaurant is very understated: nothing sleek or fancy, just clean, tidy, and functional. After being buzzed in, I was met by the host who had remembered me from the week before. I sat at the sushi bar, where I was hoping to speak with the chef to learn more about the sushi scene in BA. As I sat down at the bar, I initiated a conversation with him in Japanese, something I find usually either gets me free stuff or more honest recommendations. The chef was completely unphased by this, which I think speaks somewhat of the restaurant’s authenticity: no gimmicks here. This attitude is also confirmed by the menu which has no california rolls, no flying dragon handrolls, no Buenos Aires happy maki, just traditional Japanese cuisine. I was really in the mood for some sashimi, so I decided to leave it up to chef Kazuo, and asked for sashimi omakase. He smiled, and got to work. The first course was a small plate of three fish: diced salmon with mayonaise, tamago (sweet egg), and sliced ika (squid) with scallions. The diced salmon was the most notable of the three, with a very fatty texture. The tamago was a bit dense but had a nice sweet flavor, even though there was some mild greying, which suggests that the egg was overcooked. The ika had been flown in from Spain, which was apparent from the lack of firmness — it was not at the peak of freshness. While I was working on the appetizers, Kazuo-san got to work on my sashimi. I identified some of the fish he was cutting: saba (mackerel), tako (octopus), hamachi (yellowtail), and sake (salmon); but, there were two fish I’d never seen before. I asked him what they were, and he explained that they were local fish: pejerrey (silverside) and lenguado (dover sole). He also noted that all the fish he was serving tonight came from either Argentina or Chile, with the exception of the ika which came from Spain. Just as I finished my last bite of tamago, a waiter came from around the corner to remove my plate and to place the wooden board of sashimi from the sushi counter to in front of me. This was one of those places where the interaction between the sushi chef and people at the sushi bar still has to pass through a waiter, though I was able to order through the chef. The platter was very colorful and served with powdered wasabi and white radish — no ginger. Going clockwise from the octopus in the front: tako, saba, sake, pejerry with lenguado in the middle. The highlight of the selection was the pejerrey which I’d never tried before: a very lean white fish with a texture similar to kurodai (snapper) only a bit more firm with a very clean taste. The sake was also spectacular which, Kazuosan explained, is what makes up 90% of his orders from Argentine customers. I was let down by the tako which was slightly runny and lacked the fresh crisp that I love when it’s very fresh. I snapped a picture of a platter he was preparing for the Argentine couple seated at the table across the room — note the abundance of salmon and shrimp, much tamer sushi for the Argentine palate. I glanced in the refrigerator in front of me and it seems as though he cut me a slice of all the fish that was available that night, except for one. As I got a close look, I realized it was fuke (baby shark)! I was very tempted to try some; but he warned me that it was for tourists and since the muscles of the fish are quite firm for agressive swimming, the fish lacks flavor. But, I got him to hold it up for a picture. After my selection of sashimi, I was still hungry, so I requested one of my favorite dishes that I pretty much always order at any sushi bar: maguro yamakake which consists of lean tuna sashimi, yamaimo (japanese mountain potato) grated, strips of nori, and a raw quail egg. Kazuosan seemed disappointed that he did not have maguro due to its recent scarcity; but, he would be happy to make it with pejerrey since it was a firm fish that would not fall apart in the liquified potato, and since I liked it so much. He went into the back to bring forward yamaimo for peeling, soaked it in water for 5 minutes, and began grating. Delicious and fresh it was, even without the maguro. Shortly after, I ordered nato temake (fermented soybean hand roll) which I’d been craving — it did not disappoint. Realizing the time-sensitivity of the nori, instead of waiting for the waiter to come from around the corner to hand it to me, he rolled it up and placed it right into my hands. Crunch. Dessert consisted of sliced apple, the perfect clean and refreshing end to an authentic sushi dinner. I enjoyed this meal very much, partly because I hadn’t had a variety of colorful raw fish, crispy hand rolls, quail egg, or yamaimo for the two months I’ve been down here. This is undoubtedly the most authentic sushi experience I’ve had here. However, at times, I felt like Kazuosan was limited by the availability of fresh ingredients: no ikura, uni, maguro, hotate, and many other fish that would be abundant in nearly all sushi restaurants in both New York and Japan.

El Bistró Martha Salotti 445, Puerto Madero There aren’t many restaurants in Buenos Aires that are experimenting with molecular techniques. One of which, El Bistró, is located in the Faena hotel and universe — a shiny new hotel with which I have a love-hate relationship. One the one hand, the hotel is incredibly tacky and somewhat obnxious. This is apparent even before entering the hotel as the entire facade is flooded with deep red lights. Each restaurant and bar within the hotel’s main floor has a theme ranging from a dimly lit cocktail “library” with oversized gaucho leather couches, to an all white restaurant whose walls are lined with unicorns having bright red eyes. We ate in the later, a place that made me think if Snow White were to live in transylvania, she would probably decorate her house something like this. But, while the decor is so blatently and intentionally tacky, it’s comical. And the staff seems to realize this, by not taking themselves so seriously. Despite the air of being one of the trendiest hotels in the city, I found everyone I dealt with surprisingly friendly and helpful. The food was pretty good, too. The restaurant is all white, with accents of red: the bouquet of roses on each table, the rug that covers most of the tile floor, and the eyes of the white unicorns that line each side of the restaurant. The only other color in the room comes from the table of cognacs and dessert wines in the middle of the room, and from the slicked back hair of the 30-something yuppies eating here, too. We arrived for a 9:30pm reservation and were promptly sat. Although we had pre-requested the chef’s tasting, we were shown the menu just to have a look. We wanted some wine to go along with our 7-course tasting. But unlike La Bourgogne, which included wine pairings in its menú degustación, we had to arrange for a separate pairing with each course. It took a little time to explain that we didn’t want to purchase seven separate bottles, but the sommelier said she could arrange by-the-glass pairings. Our ordering was finalized, our menus collected, and some welcome pastries were delivered to the table to kick things off. What a nice way to say hello, if you ask me. We were presented with three different welcome snacks, the highlight of which was a lukewarm wasabi cream wrapped in nori, crispy rice cracker, and topped with what seemed like crispy bits of caramelized onion. I was surprised at the slight hint of spice the wasabi cream had — what a bold thing to do in a country that hates spice of any kind! The bread was quick to follow, with a selection of four types: baked flat sheets, white, wheat, and blue cheese. The blue cheese was very tasty — just salty enough that I didn’t have to re-salt after applying butter. Our first wine was a Pulenta Estate Sauvignon Blanc 2007, which very floral — I literally felt like I stuck my head in a rose garden. I almost wanted to smell it with the next course instead of drinking it. The first amuse came, a “deconstructed tortilla,” or more officially, deconstrucción de la tortilla de papas española (papa, aceite de oliva, cebollas caramelizadas y yema de huevo), which was essentially caramelized onions topped with a “tortilla foam,” a dense slightly potato-flavored off-white froth. The texture of the foam was very dense, which made it more like a light soup. While I didn’t taste the potato in the tortilla foam, the onions were very flavorful and texturally interesting when combined with the foam. The temperature was noticably cooler than I would have liked, but overall this was a nice start. The second amuse was next to come: an oyster served in a soup spoon, topped with a lettuce foam and a lime purée (ostra con puré de limón y aire de lechuga). The lemon purée had a little bit of a sweet bitterness to it, which makes me think it was keylime. The strength of the lemon was a little too strong which made it hard to taste the delicate flavor of the oyster. The temperature was also a little colder than lukewarm, which makes me think it had been sitting around for a bit. I hope this is the last of the cooler than desired dishes. Our first official dish came, titled “relleno criollo,” lomo curado a la sal, papa, olivas esféricas, huevo y cebolla de verdeo (a deconstructed empanada of cured loin, egg yolk, potato, and chili sauce). Yes, that’s right, chili sauce. And, we had some molecular gastronomy in the form of spherical olives. This chef was taking risks! While this was the third consecutive course that was served just a bit too cool, this authentically tasted like an empanada without the encasing. Despite its authenticity, the loin was a little too salty — with a regular empanada, salt helps to flavor dough; but without the bread component to absorbe the salty flavor of the cured loin, it’s a little too much. The saltiness of the loin; however, went nicely with the Tapiz Chardonay Reserva 2005, a fruity white wine with notes of grapefruit. Next up was my second favorite course of the evening: spider crab wrapped in avocado with sour whipped cream (canelón de palta y centolla con espuma de yogur natural). The mild flavor of the avocado served more as a textural vehicle to contrast against the stringy slices of king crab. The sour whipped cream was mild and light enough not to interfere with the avocado and crab, both in terms of flavor and texture. And since this was a dish served cold, it seems like the temperature troubles that affected the previous courses would be circumvented. These last two courses marked the end of the appetizers, and we were ready to move on to mains. Our first main were slices silverside served on an olive brioche with pistachios and tomatoes (Ppjerrey marinado con verduras al carbón sobre biscuit de olivas, ensalada de rúcula y vinagreta de pistachos y tomates). This dish seemed to lack focus, both texturally and in terms of flavor. The olive flavor of the brioche was way too strong for this dish, I could not taste the fish. I also disliked the apparently random scattering of pistashios — regarding flavor, what purpose did they serve in this dish? If they were a textural addition, they needed to be broken down a little more … whole raw pistashios are too hard and crude to be paired with the softness of silverside — this contrast was too much. This was the low point of the dinner and, fortunately, things picked up from here. Our sommelier chose to pair this with a Palo Alto Pino Noir 2006, an incredibly light red that did not compete with the fish, at all. Following the silverside came another fish course, trillas con verduras, queso de cabra ahumado y romesco (red mullet stuffed with zuchini and onion with a peanut paste). This fish was served hot, which was very much appreciated. The skin was left on both sides of the fish, which was slightly crisped to make the texture more interesting. The skin also added tremendous flavor to the dish. The Thai-inspired peanut sauce was very rich and even a little spicy, just enough to enhance but not distract, from the natural flavor of the mullet. This was the highlight course of the night. Very, very good. We finished our two fish courses and now it was time for meat. We started with “lamb capelleti,” two giant capelleti stuffed with braised lamb in a leek consumée with mint foam, dijon mustard, and pickled carrot (capelletis rellenos con estofado de cordero en consomé de puerros, aire de menta, mostaza de dijón y encurtido de zanahoria) . The capelleti was cooked very nicely, a little firm but not dry or chewy; unfortunately, this dish was again, too cold. But the flavor of the meat and capelleti was very tasty. The sauce was fairly mild and bland, with the exception of the pickled carrot landmines scattered around. For our last main course, we had roasted duck served on hijiki seaweed with spinach, white raddish, and black sesame (pechuga de pato asada, nabo crujiente y ensalada tibia de algas y pencas). Looking at this dish, the duck seemed like an interesting twist and I wasn’t sure if it would work. I would have imagined some kind of white fish. But it worked. This japanese-inspired creation was delicious, and was surprisingly original. The sesame-duck combination was fantastic. The duck was paired with an Azul Reserva 2003, a Cabernet-Malbec-Merlot Mix from Mendoza. While this was by far the most impressive wine of the evening, the pairing was a little off — it was way too heavy for the duck. As such, I ate the duck first, then enjoyed the wine. The hints of blackberry and slight oak smell were very pleasant. Ironically, this wine had a 14% alcohol content … what is it with these Argentine wines? Just before dessert, we were served a “red passion” palate cleanser - nube de frambuesa, sorbete de Campari y arándanos, pomelo rosado vivo, aire de pomelo, reducción de remolacha, granita de tomate y frutillas. This was essentially a dense raspberry foam with with Campari sorbet, bilberries, pink grapefruit, beet reduction, and tomato and strawberries. This was certainly refreshing. The bitterness of the Campari sorbet overtook most of the other elements of this dish and, frankly, was not appetizing by itself. It definitely added “balance” to the sweeter elements of this dish. Dessert came, and it was excellent. It was called chocolate 5-ways (crema, helado, sopa, marquisse y crocante), mainly for the 5 different types of chocolate: milk chocolate sorbert, orange dark chocolate sorbet, a brownie-like portion of cake, crispychocolate tuile, and a bit of milk chocolate sauce at the bottom. The orange flavored chocolate sorbet was a beautiful balance between citrus and chocolate, a combination I rarely like. Dessert was served with Rutini - Vino dulce encabezado de Malbec 2004, a sweet, but strong, wine that tasted like fresh oranges. While I liked this wine by itself, I thought the pairing was too straightforward: it complimented the chocolate-orange sorbet too much rather than adding depth by contrasting against it. The petits fours came, one being a chocolate covered tree with pieces of dark chocolate with a mint leaf in the middle. The second plate contained white chocolate rasberry truffles. This was the most adventurous restaurant experience I’ve had in Buenos Aires — the chef was not afraid to take risks and it showed. As such, the highs and lows of this meal were much more extreme than some of the other haute restaurants I’ve tried in the city. And I appreciated that. The bill came, and it was also the most expensive restaurant I’d visited in BA — nearly twice the price of the city’s Relais & Châteaux, which seemed somewhat ironic. Factoring in price, this place was way too expensive for the food it offered. It was a refreshing and fun experience, and some of the courses were quite good; but, I don’t think I’ll be repeating El Bistró for awhile.

Guerrín Corrientes, Av. 1368, Tribunales Several guide books had suggested Guerrín as having the “best pizza” in Buenos Aires. Granted, pizza style is something very personal with many different varieties: thin crust, thick crust, brick oven, and even a la parilla (grilled!) to name a few. Coming from New York, a place which in my humble opinion has the best pizza outside of Italy, I had high standards. And frankly, I was disappointed. The restaurant itself is fairly large with several seating areas. Near the entrance are two long and parallel counters where lunch-break employees grab slices and eat while standing. Towards the back is a sit-down restaurant with tables, and upstairs is a seating area for larger groups. For those who opt against sit-down service, the line at the counter can get quite long so be prepared to wait. Ironically, it might be faster to just grab a seat during busy lunch and dinner hours. The pizza at Guerrín was cooked in a standard gas-fired pizza oven with a crust of medium thickness. I ordered three slices: mozzarella, the “house special” (mozzarella with red pepper and an olive), and mozzarella with a slice faina. The latter slice seemed to be the most popular. The crust of all three slices was too dense, with a consistency somewhat similar to focaccia. I would have liked the crust to be a little lighter with more air rather than heavy and compacted. The texture was also slightly wet with minimal browning — my guess is the Argentine palate would send anything cooked further back as “burnt.” My biggest concern, however, was the apparent lack of tomato sauce with way too much cheese. On all of my slices, the tomato sauce was not even visible. No good. The cooked pepper added nothing to the house special slice and, as for the olive, I just couldn’t do it … off it came. The pizza had been sitting out for awhile: not long enough to warrant a re-heat and so, the cheese began to solidify. Next up was the mozzarella slice with faina. What would possess anyone to throw a slab of focaccia made from chickpea flour on top of a slice of pizza? This weighed everything down, literally. Locals say the faina acts as a sort of flavor sponge, absorbing the flavors from the cheese and sauce. I suppose I am no local; to me, this seemed more like a distraction — isn’t the crust supposed to be a flavor sponge? Why two? Even on its own, however, the faina tasted somewhat like fish. This was startling. I’m not sure why Guerrín gets such praising reviews. There are better places.

Manresa or FL ... if only all of life's decisions were like this! I just got back from the bay area, where I visited both FL and Manresa this past weekend. I'm going to be typing up a longer review with my experiences at restaurant each in the near future. But for now, frankly, Manresa gave me what I believe to be the best meal I've ever had in the US. French Laundry was everything a Michelin 3-star restaurant should be: memorable food, impeccable service, luxurious decor, etc ... But I couldn't help but feel like the restaurant was trying too hard to fulfill 3-star mentality through the use of expensive ingredients (like osetra caviar and black truffles, almost superfluously) rather than doing anything too inspirational. In essence, FL played it safe. For most diners, this is a "once-in-a-lifetime meal" due to the prohibitive cost, extreme difficulty of achieving a reservation, and geographical isolation. Because of this, FL seems to be much more concerned with providing a consistently positive FL experience, rather than with taking risks. Manresa, on the other hand, was not afraid to take risks. And, Chef Kinch's risks were very successful -- course, after course, after course, I was presented with some of the most beautiful, well-balanced, delicious dishes I have ever seen and tasted. Chef Kinch's flavors were so extraordinary that after several courses (pumpkin velouté and nasturtium ice cream, pears with salted butter to name one) i started laughing in awe, and happiness. My friend tupac at one point noted, "I wish I could give you a high five across the table" -- I knew exactly what he meant! This was sheer joy. Chef Kinch's humility as a chef also comes across when he lets nature speak for itself. During the last week of tomato season, he served a simple plate of perfectly ripe, sweet, and juicy ox heart tomatoes -- the very thought of such a "crude" course at FL would probably make some diners shudder. Ironically, the freshness and flavor of this simple plate of tomatoes was another highlight of the evening: sometimes, nature is delicious by itself. In summary, these two meals were not even close. I have been to both restaurants twice and can comfortably say that while French Laundry is an excellent restaurant, Manresa simply glows originality, creativity, passion, and flavor.

Restaurant Duhau Avenida Alvear 1661, Park Hyatt Hotel, Recoleta I’d spent the last few nights eating at local parillas, so tonight, I decided to head for something a little more upscale. Tonight’s destination was Restaurant Duhau, the restaurant of the Park Hyatt Buenos Aires. The restaurant describes itself as a contemporary restaurant focusing on fresh and seasonal ingredients which frankly, sounded pretty good to me. The restaurant is also known for its walk-in cheese room which highlights Argentine cheeses. I can’t say that I’ve had very much cheese in BA, something I enjoy very much. So naturally, this was appealing. I decided to eat a little earlier than normal, 9pm; somehow, I’ve become desensitized to the concept of eating late. It was a bit of a maze to get to the restaurant once inside the hotel — down a flight of stairs, through an underground tunnel, and up another flight of stairs. What a workout … thankfully, I don’t smoke! Only later did I find out there was a “back entrance” to the restaurant. Oh well, I made it. I was greeted by the maître’d who stood just outside the dining room awaiting guests. She pointed out the cheese room (mmm) and the tasting bar for the extensive wine selection. The room was fairly dark and covered in dark woods, and the walls were decorated with bottles of red wine. We entered the dining room, and she showed me to my table — one look at the menu, “menú degustación,” and my mind was set. I started with the Salmón rosado del Pacífico marinado con hinojo, crema fresca de eneldo y lima, sashimi-style slices of pacific pink salmon marinated with fennel, dill cream, and lime. I always imagined fennel being a summer vegetable, which didn’t seem too seasonal for me, given it was the middle of winter. This dish was fairly simple. That being said, the salmon was indeed fresh and not at all salty. But I couldn’t help to think that this was something I could have prepared at home. For the second appetizer, I had langostinos ecuatoriales salteados con reducción de bouillabaisse, croûton de salsa rouille, sautéed king prawns with a bouillabaisse reduction and a rouille croûton sauce. The highlight of this dish was the texture of the prawns: firm; but also, slightly milky. I understand that the slice of bread was served to soak up some of the bouillabaisse; but the bread was a little firm which made tearing difficult, and also left behind unattractive crumbs in the pure sauce. The bouillabaisse was also a little salty. But, this was a step up from the previous course. It was now time for mains, and to start was a fish course, Filete de lenguado grillado a la parrilla, zapallo ancho, salsa al vino Malbec, a fillet of sole with pumpkin and Malbec wine sauce. Mm, pumpkin. It seemed like things were about to pick up. It’s incredible to me how much more flavorful fish is when the skin is left on. The grilled skin added a slight crisp against the soft and tender meat. The contrast between the slightly aggressive Malbec wine sauce and the more mild pumpkin sauce made this dish have interesting diversity. The final main course came straight from Patagonia, un gigot de cordero Patagónico confitado cinco horas al tomillo y hongos de pino, leg of lam confited with thyme and pine mushrooms. This was without a doubt the highlight of the evening so far, with the lamb delicately breaking apart with only my fork. Very moist and not overly salty with a gentle taste of mushrooms. Instead of dessert, I requested to have a cheese tasting since this was one of the main reasons I chose the restaurant. I was shown the cheese menu, and quickly realized that there were way to many cheeses, all of Argentine variety, that I hadn’t tried before. All the cheeses were prefaced with “Variety of …” implying that they were an Argentine variety of a popular European cheese. That, combined with the fact that there was a fromager on staff, led me to ask her to put together a selection of her 7 favorite cheeses. I was feeling open-minded. She responded with such enthusiasm, as if I was the first person to have ever asked her to do this. She promptly came back, with a beautiful plate: Oveja Manchega de 1984, Pecorino Sardo, Serrano, Crottin, Fresco de Cabra, Cabrambert, and Saint-Maure decorated with dried fruits and nuts, also something I hadn’t had in a few months. What made this plate for me was the Argentine Cabrambert, a soft cheese very similar to Taleggio, an earthy cheese loaded with hints of mushroom. I think it says something when the best part of a meal is something the restaurant isn’t directly responsible for. Sure, they do have a fancy cheese refrigerator. But seriously now. Overall, this was a very average meal, not at all justified by the prices. But the cheese was fantastic, and the Patagonian lamb was pretty good. While I would not suggest coming here for dinner (unless you’re staying in the hotel), I would definitely recommend stopping by for a “light” afternoon lunch of Argentine cheese and wine.

Casa Saltshaker Private Apartment, Barrio Norte It’s not frequent that someone runs a restaurant out of his apartment. But Dan Pearlman, former chef and food writer from New York, has opened a “puertas cerradas,” a closed-door restaurant with no public listing or phone number, out of his apartment in Buenos Aires. Guests sign up for one of twelve spots every Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Each week, Dan chooses a different quirky theme inspired usually, but not always, by dates loosely related to the weekend. Of the several times I’ve eaten at Casa Saltshaker, I’ll be discussing the two most recent: Transnistrian Independence Day and Mexican Independence day. The address of Casa Saltshaker is only revealed via e-mail once a guest’s spot is confirmed. Guests are asked to arrive at 9pm so that dinner service can begin around 9:15pm. The guests tend to be a mix of expatriates, tourists, and even some Argentine locals. The crowd seems split between those who come with another guest, and those who come alone. Depending on the crowd of people for the night, mingling usually occurs in a mix of both Spanish and English. The first time I arrived I came alone, and I wasn’t sure what the sentiment would feel like: would this be like a restaurant, or more like eating in someone’s apartment for dinner? Once I was brought into the apartment after ringing the doorbell, the latter seemed more accurate. And this was very positive; because the atmosphere was very relaxed and comfortable. I had arrived a little early, so I spent time talking with the spanish-speaking guests until everyone arrived and we were seated. The group naturally segmented itself in two — spanish speakers, and english speakers. I opted for the spanish table, since it would be good to practice and since all the other seats at the english table were quickly taken. The mood was very calm, and I began to feel like an old friend had invited me to his apartment for dinner. On Transnistrian independence day, we started with a small tart of 5 peppers served at room temperature. I would have preferred the tart to be served hot but; despite my distaste for cooked red peppers, the flavor was very nice. Next came the highlight of the savory courses, a mushroom strudel. The shell’s texture was beautifully thin and crispy and had a flavor that really enhanced the delicate earthy taste of the mushrooms. I probably could have eaten forty to fifty of these. Following the delicious strudel was a soup of white kidney beans. This meal, so far, was having a very nice progression in terms of weight — each dish gradually building up to the meat course. The soup was a little bland; but, a little salt did wonders. This was my least favorite course of the evening. Next up was the pork chop with a garlic sauce. The pork chop was very good; but for me the best part of this course was the harina de maíz, a type of cornmeal with a grain size a bit smaller than polenta, making it extremely light and fluffy. the harina de maíz had quite a bit of butter, making the flavor very rich. Finishing off the meal was, quite frankly, some of the best chocolate cheesecake I’d ever had. The cheesecake consisted of bittersweet chocolate with a sifting of confectioner’s sugar for added sweetness and decoration. I’d never been so fond of Transnistrian before! On my most recent visit to Casa Saltshaker, we celebrated Mexican Independence day. We started off with a summer squash pastry and roasted tomato sauce. The pastry shell was thin and light, and very nicely made. But, I found the summer squash filling to be somewhat flavorless. Most of the flavor, for me, came from the roasted tomato sauce which had a nice smoky essence to it. Next up was the persian onion soup with lemon and mint. This was no good. Way too strong on the lemon, it was the only thing I could taste. The texture was also very thin. Granted, these qualities are native for the type of soup it is; I just didn’t like it. And, to be fair, it was the only course at Casa Saltshaker that I ever disliked entirely. Things picked up, and the next course was white tuna wrapped in oak lettuce with an almond caper sauce, fresh tomatoes, and green olives. While a little bit of the lettuce leaf’s beauty was lost to the steaming in the oven, the flavor didn’t go anywhere. I generally find capers to be too strong, let alone when served with diced olives; but, the oven steaming seemed to ease the strength of these ingredients which, ultimately, complimented the fish very nicely. This was the highlight dish of the night. Last of the savories was a chicken breast cooked with dried fruit. I really liked the concept of balancing sweet with savory; but, I felt like the saltiness of the chicken really made it difficult to taste the sweetness of the fruit. I would have liked this balance to be shifted more in the sweet direction. I also found the chicken to be a little firm. Something seemed missing from this plate, perhaps a starch like rice would have went nicely. Last up I was, once again, blown away with the cheesecake. This time, it was of sweet potato with freshly whipped cream. Why can’t all cheesecakes taste like this? When factoring in uniqueness, comfort, atmosphere, and overall experience, Casa Saltshaker has the honor of being my favorite place for dinner in Buenos Aires. It’s difficult to compare this place to other restaurants in Buenos Aires because, quite simply, it’s not a restaurant. I would place Casa Saltshaker somewhere in-between a restaurant and a chef friend’s personal dinner party. And with that in mind, I highly recommend visiting this place at least once during a trip to Buenos Aires. And, if you can, try to go during a night with Cheesecake!