Dave the Cook

It strikes me as equally likely that we believers haven't been done a good job of describing what it is we're seeing in places as diverse as Upstairs and Room 4 Dessert that sets them apart from their more obvious associations (respectively, perhaps, Bouley and El Bulli). I can't figure out which angle we've missed, but we'll get there, eventually. But by the same token, non-believers might benefit from applying the same flexibility to what Nathan, Steven and I are calling new-paradigm restaurants as they apply to other categories. You can associate Moto and the Fat Duck with the Adriaesque Vanguardist movement while allowing for broad variances in approach and service; the same goes for the differing interpretations of fine dining on display at J-G and Daniel. The same variance applies to new-paradigm restaurants. None of them is likely to hit all of the marks even we believers have set out; that's just the nature of business, marketing and audience. But when I can walk into a place in jeans and order -- off the same dinner menu -- sushi-quality hamachi, a liquid nitrogen cocktail, something called "peach nigiri," a flatiron steak, or meatballs . . . I'm going to think that something is going on. When I can get them as part of a well-ordered tasting menu with wine pairings for less than 120 bucks, I'm certain of it.

Fat Guy is right -- your nose is the best equipment available. But if you're really concerned, sear it. Just don't do it tonight; do it tomorrow right before service. Bacteria will be on or near the surface. Since it's been frozen or refrigerated, presumably since it was processed (probably at sea), those bacteria are cold and sluggish. Searing now will just wake them up to multiply overnight. Let them sleep another eighteen hours, then fry 'em.

The irony is in the preparation, not the ingredients (even great Italian butchers in Tuscany have trouble getting Chianina beef; see Buford's Heat) or the style of service ("haute" is a French term that apples mostly to French restaurants, and these days is more about service than food). If we look at the French equivalents of gelato and espresso -- popular iconic dishes with broad international appeal -- we might choose the croissant and steak frites. Croissants means mixing up butter, flour, water and salt. (Yeast, maybe; I can't remember.) Mix up a dough, and keep folding and rolling it until you have a million layers. Cut, roll, bake. A machine makes it easier, but I haven't seen anyone on eG Forums saying you need one of those to make good puff pastry. Steak frites: well. Hot pan, knife. Tongs, probably. The aforementioned spoon for basting. The other side of the coin is that I haven't seen anyone -- until now -- say that you don't need an expensive machine to make excellent gelato or espresso.

Blais and Element line-cook Billy Cole appeared on Good Day Atlanta this morning, making corn-pops ice cream, frozen banana cream pie, Coca-Cola rocks and Tang (scroll to bottom of report). These days, he's adding a little fennel pollen; I wonder if NASA knows about this.

Check -- and I'll add trimming artichoke leaves. Of course, it depends on how a specific ingredient will be used; it's tough to do a decent brunoise with scissors. On the other hand, even my best knife doesn't have a built-in bottle opener or blade screwdriver.

$1.99/pound here. Raniers are still in the $6-7 range, though, and not great.

Those cutouts on the front would seem to be for propane or LNG tanks, which I don't see on any of the other units. What's the thinking there?

It's not a stretch to draw a line between Julia Child and the Food Network, but I agree that it would be impossible to connect that to the molecular gastronomy impulse -- if not for all the molecular chefs on FTV: Rachael Ray, Paula Deen, Giada De Laurentiis and Sandra Lee, to name a few. Nevertheless, he does a pretty good job of describing the jolt of one's first encounter with a well-done bit of MG: -- and he shows that he has a clue about new paradigm restaurants when he notes that "(w)it matters greatly in this kind of food." But he really doesn't get Blais, or Element. I've spent quite a bit of time with the chef lately, as I'm working on a book about restaurants and he's been kind enough to let me tag along. My assessment is that Element isn't a showcase of molecular gastronomy -- and for all his fun and games (excellent video, Rowdy -- thanks!), Blais is not at heart a molecular guy. He's a classically trained professional who has the palate and imagination to know when something -- new or old -- works, and he's smart and talented enough to pull it off most of the time.

Yes! Welcome to the Society! Man, I wouldn't pass that menu up, ever.But I take a general phrase like "chicken, mushroom and cream" as a challenge. How about: Chicken thighs braised in stock, white wine, tomatoes and thyme (take the lid off and turn the thighs skin-side up for the last half hour, so the skin gets crispy) Wild mushroom flan For an additional side, maybe some seasonal vegetables: asparagus or thin slices of artichokes, fried. Good contrast in texture and flavor to the mains. While you're getting the fresh veg, see if you can't find some south Georgia peaches or west coast cherries, or both. Make or buy some vanilla ice cream and put together a struesel topping. Add a little liqueur to pull it together.

Element is owned by Christopher Neal and Anouk Esmail, a very hospitable and earnest married couple who bought the Cherry space last year, refurbished it, and reopened it as Element in January (about 14 minutes after getting their liquor license -- an interesting story all by itself). Originally, it was a tapas bar, and got a quick once-over by Creative Loafing's Cliff Bostock in May. By then, however, they'd begun talking to Blais. Of course, I'm not privy to all the details, but as far as I can tell, Blais has no ownership interest; this is a contractual arrangement with the chef's culinary consulting enterprise, Trail-Blais.

There's no doubt that if you like your food funky -- and I mean funky in a good way, with deceptive culinary depth and earthy flavors and aromas -- you'll love the lamb prosciutto (which got a tableside spray of what the chef called "eau de lamb"), the uni and the short-rib cannelloni. (The prosciutto, as a dish, could use a hit of acid, but it works extremely well nevertheless.) In my report on Blais (the restaurant), I said that I wanted Blais to hand out his freeze-dried capers like mints at the hostess stand. At Element, I wish he'd package the bone marrow foam in those plastic, foil-sealed salad-dressing containers.

I came across what seems to be a deal on the FoodSaver website: the V875 is on close-out. It seems to have everything I want: built-in roll holder, two-speeds (one of these is the "moist" setting that Marlene referred to), and even the accessory port, which isn't interesting to me at this time, but I'm mercurial, so it might turn out to be useful. The picture isn't very clear, but there seem to be a lot of controls on the top that aren't present on the current models. I know that Tilia was bought out recently, and possibly simplifying the product and the product line are part of the new owner's strategy. Does anyone have this particular model? Any comments or concerns?

It's interesting that Fat Guy mentioned Richard Blais (here, in case you missed it). This is a guy who's got great haute as well as modern credentials (at least for this side of the Atlantic): CIA graduate; internships with Daniel Boulud and Thomas Keller (his time at the French Laundry coincided with Achatz's); Fish Fellow at the CIA; stages at, among other places, El Bulli; a chance at the Iron Chef America trophy (he lost). Today (among other projects), he's in charge of a modest midtown Atlanta restaurant (Element), where he's been charged with revitalizing a less-than-successful bar/restaurant. The owners have given him near carte blanche; Blais might not have this much freedom until he opens his own place. Partly to educate the inherited staff, and partly to inform diners, Blais has been adding an inspirational message at the bottom of each day's menu (as others have pointed out, frequent menu changes are a symptom of new-paradigm restaurants). The first few days, it was a sentence about Marco Pierre White, or something to the effect of "we will find mediocrity and shoot it, then cut out its tongue and shoot the tongue." But when I visited the place on Sunday, I picked up a copy of the previous night's menu. Here's the last part of it (the scribbles are the product of one of the cooks; I snatched this off the line): Much of what we're talking about is right there in this excerpt: haute cuisine and rustic ingredients -- and vice-versa; an embrace of classic techinique combined with modern, even molecular, cooking (it's a Blais conceit to use boldface or italic to alert the reader to an unusual manipulation); a rejection of the three-course assemblage; reduced price points; the presence of the chef. One could dismiss the inspirational reference to this topic (I can attest that it's the source of the term) as self-consciousness, sarcasm, or dismissal, except for this: in January, when I was planning a visit to New York, I asked Chef Blais for recommendations. The three places he suggested were Momofuku, Upstairs at Bouley and Room 4 Dessert.

As it happens, good conditions for wine storage (60 F/15 C; 60-70% RH) also happen to be good conditions for curing sausages. Now, maybe I could build a curing chamber for my charcuterie, but I've got limited space (not just a small house, but no basement), I live where it hits 85-90 F fairly often in the summer months (making an outdoor solution impractical), and I have a roommate who's running out of patience with my jury-rigged cooking projects. Besides, it seems like there might already be an answer: a box that maintains temperature and humidity, doesn't have to take up too much space, and isn't ugly. This would be the wine refrigerator. But I'm having trouble sorting through the options and prices. Websites don't provide a whole lot of performance data, and I've got a limited budget for experimentation (not to mention that if a ready-made solution is too expensive, I'm back to a DIY situation -- and a cranky roommate). I'm not worried about temperature -- all of these units are designed to maintain that correctly -- but humidity is a bit of a concern. Do these cheap (say, <$250) boxes do a decent job with humidity? What's the technology? Wine peeps don't want their corks drying out; charcuterie hooligans don't want their meat drying out too fast. Can we find common ground? What's your experience?

I was really hoping someone would respond with a complete recipe and technique, (because I'm essentially lazy and) this is very high on the list of things I've wanted to try since having the hickory-roasted duck at NOLA last summer (yeah, I know there's a recipe in one of Emeril's books, but it says something like "smoke the duck" without any real detail). Since chickens are about 1/3 the price of ducks around here, that's what I've been experimenting with, even though there are substantial differences. If I were to try it this weekend (and I might yet), here's what I'd do: Remove all visible fat and set aside for rendering. Later, you'll retrieve smoked fat, and you can use it adjust the smoke level of the fat, if you wish. Spatchcock and brine for three hours in a 2:1 salt:sugar solution. Score the skin so the fat will be able to drain out, and smoke skin side up over apple wood at 225 - 250 F for two to three hours -- to an internal temperature of about 110 F, I'm thinking. You don't want it all the way done, or the subsequent steps will just overcook it.) Put the duck on a rack and stick it in a 275 F oven until the temperature hits 140 F. Flip it once in a while. Drain off the accumulated fat and crank the oven up to 400 F. Turn the duck skin side up again and roast until done (160F). All this seems kind of fussy, I know. The obstacle I'm trying to overcome is what happens to poultry skin when you brine and smoke (supermarket ducks do have a lot of fat, but most of it is subcutaneous; hence the brining). Between the two processes, the skin tends to get rubbery, and what's the point of duck if you don't end up with good skin? In fooling around with chickens (especially wings), I've found that the smoke/low heat/high heat combination seems to mitigate the problem pretty well. I hope that's helpful in some way. Of course, you could just put the duck on the smoker for four or five hours, and it will probably be great! Let us know, please.

I think the usual solution is 6.5 grams per liter of water. But just to be clear: if you're using something with a significant calcium content -- yogurt, sour cream or the like -- you can use reverse spherification. Instead of doing the alginate mixing step first, just drop the material straight into the alginate, leaving out the CaCl2 altogether.

That reminds me: truffle oil, even if it's fake.

I second the fried egg, though 1) there are few things that aren't improved by a fried-egg topping, so its seems obvious to me; 2) it's pretty difficult to manage at a cookout, and that's too bad. Chipotle red-pepper aioli is a great addition to a burger. Most pickles are too aggressive to play well with the others in this situation, but quick pickles that still have some cucumber taste and light brine can be really good. And there's still time for you to make them yourself, which can only add to your reputation as the gourmet in your group.

Yeah, I think that's right. My impression of Blais's cooking though is that while he's always interested in a new technique, he's very well grounded in tradition. And while he insists on food being prepared properly, he's not above having fun -- wit has been a consistent part of his cuisine. In any case, you're not likely to find avant garde techniques or ingredients on the menu unless they have a good reason for being there. Taste matters above all. I found the music loud to the point of being distracting, but by the time I ate, the room was nearly empty, and it echoed relentlessly. Regardless, I think we agree that most of the -- well, it would be going too far to call them problems, so let's call them "stuff," collectively -- we're pointing out are part and parcel of a venue undergoing a personality transplant. It's unfair for anyone to take minor issues like these too seriously. My take is that Element is off to a promising start. A serious review needs to wait for the frozen olive oil to settle.

Not to disrupt the scientific colloquy here (I'm quite interested in the results, should there be any, but "country-style ribs" are actually shoulder cuts -- as analogus to a beef chuck roast as you can get, considering we're talking about two different animals. In fact, if you check out bone-in country-style ribs, you can often see the pig version of the "seven" bone (as in a "seven-bone chuck roast").Carry on.

It's pretty nevertheless, Chris. One thing I was concerned about with your technique was penetration of the nitrite. It looks like it worked though. Unfortunately, there's nothing you can do about the fat. My sincere condolences. I used a recipe similar to Chris's for my brine additions, but substituted a combination of molasses and white sugar for brown sugar. (Yes, I adjusted the Bertolli formulation to account for the sugar in the molasses. I could backtrack and explain it, if anyone's interested.) I brined for three and a half days and dried it for one. Today I put it on the (Bradley) smoker for six hours at 95 F or less, using alternating cherry and apple pucks. It's finishing in the oven now at 180 F, but a preliminary fry-off predicts a good result. Duringthe smoke, something interesting occurred, and I wonder if anyone else has encountered it. It was warm here, today (I'm in Atlanta; it was probably in the low 80s today), so to keep the smoker temperature down, I loaded the bottom rack of the smoker with ice. After a couple of hours, the bellies started to "sweat." (They weren't warm in the sense of cooking-type temperature, hence the quotation marks.) Still, I'm guessing that the differential between the cold smoke and the warm (probably 80 - 90 F) meat caused moisture to condense on the surface of the meat. I patted it dry, and repeated this procedure whenever I checked the ice level or switched the racks. Has anyone else witnessed this phenomenon? What do you do about it?

I'm sorry I didn't get any pictures, Jason -- as often happens with charcuterie in my vicinity, it disappears too fast! What's going on at Element is quite different from One, and though the chef seems to have plenty of freedom, it's not like Blais, either. The aim seems to be to maximize flexibility, whether it's in the menu, the dishes, or even the ingredients. Opening night, there were lots of changes, even as things were leaving the kitchen. The filet, for example, was plated at least three different ways during the first night. I think I got the last one of the evening; it came in three medium-rare pieces (marrow coins on two of them) with airy-but-rich Robouchon-style potatoes, glazed pearl onions and a syringe of melted marrow. Two ramp leaves were plastered to the plate. As I ran the edge of my fork along them, they crinkled up like an accordion. The filet is not my favorite cut of beef (it's pretty far down the list, actually), but I wanted to see how it worked as a sous-vide item. I'd call this very successful. I also got a taste of the fish. Though slightly overdone, it was an excellent piece of flounder treated with a twist on the classic meuniere (a bit of the chutney described below anchors the filet to the plate). The accompaniment of scallops are gnocchi in name only; they're called that simply because the tiny bays resemble the pasta. I can't believe that the doneness issue won't be straightened out quickly. Blais has a long-standing fondness for fish (he was, believe it or not, a Fish Fellow at the CIA). There were also menu changes from the first night to the second: They switched out the beet cubes and apple caviar on the sashimi for beet caviar and apple sorbet. If you go there tonight, you'll get whipped apple in a crunchy malt sphere. The mozzarella (which was great, though a little underseasoned) sold out the first night. It's been replaced by a chevre (not too goaty) from Sweet Grass Dairy. They found some nice-looking soft-shell crabs, which they're serving in a straightforward (for Blais) style: brown butter, curry and a chutney they invented the night before that uses the dregs (pine nuts, the solids from Jana Valley butter, a handful of parsley) from making the foamed butter on the fish in combination with some eastern spices. The potatoes that accompanied the filet have been replaced by a whipped corn puree with a touch of truffle oil. Tuesday night, the crew loaded up a huge saucepan with chicken wings, chicken fat, duck fat, thyme and rosemary. This was covered tightly and tucked into a low oven overnight: chicken wing confit. Last night, they were grilling a mess of them with some Korean smoked spices and serving them with ping-pong ball-sized turnips in a ponzu-like broth and turnip greens scattered with lardons. Some of these changes are the unavoidable consequences of overhauling a menu in three or four days, of course, not to mention trying to maximize the value of the inventory left over from the previous menu -- something any good chef should be doing in these circumstances. They also speak to what Blais seems to be trying to accomplish here, which is not to recreate One, Bazaar or Blais (the restaurant), but to advance the simple cause of good food at reasonable prices. That he goes about it in his own way simply makes it more interesting: sometimes it means cooking asparagus two different ways for a single plate (the fluke), or reinventing a classic dish of mussels by pouring on a thick beery broth and gilding the lily with smoked aioli; sometimes it means reviving a beautiful medley of vegetables that dates all the back to his Fishbone days. And sometimes it means eliciting the best that a humble chicken wing has to offer -- or finding a few quarts of perfect strawberries and leaving them pretty much alone so you can celebrate their ephemeral singularity. Then, like a lot of dishes on the Element menu, they'll be gone. That's not a reason for despair, though. It means there's room on the menu for the next new thing.

Yes indeed, and it was very, very tasty, if sliced just a bit thick for my taste (not Jason's fault at all; the restaurant didn't have a slicer). The "ravioli" were actually yogurt spheres created (inverse spherification) with sodium alginate -- a fun riff on the traditional middle-eastern combination. Thanks for the photos, Rowdy, and welcome to the Society!

Good call, micropundit. More info here.

As the indefatigable and amazingly accurate micropundit revealed on his blog, Blais and his team (known collectively as "Triail-Blais") have signed on to revitalize Element at 11th and West Peachtree. Here are some notes from a pre-opening party Saturday (19 May) night. Sous chef Jeff Sigler was shucking some sort of Pacific oyster, and serving it with carefully mounted garnishes of chorizo, beer reduction and microgreens. To do this, he had comandeered a section of the upstairs bar (ironically, a sushi bar when the property was known as Cherry, a couple of years ago). Similar to a shifting One concoction that sometimes featured mussels and sometimes oysters, these could only have been improved by a lower serving temperature, forgivable under the circumstances.<br><br> We sampled four other portions (one of them repeatedly): bay scallop with tortilla risotto and smoked tomato powder; "waffles and eggs": a cocoon of waffle batter, deep fried and served in a mini-tagine with a poached quail egg and a drizzle of maple syrup; A thin toast topped with beef marrow, bits of oxtail and wine reduction; and a mostly boneless half-quail, dipped in egg wash and panko, then deep fried. The quail was the winner. The mostly boneless part meant that only the thigh bone remained. The rest was flattened before frying, so the effect was that of a large, butterflied, deep-fried shrimp, with only the bone poking up as a handle. Nothing molecular about this, though the sweet/slightly hot mayonnaise that garnished it was reminiscent of other Blais romps through the emulsion garden. To give the scallop its due, I only had one small sample; it seemed promising. Likewise the bruschetta; I need to get better about hooking waitstaff elbows. The waffle and egg wasn't up to a similar dish I had at One, which used a bit of smoked sous vide belly to much better effect. In fairness, this sort of dish requires careful timing -- not a reasonable expectation in party circumstances. Still, it seems to me that the waffle component should be added to the egg and bacon, rather than substituting for the pork: breakfast in a bite.<br> Copies of a prospective new menu were circulated at the party. I found out today that there were actually several versions, accidentally publicizing the evolution of Blais's thinking. The fact is that the menu probably won't be set until Tuesday morning, and there's every chance that it will change by Wednesday dinner. The team took a bold but obvious step in closing the restaurant after the party; Sunday and Monday are being spent in staff training, menu finalization and prep. <br> Nevertheless, here are some of the ideas presented on the menu that I brought home: kampachi sashimi, ginger juice and soy caviar; chicken wing confit, barbeque carrot, celery dressing; lamb spare ribs, goya malta, sourwood honey; mozzarella, warm figs, olive oil marmalade; Riverview Farms pate, candied fennel, pistachio arugula emulsion; "Pot au Pho": shrimp noodles, shaved beef, spiced consomme; strawberries, whipped almond, cilantro sorbet. <br> The above notwithstanding, when I visited the kitchen this afternoon, I saw two immersion circulators full of sous-vide bags. I thought I recognized the contents, but asked director of cuisine Mark Nanna (most recently sous chef at Pura Vida and a former Blais colleague at One) anyway. "Yeah," he replied, "It's cool to think about what's in there: tails, feet, bellies. Nothing that you'd expect at a traditional restaurant. No steaks, no roasts . . ." I was right: pigs' feet, ox tails, pork belly. (An interesting aside: the belly, which had been given a quick cure in the morning, had been sealed up with an unmistakeable yellow smear of French's mustard.) A few minutes later, lamb rib sections (sans loins) were added. Clearly, the Tilia is working overtime. <br> As of today, anyway, Blais plans to include a "staff meal" special on the daily menu -- a gambit that might pay off big with the neighborhood clientele, which includes a fair number of business travellers looking for comfort food, as well as with the staff, who'd be less likely to dress up hot dogs with bottled Italian dressing if they knew it was going on the menu -- and that they have an opportunity to eat better themselves if the staff meal is subsidized at retail. <br> Blais has ambitious notions for Element (by the way, is there a better name for a molecular gastronomy restaurant? I haven't seen one). He's revived vendor relationships that lay dormant since his escape to Miami, and he's excited about local production -- the invocation of Riverview Farms, Sweet Grass Dairy and the legendary Dan Moore speak to this commitment. He talks about a menu that might change weekly or even daily, depending on what comes through the back door or what he can cadge from nameless sources. Kitchen shelves (what there are of them; it's a small space) are already stocked with methylcellulose, calcium chloride and a number of other reagents. There's a cannister of LN2 in the kitchen, and another at the downstairs bar. The Kennesaw initiative is still alive. In the meantime (my earliest estimate for opening Elevation is mid-July), this opportunity came along, and Blais grabbed it. A number of questions come to mind quickly: can Element overcome the reputation of the former Cherry as a singles-bar scene, and more recently, a middling lunch-dinner-brunch restaurant, and become a destination venue? Will folks from Virginia Highlands, Decatur and Druid Hills brave the parking challenges of the neighborhood? Two years after Blais the restaurant closed abruptly, is there a profitable niche for (in the adopted lingo of the new Element) a gastro lounge and food lab in the Atlanta market? Element opens for dinner Tuesday, 22 May. They're not on OpenTable yet; call 404.745.3001 for reservations.