Last night I took a friend to Fifth Floor Restaurant for a belated birthday dinner. Having recently dined at French Laundry and Danko, Fifth Floor was hot on my list of destinations. (I'm not sure what's left. Fluer D'Lys? Masas?) I'd been told by a number of people that it offered the best dining within the city limits. Certainly, the press cannot get enough of Chef Laurent Gras, formerly of New York's Peacock alley. It was a great evening, with great food. The restaurant is, not surprisingly, on the fifth floor of the Hotel Palomar in downtown SF. It was a little strange to see doors to guest rooms across the hall from the restaurant itself, but I'm not sure why. With dark paneling and an odd choice of lighted glass panels (click here for their website with a photo), I thought the restaurant came the closest to the feel of a mid-town New York establishment. Add to that the fact that I saw more men in dark business suits last night than I've seen in the past three years. I thought the room was more businesslike than Danko and certainly a lot less comfortable than FL on a Saturday afternoon. The large room is separated by a panel (which can almost be made out just to the right on the website photo), and on the other side is a larger, slightly brighter dining room. We were placed at a deuce against the panel in the center of the room. A bit noisy, and not as cozy as the two booths on the side (towards the left of the photo) which were empty when we arrived. (Although the restaurant was crowded, I don't believe it was full at any time during the evening, but I couldn't see into the other room.) The staff was as terrific as you would expect. The floor manager, John, stopped by often to make sure we were happy and had everything we needed. The servers scurried about everywhere, but without the least bit of distraction. I did think their outfits were slightly humorous -- with black pants, clean white shirts and sleeveless vests, they were positively colonial. I almost expected them to hand out a long, white clay pipe at some point during the evening. They explained the dishes perfectly (although I did not quiz them about the butter or the salt). The menu was presented immediately, and we ordered a glass of Soter “Beacon Hill” Rosé, Willamette Valley 1997. I'm not a fan of champagne or sparkling wines, but I enjoyed this quite a bit. I had brought a bottle of Haut Brion '94, which they spirited away to a decanter. I thought the HB was very good, but what do I know? It didn't have a strong fruit flavor, but there was nothing sharp or overly acidic about it. It had a nice cool feel on the tongue, like a silk sheet, and little tannin. I like it, but as my friend pointed out, I probably would have been just as happy with a good IPA. We decided on the tasting menu (the complete winter menu, with slight variation from what we were offered, can be found here), with an extra foie gras course. I asked to substitute the geoduck for the first course, and the waiter assured me that he had some pull with the kitchen and could get it done. (Yes, Laurent was cooking that night, and, I'm told, every night unless he's out of town for a special engagement.) We each received a different amuse. She had a poached shrimp (I forget the preparation), that offered a strong shrimp flavor without being over powering. The meat was very firm, and enjoyable. Mine was a scoop of tuna tartare (apologies for the poor photography throughout): It was a dense, rounded scoop of cool, minced tuna, with some chive and a smidge of gray Hawaiian sea salt on top. In addition to the sea salt, there appeared to be some grains of minced candied ginger, but I could be mistaken. It sat perfectly in it's cup, with a subtle, bright ring of oil at the juncture of tuna and china. The flavor of the tuna was somewhat muted, but I've never found tuna to be particularly bold. The salt added a surprisingly amount of texture and accented the fish well without over powering. Very nice for the start. Geoduck Clams – Finely sliced and seasoned with lime and fresh wasabi: The geoduck (photos of which can be seen in this previous thread) came in a small heap in the center of a large plate. It was shaved and minced, and served ceviche style, marinated with olive oil, lime and wasabi, but visually appeared to be just the slightly pinkish meat of the clam. I was looking forward to this, as I've never tasted this bivalve behemoth. The first bite virtually exploded with the sea and was a bit of a shock. The flavor was strong and aggressive, and did not remind me at all of clam. However, it was not the least bit "fishy" or unpleasant. The texture of the clam was wonderful. It was cool and crisp with a fresh snap, similar to the suckers from an octopus tentacle. The acid from the lime added a wonderful cleansing sensation. And as I continued with the dish, the strong clam flavor subsided and the flavor of the lime and oil came out. I don't know if that is endemic in the clam (that the flavor fades quickly) or the preparation, but I thought it was necessary. I think if the original strength continued it would have been unpleasantly overpowering. I never noticed the wasabi in the marinade, but it wasn't missed. Sea Scallop - Sauvignon Blanc reduced with passion fruit, sautéed cauliflower The scallop (singular) was outstanding: A completely different animal from the one I raved about at Danko, this sat softly in a warm, brownish broth and was covered by a thin slice of roasted cauliflower. The meat was sweet and juicy and contrasted well with the crisp, caramelized vegetable. But the broth was what set this apart. Wine with a little beef jus, it was infused with vanilla and passion fruit. The passion fruit was very subtle and I did not specifically discern its flavor (which is good for me as I don't particularly like citrus in main courses), but the vanilla flavor was warm, and soft, and inviting. It wafted up like a smooth, gentle cloud, with hints of cocoa or even coffee. It was great. A final thought on the first courses. They were small. Unless someone tells me that geoduck is very expensive (I don't think it is) or requires a great amount of preparation (such as pounding, marinated, caressing or cajoling), I think the $24 menu charge cannot be justified (although I'm certain that a larger portion is offered when not part of the tasting menu). The scallop, although superb, was also just too small. It was not a big, plump, ocean scallop. Roughly the size of a large jujyfruit, I don't see how the restaurant can serve the one (as noted, the menu lists "scallop" singular) for $18. (I know that in another thread I said that once one agrees to eat at a restaurant like this they waive the right to complain about prices, but . . . .) Lobster Cappuccino - Lobster broth emulsified with chestnuts, prawns and sautéed lobster I did not photograph this, as it looked like a light brown, creamy broth. But it tasted like a lobster explosion. The bowl is set in front of the diner with one shrimp and a piece of lobster meat topped by a quenelle of whipped cream infused with lobster butter. The hot chestnut infused lobster broth is poured directly onto the cream, resulting in a foamy brown soup that looks like, you guessed it, cappuccino. My first realization upon tasting the soup is that it was hot. Of course, but looking back at Danko and French Laundry, I realized that none of the dishes were served particularly hot. I don't know why this surprised me, but it was a pleasant surprise. The second realization was that it was wonderful. Each spoonful of broth carried with it a strong, sweet taste of lobster. The cream added just the right amount of sharpness that opened up the tastebuds to the lobster broth without at all approaching the richness of a bisque. The chestnut flavor was present only a subtle nuttiness in the background and to provide color. (The one small shrimp and small piece of lobster were afterthoughts.) Skate Wing - Caramelized, Bordelaise sauce and artichokes Again, terrific. I love skate. The texture of the meat usually reminds me of a thin, well-tenderized skirt steak. And it seems to crisp so well. This dish was all that and more. The meat naturally separates into ribbons of muscle. The searing left the top wonderfully crisp and bursting with an almost meaty flavor. But just underneath was soft, moist, white flesh. More tender than I've usually experienced with skate, and with an easy flavor. (I've read that skate can have an ammonia-like flavor -- nothing even resembling that here.) The contrasting texture and flavor of the meat with the caramelized surface was excellent. Underneath the fish was a puree of potato and artichoke that smooth as silk and carried the buttery flavor of the artichoke. Laid on top were small slices of artichoke heart that could not have been cooked for longer than a quick blanche as they were crunchy and delicious. Overall, the smooth puree, crunch of the heart, soft meat and crisp caramelization made for a wonderful dish. Hudson Valley Foie Gras - Sautéed with licorice, quince "spring rolls," and bean sprouts, dipping sauce Spectacular. Absolutely spectacular. Heads and shoulders above what I'd received at Danko, the glistening brown nugget of foie gras must be what all the fuss is about. The foie was served on a spartan plate with a small quince spring roll, and some thin slices of apple edged with chive. On another plate we were served a wedge of butter lettuce and a sweet (I assume quince) dipping sauce. The server suggested that the foie be eaten "Vietnamese" style by wrapping it in some lettuce and dipping it the sauce. I tried that with the first slice of foie, but quickly abandoned it. Why put this perfection in a sweet sauce? The foie came out glistening with the slightest layer of melted fat that was smooth and comfortable. It was seared brown and cooked through (my piece at Danko seemed undercooked and loose) bringing out both flavor and texture. The striking part to me was the anise sprinkled on top. The flavor of the licorice was subtle and delayed. But the feel was alive. The volatile oils in the anise powder mixed with the fat of the foie and vaporized in the mouth to coat tongue, palate and gullet with an electric tingle. Even my finicky date -- who was just seconds from delivering the entire piece of "liver" to my plate before trying it -- marveled at the dish. The spring roll was good, but didn't compare. It was crisp, and filled with a sweet, smooth paste that didn't excite me very much. I thought the dipping sauce a little too sweet. The only reason one should let it come close to the foie is if you don't like foie. Squab Breast -Roasted with almonds and cumin, caramelized dumpling and salsify- (Oops, I got carried away.) Well, if I didn't dive into this one too soon, you would see a surprisingly large breast of squab covered in a copious pile of sliced, roasted almonds, next to a thin, golden ravioli. The squab breast was better than I expected. I usually avoid squab, quail and other little morsels. Why bother? But this was a large, thick, meaty piece of breast, with a good layer of fat hidden under the almond. The meat was bright pink in color, dense and bursting with flavor. I'm undecided about the almonds though. At first, the nuttiness complimented the dish well, but I think there were too many of them. Roasted as they were, the let out a slight bitterness that grew with each bite, and I think the crunch of the nuts distracted from the dense texture of the flesh. Also, the almonds prevented the skin on the breast from crisping (something prevented it). The ravioli, however, was perhaps my favorite part of the evening. It was filled with a small bit of confit from the squab leg, some more foie and black bits of chopped enoki mushrooms. The flavor was woodsy, intense and complete. Each bite was like a walk in the woods after warm rain. The mushrooms and duck grew together create a huge flavor in each small bite, with the foie adding smoothness to each chew. Really good. (As I run short of adjectives.) Pork Belly - Black pepper crusted, in truffle infused pork jus, with potato and apple. The final savory course was a new to the menu. Two large slices of pork belly, heavily crusted with black pepper on the meat side, and golden crisp on the skin side. A truffle infused pork jus was spooned over the top, and it was served with two rounds of potato and a square of tart roasted apple. The pork belly was quite different from the one I'd recently had at French Laundry. FL's was a rectangular block of meat, with crisp, thinly scored skin on top, and moist, tender brown flesh beneath. Wonderful, understated, overachieving. Last night's slices of pork belly were much more reminiscent of the bacon itself. The server explained that it was meant to be eaten "vertically", with each slice carrying with it the rainbow from the coarse black pepper, the smoky pork meat, the velvety fat and the crisp skin. Each component was, indeed, perfectly prepared all in the one slice. The pepper was strong, but not overpowering. The bacon meat was bright pink and beautiful, with firm, textured meat and a slight smokiness. The soft, white fat melted around the entire mouthful to carry all of the flavors deep into your tastebuds, and the crisp golden skin remained so even with the jus. After a few bits I realized that I preferred to separate the dish, eating a bite of pepper crust meat first, followed by a bite of the fat and skin. The pepper and meat provided the most intense flavor of the night (followed closely by that ravioli). The creamy fat and the crisp skin brought down the intensity of the meat portion and highlighted more the contrast in textures. The potato rounds were the only disappointment of the evening. Whatever flavor they may have had was completely hidden by the pork, and they're texture was slightly undercooked. The apple, on the other hand, surprised me. It was moist, tart and sweet, as if pulled out of a pie and still retained all of its crunch. Both apple and potato appeared to have been coated in a thin layer of gellee (?) the flavor of which did not come through. With the pork belly I had a glass of Prat & Symington's Chryseia, from Douro valley in Portugal. I had tried this a few nights earlier, and really enjoyed it because it was so different. Dark red in color, the bouquet was heavy and musky with the flavor of black olives. The taste, too, was oily, but not in the least unpleasant and certainly with no lingering oily feel. Whereas the Haut Brion felt like a smooth sheet, the Chryseia felt like a warm blanket on the tongue. Meyer Lemon Souffle, Crème Anglais For dessert we received a terrific meyer lemon soufflé that, again, surprised me by turning something I don't particularly like into something wonderful. I usually find soufflé too eggy, but this was anything but. The bright lemon yellow soufflé rode high above the top of the ramekin without wilting over the side. The server pierced the top with a spoon and poured in about half the little pitcher of smooth crème anglais. The rest, he said, could be added at will, or just drunk out of the pitcher. The first bite of the soufflé tasted more like lemon spongecake than soufflé. The sharp, but sweet citrus of the meyer lemon jolted your mouth awake to accept the soft sweet coat of crème anglais. Towards the bottom, more of the egg flavor came through, but this remained softened by the lemon. The remainder of the crème anglais tasted wonderful, though I admit I used a spoon. Oddly, no one asked if we wanted coffee until the petit fours were brought. No big deal, because we didn't. The four petit fours were brought out with the check. Between the two, the fours were definitely superior. And then we left. (I anyone knows a good liposuctionist, please send me a referral. I'm carrying around about 50 "fight club" bars of soap I need to get rid of. Also, please send me recipes for pasta and butter, as that's about all I can afford for the next two months or so.)
