Mix (with Doug Psaltis as chef de cuisine)

[bunny]

is there a web site up for this place yet

[Dave the Cook]

is there a web site up for this place yet

Such as it is: http://www.mixny.com

The Alain Ducasse site doesn't even mention Mix, and barely notes the existence of Spoon.

[jogoode]

is there a web site up for this place yet

Such as it is: http://www.mixny.com

What a site!

[Msk]

An additional negative:

The menus are that annoying orange with a standard printed white insert. I had to take the damn thing out to be able to read it with the "mood lighting."

Msk

[lxt]

It wasn’t just a mathematical model of a cleaned-up, rational, emotionally hygienic décor so often presented in modern architecture. All conflicts resolved geometrically where harmony of lines, surfaces and volumes with individual and precise forms allowed tension to exist and to be balanced by the consistency of the surrounding. It was the close association between logic, expressed in high ceilings, traditional dark leather columns resolving themselves at the roof, and pure playful forms, represented by the clear glass panels “wrapping” the ceiling and white-brick walls, which had no practical function other than introducing an illusion of transparency and lightness imposed by the reflections from a glow generated by the beautifully elongated, long-cord white lamps. To those seated in the center, the room, surrounded by rhetorical exuberance of modernity, poetry of sharp technique arising out of a daring inversion of the traditional elements so that where one would have expected solid one found light, looked extravagant to the point of folly. It was stripped from the middle-aged “blanket” of comfort and instead was filled with youthful breath, making the diner dissolve in its vigorous “air” and become its integral part. A startling change of perception comes, however, when seated at a side table, facing a pale wall whose glass “makiage” becomes suddenly revealed imposing a cold air of structural boldness.

“Mix is about mixing two cuisines, American and French,” explained our captain, an enthusiastic, handsome, young French gentleman. His eyes lit up as I inquired about the chef’s tasting. “You can’t see this menu. I keep it in my brain,” and after a short pause, “Let me consult with the chef,” he continued with a tone exuberating an air of importance. Add to it a slight charm of French accent, and you’ll understand our involuntary smiles.

Our first introduction to the American cuisine at Mix started with bread/butter/grape jelly/peanut butter presented in an appealing structure, combining individual compartments for the slices of sour, slightly toasted, warm, dark, sourdough bread and three small cups, with spatula-like knives, filled with home-made very soft, salted butter, grape jelly conveying strong concentrated notes of ripe grapes or grape juice, and buttery, coarse peanut butter with just the right proportion of salt and sweetness. As much as I enjoyed the bread with butter, the jelly and peanut butter seemed out of place. “The bread is too hard,” said my consort. Indeed, for the peanut butter/jelly to work, perhaps the bread should’ve been airy and soft and lent sweetness and a spongy texture instead of being sour, dense and relatively hard.

New England clam chowder with crackers was served in a small (approximately 3-inch diameter) soup cup with an adorable cover lifted as soon as the dish was placed in front of us. Relatively thin, dark-beige broth hid in the bottom of the cup a mix of thinly shredded clams, tiny cubes of potato, celery and onion and provided a mild, pleasant flavor of the ocean and clam juice, not too obscured by the richness of cream and a slight perfume of bacon. “It’s clam chowder,” said my consort as if confirming the menu description. It certainly was clam chowder: no doubt a very good one, but anyone expecting the dish to have evolved into anything other than clam chowder will be disappointed. Tiny crackers, about a half-inch, shaped as cute sunflowers, were served in a separate bowl. The crackers -- crispy, plump raviolis stuffed with herbs-- became soft upon absorbing the liquid and reverted to their original doughy texture without dissolving into the broth. It was a very interesting touch and a nice presentation.

Foie gras terrine, brioche, grapes, walnuts.

A wide cylinder of uniformly pink terrine was surrounded by toasted, tenderly crunchy brioche and chutney made of white grapes, white raisins and chopped walnuts on one side, sliced walnuts in balsamic vinegar on the other, and topped with transparent-yellowish jelly. I had to get used to the concept of not necessarily enjoying the whole composition together, but rather splitting the “orchestra” into duets and trios. Taste the sweet, mild foie gras, offering its silken, sinful richness, with either lightly cooked white grapes and raisins or the vinegary walnuts, and enjoy different nuances brought out by each of the ensembles. The jelly added a pleasant cooling effect to the dish: Made of duck stock, almost bland if eaten separately, it enhanced the foie gras, adding a “breezy” aspect to the room-temperature dish and, with its gelatinous texture, enlivening the foie melting in your mouth.

Elbow pasta, ham, butter and black truffles.

I did not enjoy this dish. Perhaps I didn’t enjoy the whole idea of pasta as a separate dish in this particular tasting, or perhaps the taste and the aroma of fresh black truffles (from Umbria) was too subtle, if not nonexistent, preventing the dish from being elevated to the next level of enjoyment. All I can say is that I didn’t enjoy either the concept or the presentation of this dish the same way I didn’t enjoy the Japanese sticky rice at Jean George. The generous portion of pasta curls was saturated with butter and occasionally revealed flat, tiny slices of ham. Several wafer-thin slivers of fresh blackish-chocolate truffles, topping the dish, marked with a fine, reddish (not white)-lined marbled pattern, lacked any aroma as if their reservoir of fragrance just ran out. I took several bites and left this dish unfinished.

Scallops, boneless chicken wing, chicken breast, russet potatoes.

Two attractive, elegant, superbly prepared scallops -- adding a touch of sophistication and a delicate luxury to an otherwise rustic and pastoral dish – transparent-pinkish and sweet, cooked just to the point of resilience, and small flavorful pieces of chicken with crispy skin and moist, supple interior, lay on a mound of mashed potatoes washed by sauce Grenobloise swarming with capers and tiny, dark, sour croutons. I enjoyed the nice and vivid textural contrast of the wing and the breast; however, the delicate taste and springy texture of the scallops were completely “devoured” by their much stronger counterpart when both the chicken and the scallops were eaten together. Split the dish into chicken/mashed potatoes and scallop/mashed potatoes combinations and enjoy much more successful shades of flavors. The potato purée, slightly grainy with tiny “stones” melting with each gentle bite, was not seasoned and upon absorbing the acutely acidic sauce achieved a smooth texture and balanced, slightly spiked seasoning. I enjoyed this dish though I would probably have preferred not to have two contrasting main elements, as I almost needed to flush my mouth with water to feel the splendor of the scallops after enjoying the strong rusticity of the chicken.

I moved my head up away from my plate and noticed that my consort had disappeared. Several minutes passed before I became concerned about the length of his absence. A frantic light in his eyes, upon returning, indicated that he had just experienced something other than a mere acquaintance with the restaurant's facilities. "When you go to the restroom, make sure you press the floor pedal to make the water run," he whispered in a gentle, caring, but somewhat agitated voice. Apparently, solving the first puzzle of flushing the toilet by pulling the rope hanging from the ceiling did not present a challenge. However, a "shy," small, metal ball, hardly sticking up from above the tub-like floor, the purpose of which was to unleash the water from the faucet, appeared to be an unsolvable conundrum even for a man with multiple degrees in science and math who rarely surrenders to a challenge. "No matter what I did, the water wouldn't run," he said laughing at himself. I can't possibly imagine what went through my husband's head while he was holding his hands, soaked in soap, under the faucet waiting for the photocell to register or patting the long nose of the familiar device gently or firmly while examining its surrounding area for salvation, but he gave up and finally begged for help a woman standing guard in front of the bathroom, whose job apparently was nothing else but helping lost souls like my husband. The whole scenario reminded me of a Mr. Bean episode, and though we both had much laughter, selfishly, I was grateful it was he who had to face the challenge first.

The last dish of Tenderloin of bison, shallot confit, bone marrow and sauce bordelaise was certainly the most enjoyable of the evening. There was nothing in this dish that would suggest yet another copiously adorned preparation. Its simplicity made a telling contrast and brought an amply regal conclusion to our dinner. A tall cylinder of dark-brown fillet of bison (delivered to the kitchen three times a week from Virginia), with distinct twine marks, sat on a cushiony shallot confit in a rich-burgundy bordelaise sauce adorned with rounds of sweet, crunchy parsnip. The perfectly done (with almost rare interior) lean meat had a slightly wild flavor and was stuffed with tiny “grapes” of beef marrow bringing a subtle trace of richness, though serving mostly as a decorative gilding, as they rolled out of their safe inner nest when I cut through the center of the tender flesh. The sauce – thin and gentle, whose mild acidity was offset by the caramelized sweet shallots -- provided additional moisture to the meat without changing or overpowering its natural flavor. Simplicity and harmony were the keynotes of this excellent dish.

I won’t even describe the desserts as I found them profoundly lacking on the two occasions I visited the restaurant. Unbalanced, cloyingly sweet and heavy, where the lemon sorbet, for instance, had an artificial, acidic flavor that provoked involuntary facial convulsions, they were not on a par with the earlier courses. I wasn’t impressed by the chocolate pizza with a puff pastry base and chocolate coating either. It reminded me of a semi-finished base for a dessert yet to be made. In fact, as we left the restaurant, my husband started extemporizing on the subject of making smaller size pastries of that “pizza,” which would hold chocolate mousse and a lighter counterpart similar to whipped cream. “You want Le Bernardin’s chocolate mille feuille,” I said. “Exactly,” he answered.

“Mixed” was our impression after the dinner, with my consort favoring it more then I did. From a conceptual perspective, I was left quite indifferent to the idea of pairing home-American cuisine with more sophisticated French cuisine holding a “fragrance” of old-fashioned classics, and the idea of elaborate composition with main elements competing on the same plate seemed to distract me from fully appreciating a dish. However, the perfect ingredients and simply outstanding preparation of meat and fish made me curious so that I returned in several days for lunch.

For this lunch, Chef Psaltis agreed to do a tasting for us accommodating our request to exclude pasta and red meat to satisfy my and my companion’s dietary preferences, respectively. One bite of Steamed shrimp with tomato syrup, horseradish royale and small hearts of salad and my objections concerning incorporating American dishes into the classic French menu were washed away like a sand castle by the tide of new flavors of the deconstructed, or rather reconstructed, shrimp cocktail. Served in a cocktail glass, the dish was composed of three layers with shrimp sandwiched by bloody-red, slightly sweet, thin tomato paste and crème fraiche, spiked with the crisp tones of horseradish gently enough not to overshadow crème’s mild sourness. A softly sweet lime chip encrusted with seeds of black pepper completed the composition. Scoop from the bottom of the glass and enjoy the merged rainbow flavors. Simple, light and airy, a perfect equilibrium of contrasts, reminiscent of an undemanding flip-flopped shrimp cocktail yet exuding posh delicacy, the dish was a perfect way to perk our palates and start our lunch.

I’ll skip the description of another nice appetizer detailed elsewhere in this thread, Thinly sliced tuna, seasoned with blood orange, fennel, olive oil, and jump to the next dish.

Steamed vegetables with pomegranate seeds.

Austere in its restraint and direct in its simplicity, a mix of beet root, cauliflower, baby carrots, apples, pears, pomegranate seeds, spinach, fennel, parsnip(?), a small amount of baby salad and squash purée was served in a heavy, round casserole, presenting a pure tension of multiple acute and concentrated flavors, opening up a world of refined balance “painted” with astonishing immediacy and presence. This dish was simply astounding. It was if the fruit and vegetables assumed monumental quality as a result of their meticulous depiction. Each vegetable was cooked or prepared separately at a different temperature with a different approach to adjust to its needs and texture, combined with its brethren right before being served, and seasoned simply with olive oil, salt and pepper. A thin, round chip of semi-dry beet root full of concentrated sugary essence with a bite of bitter vibrancy; buttery spinach, lightly cooked only to obscure the borderline of freshness; almost raw baby carrots and their cooked, peppery and sweet “parent”; warm and agreeably aromatic fennel disseminating its subtle licorice scent to the fruit and vegetables; a dry, yellow carrot chip, with a less sweet, though more pronounced earthy tang; and a butternut squash purée -- thick, sweet and grainy from bits of chestnuts and croutons -- comprised one perfect setting. Bind the vegetables with the mush of the syrupy squash purée, and enjoy your senses being wrapped in a mysterious aroma of earth and a freshness and perfumed bouquet of plain, simple and concentrated natural flavors. This dish should not be missed in my opinion.

Filet of sole “Normandy” style, leeks, mussels and white mushrooms.

A youthful thrill, ever present while reading Russian classics of the 19th century describing in painful detail the aristocracy’s daily feasts of French delicacies (“oysters, …turbot with sauce Beaumarchais and capons a l’estragon” (“Anna Karenina” by Tolstoy), was resurrected as the plate containing a cylinder of poached sole filet, stuffed with pale-pink whitefish and shellfish mousse, resting on a bed of lightly cooked, finely chopped shallots and surrounded by one shrimp, three mussels and one long fat scallion was placed in front of me. The fish, in a “hat” made of a firm-fleshed, spindle-shaped, slightly grooved, brownish, perfect champignon, rested in a butter-cream sauce, with tiny croutons, augmented by several puddles of very intense, dark brown-red lobster sauce. The mild, supple, tender but plump fish was as delicate as the velvety mousse filling its crater; the mussels and lightly cooked shrimp were unblemished; every single detail in this dish was flawless, stressing the magnificence of each element small or large, and yet when they were tried all together, their individuality was drowned in the tidal wave of the communal ocean flavor and multitude of sauces. It reminded me of the gilded Baroque style, with pouring shower of gold, garlands, cascading waterfalls ornamented with shells, chubby cherubs, waving tree fronds, goddesses adorned with jewels and very little else, fluid brushworks and luscious coloring all in one -- beautiful and light in every individually portrayed detail, but quite heavy overall.

Having assumed that our meal consisted of five dishes, I leaned back comfortably, preparing to fully devote my mental and physical energies to the digestive process when the last and least-expected dish, Poached farm raised chicken, foie gras stuffed potato, sauce albufere, arrived. It echoed the same classic motif, was rich with sauces and ingredients, and was executed perfectly. Three tender, but slightly firm, extremely flavorful chicken fillets, generously wetted with an albufere glaze lending a strong foie gras scent with the gentle sharpness of port and Madeira, rested in a strongly flavored veal(?) consommé and shared the plate with caramelized, sweet and biting shallot confit mixed with tarragon(?) and spiced with tons of black pepper. The shallot mound served as a bed for a “mushroom” composed of a baby potato “stem,” stuffed with finely chopped chicken liver, and a perfectly done, tender, sumptuous and flavorful, tiny sautéed foie gras “hat.” Eating all elements together masked individual ingredients to the point of unrecognizability, though each bit was delicious in its own right.

Psaltis’ “...mind and hand went together, and what he thought, he uttered with...” care, technical wizardry and enthusiasm. His French classical repertoire was based on elaborately prepared, rich, luxurious and perhaps to some extent dogmatic dishes with a generous utilization of butter, cream, and fat, going back to the reign of grandeur and the glory of czars and kings. As to the critics of Duccasse, interestingly, Voltaire, whose genius is hardly questionable, once said about Shakespeare: "Shakespeare is a drunken savage with some imagination whose plays please only in London and Canada…, “ and further, “Shakespeare is the Corneille of London, but everywhere else he is a great fool." I can’t predict the future success or failure of Mix, but though the style of the cuisine, based on my limited exposure to it, may not be my favorite, I enjoyed my second meal at Mix very much, and for those who “take pleasure in Shakespeare,” Mix should be absolutely and undoubtedly a destination.

[Jason Perlow]

Thats a brilliant writeup, Lana. I'm glad you enjoyed it as I did.

[lxt]

Jason, thank you.

[Fat Guy]

LXT, yours is a fitting tribute to Mix, and I'm afraid it's the last of its sort we'll ever read: I've just learned that Doug Psaltis left the restaurant at the end of last night's service, never to return. I'm not fully up to speed on the nature of the management conflict that led to this outcome, but it appears that Mix is to go in the Chodorow direction rather than the Ducasse direction from now on. As I learn more, I'll report back.

[Jason Perlow]

To quote Marvin the Paranoid Android: Oh God, I'm so depressed.

[slkinsey]

Big mistake for the restaurant to let Doug get away from them.

[Jinmyo]

Egad.

That's a surprise.

[Felonius]

Bummer. I wish I'd had an opportunity for a final meal under Doug's watch.

If anyone know's where he's headed, keep us posted. I'll be the first one to line up outside the kitchen.

[slkinsey]

When this first broke, we made contact with the best sources close to the situation we could find, who asked to speak on background only, and have been able to piece together this preliminary story:

It is a matter of public knowledge, and is likely evident to anyone who has been to Mix, that the kitchen has been run by Doug Psaltis and is in every way a Ducasse kitchen. This philosophy extends from the tools (e.g., many copper pans, great stove, etc.) to the staff (the sous chef is an Italian guy Ducasse sent over, but who will not be the next chef), the ingredients sourced and the food produced.

The front of the house, however, is run by China Grill Management (aka the Chodorow organization) and there have been conflicts between the two management philosophies and goals for Mix. The people on the Ducasse side have long felt that the level of service has been disproportionate to the quality of food. The management level is no exception. Initially the struggle was to get the front of the house on the same level as the kitchen. But, now that there has been a clear change in the control of the restaurant, the management team has changed course and the struggle has been reversed.

Apparently a plan was devised to re-launch the restaurant into more of a money-making operation. Key elements of this plan included using only China Grill purveyors (those used in all of the organization's other restaurants), not continuing to replace the fine china and crystal and moving to cheaper products instead, redeveloping the labor structure in the kitchen, and revising the menu to accommodate more turns.

This, as one might well imagine, is somewhat inimical to the goals Psaltis has been trying to achieve at Mix. Psaltis' job has been to provide food that is aligned with Ducasse's ideals. He has been using premium sources for all of their products (which often are no more expensive, sometimes cheaper, than the purveyors that China Grill uses). And, as at any kitchen achieving the level of cuisine Mix has been producing, he has been dependent on a dedicated and talented staff. In this case, the kitchen featured many cooks who gave up higher levels elsewhere for the opportunity to work in a Ducasse kitchen.

Throughout his time at Mix (and before it), Psaltis has maintained that he is a Ducasse chef. He has worked to meet the demands of Alain Ducasse and no one else. When he felt the increase in pressure to run Mix more like every other China Grill restaurant, it was clear that there was no way that he would be part of that. Several of his cooks have now also departed.

The expectation is that the new chef and level of cooking will move closer to that of the other China Grill restaurants and, following the likely large turnover of the kitchen staff, the menu will likely change quite a bit.

As for Doug Psaltis, he remains loyal to the Ducasse organization and is actively discussing his next steps with Ducasse.

* * *

More information here as we receive it

[slkinsey]

The New York Post apparently spoke to different people, as yesterday's Page Six reflects. Some excerpts:

Alain Ducasse has fired his handpicked chef at Mix, the casual but pricey American-French eatery he opened last summer with partner Jeffrey Chodorow.

Mix spokesperson Susan Magrino said, "Mr. Ducasse did not agree with the way Doug was managing the kitchen and the team."

Magrino shot down speculation . . . that Ducasse had acted under pressure from Chodorow. "There was no power struggle," Magrino said. "Ducasse is in charge of the kitchen."

[Fat Guy]

The quality of the food going forward will demonstrate just how "in charge" of the kitchen Mr. Ducasse is, as well as the nature of that authority (for example does it extend to purchasing and staffing, or is it only a menu function?). Let us hope he and his new team will work to keep those of us who have become loyal Mix customers on account of the style of food being offered there now.

However, it is extremely difficult to take at face value the statement that "Mr. Ducasse did not agree with the way Doug was managing the kitchen and the team." In any event, a public statement of that nature -- even if 100% true and subject to no ambiguity -- is hardly a way to treat someone who has demonstrated fierce loyalty to an organization for 4+ years (what of the September article in the New York Times, 1800+ words about how Psaltis is "Ducasse's New Protégé"?). While Doug is telling reporters that "he remains loyal to the Ducasse organization and is actively discussing his next steps with Ducasse," it seems that Ducasse's publicist is saying this is all Doug's fault. Somewhere in the organization, there appears to have been a failure to communicate.

[Jinmyo]

Change the name to Mess.

[docsconz]

Thgis is very sad. I now regret not having created the opportunity to visit Mix under Psaltis. The Post report does not ring true. What other restaurants is Chodorow involved with besides Rocco's?

[Fat Guy]

Asia de Cuba, Tuscan, Hudson Cafeteria, and a whole bunch of others in several cities, including the London branch of Ducasse's Spoon group.

[docsconz]

Good, None that I really have any interest in. Based upon what I have read here and about Rocco's I don't really have any interest in getting to know any of his restaurants. It seems they are more about the "scene" and "seen" than about the food.

[bloviatrix]

Assuming what egullet reports is the accurate story, does anyone know what it would take for Ducasse to pull out of the relationship. I would assume he wouldn't want to be part of restaurant if it's run according to China Grill standards.

[docsconz]

Actually, I would have an interest in Spoon, but unfortunately, I have no plans to visit London anytime in the near future. Mix might still be in "the mix", but I will reserve judgement pending what direction they go in.

[Fat Guy]

Assuming what egullet reports is the accurate story, does anyone know what it would take for Ducasse to pull out of the relationship. I would assume he wouldn't want to be part of restaurant if it's run according to China Grill standards.

Ducasse and Chodorow have another restaurant together (and I would have to check if the other Mix restaurant, which I've heard is in progress, is a Chodorow venture). There would be no way for Ducasse to treat it as a one-off. The pressure to stay in the relationship and present a unified front would, even under the circumstances described in Sam's post, be tremendous. In addition, though Ducasse is fanatical about control of his three fine-dining restaurants, he is more flexible about his relationships with his other restaurant properties and groups such as Spoon, Mix, BoulangEpicier, Bar & Boeuf, etc. Many reports I've heard have indicated, for example, that the Spoon in Paris (not with Chodorow) and the Spoon in London (with Chodorow) are completely different animals in terms of their quality levels.

[Felonius]

I'd guess that Ducasse is still interested in getting rich as much as the next guy, and that the Chodorow partnership is probably an easier way to do it than a place like ADNY. In a similar vein, John Malkovich did that horrible action movie (I didn't see it, but I think it involved an airplane and terrorists) for something like $10 million, and used the money to finance his own independent film projects. Malkovich actually claimed in an interview that he had never even been to a screening of that action flick. So what's to keep Ducasse from selling out to some degree at Mix and Spoon, so that he can keep his cost-no-object obsessions at his namesake restaurants awash in positive cash flow. Mix was probably doomed from the start anyway. While I thought the food was first rate, the atmosphere and the price point didn't seem to jive in the minds of the public or the critics. I suspect that Mix didn't fit the mold for older wealthy clientele that support places like Daniel, ADNY, and Le Bernardin, and was either too expensive or not "hip" enough for a younger audience. I wonder if it would have done better had they opened Mix in Tribeca or Soho.

[Fat Guy]

Midtown, in terms of its bistro/brasserie explosion, arguably is the new Tribeca and SoHo. But I agree Mix was destined to have a hard time finding a target audience. Of course, the critics could have helped by explaining the restaurant instead of condemning it, but why bother when the place is such an easy target? Visionary, creative endeavors require the cooperation of several constituencies in order to succeed, and Mix appealed neither to the food media nor to Ducasse's current audience of luxury-oriented, older diners. Not to mention the endemic service problems. I'm sure the restaurant will have a better chance of success if it goes more in the club/lounge direction.

[bpearis]

From the NY Times' "Off the Menu":

Beginning in mid-May, dishes will no longer fall into categories like "the must of Mix" or be served in petri dishes, but the blend of American and European classics will remain. The chef de cuisine, DOUGLAS PSALTIS, has been replaced by DAMON GORDON, who worked for Mr. Ducasse at Spoon in London and for Mr. Chodorow at the Blue Door in Miami Beach.