Single best restaurant meal

[Jaymes]

Gaddi's. The Peninsula Hotel in Hong Kong. In the golden days when the station for the train to China was just across the street. When everyone who was anyone crossed the grand lobby of the Peninsula, at least once in their lives and, it was said, if you sat there long enough, you would see them. The grand lobby of the Peninsula, where ceiling fans rotated lazily high above and Sidney Greenstreet surely lived just around the corner. And Cat Street vendors sold antiques and mysterious potions and, down in Wanchi, Susie Wong was on the prowl for sailors from ships named the Oriental Maru, or the Tokyo Maru, or the something Maru. And if you missed the last ferry back to the other side, you had to take a walla-walla boat.

Jaymes, I could get you an introduction to John Peterman. maybe you want to write for his catalog? I was in Gaddi's and didn't want to leave. It was like living a movie, a time warp. I remember when the small uniformed "call boy" walked throught the lobby with his belled blackboard, singing "Call for Mr. Sydney. Mr. Hugh Sydney!" We drank martinis in the lounge of the Regent and ate downstairs there. I regret not having eaten at Gaddi's.

The Regent. Where the train station once was. Where the train station should be.

[jaybee]

The single most remarkable dish I ever ate in a restaurant was a lobster consomme on the porch at Rostang Senior's place on the Riviera. It was clear golden liquid, only slightly viscous. It's clear, bland appearance gave no clue to the taste. Oh what a taste! My mouth filled with the taste of the most succulent, sweet lobster I had ever eaten. It was an act of gustatory illusion. A clear liquid that tasted as though it was a mouthful of lobster meat with its flavor amplified several times. I could barely wait to swallow before spooning the next portion over my tongue. The purity and singularity of that dish will stay with me always. Several samples of others' attempts at this dish have fallen short of this standard. In fact, with the exception of one lobster from a coastal Maine pound, I have never tasted lobster as good.

[jaybee]

The Regent. Where the train station once was. Where the train station should be.

Alas! I know what you mean. But the night view of the harbor from the Regent's triple-width floor-to-ceiling windows of our room was unforgettable. It wasn't the Regent that took the Peninsula's view away though. It was the aquarium or some such sort, wasn't it?

[Jaymes]

The Regent. Where the train station once was. Where the train station should be.

Alas! I know what you mean. But the night view of the harbor from the Regent's triple-width floor-to-ceiling windows of our room was unforgettable. It wasn't the Regent to took the Peninsula's view away though. It was the aquarium or some such sort, wasn't it?

You know, Jaybee, it wasn't the loss of the view so much, but more the romance and mystery and intrigue of the trains that I lament.

In those days, most people who visited China left from that station. I remember watching a very young Ted Koppel, head of the China Desk for some international news bureau, sitting in the Peninsula Lobby, reading the South China Morning Post, waiting for his train to depart to some exotic location.

Most old China hands (at least those who could afford it) arrived into Hong Kong and checked into the Peninsula, then booked passage on the train to Peking or Shanghai or wherever.

When they returned from China, the reverse was true. Arriving with much muss and fuss and the doorboys bowing and the bellmen helping with the heavy, glossy trunks of treasures.

And when my young friends and I went for picnics in the New Territories, we'd take that train. Sometimes we'd ride it all the way to the border and get off and watch it rumble into "Red" China and look at the guards and imagine life on the other side.

It is that atmosphere that I miss.

Of course, the Regent is a fabulous hotel. And that spot of land was, in the end, far too valuable for a ratty old train station. It was just a matter of time. That is the way of the world.

And as for your comment that you can introduce me to John Peterson and I can write for his catalogue...

No. I couldn't possibly. No. Really, no.

Okay.

[John Whiting]

There's poetry passing through these pages. It's clear that there is so much more at stake than the quality of individual dishes. Here's a restaurant in Arles that stands out in my memory:

The rain has let up enough for me to close my umbrella and enjoy the misty drizzle. I stroll along, idly looking at the displayed menus. Many seem acceptable, but none are compelling. Then across the street there emerges out of soft focus a brightly lit Hollywood set of a hotel, a monumental entrance with a pillared porch, flanked on one side by an imposing chapel with a stuck-on Grecian façade, and on the other an enormous restaurant, glowing with crystal chandeliers. It could be the vestigial remnant of a monastery.

Close. It turns out to be a 17th century Carmelite convent, converted [sic] in 1929 (just in time for the Wall Street crash) into the Hôtel Jules César. The menu of the Lou Marqués Restaurant—posted at the street so that the plebes might salivate in baffled frustration—announces that it is a member of the august Relais & Chateaux chain, which includes such gastronomic shrines as Robuchon in Paris and the Hotel de France in Auch. It takes only a moment to decide on an experiment. I look like Santa in mufti: shapeless cotton slacks, a turtle-neck shirt, and a loose-fitting Suffolk fisherman’s smock. I stroll up to the young maitre de at the front door who is taking reservations.

—Bon jour. When does the restaurant open?

—Bon jour, monsieur. At seven thirty.

—Do you have a table for one?

—Oui, monsieur. What is your name, please?

The details are exchanged without a single haughty glance at my clothes, my beard or my floppy leather hat. I’m off for a half-hour’s walk.

When I return at seven thirty the maitre de greets me immediately by name without glancing at the reservation book. As he takes me to my table I apologize for being inappropriately dressed and explain that when I set out I had no intention of eating so grandly. If he would prefer to hide me away at a little table in the corner. . . .

—Not at all, monsieur.

He leads me to a table immediately next to the entrance where I can see—and be seen by—everyone who comes in. I choose the menu du terroir at 300 francs (five courses of local specialties) and a bottle of Domain Tempier Bandol Rosé. I’m then free to turn my attention to the evening’s guests. Most of the room seems to be booked for a large party of Americans on a Grand Tour. They’re all clamoring for attention and shouting across from table to table.

—If you get a waiter, hang on to him! Don’t let him get away! They’re scarce as hen’s teeth!

They’re all ordering a la carte, demanding translations, deciding with difficulty, and then changing their minds. In the midst of all this confusion my courses start arriving at exactly the right intervals and the right temperatures; my wine is replenished from the chilled bottle as soon as I’m within an inch of the bottom. The young waiter is dignified but affable, stopping for brief exchanges with such unhurried poise that the restaurant might have been empty. Halfway through the meal he asks politely as he tops up my glass,

—Is the restaurant too noisy for you?

I can’t help laughing.

—That’s the wittiest thing a waiter ever said to me!

He smiles at our little joke and turns to the next table, where a tipsy American stockbroker is loudly demanding attention.

It’s been a thoroughly enjoyable meal, but in a few days I won’t easily remember what I ate. Everything was perfect, nothing was surprising. It was like a speech by a great statesman on a grand occasion. When you’re serving a clientele such as this, who are paying this kind of money, you don’t mess around with lemon grass in the fois gras.

So am I disappointed? Not in the least. I’ve eaten an expertly prepared dinner and witnessed a great performance—as absorbing as David Story’s fine play, The Contractor, in which a crew of workman erect a wedding marquee on stage and then take it down, chatting as they work. At the end of the meal I’m invited to have coffee in the lounge, where for 20 francs there’s a small cafetière of superlative coffee and a lifetime supply of delicious petits fours. If I had appeared in evening dress wearing the Legion d’Honeur, I could not have been entertained more graciously.

Which is exactly what I tell the maitre de.

Hôtel Jules César, Restaurant Lou Marquès, 9 boulevard des Lices,

13631 Arles, Tel 04 90 93 43 20, Fax 04 90 93 33 47

From _Through Darkest Gaul with Trencher and Tastevin_

[cabrales]

Jaymes -- On your Gaddi's meal, could you consider discussing how much of your favorable rating of it was attributable to the cuisine offered?

[Jaymes]

Jaymes -- On your Gaddi's meal, could you consider discussing how much of your favorable rating of it was attributable to the cuisine offered?  

I was very young and I am looking back now through the rosy haze of time, but I can tell you that I have seen Rolf interviewed and profiled repeatedly through the years, in a great many diverse magazines and publications, as a celebrity of fine cuisine.

Gaddi's, in those days, was considered to be the best of the best, and I am certain it was indeed as wonderful as I remember.

But alas I am incapable of now dissecting the meal.

And only recently did Martha Stewart enlighten me on one thing that had puzzled me for years: I read her dissertation on peas. In it she said that in Hong Kong, as well as some other parts of Asia, snow peas are called, "Holland Beans."

[jaybee]

Jaymes, that was John Peterman, of the J. Peterman catalog and Seinfeld fame. His catalogs are redolent with descriptions much like yours of the Peninsula. A friend and colleague, Don Staley, is the originator of the "J Peterman concept and persona, and writer of much of the copy for the first ten years of the company's existence. The romance of the settings, often cast back in the haze of time, sold many a shirt, dress, hat or piece of luggage for them. Don just made me a gift of a lovely ridged Panama hat, which I will wear to my next eGullet event, puffing on a long, Havana panatella and ordering a Pimms Cup.

[Jaymes]

Jaymes, that was John Peterman, of the J. Peterman catalog and Seinfeld fame.  His catalogs are redolent with descriptions much like yours of the Peninsula.  A friend and colleague, Don Staley, is the originator of the "J Peterman concept and persona, and writer of much of the copy for the first ten years of the company's existence.  The romance of the settings, often cast back in the haze of time, sold many a shirt, dress, hat or piece of luggage for them.  Don just made me a gift of a lovely ridged Panama hat, which I will wear to my next eGullet event, puffing on a long, Havana panatella and ordering a Pimms Cup.

Well, sign me up! When will the car be 'round to collect me?

[Toby]

Jaymes and jaybee and John, thank you for your beautifully written memories. This is why I love egullet.

[Jaymes]

Jaymes -- On your Gaddi's meal, could you consider discussing how much of your favorable rating of it was attributable to the cuisine offered?  

John, Toby, Jaybee... Thank you all for the generous compliments, and also for taking the time to share your own wonderful thoughts and memories. This thread is, indeed, getting poetic.

It is remarkable how many of our most vivid and lasting impressions have to do with food. It's obvious that however we acquired our yearnings and taste for food, whether from God, or Mother Nature, or random selection, the job was well-done. Although this most-deepest of human cravings is clearly meant for our very survival; in addition to our bodies, food sustains and nourishes our souls and spirits as well.

CABRALES -- Regarding the quality of the food at Gaddi's (as separate from the ambiance) in those days, I considered your question for some time, and have decided to tell you this.

I dated a wealthy man who lived, seasonally, at the Peninsula. He was actually a New Yorker, but he attended all of the high-fashion shows in Paris and Italy, purchased items he thought would sell well in the States, traveled to the Orient to arrange the manufacture of "knockoffs" which he then sold to large discount clothing chains. And when he was in Hong Kong, the Peninsula was his headquarters.

We ate at Gaddi's at least three or four times a week. Much subjective recollection of what I ate has been lost to time, but two dishes most certainly have not.

Rolf Henninger, the Maitre d', was European; the food at Gaddi's was Continental. Rolf's signature starter was the Prawns au Sherry. He prepared it himself tableside. It was not on the menu and you just had to "know" to order it. If it was his night off, you couldn't get it for any price. Some nights, if the restaurant was very busy you still couldn't get it, even if he was there, unless you knew him which my friend and I did.

His Steak Diane was the same....not on the menu.... prepared tableside by Rolf.... one had to be "in the know" to get it.

But time passed, things changed, I moved away from Hong Kong. About five years later, I still could not get the memory of those two dishes out of my mind.

I was living in Galveston at the time. I wrote to Rolf, told him how much I missed Hong Kong and Gaddi's and him and those two dishes in particular. I explained that I lived far away from Hong Kong now, and was not likely to return. I promised that if he would be so kind as to give me the recipes, I would not, upon my solemn oath, ever share them with a single soul, nor use them in any commercial endeavor.

I truly thought I'd receive a nice reply saying something like a classed-up, "Are you kidding?" Instead, along came the recipes. I have prepared them all these years, although it took me a while to attempt the Steak Diane; the technique was more difficult and it called for a "tot" of brandy and (other than "small child") I had no idea what that was. But let me assure you, both dishes are still show stoppers.

Many people, including dear friends and relatives, have requested the recipes, but I've held true to my word.

Regarding the prawns, it is a kind of "shrimp scampi-style" dish. Rolf served it as an appetizer. I serve it as a main course over rice. And his version of Steak Diane has a "tot" of brandy. And that's all I'll say about that.

As an amusing aside, though, after I received what I believed to be a treasure -- a great compliment from a great man, I puzzled my pretty little 28-year-old head over what would be an appropriate "thank you" gift.

Now here was a man who was a celebrity in the food world, very well-paid, and he lived in a shopper's paradise.... I was a young bride with limited resources. What on earth could I possibly send him?

I laugh today when I think about what I chose.

I sent him a record album. The most popular in the U.S. at the time... I sent him the Fifth Dimension's God Bless the Child.

He was very gracious and I got a nice note thanking me. But still, I wonder.......

[cabrales]

Jaymes -- Thank-you for continuing to share experiences that are so special for you.

The dominant reason I would like to cook is to be able to replicate a number of memorable dishes I have taken in to date. I am reading up very slowly (in view of work considerations, etc.) on the basics, and it would be nice to be able to cook a wide range of things. However, my intent in attempting to learn to cook (with attempting being the key word) is so I can have dishes I adore when I am away from restaurants that feature them.

When you prepare the Prawns au Sherry dish, do you generally perform the flambeeing tableside? What type of prawns and sherry do you utilize, if that is not part of the recipe furnished to you by Rolf?

[Jaymes]

When you prepare the Prawns au Sherry dish, do you generally perform the flambeeing tableside?  What type of prawns and sherry do you utilize, if that is not part of the recipe furnished to you by Rolf?

I just try to buy the most flavorful and freshest shrimp I can find here in the States. The recipe called for Dry Sack, and that's what I use.

And you bet I make a big damn deal out of it!

I do indeed prepare it in a chafing dish at the table. And when the fire flames up with a big "whoosh" and all the guests go "Oooooooooh," I laugh nonchalantly.... because, of course, I expected it all along.

Believe me, I milk it for all it's worth.

It's show biz, you know.

[foodie52]

This thread is verging on the erotic....

Best meals I've ever eaten: at an outdoor seafood restaurant on the way to Pataya in Thailand. 8 courses of seafood, from huge crab legs to fragrantly steamed fish mousse wrapped in banana leaves.

Also, in Apollo Bay in southern Australia: a restaurant owned by a Greek fellow ( could it be Kris??), high up on a mountainside overlooking the Pacific. The owner had framed acrylics by Dame Edna on the wall. We had a wonderful meal which ended with house made sorbets and cookies on a plate decorated with passionfruit blossoms from the garden outside.

[cabrales]

There's poetry passing through these pages. It's clear that there is so much more at stake than the quality of individual dishes. Here's a restaurant in Arles that stands out in my memory: . . . .Hôtel Jules César, Restaurant Lou Marquès . . . .

John -- On your Restaurant Lou Marques meal, would you consider it not only the meal that stands out in your memory, but your single best restaurant meal all factors considered?

[Wilfrid]

I think the best restaurant meal I have had on the American continent was a tasting menu at Emeril's (the N.O. flagship).  Diversity, imagination and precision of execution.  Sorry, but it's true.

Wilfrid -- Emeril's. When you have a chance, could you consider discussing what made the meal so special?

Happened by chance to stumble across my notes last night, so i can at least give you the menu (as I recalled it the next day, not directly transcribed):

Oriental cucumber salad with salmon carpaccio and dill

Chilled mussel chowder with three caviars (each served on a half shell), wild thistle and mussel croquette

Filet of escoular on garlic potato puree with tiny fried fish, onion rings, ganrished with a single chive

Filet of salmon wrapped in duck bacon, sauce a l'Americaine, red pepper puree, parsnip crisps

Spatchcocked Louisiana quail, tranche of foie gras, puree of blackeyed peas, spiced collard greens, three onion marmalade, herb polenta

Salt-crusted loin of lamb over apple, mint and cheese risotto, garnished with rosemary sprig

Louisiana cheeses, crushed nuts, walnut and almond biscotti

Choc chip brownie, blueberries and raspberries, hazelnut ice cream, chocolate sauce and creme Anglais

Strawberries in dark and white chocolate, white chcocolate and hazelnut praline, white chocolate liqueur sauce

Wines:

Champagne (unspecified)

Mondavi-Rothschild Opus One (lost the year)

The house Grenache/Syrah (with the cheese)

Quady's Orange Muscat

Comments:

It reads a little overwhelmingly, but I recall the balance between many facets of interest in each dish, and restraint and harmony in composition and presentation. These dishes were far from messy. The ideas were wonderfully executed, and not by Emeril himself who was away that night (but phoning in regularly to check). I might single out the astonishing use of wild thistle with the chowder, the delicate adaptation of Southern ingredients such as black-eyed peas and collard greens, the fantastic apple, mint and cheese risotto, and Opus One was more than potable.

[cabrales]

Wilfrid -- When you have a chance, could you discuss the taste of thistle and wild thistle?

Yvonne -- If you see this post, is there a reason that you might be fond of thistle as well?

[southern girl]

Wilfrid,

By any chance was the meal prepared by Chris Wilson? He has done some fantastic dinners for me during my visits to Emeril's.

[Wilfrid]

Cabby - from memory, no. I recall it was surprising but appropriate.

Southerngirl - Well, I'm going back some way, to summer '97. So whoever was sous-chef or executive chef then, I guess. I'd certainly eat their food again!

[wingding]

This isn't as high class,but I don't care....I've eaten at Jean Georges and Bouley,,blah,blah,and liked them fine enough,but going to the Jerk Center[!],in Kingston,Jamaica,and getting piles of great jerk chicken and pork on butcher paper,with spongy white hardo bread to blot out the heat,and cold Red Stripes was a peak experience....no frills,but I never wanted the meal to end.

[jaybee]

This isn't as high class, but I don't care....

That sounds like a great experience.

Since when does high class have to go with best...? Now, most expensive, that's another story....

If I flew to Kingston for that meal, thatwould make it pretty expensive, come to think of it.

[Charles Smith]

This is a great topic that had all the potential to be awful.

I can's pick, so I list four-

The first was at La Grenouille (NYC) in oh, 1977 or so, I was 10 and they served us frog's legs- Eating out went from a bore to something to desire in an instant- I will never forget the feeling of that service and how welcoming they could make a family with a 9 and 10 year old.

Second was on my 17th birthday at Harry's Bar in Venice- carpaccio and risotto. I was in heaven, feeling very old for 17 and will never forget the site of the Italian gentleman (in the true sense of the word) next to me flipping an entire pastry puff of carpaccio sauce in his mouth at one time- had my first bellini that night as well- good clean livin'

The third was at a dim sum "palace" in Central, HK. Don't remember the name, but it was my first trip to Asia, they thought I was nuts to be eating dim sum alone, and the overall giddiness of the place combined with jet lag and the carts and the families and the ...- amazing.

Last was on my honeymoon at La Chiusa, Montefollonico, Tuscany- all veggies grown on the premises, all the meat from within 10 miles or so- we had the dining room mostly to ourselves- along with a great bottle of '90 Percarlo- Wow.

IMHO opinion meals are like wines- I don't remember the great ones because of the taste, rather I remember the taste beacuse of the great meal and that means the entire experience- company, surroundings, milestones, etc.

Cheers,

Charles

[Suvir Saran]

The first was at La Grenouille (NYC) in oh, 1977 or so, I was 10 and they served us frog's legs-  Eating out went from a bore to something to desire in an instant- I will never forget the feeling of that service and how welcoming they could make a family with a 9 and 10 year old.

Wow! You enjoyed frog's legs as a 10 year old? Very impressive. Your parents must have exposed you to a lot of different things when you were young. How great!

Thanks for sharing each of your favorite meals. They each sound amazing.

What else did you eat as a 10 year old? Maybe that could be another thread.

[CathyL]

I also pondered too long and should have gone with what came to mind first. A weekend in Vevey, Switzerland (where MFK Fisher lived between the wars), May ’94. Balmy spring weather, geese flying low over Lake Geneva, Dents du Midi visible from my window at the Hôtel des Trois Couronnes. Two dinners:

Le Petit, a small family-run place in the hills above the lake. Flowering wisteria outside, light wood and soft colors inside. Superb simple food: seared foie gras with white asparagus; skate vinaigrette; baked daurade with beurre blanc; cabillaud (cod), lightly smoked, over baby greens with slivered radishes; wines made from chasselas, the local grape.

Le Raisin in Cully, halfway between Vevey and Lausanne. Elegant but unstuffy. Kidneys in parchment with crosnes (which I’d read about but never seen), baby onions, peas, garlic. Lamb with lentils de Puy, haricots verts et blancs, broiled tomato. Lobster risotto. Marvelous steamed sea bass with a light curry sauce & preserved lemon peel. Asian influences, we asked the maître d’? "Quand le chef est ennuyé, il rêve qu'il est en vacances..." My first taste of real Epoisses, sigh. And with dessert the maître d’ brought out an eau de vie homemade from wild raspberries.

[jaybee]

Balmy spring weather, geese flying low over Lake Geneva, Dents du Midi visible from my window at the Hôtel des Trois Couronnes

I loved staying at Trois Courrones. My usual room, booked by Nestlé, was in the center on the second floor with a big sweeping terrace and doors that opened out on the lake.

I often wondered why half the place seemed shuttered and so many very old people were wandering about at breakfast. Someone told me that the "secret" wing was a clinic where rich (very rich) old people came for series of injections meant to restore their youthful vigor. They stayed for a week or two and paid thousands. The injections were of some sort of embryo cocktail. Creepy no?

I was taken to a restaurant that, I think, is the one you mentioned--Le Petit. The restaurants on the hillside across the road were very pleasant. Vevey is a very pretty little town.