Macarons vs. Macaroons

Macaroon (above left) ≠ macaron (above right)

Normally I am not one to harp on my dining companions pronunciations of foreign foods. I say "bru'sket-ta" when eating at an osteria, but "brushetta" when eating at Applebees. For the most part, pronunciation is just a pretentious aspect of gastronomic culture that aggravates me the same way food fetishism does. However, I do make an exception when it comes to the popular pastries macarons because the mispronunciation or misidentification of these almond flour cookies as macaroons results in a completely different product.

More... I won't go into the rise of the popularity of macarons in this country. Suffice it to say, if someone's talking animatedly about a cookie, she's probably talking about a macaron. I don't think anyone gets excited about macaroons. Macarons are made with almond flour and powdered sugar and usually have a sandwiched filling of ganache or buttercream. Macaroons are more like small cakes or meringue cookies, typically coconut flavored in America.

Macarons are sexy and expensive, partly because of hype, partly because of the difficulty in preparation. Macaroons are what your grandmother buys in bulk at Costco (not to be confused with madeleines, which are sponge cakes). We've just been exposed to macaroons for so long, we're more familiar with them and I would guess that is why many people mistake the two. However, the proper pronunciation of macaron is something like "maka-ron" with a fancy French guttural r. Overexaggerate the pronunciation if you must, but don't feel like you're putting on airs because you don't want to sound too pompous. Otherwise, you might end up with the wrong pastry, a disaster of far greater proportions than the harm to your ego. Besides, you're idolizing a cookie; might as well jump in feet first and go full Francophile.


Photo credits: Jessica and Keven Law via Flickr ^

Read More

Why The French Laundry Matters

It doesn't take long for a culinary tradition to emerge. Tradition is not measured merely by the passage of time, but by the tenacity of how a practice is preserved. We commonly see "tradition" at the more prosaic end of the dining spectrum--annual clambakes, family recipe dry rubs, chili cook-offs. So often, high-end dining chases innovation, caught in fads and burning out once the public tastes shift. We've all seen the latest "it" restaurant filled to the brim one month and empty the next. While there is a place for these restaurants to push the envelope, there's also a need for classic stalwarts that maintain quality and consistency of cuisine. The latter is where The French Laundry fits, and that is why it is still relevant even so many years after the height of its acclaim.
More...

Oyster and Pearls - Sabayon of pearl tapioca, Island Creek oysters, white sturgeon caviar

At this point, a play-by-play review of The French Laundry would add little value. The Internet is littered with such, accompanied by photos much better than mine. I could wax poetic about the "oyster and pearls", how the savory sabayon coats your mouth, punctuated by the salinity of the caviar. I could go describing how the balance of spherical textures between the tapioca, caviar, and oysters gives the dish tactile variety that causes the flavors to linger as the orbs rolls around your tongue. Or I could simply direct you to the hundreds of reviews of this classic dish already permeating the ether.

As of this writing, there are 1,155 reviews on Yelp boasting an impressive 4.5 stars. Most of the one-star reviews are from people who've never even dined there. Common complaints are centered around the difficulty in securing a reservation. Indeed, it took an inside connection for me to manage my own, despite calling two months in advance (the earliest reservations are available). The other related protestation is related to the pretentiousness of the restaurant and its patrons. Spurned customers are a vocal group, especially when they don't even have the opportunity to pay the $270 for a meal.

I understand these complaints, but as one tumblr describes, Yelp enables anyone with an Internet connection, enough money for a meal, and a sense of entitlement to spew their vitriol. Yelp is a democracy; it is ill suited for The French Laundry, an institution that has never been about inclusiveness. What makes The French Laundry special is its exclusivity. If you want to dine there, you need to make a serious effort. Michelin describes three-star restaurants as those that are worth making a special trip for; that is indeed how you need to approach The French Laundry. Make your reservation, then book the flight.


Sweet butter poached lobster fricasee - Yukon gold potatoes, celery, spicy lobster nuage and tomato bullion

Of course, merely exclusivity doesn't make a great restaurant. Among people who have actually eaten at The French Laundry, many of the complaints I hear are about how it isn't that unique. Looking purely at the cuisine, I agree that some dishes were overseasoned or unbalanced, especially the braised Kurobuta pork jowl. But these misses were minor compared to the transcendent sweet butter poached lobster in a tomato bullion, or the best white peach sorbet I've ever had. Innovative uses of global ingredients kept the flavors varied. When the lobster needed a spicy kick, the chef went to Szechuan peppercorns for a numbing heat rather than something more traditional. Was the food the best I've ever had? Probably not, but The French Laundry experience isn't just eating--it's dining.


The unassuming facade

As you can imagine, the restaurant has a certain type of clientele. Most people who aren't already eating at this caliber restaurant can't even get a reservation. It caters to the people who are there, not to the people who want to be there. Speaking as someone with one foot in that door, who has his share of fine dining experiences, I was still surprised at the level of service and detail. The six top next to me stayed vacant for at least one seating, but rather than rush a dinner, the restaurant would rather keep it empty. There was a sense of no compromise. It was a place designed for special occasions. With the waiters speaking so softly and such small dining spaces, it was among the quietest meal I've had out. Intimate dining at its peak.

What's truly amazing is The French Laundry's staying power. While some other famous restaurants like Spago can remain quality dining options, they haven't been able to consistently top best dining lists year after year. Other chateau-type restaurants have emerged in America, but The French Laundry will always be the epitome by which these restaurants are compared. It defines Napa Valley and Northern California cuisine. It is the three-word answer to American fine dining, and that's what creates a legacy. ^

Read More

Unique Flavors at La Maison du Macaron

I have a soft spot for macarons. Ever since I first discovered these delicious morsels at Paulette's (now just 'lette Macarons) in Beverly Hills, I'll always buy a box whenever I see them. In a random stroll past the Flatiron Building, I wandered into La Maison du Macaron.

More...
Nowadays, most any respectable French pastry shop will have macarons, typically in common flavors like raspberry, chocolate and pistachio. La Maison du Macaron had the most unique flavors I've ever seen; I was delighted and conflicted to narrow down my choices to nine from a selection of a few dozen.

Since their flavors change daily, they don't have any type of menu. If you order online, you will have to trust in their selection. I chose the following, from left to right in the picture above: orange blossom, Tahitian vanilla, caramel fleur de sel, kir royale, blackberry bergamot, apricot champagne, rose, strawberry violet, and passion fruit.


Caramel, kir royale, Tahitian vanilla, and rose

The pastry chef knows what he's doing. It seems that La Maison du Macaron used to be called Madeleine Patisserie. I suppose their madeleines are good too, but the shift to macarons was smart, as that market is blowing up. Each flavor was intense and unique. I picked ones that were unusual, but I bet the classic standbys would be just as satisfying.

The biggest issue with macarons are its cost. I understand they are very difficult to make, delicate enough to require hand-crafting. As of now, they are still somewhat of a novelty item, cost prohibitive for regular consumption. Until people stop confusing macarons with macaroons, the price will still stay pretty hefty. For clarification, a macaroon is a meringue cookie, usually coconut flavored in the U.S. A macaron is essentially an almond powder sandwich cookie with a filling of usually buttercream. The box of nine I got was $25 (though you save $3 getting the clear box instead of a fancy gift box).

La Maison du Macaron
132 W 23rd St
(between Avenue Of The Americas & 7th Ave)
Chelsea, Manhattan
212) 243-2757
nymacaron.com


^

Read More

M. Wells: Quebecan Diner in Queens

If you ever follow @samkimsamkim when he's in New York, you'll see all the amazing places he checks into on 4 Square. Despite living here, I can't keep up with all the new joints like Sam can. So when I had the opportunity to join him for a day, I met him up for lunch at M. Wells in Long Island City.
More...
Riding the 7 train out of Manhattan, I realized that this would be my first foray into Queens that didn't end in either Flushing or at JFK. There was a huge stretch of train stops that I've ignored as I've made the trek for Chinese food in the past. M Wells is right on top of the Hunter's Point stop on the train, actually very close to Manhattan. In fact, I was confused looking up directions initially because the directions only told me to get off the train and abruptly terminated. It took several minutes to figure out that the last step really was no more than walk outside.


M. Wells is in a retrofitted diner, opened by a husband-wife team from Montreal with training at Au Pied de Cochon. The concept is bringing simple Quebecan food to common American diner fare. Hot dogs, hamburgers, and hash shared the menu with foie gras, lobster rolls, and pickled pork tongue. I ordered a spiced lemonade while Sam and I decided on our lunch.


I'm Taiwanese. Spicy duck tongues were one of my favorite small dishes as a kid. I'm Californian. I always appreciate a good lengua taco. This was my first encounter with pickled pork tongue ($6) however. Considering I've taken part in ritual decimation of pigs before, it was odd that I've never had tongue. For $6, I was surprised how large it was. It would be too odd to make a meal in itself, but the pickled flavors permeated the meat and did not taste anything like beef tongue. Not bad, and seeing as how I have no reservations with offal, I would order it again in the future.


After reading the Serious Eats review of M. Wells, I knew I had to order the hot dog with sweet bacon chili and slaw ($5). My favorite dog at Pink's in LA was the coleslaw dog. While this hot dog lacked the traditional snap in the casing I use to judge hot dogs, the sweet chili put it over the top. I found myself scraping the plate for the remnants of chili. Good price for a gourmet dog, though it wouldn't be enough on its own for a meal.


Sam pointed me to the first item on the menu, the one he had heard the most raves for: egg-sausage sandwich with cheddar, tomato, pickled jalapeño, on an English muffin ($8). This mammoth of a breakfast sandwich would be more than enough for a satisfying lunch. The pickled jalapeño added less of a kick than an intriguing contrast in flavor. My problem with scrambled egg sandwiches is always the overdominance of egg, and typically bad egg. There was none of that here; it's certainly worth ordering.

As of this writing, the restaurant is only open for breakfast and brunch until 4 pm Sunday-Thursday. It serves quintessentially lunch food, but given the time it takes for the food to come out and the location, it wouldn't be pragmatic for office workers to make it out for a trip. I'll probably come back when they start serving dinner, but for now, I'll recommend it to anyone looking for a great lunch in New York.

M. Wells
mwellsdiner.com
21-17 49th Ave. (right off the Hunter's Point 7 train stop)
Long Island City, Queens
(718) 425-6917

^

Read More

RN74: Michael Mina's Wine Bar

Clack, clack, clack. I felt like I was in a train station instead of a Michael Mina wine bar and restaurant in the middle of San Francisco. Above my table, an old-fashioned schedule board with rotating letters, flipping to display the next bottle of wine. The board was a nice touch for the all-too-common semi-exposed industrial motif of modern restaurants. I could tell from my first step in the place that they took their wine seriously. Now I was curious about the food.
More...

I have yet to dine at Michael Mina's namesake restaurant, nor XIV, his Los Angeles venture. I didn't set out with the intention to follow him, but discovering that the darkened, rather non-descript restaurant on my commute every morning was associated with him, I thought this might be a good introduction into his culinary kingdom.

RN74's Executive Chef is Jason Berthold, a young chef as inspired by the wine pairings as by the ingredients in the regional French and contemporary American dishes on the menu. Maybe I didn't do him justice by forsaking full wine pairings for my dishes, but I did indulge in RN74's "Summer of Riesling" promotion by ordering a glass. I asked for something semi-dry, and got a glass almost too sweet to drink with any food. The waitress was kind enough to replace my drink after noticing my reaction. That said, their seasonal Pimm's 74 Cocktail,a blend of housemade Pimm's, ginger beer, campari and prosecco, was appropriately sweet for a summer drink.


The bread and butter came out. I absolutely can't get enough of San Francisco sourdough. And when I say San Francisco sourdough, I mean it. The local wild yeast makes the best bread, something that I have yet to see replicated elsewhere.


Since it is a wine bar, the endless winelist easily dwarfed the simple one-page food menu. For the first course: soft shell crab (celery leaf remoulade, citrus, ginger). The remoulade was not as creamy as I had hoped, but the crab was fried well, without any greasy weight of most soft shell crab dishes.


The sauteed pork belly & stuffed squash blossom (heirloom tomatoes, bacon, basil, lemongrass) consisted of fairly standard pork. I have yet to find a pork belly that is notably deficient in flavor. Mostly, I'm looking for the right crispy texture along the edges of my pork belly. The novelty of this dish was the squash blossom. Seemingly solid, it cut apart to reveal some delicious, unidentified filling. The texture was somewhat like fish cake, but with bits of bacon embedded in the white cushion. The tomatoes had enough sweetness to cut through the fatty pork, a requirement when dealing with pork belly.


Main course #1: sauteed Alaskan halibut (gnocchi a la parisienne, cherry tomatoes, celery, ginger, mache My first impression was the quality of the fish's seared crust--crunchy and savory while hiding a delicate white flesh. This was a sign of a well cooked fish. The blanched and peeled tomatoes added the sweet component to the dish. The gnocchi were especially notable. Reflecting the texture of the halibut, each gnocchi had a bit of a crunch, but a soft interior making a pleasant mastication experience.


As a rule, I typically do not order chicken at restaurants. I generally like to see the restaurant's skill at handling more interesting fare, but supposedly the mark of a quality French restaurant is in its roast chicken. Very well then, bring on the roasted naturally-raised chicken (cornbread, mission figs, gold corn, cippolini onions, braised bacon, watercress). First off, not too dry for a chicken breast. And beneath the breast lay pieces of what I suspect came from the darker nether regions of the poultry. The cornbread was an odd complement, but the sweet figs were a welcome addition. Was it good dish? Certainly. Would I order it again? Sorry, chicken, but I'll have to side with your aqua-bound brethren and choose the Liberty duck breast next time.

No dessert for me this time, but I was plenty satisfied without satiating my sweet tooth. The dishes were fairly large, at least larger than I would expect at a wine bar. I'm sure the bar menu items are smaller, better for multiple courses and pairings. My experience with the restaurant menu was stellar. I'll have to come back and sample a variety of small dishes with the appropriate wines and let Chef Berthold and Wine Director Rajat Parr show me where this wine bar should really shine.

RN74
301 Mission Street
San Francisco, CA 94105
(415)543-7474
~$15 appetizers, ~$28 entrees, ~$11 small plates

^

Read More

Le Bernardin avec Eric

There is something refined and high-end about seafood that can't be matched in fine dining. Even fancy steakhouses like CUT lack a sort of sophistication that comes with fish. Meat is best at its most primal, earthy and bold; while fish is best at its simplest and freshest, the delicate cooking techniques associated with aquatic critters requires a gentler touch. So when I want a truly elevated dining experience, I still look to seafood to fill that desire. In Los Angeles, that gap was filled by Michael Cimarusti at Providence, in New York, the honor goes to Eric Ripert and Le Bernardin.

More...

I was excited. This was the first time in months that I had treated myself to an expensive dinner. Settling back into a student budget has been a real burden, especially with a whole new city of eats to indulge in. When my friend Danny, aka KungFoodPanda, told me that I had to join him for at least one fancy dinner, I picked Le Bernardin out of Eleven Madison Park and Per Se. Sorry Chef Humm and Keller, my stomach and my wallet would go to Chef Ripert this time. Entering the restaurant, I was somewhat surprised at the size of the dining room. As usually the case, I somehow conflated quality with size in my head and imagined an immense dining room covering multiple floors and dozens of tables. But no, the main dining room, while large for a Manhattan restaurant, wasn't particularly spacious. It certainly felt comfortable though, with soft lighting against the wood paneling and scenes of tranquil fishermen along the walls.


Amuse Bouche
Crab and lobster salad with cauliflower soup

Danny and I sat down and decided to split both the regular tasting menu ($138) and the Chef's tasting menu ($185) for a total of fifteen courses between the two of us. The waiter brought out the amuse, a seemingly simple crab and lobster salad. I expected a cold dish, something refreshing to prepare the palate, but the waiter poured the cauliflower soup which swirled around the seafood and warmed the plate. Bringing the spoon to my face, I was hit be a fragrant aroma of crab. While I expected it to be thick, almost too creamy to imbibe in large quantities, the soup was thin but kept enough weight in flavor.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Tuna - Smoked yellowfin tuna "proscuitto"; Japanese pickled vegetables and crispy kombu

Le Bernardin Menu
Tuna - Layers of thinly pounded yellowfin tuna; foie gras and toasted baguette; shaved chives and extra virgin olive oil

On with the first course. Both menus served a tuna dish, though the preparation was so different they hardly resembled each other but for the ruby flesh of the yellowfin tuna. For clarity, I will label each the menu for each dish, but I will review the courses concurrently to compare and contrast. The smoked tuna had a firm texture, much closer to a medium-rare steak than I expected. The pickled vegetables, takuan, had a contrasting crunch. I preferred the thinly pounded tuna which resembled a large sheet of crudo. It was larger than I expected for a course, but the toasted baguette underneath the center of the fish was a fun discovery as you sliced your way through the tuna. First course goes to the Chef's menu.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Egg-Caviar - Poached pasteurized egg; ostera caviar; Marinere broth and English muffin

The Chef's menu had eight listed courses compared to the Le Bernardin menu with seven. This egg dish was the odd-one-out. Poking into the white of the egg, watching the yoke swirl out into the plate, I was reminded of the quail egg at Torihei in LA. The English muffin toast (not pictured), was more like a toast stick, small and narrow. Dipped into the egg yolk, the combination of the cheesy toast and the egg reminded me of breakfast.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Langoustine - seared langoustine; mâche; wild mushroom salad; shaved foie gras' white balsamic vinaigrette

Le Bernardin Menu
Octopus - Charred octopus; fermented black bean-pear sauce vierge; ink-miso vinaigrette; purple basil

My personal history bias has given me distaste for black bean sauce as memories of my dad serving Chinese canned fried dace with rice for dinner. Instantly, the octopus dish loses this course. But besides the black bean sauce, the octopus was braised and then charred, which gave it an unusual texture more akin to skin than octopus. It wasn't tough at all, tender enough to be cut by a butter knife. The langoustine (a type of Nordic miniature lobster) was one of my favorites of the night. Oh foie gras, how I'd missed you.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Monkfish - Pan-roasted monkfish; hon shimeji mushrooms; turnip-ginger emulsion; sale broth

Le Bernardin Menu
Skate - Nori crusted skate; poached oysters; braised winter lettuce; ponzu vinaigrette

I'm not sure of everyone else's affinity for ray fishes, but skate always creeped me out. I have nothing against monkfish for being ugly, but skate are just too weird for me. The monkfish had a crispy skin full of flavor that stayed with me throughout the dish. While the ginger-sake broth added something in the form of layers, I don't know if it added that much to the fish itself. The skate had an interesting "skin" of nori. I'd say the most interesting component of that dish however, would be the oysters. Small, sweet, the oyster bore pearls of flavor. I noticed there were quite a few Asian components to this course. I loved the shimeji mushrooms on the monkfish, but frankly ponzu is overused (as is yuzu for that matter).


Chef's Tasting Menu
Black Bass - Crispy black bass; braised celery and parsnip custard; iberico ham-green peppercorn sauce

Le Bernardin Menu
Striped Bass - Baked wild striped bass; corn "cannelloni"; light Perigord sauce

The celery-parsnip custard came separately from the black bass. I tried eating it alone. I tried pairing it with the fish. Either way, I didn't see the need for the custard. It resembled more of a parsnip foam than a thick custard. The peppercorn sauce had a velvety texture that started to form a skin two minutes after being poured into the plate. For this course, I preferred the striped bass of the regular menu. While the fish was good, but plain, the corn cannelloni, which resembled a tamale, added some welcome sweetness.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Lobster - Baked lobster on a bed of truffled foie gras stuffing; brandy-red wine sauce

Le Bernardin Menu
Surf and Turf - Escolar and seared Kobe beef; sea bean salad and eggplant fries; Mr. Kaufman's pesto and anchovy sauce

Looking at the descriptions of what I'd called the main course of each menu, it's hard to pick between the two. The surf and turf is separate from the lobster. In fact, the "surf" part is actually a whitefish escolar, commonly mislabeled as butterfish. I didn't care much for the fish, but the Kobe beef was probably the best Kobe I've ever had. This rich butter beef can possibly only be served one small sliver at a time so as not to overwhelm the beef receptors in your mouth. Also, I enjoyed the Japanese eggplant fritters, a style of preparation I've never seen. Now I think I might always have to eat my nasu breaded and fried. The lobster wouldn't go down without a fight though. The description is opulent; three of the fine dining heavy hitters all present: lobster, truffles, and foie. Putting all three elements together however didn't allow any one ingredient to shine. Worse yet, they were all covered by the sauce. Great dish, but not as good as the surf and turf.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Chèvre - Creamy goat cheese spheres; concord grapes; candied walnut; black pepper

Le Bernardin Menu
Mascarpone - Mascarpone cream in a crisp coffee shell; almond-cocoa pain de Gênes

Pearly balls of mochi. That's what the chèvre reminded me of. As a fan of goat cheese, I was looking forward to this pre-dessert course. However, I didn't expect the consistency of the spheres to be so soft. They were chilled, very delicate to the touch. Unlike regular goat cheese, which is often thick and weighs you down, this cheese was almost liquefied. Mascarpone apparently is not really a cheese at all. Instead, it is cultured crème fraîche. You'd probably be most familiar with it as a main component in tiramisu. This dish presented the mascarpone creatively in a tubular sugar shell with three drops of dipping sauce. Of these two pre-desserts, I'd narrowly prefer the chèvre though.


Chef's Tasting Menu
Corn-Praline - Caramelized corn custard; hazelnut praline; brown butter ice cream; popcorn tuile

Le Bernardin Menu
Pear - Cinnamon caramel parfait; liquid pear; smoked sea salt; fromage blanc sorbet

Spherified liquids, a constant in molecular gastronomy, always captures my attention. At Providence it was gin and tonic. Here, Ripert prepared pear juice in a thin skin that burst in your mouth. Combined with the parfait and a dash of the sorbet, this dessert hit the spot. The corn custard and hazelnut praline had good component parts, but nothing that came together to form an experience.


Perhaps my favorite set of mignardises I'd ever had, it could have only been better if there was a macaron or two in there. From left to right, pistachio cherry cookie, chocolate hazelnut cup, lemon beignet, pomegrante gelee on coconut. Smallest beignet I'd ever seen, but when do you need that much beignet unless it's paired with chicory coffee. The chocolate cup had a cold molten center, as if that oxymoron is possible.



We got to walk back to the kitchen and meet Eric Ripert before the meal. He was heading out at the beginning of our reservation, so we were lucky to catch him before he left. I told him I watched his toaster oven videos; he seemed surprised anyone had even heard of them. The staff was friendly and knowledgeable, as you'd expect from restaurants of this caliber. When we asked for a copy of the menu at the conclusion of the meal, they gave us each a complimentary copy of Le Bernardin personalized 2010 Zagat guide. A nice touch, showed that they always had marketing in mind. This was certainly the best meal I've had in New York thus far. I highly recommend the restaurant; and if all the other reviews I've seen are any indication, they consistently keep that quality up.


Chef Ripert, Kungfood Panda, Me

Le Bernardin
155 W. 50th St.
Midtown, 10019
(212) 554-1515
le-bernardin.com


^

Read More

Where Concert Patrons Go: Patina

For my birthday, my girlfriend surprised me with a dinner downtown. We drove up to the Disney concert hall and I knew right away where we were going.

More...

As the namesake restaurant of the Patina Group, which includes such LA eateries as Cafe Pinot, Nick and Stef's, I had high expectations. First of all, what is a patina? It's the oxidized change in color on bronze over time. The reason the Statue of Liberty looks green--false patina. It's a concept I considered when we entered. The small dining room nestled into the Frank Gehry concert hall was comfortably lit and quiet for a late Sunday reservation. We arrived just as the show was starting; an hour earlier and it may have been packed. Our French waiter, yes he spoke French, explained the specials and signaled for the bread cart. Bacon bread--already a good sign.


The amuse of white asparagus and aioli paired with a hot carrot ginger soup certainly surprised me in contrast. The crunchy asparagus in a creamy sauce paired with the soup well, though I expected the carrots to have much more sweetness.


Although this was my birthday, the tasting menu didn't offer anything eye-popping enough. My girlfriend chose the agnolotti filled with buffala ricotta with English peas, braised scarlet turnip, and speck ham. I don't know if it's just a coincidence or if it's a generally accepted practice, but pairing agnolotti with ham is an incredible idea. David LeFevre of Water Grill had served a spectacular dish of agnolotti at the 5x5 dinner. The buffalo cheese gave the delicate pasta a heartiness otherwise absent in the thin wonton-like skins. I was puzzled by the presentation of what looked like a green lawn. The speck ham, what looks like bacon, is actually more like a smokier panchetta from an area between Austria and Italy.





For my first course, I cheated and chose the Quartet of the Sea consisting of four immaculate square plates locked into formation. From the top: smoked trout blini, seared scallop with cipollini onions, lobster citrus salad, and tuna tartare with pickled cauliflower. The trout was much more refreshing than the all-too-often used salmon in this preparation. Grapefruit and orange garnished the lobster salad, though the color reminded me too much of ambrosia (a turnoff). I am a huge fan of seared scallops, and this was no exception. I also see cippolini onions so often at these kind of dinners. Apparently, they have a higher sugar content and the small, flat shape is conducive to roasting. Tuna tartare has been done to death, though the intensely tart cauliflower gave it a contrasting crunch that was innovative.


What makes a veal chop "authentic"? According to our waiter, grain-fed veal is "authentic." But isn't that how all veal is fed? My girlfriend's authentic veal chop with sauteed sweetbreads, maple syrup glazed cipollini onions, and chanterelles tasted better than it looked. The mushrooms were richly buttered and had enough bite to savor each forkful.


One of the reasons that my significant other chose Patina was for the game menu, which varies depending on availability. That night, I ordered the rack of venison with braised chestnuts, celeriac mousseline, and a pink peppercorn quince chutney. Though the smell of the plate had all the intensity of game, the flavor was quite a bit tamer. I'm familiar with the practice of combining gamey meats with fruity compotes, but I always feel like my preference for gamer is much wilder than the average palate. With the exception of elk, gamey is always my choice.



Though my girlfriend rounded off her meal with a coconut soup with a floating island of pistachio ice cream and spherified mango juice "gnocchi" I asked to see the cheese cart instead. We enjoyed the presentation of her dessert, the components sitting in a saucer that's subsequently filled by the waiter. Those little flourishes certainly make the meal more memorable. Having consumed a pack of Red Vines per day at work, I had enough sugar in my system. I settled on a triple-creme brie, a hard Italian pecorino, and a strong roquefort. My waiter actually wasn't much help in explaining the cheeses. By this time in the meal, he had seemed to ignore our table and favored the French speaking tables instead. I hate to perpetuate stereotypes, but the rude French waiter certainly still persists.



As a post-dessert treat, we received a tray of mignardises and a napkin basket of chocolate and vanilla Milano cookies. From left to right, I think the plate consisted of a cocoa nib, passionfruit gelee, orange marshmallow, cashew twill tuile, truffle, and carrot macron. I could eat a million macarons, except they're always so expensive. Does anyone mass-produce these awesome almond pastries?

Stuffed and finished with the food portion of our meal, the manager was kind enough to take us on a tour of the kitchen. Unfortunately, Joachim Splinchal wasn't in the kitchen, but I met his sous chef Santiago instead. He explained the various prep areas of the rather large kitchen. It looked straight out of my Culinary Institute of America textbook. What struck me the most was that the kitchen was almost half the size of the dining room and still heavily staffed.

My overall impression of Patina was that I didn't feel like I belonged there. It caters to the concert hall patrons, the stuffy old white men. As out of place as I was, I noticed an Asian man scurrying his family out from a dinner too expensive to bring children. That's when it hit me. If patinas are meant to convey antiquity, this restaurant definitely has that old-world feel. Patina's certainly not part of the hot LA dining scene, but it could be a dependable standby. Plus a Michelin star doesn't hurt.

Patina
141 South Grand Ave
Downtown, 90012
(213) 972-3331
About $200 for the meal...and $8 for parking

^

Read More