Destination Maui: Feast at Lele

While I can't speak to the authenticity for native Hawaiians of any of the luaus on Maui, I can say that the luau has become a tradition for Hawaiian tourists. As with all such tourist traps, no matter how noble the origins, luaus have generally become more like Medieval Times--entertainment for kids while the parents get too drunk on watered-down piña coladas--rather than anywhere an adult would actually want to be.

Because of these pitfalls, I relished that I had no children to amuse or their picky appetites to satiate. For my luau experience, I traded picnic tables for private white tablecloths, a buffet for sixteen courses, and arts and crafts demonstrations for live music. The Feast at Lele in Lahaina is about 20-40% more expensive than the other luaus on Maui. Its focus on fine food, highlighting dishes from the four regions of Hawaii, New Zealand, Tahiti, and Samoa, with accompanying performances, catered to those who were tired of teriyaki chicken and poi served out of steam tables. There were few kids at this luau, and you could stay seated comfortably while the attentive and friendly waiters made sure that you had whatever luxury you needed.

The dishes are divided into regional specialties highlighting four Polynesian areas. Pictured above are the famous locals, pohole salad and kalua pork. The pork was among the most succulent roast pig I've ever had, carnitas and barbecue pulled pork included. As the sun set, the dishes were too dark to photograph and I refused to intrude on the romantic atmosphere with flash photos. Among some of the other dishes were locally-caught coconut fish, baked scallops, passionfruit shrimp, grilled squid and duck salad. Much of the food may have been too exotic for all but the most adventurous or prodigious kids' palates. Almost all dishes had some sweet component, such as a fruit glaze or sauce. Yet nothing was overwhelmingly sweet. Each of the sixteen dishes could have stood on its own on a menu, far from the lukewarm concoctions spooned out of steel chafers.

Gentle island tunes set the scene for an amazing sunset. Lahaina, on the west coast of Maui, receives very little rain so the outdoor venue was ideal. All the luaus start about an hour before sunset and are located to take advantage of the gorgeous oceanside views. I felt especially thankful that I could enjoy such a magnificent scene free from the scampering and noise of little children.

As required for any luau, there were hula and other Polynesian dances. The performances were increasingly energetic, culminating in a thrilling fire knife dance. By the time the fire dancer brought out the flaming torch, he had to allow enough clearance between the flames and the guests, who gave off alcoholic fumes from too many of the delicious tropical drinks.

As thankful as I was to be able to enjoy a luau the way I wanted, I recognize that Hawaii holds magic for everyone, whatever their circumstances. Luau, as feasts or parties, are family affairs at heart. Whether a big family vacation, a romantic getaway, or something in between, you can find your own aloha whatever you decide to do.

Make sure to book your tickets early. The Feast at Lele sells out early and never at a discount, which should indicate to you its popularity despite its premium price.

Feast at Lele

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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.
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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. ^

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Junoon: Indian Entry into NYC Michelin

The dining room is spacious, not only by New York standards, but with the high ceilings and wide spaces, Junoon would not be out of place in a city with cheaper commercial leases. I entered into the vestibule and saw framed reviews, all from this year. The new restaurant received a Michelin star this year. I had high expectations for the my first Michelin rated Indian restaurant.

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Open kitchen. Immaculate chefs' jackets. White table clothes. Well-trained waiters. Junoon had all the makings of an upscale Western restaurant. With the exceptions of some service hiccups during the lunch, all the other ambiance aspects were in place for high end. Little quirks like the elaborate lounge seating in the bar area and the spice cellar add to the experience. But what about the food?



Junoon offers a three-course $24 prix fixe for lunch Monday through Friday. My appetizer, piri piri shrimp in a Goan chili sauce with avocado and jicama salad raised my expectations even higher than they had been. Huge prawns with a spicy sauce cut by the citrus dressing served as a delicious first course.



Whenever I go to a new Indian restaurant, I always order a lamb korma. It is my barometer dish, the standard that I use to compare Indian places. Granted, not all Indian places do an excellent korma, but unless an Indian place specializes in something else, my favorite dish is an acceptable measure. The lunch prix fixe menu at Junoon had a chicken awadhi korma with toasted cashews, cream, green cardamon and saffron, not quite what I wanted, but close enough. The curry dishes come with excellent naan and basmatti rice. In fact, the naan was the best I've ever had. Unfortunately, the korma was one-dimensional and unbalanced in flavor. The only flavor profile I remember is salty. In retrospect, for a restaurant like this, I should've picked a more modern, fusion dish. Nothing about Junoon was traditional; I imagine that the best dishes wouldn't be in a typical Indian household.



A finely shaped cube of cardamon kulfi was my dessert. Kulfi is often characterized as Indian ice cream, except it isn't whipped. The result is a dense block of creamy mouth feel, but digging at it with my fork felt like chiseling a block of marble.

I wanted to like Junoon more. I encourage some diversity in Michelin's guide. I'll have to return to try the more famous halibut or lamb dishes for dinner and give it the attention that the restaurant's interiors inspire.

Junoon
junoonnyc.com
27 W. 24th St.,
Flatiron District, Manhattan
(212)490-2100

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La Maison du Chocolat's Summer 2011 Collection

Summers in New York are unbearably hot and humid. It's tough without air conditioning, and much too warm for serving temperature of chocolate. Luckily, La Maison du Chocolat stores are kept at steady, optimal environments for chocolate. This summer, they're rolling out a few unique and limited items, while bringing back a few big hits.


My favorite item for the summer collection is the Chiberta set of five French Basque bonbons. I didn't know Baque country had chocolate, but apparently it's the historical origin for French chocolate. The Txokolate Iluna or "Solemn Ganache" is pure dark chocolate. For a change in texture, the Praline Macaron has pieces of crushed macaron shell within the ganache for a crunchy filling. The Etzia is a milk chocolate ganache with wildflower and chesnut honey highlights. This was my favorite of the five. For the more exotic, Almond Paste with Patxaran has an anise liqueur enhanced almond paste center. The Espeletako Piperra has a spicy pepper kick. These are available for a limited time, and while expensive, they are certainly unique ($24 for 10 pieces, $60 for 30).
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The Salvadore Raspberry Mousse Cake makes its return. The cake was introduced a few months ago at La Nuit du Gateau, or the Night of Cake. Semi-sweet chocolate with raspberry highlights, this cake is available from one to twelve servings ($8-110).


During the summer, the stores serve chocolate, pistachio and caramel ice cream. They also have strawberry and raspberry sorbets ($4.50/scoop). The wild strawberry sorbet I had was fruity and natural. No artificial strawberry flavors.

For a limited time in the summer, the stores will have a Macaron Sylvia ($2.75 ea), milk chocolate ganache with notes of biscuits and honey. They usually sell two types of dark chocolate macarons, but I especially enjoyed this lighter one.

La Maison du Chocolat
lamaisonduchocolate.com
You can purchase online or at any other of these four boutiques:

1018 Madison Ave
Manhattan, NY 10075
(212) 744-7117

30 Rockefeller Center,
Manhattan, NY 10020
(212) 265-9404

63 Wall St
Manhattan, NY 10005
(212) 952-1123

Short Hills Mall
New Jersey, 07078
(973) 379-5043

Photos courtesy of La Maison du Chocolat.

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Movie Review: A Matter of Taste

What Eric Ripert says about Paul Liebrandt's food, I apply to A Matter of Taste--"Yeah it is good. I would recommend."

Accumulating over 200 hours of footage and shooting for over nine years, Director Sally Rowe captures the Liebrandt's fall from grace and subsequent revival in the New York dining scene. I am not sure what movie she set out originally to make, but the fickle restaurant business created just the right kind of compelling story set in 68 minutes.

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In many ways, A Matter of Taste is similar to Jiro Dreams of Sushi, the other Tribeca Film Festival movie I saw last week. Both are about the key central figure, a man with uncompromising talent and drive. Yet in Jiro's case, the story was nearing its end. The adversity in his establishment at the top had long passed. For Liebrandt on the other hand, the nadir of his career is thrown on the screen. In fact, I could imagine the documentary Liebrandt Dreams of Cooking in fifty years being very similar to Jiro Dreams of Sushi.

Yet the comparisons with Jiro soon fall apart. This isn't a food porn movie. In that sense, as a human story, it has a broader appeal than to just foodies. While Liebrandt's dishes are visually appealing, the real work on display is Director Rowe's story telling. She wonderfully portrays Liebrandt as struggling against the tide, going from gastronomic masterpieces to grilling up burgers and fries. His struggle with the elusive New York Times reviewer Frank Bruni creates suspense. The audience follows along with Liebrandt's roller coaster life, all the while crossing its fingers and hoping for success.

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Movie Review: Jiro Dreams of Sushi

Jiro Dreams of Sushi - Teaser from David Gelb on Vimeo.

Persistence, determination, perfection, pressure. All those aspects came across in this documentary recently screened at the Tribeca Film Festival. While I enjoyed the movie, it lacked any real conflict that could have made it more stimulating. For food porn enthusiasts, it's certainly 81 minutes of close-ups and slow-motion sushi plating.

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Coming from the perspective of someone who has enjoyed one of these types of lavish sushi dinners before (Urasawa), the film made me nostalgic for that experience once again. To me, it didn't seem outrageous to pay for a meal like this, but I can imagine that the audience may not come from the same view. In one scene, a wanderer enters the restaurant and is quickly rebuffed when told that the starting price is $300 per person. A few audience members gasped, although fewer than I would imagine at a regular screening considering this was a New York film festival. To me, I was doing a quick price comparison with my meal at Urasawa in my head. For reference, my dinner at the U started at $350 two years ago, but had twice as many courses. Sukiyabashi Jiro Honten only serves about 20 courses of sushi, while Urasawa also does a kaiseki portion.

Without that sticker shock value, I wonder if I may not be the target for this documentary. If this documentary was for those who dine extravagantly, then the food isn't anything they haven't seen before. If it was for the non-initiated, then it's much more ephemeral, or fantastical. In fact, with the multitude of slow motion shots, I feel like the the target audience was more of the latter than the former. "Look at how much care these people put into their food. Isn't it fascinating?" But for anyone who has been exposed to the laborious presentations of fine dining, this aspect is somewhat lost.

However, this movie isn't only about high-end sushi. The story is simple; as the title suggests, it is a movie about a man and his single ambition to make good sushi. It's a sweet story and the characters certainly are endearing. Centrally, it is a story about the old man behind the counter with much more vigor than his body can provide and the son, groomed for twenty years to take over but with more pressure than Prince Charles.

While documentaries are commonly criticized for artificially creating drama through staged events or creative editing, that is what makes many of them compelling. A documentary avoid its stigma as a snoozefest when you see conflict. In this aspects, Jiro Dreams of Sushi is lacking. I can see the conflict brewing on the horizon--the inevitable day when the son must take over the restaurant, but there is not much in the film that needs to be overcome.

As a movie about a passionate octogenarian and the son in his footsteps, it is touching. If you want to watch the film just to see shots of fancy sushi, you'll be pretty satisfied as well.


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Fatty Crab on the Upper West Side

The dim red bulb lit up walls of retro pornography while a speaker played out the familiar ping and pong of a distant table tennis match. This was the oddest bathroom I've been in. I was locked in the unisex bathroom trying to wash my hands of the thick red sambal for the third time. But the hearty smell of crustacean wasn't coming off. Alas, I walk back to my table just in time for the check and a delightful dish of complimentary mochi cake dessert.

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The crunchy crust and the jelly interior of the cake was pleasant, maybe not pleasant enough to offset the $48 for a dungeness crab. Before I made my reservation, I had set a price goal for myself at $30. I wasn't going to order the chili crab if it was more than that. When the waiter came around, I asked him for the market price and got my meal chilling quote. Sounds a bit high, what the range? Maybe I could justify ordering it if it was usually around $50. Nope. $48 was the highest they've ever charged. I glanced down through the small plates and the entrees. Short rib rendang, watermelon pickle and crispy pork, fatty duck? I briefly considered each of these alternatives, but each time my mind went back to the chili crab. How could I come to Fatty Crab and not order their signature dish? How could I give it an adequate review without it?


Fatty Dog - XO sausage, pickled chili, radish, aioli

I started with the Fatty Dog appetizer/small plate. A completely forgettable dish, I would've been as satisfied with a $5 hot dog than a $13 Fatty Dog. There was a certain sweetness component that was missing from the dog that would've kicked it up a little more towards its price. For a restaurant of supposedly spicy and flavorful dishes, the dog lacked any Southeast Asian vigor.


Chili Crab - crab, chili sauce, white toast

The namesake dish came to the table. Crab, chili sauce, and white toast? The ingredient list on the menu was deceptively simple. The chili sauce could be composed of dozens of ingredients itself. I've been eating crab since I was a kid. I'd proclaim myself a crab eating expert after the countless family meals we'd have gathered around a lazy Susan at various Chinese seafood restaurants around the Bay Area. I could dissect and consume the shelled 8-legged creature faster than some people carve up a crab cake. And being from San Francisco, dungeness was my crab of choice.

I cracked through a leg, plenty of flavor on the shell, but too little penetration into the meat. This normally wouldn't be too big a problem if the crab was fresh, as the sweetness of the meat would be more than sufficient. However, this crab had been frozen a bit too long (as if any freezing was okay). The restaurant could have cracked the shells slightly to allow the aroma to permeate. The best part of the dish was the pool of sauce at the bottom of the bowl ready to be sopped up by the toast or the coconut rice I ordered on the side. Still, I'll save my money for a plane ticket back home, when I can eat crab fresh off the dock. I have high standards for crab and I refuse to compromise.

Fatty Crab
fattycrab.com
2170 Broadway
Upper West Side, NY 10024
(212)496-CRAB

Another location:
643 Hudson St
West Village, NY 10014
(212)352-3592

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Lunch at the Park: Eleven Madison Park

After hearing for months about the fantastic experiences had by many of my friends at Eleven Madison Park, I finally got an excuse to go when my friend Mattatouille came to NYC. It started with Sam raving about his new favorite restaurant EMP when we met up at Di Fara for pizza in the summer. I kept seeing EMP all over his twitter feed and couldn't figure out what it stood for. Then came Fiona and Danny. I couldn't take it anymore. I just had to try it myself.

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Matt and I decided to come for lunch. Though Chef Daniel Humm offered a gourmand six-course tasting menu for lunch ($68), we opted for the three-course prix fixe ($42). There was also a two-course ($28) available. We picked two each from the five first-course, four second-course, and seven third-course dishes. In usual blogger fashion, we split each dish for a sample of each.

Bread and Amuse


Gougeres

Bacon baguette and rosemary bread


Foie gras green apple macaron and celery root panna cotta

The starters came out and we were off and running. I have never tried a savory macaron, and I was quite looking forward to this little morsel. Having missed out on New York's Macaron day last week, this was going to be my chance to make up for it. Apparently several bakeries got together in an effort to push macarons as the next cupcake gave out free samples. By the time I made it to Bouchon Bakery, they had ran out. While I liked the sweetness and texture of the pastry, the apple dominated and I didn't get much foie flavor at all. I would've preferred either more foie and less apple, or simply for them to serve it as a mignardises rather than an amuse. The touch of truffle on the panna cotta added a nice earthy balance, but otherwise, too small to be memorable.

First Course


Butternut squash velouté with Hawaiian blue prawns and maitake mushrooms

The first dish was an introduction to what Chef Humm could do with mushrooms. Commonly known as "chicken-of-the-woods" mushrooms, I could see where maitakes got that odd moniker. It was meaty in a sense, but much more flavorful than to compare to chicken. It soaked up the velvety velouté and each bite released more and more of that milky butternut squash. There was a dearth of prawn; I only noticed that little piece near the bottom. The dish would've benefited from more shrimp flavor, and maybe less of a curry overtone.


Balik salmon with pommes dauphine, frisée and crème fraîche

While the velouté favored a tightly knit plate composition, the salmon spread out playfully. Both presentations benefit in making a small amount of food seem larger than it really is. Balik salmon is a lightly smoked Norwegian salmon, which paired nicely with the frisée (otherwise known as curly endive). The smoked sliced topped pommes dauphine, mashed potatoes mixed with choux pastry and fried, giving a whimsical presentation. My favorite component of this plate was the salmon tartare in the center with a perfectly precise amount of lemon and roe.

Second Course


Spaetzle with Niman Ranch pork belly, pommery mustard and spinach

This was not the first time I've seen pork belly paired with spaetzle. I wonder if its a common German dish. I felt this dish to be a little on the salty side. In fact, the spatezle reminded me of a fancy macaroni and cheese. Oddly enough, the pork wasn't overly salted. I enjoyed the pickled mustard seeds adorning the slab of meat, almost like a string of caviar. The spinach helped cut through the heaviness of the spaetzle. Again, you can notice the integration of more mushrooms, possibly maitake.


Fregola sarda with veal sweetbreads, hedgehog mushrooms and fine herbes

Sweetbreads always remind me of chicken nuggets. That might make it sound like sweetbreads are repulsive. The very opposite actually, I love chicken nuggets. But most of the time I have sweetbreads, they are deep fried and breaded. It's hard not to make the comparison. Besides, you'd be much more turned off if you knew what sweetbreads actually were. This was my first experience with fregola sarda, a Sardinian toasted round pasta similar in texture to orzo. They served a similar function in this sweetbreads dish as the spaetzle did with the pork belly. They added substance to balance out the petite meat on top. I was amazed that the sweetbreads managed to stay crispy even when surrounded by a moat of sauce.

Third Course


Bouillabaisse of black bass, bouchot mussels, manila clams and chorizo

I must have had it before, but I couldn't remember the last time I had bouillabaisse. The flavor of this one stuck with me throughout the day. Unlike the velouté, which coated your mouth but then washed away with a sip of water, the fiery bouillabaisse grabbed me and didn't let go. Just look at that shimmering black bass; the fish was perfect. Though the menu listed manila clams, I believe they were ultimately substituted by bay scallops. Not that I complained, the scallops were delectable and I think clams would've been redundant with the mussels.


St. Canut Farm cochon de lait with rubarb, spring onion and ice wine vinegar

I did a little research. St. Canut Farm is a French-Canadian farm in Quebec specializing in milk-fed piglets. Milk-fed young pork--you'd imagine it would be quite tender. This dish consisted of two pieces: the loin and the belly. The loin was unfortunately overcooked. It lost much of its ability to retain juices. A pity considering how delicious the jus was. In fact, I could only eat the loin when it was heavily doused in jus. The belly on the other hand--magnificent.



Since most people come to Eleven Madison Park for dinner, I thought I would get a unique perspective trying them for lunch. I got great pictures. The dining room with its high ceilings, private dining space upstairs, and Miles Davis playing on loop had a great old feel. High windows also gave me terrific lighting for some of these pictures. And I still lug around my ten pound point-and-shoot. For something this large, I might as well go SLR. Each of the dishes I had were thoughtfully conceived and most were outstanding hits. I questioned the execution of a few, such as the cochon and the pork belly. A little too long under the salamander here, a little heavy handed on the salt there. Perhaps their dinner would be completely free from these relatively minor blemishes. I'll be sure to tell you when I return.

Eleven Madison Park
elevenmadisonpark.com
11 Madison Avenue, Madison Square Park, 10010
(212) 889-0905

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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.

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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


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