Destination Croatia: The Best Lunch in Opatija

If you ever find yourself in the coastal resort town of Opatija on the Istrian peninsula in Croatia, you owe it to yourself to visit Tavern Istranka. Admittedly, I only had one meal while passing through Opatija on my way to Slovenia, but I was so confident in the quality of my lunch at Istranka that I challenge anyone to show me some place better. Of course, that means you might have to fly me back out to the Gulf of Kvarner to prove your point.
With only an hour and a half in Opatija and knowing the laid-back serving speed in Croatian restaurants, we didn't have much time to find a place to eat. Luckily, we managed to find Istranka, guided by a snippet from my Lonely Planet guide. The restaurant's homey decor matched its relaxed and hospitable waitstaff. It even rubbed off on the patrons. A local man at a nearby table actually asked if we minded if he smoked, even though we were seated in the outdoor patio.

Located along the Adriatic, the Istria region in Croatia is similar in climate to Northern Italy. As such, it is renowned for its wines, olive oils, seafood, and truffles. We had already sampled several truffle dishes in the region, but my brother and I had to follow our nose to that pungent, earthy scent each time. 


House made fuzi pasta with shaved truffles

From my seat out on the patio, I had a clear line of sight directly through the door to the kitchen. I saw the plate of Istrian fuzi pasta, something of a cross between penne and farfalle in shape, with a light cream sauce. The cook stood over the plate with a truffle in one hand and a grater in the other. He generously layered shavings until he put down the grater, satisfied that he had given up enough of the local bounty. He looked up, our eyes met, and he apologetically resumed grating for several more seconds. I'm not sure what expression I had on my face, but the meaning was universal. While each component--the pasta, the sauce, the truffles--were dominant in their own right, the strength in this dish came in the simplicity of the components. If you ever need a reminder that great ingredients make a great dish, here it is.


Octopus goulash, polenta

Croatian cuisine also has a tradition of game. My eyes were drawn to the venison goulash immediately. Such a flavorful cut of meat in a slow simmered stew, I knew it would be a hit. Unfortunately, there was no venison that day, and the waiter's offering of beef failed to tantalize. Instead, we ordered the octopus goulash based on his second recommendation. Odd, you say? Slow cooked octopus would come out tough and the flavor would be cooked out of it? Those same thoughts ran through our head, but we rolled the dice and had no regrets. Whatever the cook did to the seafood, it came tender and the flavors permeated the stew.


Monkfish in white wine sauce

If you've eaten with me enough, you'll know that I'm a fan of monkfish. To call it the "poor man's lobster" demeans the unique taste and texture of this ugly, ugly fish. This tasty dish had the interesting effect of feeling light, yet also very filling at the same time.


Tripe in tomato sauce

I'm not as huge a fan of tripe as my brother. I prefer my tripe and my intestines in spicy hot pot-type dishes. While this didn't come spicy, the effect was the same. The tripe took on the flavors of the slightly sweet tomato and the other seasonings in the sauce. This was a delightful surprise for me. I didn't think I would be a fan, but I found myself going back to fish for more pieces throughout the meal. We were both disappointed when we came up with an empty fork.

Istranka is not on Marsala Tita, the main street on which most of the hotels are located. Instead, it's just off a small alley. Keep your eyes peeled for a posted sign on Marsala Tita directing you up a slight incline. Given Opatija's typical visitors, there seemed to be plenty of mediocre restaurants catering to those with more money than taste. I highly recommend you take a few extra minutes to find Istranka and sit yourself down to a no-frills meal.

Tavern Istranka
TripAdvisor link since the Istranka website seems to be down

Boze Milanovica 2

Gostionica Istranka 

Opatija HR-51410 , Croatia
+385 051 271 835

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Taste of Maine at Luke's Lobster

I've always been more of a crab fan myself. Whether it's the roasted garlic crab at PPQ in San Francisco, the Indonesian crab at Fatty Crab, or the blue crab in Maryland's Chesapeake Bay, I've always been more partial to crab than lobster. But having been invited to Luke's Lobster by almost every one of my LA friends who swing by town, I knew I had to finally try it out.

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You'll find multiple locations in Manhattan for Luke's Lobster. They're fairly spaced out on the island and most offer delivery too. Each restaurant's decor is simple, kitschy and casual, conveying Northeastern seafood shack.



Lobster rolls are expensive anywhere, but Luke's does provide a hearty amount on each roll. It takes 5-6 lobster calls for the meat of one roll. Luke's has a reputation for sourcing their lobster directly from sustainable fisheries in Maine. Seeing as how this was my birthday dinner, I had to order the Noah's Ark and split it with my friend. Two 1/2 lobster rolls, two 1/2 crab rolls, two 1/2 shrimp rolls, four crab claws, two drinks, and two bags of chips, the feast is pictured above.



Luke's does make an excellent lobster roll. The dominant flavor is lobster, not mayonnaise or butter. As good as its namesake is, I still preferred the crab roll. The shrimp was boring, merely a shrimp cocktail on a loaf. I got a sarsaparilla with my meal, a happy find considering how difficult it is to find.

Luke's Lobster
lukeslobster.com
Multiple locations in East Village, Upper East Side, Upper West Side, Financial District, and Penn Quarter.
$15 for just the lobster roll. $41 for the Noah's Ark pictured above.

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Iceland: Saegreifinn (Sea Baron)

Besides Baejarin Beztu, the other name I kept coming across on Chowhound posts about Iceland was Saegreifinn, a.k.a. Sea Baron. This casual restaurant is more fish shack than fine dining. Customers order at the counter then sit on narrow fish barrels along communal benches. Still, even Mark Bittman has called out Saegreifinn for its outstanding lobster soup.
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The entire dining area is tiny. At the time I went, there weren't very many customers and people rotated in and out fairly rapidly. I imagine during high tourist season in the summer, the place is packed to the gills. As with almost anywhere else in Iceland, the proprietors speak perfect English. Their English was so good in fact that I frequently forgot to practice the Icelandic phrases I picked up for the trip. I did however, satisfy my goal to be able to pronounce Eyjafjallajökull, the volcano that erupted last year.



I believe Saegreifinn serves their famous lobster soup year-round, but check the display case for the local catch of the day on kebabs. The soup has a Nordic flavor profile, rich and hearty with some slight sweetness and ample amount of lobster. The locally fished lobster is smaller than we're used to, but sweeter in taste. It actually reminded me more of crawfish. I've been told it is specifically langoustine. Indeed it does have that same taste.





From the fridge, we picked out a halibut kebab. The waitress brought the kebab to the back to be grilled while we warmed up with the soup and heaps of crusty bread. The soup and the complimentary bread would be enough to make a light lunch, but we were about to head for the airport. While the fish was certainly fresh, it lacked the flavor of the outstanding Pacific halibut I had in Alaska.




While in my trip, I had plenty of delicious food, I didn't partake in much of the exotic fare. I avoided hakarl, the Fear Factor-esque fermented shark that is described as licking a urinal. I also didn't have reindeer or puffin, which I hear tastes very fishy. I did however, eat a whale kebab. Iceland and Japan are two of the few countries that still whale. They are also two countries where you can find whale on the menu. The texture is easy to describe--tough, like an overcooked steak. The taste is much odder. Imagine a cross between tuna and beef, or if a cow was only fed a diet of fish. Whale is one of those things you can say you've tried, but you're not likely to go back.

Saegrefinn (Sea Baron)
354-553-1500
Geirsgata 9, 101 Reykjavik
The restaurant is located in the Northwest of Reykjavik by the harbor.


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Iceland: Reykjavik and Fish & Chips

The city of Reykjavik may be the Northern most capital in the world, but it's more of the character of a town than a city of almost 120,000. Icelandic cuisine may not be as famous as that of the Scandinavian countries, but Reykjavik has sufficient diversity in cuisine.

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The main drag through the town's commercial district is Laugavegur, the strip of expensive boutiques, bars, and restaurants. Although much of Iceland's appeal lies in the scenery of the majestic glaciers in the winter and the mossy green fields in the summer, the capital does have its appeal as a cosmopolitan scene with a sophisticated populace. Alcohol is expensive, as is most everything; it is not uncommon for Icelanders to pre-party at home before hitting up the many bars around town.



Trying to stick to a budget, I didn't want to break the bank with any meal in Iceland. Entrees at low end restaurants average around $20-$40 USD. A cursory glance at Chowhound pointed me to famous establishments like 3 Frakkir and Einar Ben. Instead, I settled for the moderately priced Icelandic Fish and Chips.

I had heard that this restaurant provided fresh catch of the day, battered in organic spelt and barley. The result is a fried fish that doesn't weigh you down while highlighting the natural flavors of the fish. The catches of the day were haddock and cod so we ordered one each.



The "chips" are oven roasted potatoes, but we also got a side of deep fried zucchini, broccoli, and cauliflower. Icelandic Fish and Chips is also famous for their skyr dipping sauces. Skyr, technically a cheese, but most closely resembling a strained yogurt is ubiquitous throughout Iceland. It is like a very thick Greek yogurt and can be eaten sweet or savory. At this restaurant, the menu offered a selection of "skyronnaise" sauces. We had to try the sampler.



The flavors were basil and garlic, coriander and lime, rosemary and green apple, ginger and wasabi, tartar, roasted peppers and chili, honey and mustard, orange and black pepper, mango chutney, and sun dried tomatoes. Honestly, having that many sauces to choose from, I lost track of which one I liked the most.

It wasn't until after the dinner that we realized this was our Thanksgiving meal. Although this may have been the first time I haven't celebrated Thanksgiving properly with a family meal, we were too content to notice.

Icelandic Fish and Chips 
fishandchips.is
Tryggvagata 11
101 Reykjavik
+354 511-1118

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Hometown Favorites: PPQ Dungeness Island

I suppose referring to San Francisco as my "hometown" would offend some actual city natives, but I'm sure getting tired of telling people I'm from "right next to Oakland, California." I speak expansively; I like to think that I am a product of the entire Bay Area, despite how little time I spent in the "city" when I was growing up. Still, if I'm looking for dungeness crab in San Francisco, there are only to places I go--R&G Lounge in Chinatown for Cantonese salt and pepper crab and PPQ Dungeness Island for Vietnamese roasted garlic crab.





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The restaurant is located in the Outer Richmond neighborhood. It's not particularly accessible by anything except a car and finding parking could be a real deterrent to coming here. Nonetheless, it looks like they expanded the restaurant since I had been here last, so you may have a much easier time getting a table. I had no trouble calling on Thursday to get a ten person reservation for Sunday evening though.



The above picture is PPQ's famed garlic roasted crab. Even though it isn't dungeness crab season, the flavor was still phenomenal. Part of the crab eating experience is the shell and the work. Personally, I always think that the reward tastes sweeter when it's earned with stainless steel crackers, digital dexterity, and your teeth (a bad idea for your teeth but oh so satisfying).





PPQ also has a peppercorn crab (pictured above), drunken crab, curry crab, and spicy crab, along with several other common Vietnamese dishes. Honestly, I couldn't distinguish much between the roast crab and the peppercorn; both are delicious. The restaurant is confident enough to name the place after its crab.



The other dish that you must get at PPQ Dungeness Island is the garlic noodles. I don't know how the Vietnamese do it, but their garlic noodles are so satisfying they could make a meal in themselves. In a glance, they look like plain noodles with nothing in them, but the flavors of those plain looking noodles will astound you.



PPQ Dungeness Island

2332 Clement St

(between 24th Ave & 25th Ave)

San Francisco, CA 94121

(415) 386-8266

Crab priced seasonally



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Destination Bahamas for Conch

Before my cruise down to the Bahamas, I did some cursory research on Chowhound for must-eat places in Nassau. I assumed Bahamian cuisine would be similar to Caribbean cuisine in general. But I did find that Nassau was famous for one thing--conch.

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Photo credit: cheesy42 on Flickr

I had always known conch in its shell form. For a long time, it didn't even occur to me that a sea creature lived in the shell or had to form it somehow. I did find this video on how to shell and clean a conch online. It also taught me that konk is the proper pronunciation.



According to Chowhound posters, the Arawak Cay Fish Fry is the place to go for local seafood. The town of Nassau is not huge, and the Fish Fry is within walking distance along the Northern beaches. I had a hard time figuring out what Fish Fry actually was, so I'm going to present it as clearly as I can here. The Fish Fry is a row of restaurants, all serving basically the same foods, emphasizing the conch and other local critters. The particular restaurant I went to was Twin Brothers. Complicating it even more, there are two Twin Brothers restaurants.



Conch fritters are the most popular form of conch dishes. Think Japanese takoyaki, but with firmer pieces of conch meat replacing the chewier squid. The fritters were cheap, about $2.50 for six pieces. Bahamian dollar is pegged at one-to-one with USD and most places take USD. Two Brothers fries a great fritter, fluffy without being dense, and has the most kick-ass spicy remoulade.



I also tried the conch salad. Think ceviche. Very simple and clean. Just conch, tomatoes, onions, jalepeños and lime. It allowed me to get a good idea of what conch tastes like at its most primal. A good conch can be sweet, not unlike abalone.

Additionally, I tried the cracked conch. It was large pieces of deep fried and battered conch somewhat akin to fried fish in a fish and chips platter. While the waitress told me beforehand that the cracked conch was significantly different from the fritters, one dish of deep fried conch is more than enough. Twin Brothers also had delicious frozen mango daquiries.

So now you know, when going to the Bahamas, eat the conch, take the shell as a souvenir.

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Maryland Blue Crab in Chesapeake Bay

This is a pile of eighteen steamed Maryland blue crabs coated with Old Bay seasoning. Armed with a small knife, mallet, and my bare hands, I dove into the stack. For the uninitiated, and non-squeamish, this is a quick how-to guide to eating these crustaceans.
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I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, tearing apart indigenous dungeness crabs. Those crabs are larger than the blue crabs and have much more meat in the legs. As a consequence of this training, I am fairly proficient at eating crab legs. But as you can tell from the picture, the legs on blue crabs have hardly anything worth salvaging beside what's in the claws.

Step One: Flip the Crab Over and Remove Apron


Almost all the blue crabs served in Maryland are male. There are strict catch limits on the female crabs, especially during spawning season from May until early Fall. To identify male and female crabs, the underside "apron" is shaped differently by sex. The rule of thumb is that aprons shaped like the Washington Monument, as in the picture above, indicate male crabs. The female crabs have rounded aprons shaped like the Capitol Building.

Insert the knife under the apron tab and pry it off. It should come off rather easily. This will then allow you to pry off the top shell, or carapace, from the back of the crab.

Step Two: Cleaning the Crab


Usually even at a Chinese restaurant, which is not afraid to show you the ugly side of your food, the gills and some of the digestive track have been removed prior to serving. When I was a kid, I had seen my grandmother pry off the shell of a living crab before in Taiwan, so this scene wasn't as unnerving as the one I'd seen before. There is some cultural conflict as to whether you can eat the yellow digestive tract of the crab. Many Asians would gladly eat this, especially over rice. In Maryland, it is commonly removed. It has a bitter taste, though it is intensely "crab-like." What people can agree on however, is removing the white finger-like gills on either side.


Step Three: Crack Open the Membrane and Pick out the Meat


Split the crab in two to access the meat underneath the semi-transparent membrane. Also, rip off the legs for easier access. The largest leg with the claw can be cracked open with the mallet to access some kernels of crab meat.

At this point the directions are rather free-form. My advice is to simply pick out anything that's white and soft and eat it.


Closing Details


The carnage from six crabs

Maryland crab season is from March until November. I went to the Crab Claw Restaurant in St. Michael's on the Eastern shore of Chesapeake Bay. It is about four hours away from New York City. Wear clothes you don't mind getting dirty. The price of the crabs vary daily. When I went at the end of October, the crabs were $32/dozen. If you do go to the Crab Claw, the crab cakes are a rip-off at $18 each, even with a side. There are great crab cake sandwiches elsewhere for around $10. Lastly, thanks to my girlfriend for demonstrating crab dismemberment procedures.

The Crab Claw
thecrabclaw.com
Route 33 West / Navy Point
St. Michaels, MD 21663
(410) 745-2900

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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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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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