wd~50 tasting January 25, 2009

When I pulled open the wooden doorway to the restaurant, I did so with familiarity.  Odd, it seemed, to be opening such an acclaimed door with familiarity, but that is what I did.  It was a bit before eight on Friday, January 23^rd, and I had come back to dine at wd~50 with different eyes.  For, my first meal at wd~50 was eaten from merely a foodie’s perspective.  After having staged at the restaurant for five days less than three weeks before my second experience, however, I came with a different understanding of what the food there was.  For this reason, I was fully equipped to enjoy the bountiful tasting menu offered by the artists of the kitchen.

            One thing that I knew I could count on was the lavash.  I have mulled over the idea of serving lavash as bread many times.  My favorite explanation for it, besides that it is delicious, is that classic bread would seem outlandish at wd~50, like the cat among a line-up of primates in the childhood game, which thing does not belong?  Since I came hungry, this was a welcome snack.

            I went all out, ordering the tasting menu, as I have desired to do for a while.  While I took in the off-beat and fun atmosphere of the dining room, I enjoyed a great cocktail that served as a take on the classic Manhattan.  The “bourbon bounce,” was a rich mixture of bourbon, sour cherry, and bitters.  I liked the tang of the cherry against the deep bourbon and bitter combination, and it was a credit to the innovative cocktail list that the restaurant offers.

            My first dish was a shrimp amuse buche with bulgur, tikka masala carrots, hops, and honey foam.  While the shrimp’s flavor could have been a touch less fishy, the dish was a winner overall, and I was surprised by the smooth texture of the sous-vide shrimp.

            Next came a dish that I had been longing to try since I first spun the ice cream base for it during my internship.  The “everything bagel” with smoked salmon threads, pickled onions, and dehydrated cream cheese was crazy.  Eaten all together, the dish tasted exactly like a trip to a great Jewish deli.  Even if there was an overabundance of the dry salmon-threads, the dish rocked, and I enjoyed it with due chutzpah. 

            My first main tasting course was a scallop and beef tendon dish with parsley puree and endive.  This dish was innovative in its pairing of the two proteins; the smoky/beefy flavor from the beef contrasted interestingly with the sweet scallop.  The only part of the dish that was maybe less desirable was the dehydrated tendon part; it was strangely elastic, and it had an artificially charred taste.  In its entirety, however, the dish was very delectable.

            The following course was decadent and sharp; smooth and punchy.  If you have never experienced a liquid passion fruit center flowing out of a velvety foie gras cylinder, the time has come.  It was a surprising dish, with its volcanic interior, and it was accompanied by thinly sliced Chinese celery and dehydrated cake-like bits.  A bite with all of the plate’s components was a well-composed masterpiece.

            Oh, pasta courses—how I shirk them in my daily life.  If I could have wd~50’s truffled carbonara all the time, though, they would become a part of my omnivorous repitoire.  This dish was whimsically plated; the whole plate was covered in a piped web of soft-cooked egg yolk, topped with puffed orzo, parmesan puffs, julienne black truffle, black pepper crème fraiche, and bacon bits.  Allow me to mention off-hand that the dish happened to taste as spectacular as it looked.  All of the elements of a carbonara were there, but in a crunchier dimension.  I cleaned every last molecule of yolk off of my plate with ease. 

            It seemed like it would be a difficult task for the subsequent dish to equal the caliber of the pasta, but I was delighted by what I was served next.  A small bowl boasted a bounty of thin, noodle-y lobster legs, cooked to perfection.  They came with a zingy puree of kimche and banana, which was a combination that, like many others at wd~50, was as harmonious as it was original.  Charred lily bulb, Brussels sprouts leaves, and cashew were also present, and although the crunchy/chewy texture of the bulb was a bit cacophonous against the tender lobster, the flavor was great.  As much as I like contrast, it would have been better if the lily bulb did not take longer to chew than the lobster.  However, the dish was a clear success for the taste buds.

            When I read the words, “rabbit sausage,” on the menu, I was already excited.  However, I was even more ecstatic when the dish arrived.  The sausage was tender and beautiful; its components retained their integrity both flavor-wise and texturally.  In addition, the dish was sauced generously with a fermented garlic paste.  At the onset, I took the saucing to be too heavy-handed.  However, when I realized that it did not overpower the protein, I was genuinely psyched.  A cube of layered kale yielded a nice roasted-vegetable element to the plate, but I was perplexed by its ability to resist my knife’s penetration.  Olives echoed the salty/savory garlic paste well, and a cassis tuile rounded out the concept.  A success of flavor and texture contrasts, this dish was complex and well-planned.

            I have two words for my last savory course: free bird!  This course showcased the best squab I have had in my life thus far.  Cooked to perfection sous-vide, the rare squab breast was off-the-charts flavorful, and it was as tender as a protein could possibly be.  Served with butternut squash “noodles,” a butternut squash marmalade, crunchy carob, and a cream soda gel, the squab was elevated into a new realm of culinary extremeness.  How could chef Dufresne have randomly hypothesized that cream soda would go exceedingly well with squab?  That combination alone was ingenious.  Nothing could have been better about that dish, and I was satisfied to the maximum by finishing my savory journey with that course. 

            The pre-dessert course was something I’d been excited to try since my staging experience at wd~50.  Pureed ricotta served with ricotta, capers, thyme, caper foam, and frozen honey sounded like a highly conceptualized dish.  After eating it, I concluded that it was.  If I could have changed one thing, I would have frozen the honey in more separate strands instead of allowing it to cluster.  However, when the honey melts on the tongue, such a change is almost not worth it.  The savory thyme, briny caper, and sweet orange blossom honey was a dream team combination, and the two textures of ricotta elevated the adventure.  I would have asked for another if I hadn’t begun to feel full.

            I’m glad that I kept my mouth shut about a second pre-dessert; it’s virtues were merely windows to the delight that lay in the courses to come.  The following dessert was a chocolate-hazelnut tart with a faux hazelnut crust, chicory foam, dehydrated coconut powder, and a kind of cookie crumble.  The cool frozen custard in the tart went well with the smooth and decadent gianduja ganache, and the coconut flavor heightened everything.  Although chocolate desserts can be richly overbearing, this one was perfectly balanced.

                The last listed dessert was perhaps my favorite; not only did it tantalize the mouth but it sent wafts of awe noseward as well.  A brioche bread pudding with a liquid caramel center, mutsu apple gel, brown butter sorbet, smoked pecan brittle, and sage foam was comforting and awesome.  As a person who lists butter as a favorite food, I appreciated its presence in this dish.  The brioche’s buttery taste shared the spotlight with its dark twin, the brown butter sorbet.  The part of the dish that seemed to bring it all together—the part that made me feel most at home—was the sage milk foam, both a savory addition and a nod to tradition.

            Was my work here done already?  Fortunately not.  As I had staged with chef Stupak recently, he sent me an extra course—milk chocolate cream with whiskey foam, devil’s food cake, lychee sorbet, and a whiskey tuile.  Each part of the dish was great, and all of the flavors meshed extremely well. The fresh taste of the lychee was bright against the rich chocolate elements.  Because all of the components were cold or room temperature, though, I thought that the textural variety was not as harmonious.  However, I was far from disappointed by this course, and it was a generous surprise. 

            Finally, the bittersweet moment: receiving the mignardise.  This quasi-ceremony is much like notification of being drafted into the military.  Like the draftee looks over his great life while addressing its looming end, so does the diner feel nostalgia and foreboding conclusion.  However, who’s shooting the messenger when it comes in the form of pistachio and pear cake; chocolate shortbread-covered milk ice cream; and a chocolate packet?  I’m not…All of the mignardises were outstanding—a great note on which to end the epic meal. 

            I ended my meal by visiting chefs Stupak and Dufresne in the kitchen.  Busy as always, they welcomed me while executing numerous dishes.  I thanked them for such a memorable meal and promised to be back.  I intend to keep that promise, so expect to read wd~50 post part III in the future. 

Momofuku Bakery and Milk Bar January 25, 2009

My sister and I had been dying to visit this house of sin ever since we first laid our eyes on a newspaper blurb announcing its opening.  Chorizo challah?  Compost cookies?  And we just had to try the cereal milk…  The thought of a bakery associated with David Chang made visions of pork buns and more dance through my head.  Luckily, not long after we planned our pilgrimage to the bakery, we found ourselves crossing the threshold into the small but welcoming store. 

            There is not much going for the place from a design perspective, especially when compared to its handsomer conjoined twin, the Ssam bar.  However, its two chalk boards, chock full of the days offerings, boast such ethereal delights that one wonders if it would be proper to adorn greatness.  There are two tall wooden tables at which stay-in customers can stand while they consume their goods; their simplicity allows the food center stage.

            At the counter, my sister, my dad, and I had trouble deciding among all of the amazing-looking creations, but we finally ordered a somewhat piggy array of treats.  Our purchases included a compost cookie, replete with chocolate chips, pretzels, and more; an order of those fatty pork buns that are illegal to pass up; graham cracker flavored soft-serve with peanut butter halva, brown butter solids, and hot fudge; a piece of dulce de leche cake; and, of course, a cup of cereal milk.  I know, I know–but we were watching our waistlines. 

            As always, the pork buns were phenomenal.  A crisp layer of fat added to the true pork flavor of the Berkshire belly, and the hoi sin sauce and pickles amplified the vast spectrum of flavor sensations on the soft, pillow-y bun.  Living up to its name, the compost cookie lacked nothing, and we loved the cookie dough’s chewy-tender texture along with the sweet and salty mix-ins.  The soft-serve was a perfect graham-cracker flavor, and even though the hot fudge was a frozen-on-contact bust, the halva and brown butter were great.  I only wished that they had had the fingerling potato chip topping that day.  However, of the sundaes I’ve consumed in this life, Momofuku’s was a top contender if not the best. 

If I’d been the one to order cake, I probably would have gone for the banana cake or chocolate cake, but my dad had his eye on the dulce de leche.  Unfortunately, even though the cake and the fillings were flawless and delicious, I felt that harmony was lacking on the whole.  Perhaps some more filling would have balanced the dry to wet ratio.  Still, the flavor was there, so I was without complaint on that one. 

            We washed down all of these crazy concoctions with that large cup of cereal milk.  And oh, what cereal milk.  Velvety whole milk was sweet and voluptuous, with the perfect hint of cornflakes.  If one thing in this world could send a person back to his or her childhood, this is it.  Even if it sounds overrated, this milk was a great concept and is a significant addition to the bakery.  Now I sometimes wish that I had a cornflake cow that I could milk for this stuff. 

            Momofuku Bakery and Milk Bar is a funky establishment that offers many a delectable treat to the world.  You don’t have to be a foodie to love the stuff there; its flavors are accessible and delightful for all.  If you pass the Pinkberry in the same neighborhood, do yourself a favor and skip it for Momofuku.  It is overrated, and you’ll be glad that you did. 

Per Se Lunch Tasting January 12, 2009

           Outside the blue doors, I anticipated their opening.  As I sat on a bench surrounded by the artistically arranged flora, I had the illusion of being in another kind of park.  I hadn’t looked at the menu posted in front of the dark wooden entrance, because I am strange that way.  On a special occasion, I let things come as they will in order to feel less expecting and more surprised.  

            A group of foodie-looking types passed the plaque, remarking about its offerings.  One said, “This is like, the most expensive restaurant in New York.”  Hoi polloi, I joked to myself ironically, as I had been that person before—the outsider.  Now I was the diner, and it seemed unlikely.  As outsiders, we assume that the diners are extravagant and wanton spenders.  However, today happened to be my lucky day—the lunch had fallen into my lap, but not in the I-just-dropped-a-piping-hot-chicken-pot-pie-on-my-legs-and-have-third-degree-burns sense of it. 

            As it happens, I am graduating high school early, as my passion for food outweighs my desire to study trifling things such as—well—many things studied in high school.  Therefore, I was more than excited when the Culinary Institute of America sent me a letter of acceptance into their Culinary Arts bachelors’ program starting next fall.  Needless to say, finishing high school comes before I can leap into culinary school, and some senior traditions come along with it.  Every year, following the graduation ceremony, the senior class gets on a bus that takes them to a surprise location for a graduation party.  This trip costs two hundred and fifty dollars, and I decided to forego it, as I do not have many senior friends.  However, being the calculating and strategic person that I am, when my dad offered to give me the money for the graduation outing instead, I immediately asked for it in the form of a reservation at Per Se, where the price of the tasting menu would certainly take care of that extra graduation fee.  Soon after I had asked, my mom made a lunch reservation for me there for January 10^th, at eleven thirty—the opening of the doors.  

            I regretted my laziness when I realized I had forgotten to call in advance to mention my status as a future culinary student and that I had recently staged at wd~50; restaurants tend to take extra care of us aspiring chefs.  When a hostess welcomed me at the door, I introduced myself, only to find that she already seemed to know me.  She congratulated me on my acceptance to the Culinary Institute, and I immediately smelled the handiwork of my parents.  It seemed that much of the staff knew; the maitre’d congratulated me too, as did my server.

            As soon as I was seated comfortably among many pillows and facing the elephantine window, my waiter poured me a glass of Pierre Gimonnet Brut Champagne, and I knew that a celebration was afoot, even if I was dining alone.  As I happily accepted some delightful amuse buches, I opened my epic leather bound menu, which began: CONGRATULATIONS! 

            I texted my mom to thank her for tipping off the restaurant.  I knew that the royal proportions of my reception had been brought about by my parents, and the surrealism of it all was a fabulous dream.  

            The champagne went down easily; it was delicious and refreshing, and the subtle sweetness of the brut was a perfect foil for the intense umami flavors in my first amuse, gougeres filled with a gruyere cheese sauce.  This pop of flavor sensation was followed but not upstaged by an equally delectable Scottish Salmon cornet, served in a black sesame tuile with a red onion crème fraiche.  They had me—my buche was amused.

            After I decided to order the five-course lunch menu, I was immediately served a parsnip-vanilla soup with mustard cress; as one server offered, “it’s cold outside.”  I had no problem accepting the velvety gift—whether it was cold outside or not.  I might add, on a humorous note, that I came across a small plastic label in my soup that read, “EVO.”  I fished it out of my mouth, actually, as I had first thought it might have been a mutant baby mustard green.  However, I did not complain, because I did not want to make my nearing kitchen tour awkward.  The soup was delicious, even if the label-fishing game was unacceptable.  

            Next, I received my first course, a cauliflower panna cotta with sterling white sturgeon caviar.  I had nearly asked for the “Oysters and Pearls,” as a replacement, but because the panna cotta was on the menu, I decided to enjoy it while it was there.  This was a fortunate decision, as the velvety custard was a delicious accompaniment to the briny and creamy caviar.  Cauliflower is delicious when well-seasoned, and the caviar imparted the right amount of salt to bring out its nuances.  

            When I ordered the five-course tasting menu, I chose the langue de boeuf over the bay scallops as one course.  However, because the restaurant was congratulating Shaina the Great, they surprised me by first serving me the scallops.  Needless to say, I am sorry that any diner has to choose between the two dishes.  The scallops were beautiful and sweet, perfectly offset by the nuttiness of the brown butter gastrique.  The richness was pierced by the acidity of the pickled crosne slice, and along side was a delicate mille-feuille of butternut squash and black trumpet mushrooms.  

            By this time, I had already been plied with bread and butter, and I had chosen a crusty, fresh baguette to go with an sweet cream unsalted butter from the Strauss Family Farm in California and Animal Farm Creamery in Vermont, which had been salted with fleur de sel.  While I preferred fresh butter I had gotten from Ronnybrook Dairy earlier this year and found neither butter to be very pungent, they were both smooth and fresh tasting.  I preferred the sweet cream on the saltier baguette but later enjoyed the salted butter on my sweeter rye and duck-fat bread.

            Another compliment from the chef arrived in the form of a small custard in and egg shell.  However, the creamy concoction was elevated by a heavy infusion of white truffle and a black truffle “ragout.”  This demi-bite was garnished with a crisp chive chip, and it was truly a outstanding interlude between courses, as it was small but also enticing.

            My next course was the confit beef tongue with a caraway “pain perdu,” roasted heirloom beets; and horseradish crème fraiche.  The tongue was warm and meltingly tender, and the caraway cake was original.  The dish was a genius riff on the classic old world combination, but I can safely say that the large canelle of crème fraiche could have been deadly had I consumed it in its entirety.  

            My next dish was a breakthrough.  Normally, when I don’t have a tasting menu, I refrain from ordering fish, because I find it overwhelmingly disappointing.  However, the perfectly sautéed round of cod that I ate, adorned with fat jewels of lobster knuckle, along with a bright Meyer lemon emulsion, was perfect.  Joined by delicious Sylvetta and Castelvetrano olives and cannellini beans, the fish was outstanding.  In addition, the beans were perfectly cooked—not a minute overdone; and the cod’s flaky flesh had tantamount integrity.  I concluded that I should always order fish and that I should never order fish again; fish is a beautiful pleasure, but maybe all others will pale in comparison to this.

            My last protein was a petit sale lamb rack with fennel, peppers, medjool dates, and a lamb jus.  I thought that the lamb may have been cooked sous-vide; it was a perfect pink color throughout.  Furthermore, the flesh was so juicy, that I thought I had perhaps eaten a lamb fruit-gusher.  A great French food enthusiast once asserted that a food should taste, “of what it is.”  I believe that this dish fulfilled this standard, because the flavor of the lamb commanded the dish instead of being marred by accouterments and extraneous distractions.  The dates played as nicely with the lamb as a model kindergartner plays with the new kid, and I enjoyed eating two of my favorite ingredients together in such harmony.  The best part was perhaps that they were both served perfectly but so simply.  This course was an overt celebration of superior ingredients.

            The first sweet course I received was a pineapple-ginger “float.”  Pieces of pineapple and pineapple gelée, along with almonds and cold vanilla custard, were topped with a zesty pineapple-ginger foam.  This course was a great way to awaken my palate, as it was bright and tangy in the extreme.  

            The next dessert course that I ate was “coffee and doughnuts,” which consisted of a coffee cup filled with cappuccino semifreddo and topped with milk foam, along with some cinnamon-sugar doughnuts.  This was a fabulous dish although a basic combination.  Everything was technically perfect, and I really enjoyed the density of the semifreddo with the hot and light doughnuts.  

           

            My last course was rather unfortunate in my opinion.  The “Irish Coffee,” was a chocolate Guinness cake with a whiskey gelée, coffee ice cream, and milk foam.  While the ice cream and the foam were good, as was a round tuile that surrounded the foam, the gelée was not whiskey-flavored, as far as I could taste, and the cake tasted like a store-bought brownie combined with plastic.  It was quite unfortunate, but not a loss, because I was already full of other ethereal delights.

            Finally, I ended with the mignardise, which began with a mini crème brulee and continued with chocolate truffles and candies.  The crème brulee was perfect and classic, but the truffles upset me.  While they were well-made and good chocolates, the bourbon flavored one and the brown butter flavored one did not taste like what they were supposed to.  To me, they tasted somewhat plain.  At first, I thought the bacon truffle was a winner, but when I realized that it lacked meatiness and tasted more like a smoky single-malt, I was let down.  Last, I had a delicious honey-almond nougat and a coconut white-chocolate bon bon along with some chocolate covered hazelnuts.  These were all phenomenal. 

            I took a tour of the kitchen, which seemed orderly and immaculate, and then I departed with my menu and a bag of a quasi-cookie-brittle/bark confection that I excitedly anticipate waking up to tomorrow.  This meal was epic, and in a way, the open-armed welcome at Per Se seemed to be calling me towards the culinary empire.