Tailor March 17, 2009

            Ever since the first time I heard about Tailor, I knew I wanted to go there.  It was a veritable Auzie catching the riptide wave that was dessert-based restaurants.  While other establishments such as Room 4 Dessert, P*ong, and Chickalicious abounded, there was a j’ne se quois about Tailor that drew me to it.  I don’t know if it was the idea that savory and sweet were uniting at the hands of the former pastry chef of wd~50, Sam Mason, or whether it was something else.  Was it the talk of the inventive cocktails?  The wait staff’s clean-cut uniforms?  The nerd-chic and rockstar look of Sam Mason himself?  I don’t know.  All I know is that it took me two years to get there.

            As I pondered making a reservation at Tailor, I pulled up past reviews online.  Bruni?  One star.  Platt?  One star.  Since many people to comment on the restaurant summed it by choosing the bazooka cocktail to be the main event, I wondered where their food went wrong.  Everything on the menu sounded interesting, and after I secured a reservation there for my friend and me, I perused it more carefully, knowing well that I am often at a loss when it comes to making meal choices out.  

            Upon arrival, my friend and I joined my parents at the bar while we waited for our table.  My parents ordered the cornbread old fashioned and the Waylon, a smoked Coke and bourbon drink.  The old fashioned seemed less than exciting for me, but the Waylon was pleasing.  According to my parents, they later tried the pumpernickel raisin scotch (too raisin-y), and the blood and sand (lacked pronounced orange flavor).  

            Still, where the cocktails fell short, the bar snacks compensated.  While the average “conceptualized,” bar snack consists of hand-sweat infused salted nuts, Tailor ups its standards, producing cleaner and far more satisfying offerings.  The boneless chicken wings, formed in cubes and coated in hot sauce, had a fuss-free form and a faint compliment of bleu cheese flavor.  Meanwhile, the huitlacoche corn dogs brought me back to childhood, even though my excitement to taste the truffle-y huitlacoche fizzled when I could not detect it.  Even so, they were hot, crisp, and one of the best foods on a stick I’ve had this year.  The last bar snack I had before heading to my table was the deep-fried oysters Rockefeller.  The oyster itself was huge and juicy, and the coating provided the perfect crunchy foil.  However, they were so hot that I unfortunately missed out on the Rockefeller part of the flavor when my tongue was assailed with the scorching temperatures.  After having sampled these three snacks, I professed them to be the most gourmet stoner food I’d eaten in a while before ascending to the dining room for my dinner.

            At the table, my friend and I perused the menu, but I was completely unsure of what to order.  Luckily, I decided on the maple-poached snails with parsley, bacon, and toast as my appetizer.  After informing my waitress that I had narrowed down my entrée choices to four, she strongly suggested the famed pork belly, and thusly I assented.  How could I go wrong?  My friend was too full already for an appetizer but chose the black garlic chicken entrée.

            When my snails came, they were a picture of perfection, topped with a cloud of parsley foam and placed abundantly over a couple of baguette toasts.  I couldn’t have chosen a better appetizer; as I hungrily ate it, I knew that finishing it would inspire no regrets.  The buttery maple poaching liquid soaked the toasts and the tender snails were sublime.  Meanwhile, the parsley foam and bacon added nuances and textural contrast.  If I could eat that dish every day, I would.

            When the entrees came, I was surprised that my plate looked somewhat bare.  Five slices of pork belly were layered in a straight line vertically on the right, while an array of artichoke pieces and apple was scattered on the left.  Still, aware that the flavors of pork belly triumph over looks, I dug in.  As soon as I did so, angels sang—a chorus of hallelujahs echoed from every taste bud in my mouth.  The miso butterscotch swathed the fatty pork belly in a robe of velvet.  Although the extreme and renowned fattiness of pork belly often asks for acid to cut it, this unctuous combination did not fault.  Even though the crisp julienne apples balanced the effect, I was content with the sinful flavors of the protein.* I also noted with glee that the slices of belly were rather thicker than those served at other restaurants, offering a more satisfying bite.

            My friend’s chicken was very good, although I only had one bite.  It was tender and well-sauced, and the long beans added an interesting component.  She professed it to be one of the best meals she had had in a long time, so I assume that it was, in fact, as good as I perceived it to be.

            By the time dessert came, my friend was overburdened with ordering, and she commanded me to order her something.  Narrowing down my choices, I decided to order the grapefruit tart with white bean ice cream and tarragon, and I told her to get the coffee cake with toast ice cream, cinnamon, and raisin.

            Both desserts were very good, although I felt that my tart fell a bit flat.  The intense grapefruit flavor seemed a little raw, although it went nicely with the tarragon meringue (one of my favorite textures) and the ice cream.  My friend’s coffee cake was very good also; the cake was not too dense or too light, and the cinnamon foam was pillowy and light.  The toast ice cream was a highlight, and upon my return home, I attempted my own batch.  

            Our coffee came with Sambuca gummy bears—a welcome and tasty touch.  We also got to meet Sam Mason, who was very nice, and I got his autograph in a copy of Artculinaire in which Tailor was featured.  Needless to say, our night ended well, and I enjoyed our mignardises—chocolate covered crisp corn.  

            I will return to Tailor; my dining experience there far exceeded my expectations.  To those who only awarded Tailor a single star, I object.  It is not just a bar with some cool dranks but a restaurant with beautiful food.  My recent meal at The John Dory was very good, but I find that it had more low points than Tailor did.  Perhaps the reviewers were harder on Mason because Tailor is his flagship.  Perhaps Tailor has just improved since its opening.  Whatever the case may be, for what it’s worth, I have mentally augmented its rating.

grapefruit tart

*Does pork belly qualify as a protein, or can we now decide to choose a fat as our main dish?  I’m in either way!

Top Chef Season 5 in Review March 7, 2009

“Congratulations, Hosea, you are the winner of top chef.” My ears bled as Padma Lakshmi, hostess of the cult reality TV show, Top Chef, announced the verdict of season five. The only reality TV show worthy of viewers, Top Chef is a grueling contest in which # contestants with varying degrees of culinary acumen compete in various “cook-offs,” every episode. Each show begins with a “quickfire challenge,” in which the chefs are presented with a culinary task that they must complete within a short period of time. The winner receives immunity during the elimination challenge, which determines who will go home that episode. Contestants are not sent home based on past performance—only the dish that they prepared that episode. A high-adrenaline program, Top Chef may not be as widely viewed as American Idol, but its fans sit loyally in front of the TV every Wednesday at ten PM.
Top Chef Season Five took place in New York, an exciting venue given its culinary offerings. Seventeen chefs, ranging from a young culinary student to middle aged caterers to European immigrants practically right off the boat met for the first quickfire challenge. Much to the viewers’ dismay, the challenge was nothing along the lines of, “Make the best appetizer you can using these monkey organs—fifteen minutes…go!” Rather, the chefs had to peel apples to see who was fastest and most competent. The last chefs to finish had to brunoise (finely dice) the apples and then use them in an impromptu dish. Lauren, a former culinary student, was simply too slow and too cliché, turning out a salad with apples on it. Really? Unsurprisingly, she was eliminated first.
In following culinary competitions, the chefs competed in a slew of challenges that forced them to up their ante more than many of them expected to. In the Thanksgiving elimination challenge, the contestants had to prepare dinner for the Foo Fighters using only toaster ovens and microwaves—in the rain! While none left from electrocution, no one could avoid the equally shocking wrath of the judges’ elimination, and that person was Richard. In other episodes, the chefs had to prepare a dish to cook during a two minute commercial; cook against chefs from previous seasons; cook at famed Eric Ripert’s restaurant, Le Bernardin; prepare a “last supper meal,” for a panel of eminent culinary figures; cook using ingredients from Blue Hill Farm; and finally, prepare the best three course meal imaginable. Each episode brought a new ring of fire through which the chefs had to jump.
Eliminations of each contestant brought the remaining chefs increased chances of winning, but it also ended various kitchen alliances. From the outset of the competition, small clicks formed among the show’s contestants. Like middle school girls, although perhaps with a lighter nature, the chefs created posses such as: team Euro, a partnership of Stefan and Fabio—both obsessed with the motherland; team rainbow, a triple entente of Jamie, Richard, and Patrick—the proud homosexual contestants; and finally, Leah and Hosea, two co(w)hor(e)ts further expounded upon below. Fortunately, such camaraderie gave a lighter tone to season five; the competition was less cutthroat. On the down side, it made the line, “(Insert name here), please pack your knives and go,” that much more difficult for all.
While in some cases elimination had to be based on nitpicking, sometimes the chefs made incredible blunders. A few of the contestants who did not deserve to be on the show or to progress as far as they did were Melissa, Daniel, Ariane, Hosea and Leah.
Melissa, a chef who bore an uncanny resemblance to Helga Pataki from Hey Arnold, was such a weak competitor that it was difficult to remember that she was even on the show. She prepared fish tacos in a comfort food challenge. If anyone is comforted by something that would inevitably poison him or her at a greasy crab shack on the beach, that person is severely confused. It didn’t help that the judges thought that it was bland and reminiscent of cat food. Goodbye, Melissa–you only made it as far as you did because the judges forgot you existed.
As for Daniel, there are few ways to excuse his presence on the show and fewer to explain why he progressed through episode five. Not only couldn’t Daniel speak clearly enough to articulate common English but he also failed to see that all of his efforts were bad ideas. During one challenge, he put mushrooms onto a teammate’s salad without telling her, and they turned out to be the bane of the dish. Luckily, he was found out and sent home for his inane and unskilled behavior.
A caterer from New Jersey, Ariane started out very low in the Top Chef competition. Bamboozled by simple concepts, she caused viewers to expect her elimination. However, after successfully preparing a turkey breast and some sliced tomatoes with feta (is that even cooking?), she rocketed to the top. However, even after winning a quickfire challenge in which Martha Stewart judged, this Joisey Gal could not hang on quite long enough. Nearly ruining a baby lamb that came from Blue Hill farms, Ariane was eliminated once and for all. She deserved to be clipped; there is no excuse for a chef who cannot properly truss (tie) a roast.
As alluded to previously, Hosea and Leah were a disastrous duo from day one. Not only did they lack true talent, but their passion lay more in each other than the food. Although each was in relationships at home, neither refrained from cuddling incessantly and ultimately sharing a kiss that both claimed was a result of slight inebriation. Yeah right! Multitudes of viewers watched the show only because of their impending romance.
During the Blue Hill farm challenge, in which Leah and Hosea both erred badly while together on a team with Ariane, they avoided culpability. The judges trimmed Ariane from the contest more thoroughly than another team did the silverskin on their pork that day. Leah deserved to go home as much if not more than Ariane, pathetic as Ariane was.
Leah seemed to be stoned 24/7, and every time she presented a dish, she ended up saying something like, “I guess this is like a chicken tempura…over like a sauce that I just put some sesame oil into…I don’t really know…” Bitch, please. Somehow, the judges liked her food enough to keep her in, although she was equally worthy of retribution in the farm challenge when Ariane got sent home. Finally, she was eliminated fifth, but there were plenty of contestants who deserved her place more than she did.
Finally, although Hosea won, he seemed to be such a clueless and soulless cook. Rivaling the European contestant, Stefan, Hosea’s sole purpose was to beat him. His food came from a shallow drive to beat Stefan and to own his own restaurant one day, never emanating from a love for the ingredients. The winner of Top Chef should be passionate about flavors and ingredients—not just a competitive machine. Early in the season, Hosea used canned crab in a dish that the judges loathed. He works at a seafood restaurant, yet it was clear that he would have rather sacrificed fresh ingredients for a concept with which he was complacent. Such folly explained the fact that he went to the final round with 0 quickfire or elimination challenge wins.
Ultimately, the outcome was displeasing. Stefan and Carla were the other two competitors left in the finale, and while Stefan was too arrogant and content with his cooking, Carla deserved to win. While she started out rocky early on, Carla progressed to win multiple challenges. Producing fun dishes like “green eggs and ham,” for chef Wylie Dufresne; pure ones like squab and peas for Jacques Pepin; and decadent ones like oyster stew and a shrimp and Andouille beignet for Emeril, Carla rose to the top. Unfortunatley, receiving an over-confident and deluding sous-chef during the finale, Carla was coerced into making dishes that clashed with her style. It cost her the title of Top Chef, and there is no doubt that viewers across the world are mentally casting the sous-chef into a culinary purgatory. Carla cooked with love and passion, something that Hosea can only hope to learn in order to live up to the title bestowed upon him. While season five of top chef was intriguing, the ending left an unpalatable taste in the mouths of many viewers.

Stream of Culinariness March 3, 2009

This past week has been both random and spontaneous in the culinary sense.  I have had some strange dining experiences and meals, and, as always, I have been turning out numerous experimental baked goods at all hours.  As is my philosophy, food is the central point of interest in life, and even in the most boring of circumstances, it keeps us holding on.

Ever since my family and I have challenged ourselves to lowering the grocery bill, I have taken to making snacks for my younger siblings from scratch instead of buying pre-packaged.  As a result, I have been expanding my repetoire in the baking department as well as widening the horizons of my consanguineous compatriots beyond Oreos. 

This past week, I made chocolate chip biscotti–nothing crazy, but since my grandma cookie-napped most of them on her way home, I replaced them with small financiers.  Those went over rather well with the little brother, and I must say I was pleased.  Overtly and smugly pleased with the fact that I could make my thirteen year old brother enjoy financiers over Keebler fudge rings.  Joy!  Next, I put out a couple of batches of oatmeal cookies–one with cornflakes and marshmallows (a concept stolen from Christina Tosi, of Momofuku), and one with currants and chocolate chips. 

That brings me to my recent obsession: Cornflakes.  Ever since Tosi has brought the nostalgia of cereal milk back into my mind, I have been obsessed with these crispy, toasty flakes that are so magical and versatile.  Just the other day I made the cereal milk panna cotta recipe published by the New York Times, and it came out very well, much to my excitement. 

One thing challenged me, however.  After straining the cereal to extract all of the milk, I was left with rich, milk and cream laden cornflakes.  Although I enjoyed eating them on their own, I desired to confect something more with them.  So, in a crazy rush of madness, I processed the soggy cereal in my cuisinart.  Adding cinnamon; Lyle’s Golden Syrup; an egg; baking powder; and some flour, I made what I hoped would be a successful dough for frying. 

Minutes later, at 375º F, I had my answer: the soggy cereal donut!   Dusting them with confectioner’s sugar and salt, I had a perfectly balanced and unctuous junkfood.  One might say I’ve become popular in my household. 

soggy cereal donuts

As well as the aforementioned baked treats, I created another cake in keeping with my funky combination craze of late.  The “Po’ Girl Cake,” is what I christened this beauty; it had southern flavors to celebrate Mardi Gras.  Layers of sponge cake slathered with whiskey sauce were decadent enough, but I didn’t stop there.  The bottom filling had sauteed peaches and allspice-cream cheese frosting, while the top filling consisted of salted brown butter bananas.  I topped the cake with more whiskey sauce and generously frosted it with an “oatmeal cookie,” buttercream.  If I had been born in the south, this would be me in cake form. 

Po' Girl Cake

As far as other edible adventures, I had dinner with my family at German restuarant called Kirker’s.  A favorite among its locals, this restaurant gave refuge to hungry families (like us) and all-day singing bar hounds (not so similar to our demographics).  The menu read like a novel, but by the time I had perused its elephantine chapters, I settled upon the jaegerschnitzel.  Meanwhile, my parents got sausage; my brother a burger; and my older and younger sisters grilled chicken and coconut shrimp respectively.  Our motley array of entrees were not great, especially when I considered the lack of meat in my schnitzel.  They paled in comparison to our “loaded chips,” appetizer of potato chips with fake cheese and what I identified as “I can’t believe it’s not bacon.  I facetiously ramble.  Anyway, although the meal was partially a bust, I enjoyed my family’s company.  We may not return to Kirker’s…until we pine for the well-developed vocals of the washep-up old man at the bar.

Another strange food incident occured last night.  My mom, inspired by the frigid weather, suggested a French meal.  However, after discovering that we had both beef and veal stew meat and only brown beef stock, our plans to make a blanquette de veau had to be translated to visions of a more tan/neutral colored stew of two generations of cow.  Such is life; it was all just as enjoyable. 

For dessert, she made a tart tatin, but our subversive and quite frankly flawed recipe gave an excessively long cook-time for the apples.  We ended up with a tart tatin noir, in which only the crust survived.  However, with some Amontillado-flavored ice cream that I made last week, a shrug, and a laugh, we enjoyed this crazy upside-down tart as best we could.  If only I had pictures to prove our very charred revelry. 

So I conclude my week, a summary of meals and dining outings gone awry and a look at some of my kitchen experiments.  From an existential perspective, the week was amusing and great.  It takes a true existentialist’s perspective, but in some cases we have to laugh, eat crappy food and say, “what does it matter when we will just die in the end anyway?”  While I find this idea amusing, I must assert another postmodern idea that life is absurd and that the only other answer besides death is to eat damn good food and to make meaning through cooking and eating.  So there!  Two ways to look at my week : )