Augieland

Taste Yourself a Porn Star's Juice

When you get invited to taste the first attempt of a new wine maker, and the invite goes on to explain that this virginal wine maker is the porn star Savanna Samson, not only do you show up but, if you plan to write about it, you pray it will have things like a plastic cork and be a big, slutty red out to please everybody. It would also kick butt if it was a little tart.

Sadly, you don't always get what you want. Although Savanna's wine is out to please, it is in no way slutty; it is a perfectly acceptable table wine. At the party, I had it with truffled gnocchi, roasted lamb chops, a proper porcetta, fried meatballs, Parmigiano Reggiano, prosciutto di Parma, and seafood risotto. It played well with all of them, even the risotto if you can believe that.

This wine is not austere or fine. I imagine its progress will closely match that of the average porn star, really getting good about 2 years after its premiere but having passed its prime about 6 years in. At this point it is showing youthful cherry, red currants, spices, cedar, coffee and a note of epoxy. Its structure is loose with very little defining acid, an easy quaff for big meals. The New York Times reports it will retail for $38. If that's what you spend on your Tuesday/Wednesday wines, I definitely think it is worth a try. It's a sweet little thing that can take on many foods while still seeming somehow demure.

Snapshots of the Dells: Del Posto and Del Frisco 823 and 821 magickingdomillian stars respectively

Wisconsin Dells is a place of amusement in Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin. It is a place people go to have fun, a place for mini-vacations. Things are a little overdone, somehow grand in their kitschy-ness. While it is always clear that you are going to a place to spend more money than you would on an average day out, you can usually convince yourself that the time and cost have translated to more fun for you and your company.

This week I had dinner at the NY Dels: Del Frisco and Del Posto. Strangely enough, my dinner at both was a rib chop, but the similarities do not end there. Both places have very grand rooms, ceilings that go on forever, and cantilevered dining areas. Both have wine lists filled with names of wines you know if you read wine publications, and both put their best foot forward when it comes to service. Both are places you go to feel like you've spent money.

I typically eat at places that are renowned for their food rather than their service. As a rule, I am suspicious of any place where I hear people praise the room and the servers well before they mention the food, however there are places you must go. Del Frisco's I had heard about a million times but had never been, and Del Posto, well Del Posto is Mario's new place and I hadn't been since it opened.

Del Frisco's is in Midtown. Only in midtown Manhattan can you have a restaurant with glass on three sides looking at a 6-lane avenue and call it a beautiful view, but Del Frisco's does. The awesome glass wall does succeed in giving the room a real sense of space and grandness.

Sitting in the balcony, I asked our server what the specialty of the house was. As he could not really specify a particular cut (not a good sign for a steakhouse), I decided to go with the special bone-in rib chop for $54.95. This choice was based on the rib chop at Strip House (my favorite steak in Manhattan, and $42, by the way.) Except for the bone not being frenched, it looked a lot like a normal rib chop. As far as preparation, I assume that Del Frisco's just isn't capable of the heat some of the other steak houses in town are. A rib chop is a very fatty cut. Perfectly prepared, the outside is charred and the fat is melted while still keeping a red center. This is a feat that requires nerves of steel and one hell of a heat source. Sadly Del Fisco's lacks one or both of these. The steak was perfectly rare but the outside, although blackish, was not all the way there, and the fat was warmed but not melting. Either the grill man that evening moved it a couple too many times, or the grill was just not up to the work.

The service was top notch, as it should be since there is a big speech about it on the menu. In fact, once I dragged my camera out at least three managers took the time to stop by my table to make sure everything was ok, though to be fair they were just following up on what was otherwise already very attentive service. The restaurant served a good steak, well prepared. It was not, however, worth the premium unless you calculated in what the staff and space must cost (not my favorite way to way to evaluate a restaurant).

Del Posto is in Chelsea. Forget all the buzz words and everything else you have ever been told -- the southwest corner of 16^th St and 10^th Ave plants the restaurant firmly in Chelsea. With nothing as gorgeous as 6^th Avenue to look at, the large windows at Del Posto are curtained. You can still sense that they are huge though.

Inhabiting a grand space, Del Posto seems to be a walk away from the Mario of old. Mario used to say the joy of Italian food was a communal feeling and thus we should all cram into as many seats as possible at Otto, Lupa, and Babbo and appreciate the restaurants' authenticity. We used to be told that, as much as we would like things like Parmigiano on our vongole, we weren't going to get it because the cheese would overpower the clams and the integrity of the dish would be compromised. At Del Posto, there's enough room to walk two table carts by each other between the tables and your every whim will be catered to.

Service is definitely at its best at Del Posto. The other good news is that food is also at its best here. I had an artichoke appetizer that was literally perfect, three optimal pastas, a pumpkin risotto in which every single piece of pumpkin was an identical dice, and a rib chop to be split by two that was again great.

There is a paradox to Del Posto in that the opulence of the room highlights the simplicity of the food. Where Mario's food somehow seemed grand in its previous, more humble surroundings, its basic humility stands in stark contrast to Del Posto's audacious room. This is wonderfully simple food, expertly prepared, that comes in the fanciest of wrappers and the wrapper is drawing attention to elements the Empire endearingly used to claim it never cared about.

Mario has obviously decided there is merit to critical acclaim. Critics said things like, "Babbo has great food, if the tables weren't so close and the rock and roll wasn't on the sound system and the service had every possible utensil, the restaurant would be definitely deserving of the highest accolades." So Mario went out and put his worthy food in the greatest of surroundings. The dilemma here is that the food was as good as it could be in the old rooms so now you sit there saying this is something like the artichokes at Otto, except at Otto there are more on the plate and it costs less than half the price, and you are forced again to put a value on fine service.

 

These places are always full of customers: Wisconsin Dells with pink Midwesterners looking for a fun day on the waterslides, Del Frisco's with people who love feeling like they are doing something expensive, and Del Posto with folks looking to be part of the next great thing from Mario. Everything in the world has its price -- the price at which what the payer will pay matches what the seller will accept. Of course there are always people who will pay more for something deemed a "unique" experience and countless businesses that survive on their patronage (how else could Versace stay afloat)?

So please keep in mind that when the guy responsible for everyone's favorite upscale Italian place opens a more upscale restaurant, the most drastic differences will be in the setting and that, when your friends who love Luger's and Strip House tell you a place has a great room you should see, your hard-earned dollars may not necessarily be going into the food you'll eat there. If you feel cheated don't go back, if you feel you were treated fairly make another reservation on the way out. Either way stop bitching that the food is great but the room is overdone or, even worse, that the food is so so but the room is great. No one complains that The Wisconsin Dells is more expensive than the traveling carnival, even though the funnel cakes taste exactly the same. It costs a certain amount to rent opulent spaces and to launder fine linen. If you want those things, pay for them. If you don't, get your artichokes at Otto and deal with the loudmouth at the end of the bar, it's usually me.

Wait but I can buy cigarettes?

This is a letter I am sending around to local and state politicians. If you are of a similar mind please feel free to do the same.

To get you started, here's the link to Pataki's comment section (I will be adding more names shortly):

http://161.11.3.75/govemail

Please enter the requested info and cut and paste this into the comments section (changing the signature to your own). For other politicians please

1. Cut and paste it to your own email.

2. Change "Governor Pataki" to the politicians name.

3. Change the signature to your name and address.

4. Send it all over the world and make food a little better.

Dear Governor Pataki:

For all the benefits of living in New York City, there some exchanges we make in order to coexist in a place with such a concentration of people. I think foremost among them would be how many of us live without cars or even easy access to a car. Because almost everything you could ever want is findable in one of the five boroughs this is seldom a big dilemma. However, the current state of laws and policies regarding raw milk in New York State have created a special situation that I think our legislators need to address.

Currently it is only legal to purchase raw whole milk and its products in New York from licensed farmers on their farms. Although I am sure this works fine for people outside the city, it essentially keeps most of us that live here from being able to procure these products. Because of this special situation, I propose enlarging the scope of the law that allows licensed farms to sell raw milk on their farm to include their stands at our established farmers' markets.

Because many New Yorkers cannot get to farms to buy produce, a system of very strong farmers' markets exists. Greenmarket, a program of the Council on the Environment of NYC, works in conjunction with the Mayor's office of New York and maintains a very efficient system for regional farmers to get their wares to those of us who would not otherwise be able to get to the farms.

Were the law to see these established stands as an extension of the farm and allow the licensed farmers to sell their raw milk legally within city limits we would no longer be deprived this legal right by situation.

The truth is the laws and policies of the United States and the State of New York are creating circumstances in which the largest percentage of milk available to the public is a hollow shell of the nutritious product it once was. These laws are born of a laziness inherent to American policy that says, "milk is dangerous if improperly handled and people motivated by apathy and profit will inevitably mishandle it, therefore better to strip it of nutrition and taste than insure that producers do their job." This all should be addressed going forward and will be when the current state of affairs gets in the larger public conscience.

At this point, there is a group of small, local farmers, properly producing milk. By making it possible for them to sell to those of us in the city who want to buy, you would be encouraging the local economy, encouraging the more healthful methods of farming lost on the factory farms currently producing the milk available to us, and expand one of the few areas local farmers have that is actually making them some money. I see expanding the current raw milk policies to include farmers' market sales as a simple change that is win win all around. I very much hope you will take the time to look at it and see how much this simple little change could improve the quality of life of many of your constituents.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Augieland

a helpful map with links to your State Senators: http://www.senate.state.ny.us/Senatorbio.nsf/Public_NYCMap?openform

bruniland posting difficulty

If you read augieland you know that I love comments. If you read any food blog you know that Bruni started a blog of his own last week. This story starts when Frank put up a post titled good questions to which i added the comment:

I am interested to know if you know that every single person in the NY dining scene knows exactly who you are on sight, and if you think this in anyway limits your ability as a critic. Assuming your intentions are to represent the anonymous diner of NYC how can you not feel your every experience is skewed by your conspicuousness?

to this I linked my Moriomoto report in which I mention seeing him.

Frank was kind enough to address my concerns in a follow-up post titled weighing the difference

to which i tried to comment:

The kids at Hooters may not know who you are, but everyone hoping for a star or better does. I can confirm that you are not gaining weight because, starting 18 months ago, people in restaurants began pointing you out and still do. Grimes made it years and no one was SURE who he was, and Reichl used to don costumes, creating alternate people with lives that dined out. To use the excuse that people in restaurants trade pictures of you and listen to your conversations amounts to little more than an admission that they are working harder than you, and is symptomatic of a kind of apathy that seems to be a recurring problem at the Times. I rely on you; sometimes I agree, sometimes I don’t, and that is the fun of something as subjective as food, but you have to be doing your share. At least change shirts. The last 3 times you have been pointed out you were in a black V-neck sweater.

I followed that with a link to my Alto post, in which I mention my esteem for Frank with an exception being his review of Alto. To be fair, I call him a boob in it, but other than that possible reason I cannot figure out why 22 hours later not only has my comment not been published, but none since have.*  If you are one of the people that commented after I did, I apologize if I am the reason Frank will never share your feelings about his weight with the rest of his readers.

*as of noon 2/22 another comment had been posted, not mine

Strongbuzz coments on Morimoto

I seem to be getting a lot of email today from people asking why Andrea Strong cares how much it cost to open Morimoto. To be honest, I don't know. I have read her site in the past and find she gets muddled down in things I don't seem to care about when dining, like lighting and how many cute boys are visible in the room.  I generally choose to ignore these things.

Without criticizing her process, I will suggest that if you base a large part of your review on math, the math should be good: if the actual cost of Morimoto was $12m, and that number is not just PR hype, at 12,000 square feet that would be $1k a square foot, not $1m as Ms. Strong suggests. But hey, I go restaurants to eat, going to "see and be seen" obviously distracts from simple arithmetic. I do find it interesting, though, that she feels competent enough to discuss a toro preparation without discussing the differences between chu-toro and o-toro. But, like I said, what can you do? Some people wait for forks and knives and complain, some people ask for them and eat, and still others are capable of using the chopsticks they are given.

Whether they love Andrea or not, most of the people I talk to seem very upset that they can neither disagree nor support her with comments on her site. So for today I make Augieland available for you to respond. Comment as you see fit.

Here are my Morimoto posts (report, then the porn):

http://augieland.blogs.com/augie_land/2006/02/morimoto_nyc_om_5.html

http://augieland.blogs.com/augie_land/2006/02/morimoto_nyc_om.html

http://augieland.blogs.com/augie_land/2006/02/morimoto_nyc_om_1.html

http://augieland.blogs.com/augie_land/2006/02/night_three_had.html

http://augieland.blogs.com/augie_land/2006/02/morimoto_nyc_om_2.html

http://augieland.blogs.com/augie_land/2006/02/morimoto_nyc_om_3.html

http://augieland.blogs.com/augie_land/2006/02/morimoto_nyc_om_4.html

http://augieland.blogs.com/augie_land/2006/02/morimoto_nyc_om_6.html

Xing: 1,649,728,211 xings

Downstairs is a blogger, as a matter of fact every time you see a little improvement on Augieland it is because she has helped. She also loves to eat, which is probably what brought us so close to begin with. Being a blogger and a foodie, Downstairs has ended up in the enviable to some position of editing the food section of a rather well respected blog here in Gotham. Every now and then this gets her invited to a press event and sometimes, if I haven’t recently berated her for some ill-conceived notion about goat cheese or tannin in red wine, she is kind enough to bring me along.

The most recent of these outings was at a place called Xing. Xing is in Hell’s Kitchen but the décor is definitely born of the new genesis of Clinton. The front room features bright bands of green, blue, and yellow plastics, all back-lit and glowing to different degrees depending on how close you get to the light source. It ends up feeling like a person who had a summer job at one of the plastics shops on Canal Street was given their first design contract and decided to reinvent the candy shell red Chinese restaurants of 40’s L.A. Our fictional designer was clearly on a tight budget so the Formica on the booths buckles a little and the strips of colored hard plastic aren’t absolutely flush in the bar, but on the whole it is clear that there is talent and that every possible bit of funding and drive was committed to creating an ambiance.

The chef at Xing is Lulzim Rexhepi. This event basically being a food junket, Mr. Rexhepi was brought out at the end of our dining to meet us. He seemed a nice man, on the quiet side and less than ecstatic to be out of the kitchen, though once we started discussing his food with him he displayed a definite confidence and pride in his method; all consistent with the pattern of traits I have come to expect in talented chefs.

A special menu including cocktails was prepared for this introduction to Xing. First, I will praise Xing for only having two cocktails that ended in “-ini.” Then, I must smack them for having two cocktails that end in “–ini.” Why go through the effort of taking the grenadine out of an Alabama Slammer, adding a little pineapple and calling it a Rickshaw just to call Grey Goose and sake a Saketini? And while we are at it, why brand the vodka and not the sake?

As for the food, Xing claims it is making Southeast Asian cuisine, and I can pretty confidently say you won’t find food like this in Southeast Asia, unless of course you are in a Western hotel that caters to ex-pats pretending they are enjoying the Far East. The first clue is the plating. Chef Rexhepi has a real gift for presentation and the food is plated as french nouvelle cuisine would be. The second is the ingredients, foie gras, black truffle, and donuts are certainly neither indigenous nor even findable outside these luxury establishments.

What Chef Rexhepi is really doing at Xing is reinterpreting the foods Americans consider Chinese, and in some cases Japanese or Thai. This reinterpretation is very well executed and, in a sea of mundane General Tso’s chickens and spare ribs from a foil bag, fills a huge hole that needed filling. Rexhepi’s confident hand, mingles the familiar flavors of the Asian cuisines to be found around town with some of the ingriedients to be found in fine dining around the world and they deepen quite nicely. Rather than ending up with sweet, non-offensive, non-descript food that people can pretend is kosher on Sundays; these familiar ingredients come together to become dishes with integrity.

It all started with an Amuse Bouche, Miyagi Oysters with Swatow mignonette. I believe the Swatow here refers to the Chinese restaurant in Boston, if not, the one in Toronto, but either way it is a North American place and not Southeast Asian. The dish was a simple oyster with vinegar dressing, served on a Chinese soupspoon.

From the First Course options we chose: Sliced Hamachi, mandarin & sweet chili sauce, and Wok Fried Foie Gras, blueberry and lemongrass compote. The sliced hamachi was raw in a simple salad with the sauce decorating the plate. The foie was a napoleon with wilted, sliced lemongrass in its composition and, again, the sauces used as color on the plate. Both dishes made much more sense once you committed to plundering Chef Rexhepi’s beautiful art and brought the ingredients together with their condiments.

As Second courses we chose: Szchuan Pepper Crusted Scallop, miso butter bath, roasted wild mushrooms, pea shoots, and Chinese BBQ Spare Ribs. The Scallop was prepared well but the sauce seemed to lose the sweetness of the miso and pea shoots to the earthiness of the mushrooms, and vice versa. The ribs, however, were genius. Without straying too far from the sweetish BBQ sauce of your local Chinese takeout place, the chef has greatly improved the dish by incorporating hot Chinese mustard in the sauce. Not added later as a layer, the bite of these ribs was in the little sting of heat slow-roasted in with the sauce.

For our third course we had: Black Truffle and Galangal Crusted Black Cod, wok fried gailon, lotus chips, and Seared Tuna, grape tomato and kaffir lime leaf relish, shanghai shoots. Frying the batter on the cod lost the aroma of truffle for the sable fish, rendering it not that discernable from any other white-fleshed fish, but I was glad to see that they went with an eco-friendly choice like sable fish (black cod) for this one. The tuna, a horrible eco choice, was a square cut of the loin crusted in what I suspect was semolina and simply dressed with a citrus dressing and grape tomatoes. It was as nice a salad as the other thousand seared tuna salads to be found out there, better than most of its Caesar brethren.

To wind it all up, we had 5 Spice Donuts with strawberry dipping sauce. Nicely presented tumbling out of a white paper Chinese takeout box, they were warm and pleasant. I wonder if they will be better when strawberries are in season and stand more of a chance against the flavors of the 5 spices.

Ok, so this was all free and prepared knowing at least one of the people at my table was going to write about it, so how does that skew my perception? I’ll never know. I will say I enjoyed the ideas, if not all the dishes, and the ribs really were good. When I ask myself under what circumstances would I enjoy going back to Xing, I hearken back to my dating days. If I were 22-27 again, trying to find a cool place, with decent food, that would not rape my wallet to impress a semi-important date, I would be glad to know Xing was out there.

Alto: 693 Boobbillian stars

I guess if I always agreed with the critic at the paper of record there would never be a reason for me to do my own writing on food and restaurants. To be honest, I often agree with Frank Bruni and appreciate most of what he says. I have defended him when my friends accuse him of making two stars the new one. I especially like when he compares one restaurant to another, mostly because he seems to appreciate innovation and effort more than design and location. That being said, as far as Alto goes, Frank Bruni calling Alto “very good” makes him a boob.

 

Alto is Scott Conant's restaurant at 53^rd and Madison, to which Count Bruni gave two stars (very good) in July of '05. It has a pleasing design with continuous lines in chrome, grays, frosted glass and wood, and high-backed red chairs. It seems to fit nicely and make the most of a space that a realtor would have been just as happy to rent to a Manolo Blahnik store, had Scott not set up shop. With no outside walls for windows, the dining room is wrapped in a glass space that has been filled with wine bottles and bathed in a blue light. Altogether, it has an upscale, urban aesthetic without feeling over-done or crowded.

 

The restaurant was about twenty minutes late seating us which, although bordering on bad form, was well managed by the hostess, who kept us informed on the progress of the previous guests' leaving and our table being reset. In general, the service was fantastic. The stand out was the sommelier, Eric, who had a very confident, informed, and unobtrusive manner, as did the rest of the folks involved in taking care of us.

 

For wine, we knew we wanted to start with a white big enough and interesting enough to act as a cocktail, but refined and food-friendly enough to take us through at least the first course. After a cursory glance at the list, Eric made his first appearance and I explained what we wanted and suggested maybe a Vernaccia di San Gimignano or some other white that had been left in concrete or big old boites or something like that. Eric explained he still had a bottle of Montenidoli Vernaccia di San Gimignano, although it had recently been removed from the list, and he would be happy to grab it for us. Made in the Fiore style (meaning free-run juice rather than Tradizionale, which involves extensive maceration on the skins) this wine had firm structure, but was light enough to go with all our appetizer choices.

 

We followed this with a '97 Soldera, "Case Basse" Brunello di Montalcino Riserva, after a stutter stab at an '82 Gaja barbaresco (which we'd ordered based on its value, rather than its age and power, then quickly realized this would cause problems if we added another bottle later). In the end, we decided to trust Eric and he suggested the Soldera. This is a great wine, all the fun cherry juice and soft tannins that a great medium-bodied food-friendly Italian wine from Montalcino should be. It is so good, in fact, that it makes money spent in the rest of Montalcino seem a bit of a waste. Never a bad choice, this was the perfect wine to take us from pasta to entrees. Maybe a bad selection on Eric's part in that we were so happy with it we drank it slowly, and didn't order another bottle until dessert.

 

Before going to Alto, I discussed with Helmet whether there was anything there that should not be missed and he responded the Solaria Jonica. Solaria Jonica is a very cool wine with a very cool story behind it, a story I can tell you because Eric put a print-out of its publicity in the envelope with the wine labels he had removed for me. To paraphrase, 1959 was a ridiculously hot year in Italy and Antonio Ferrari, a wine maker from Piemonte, saw it as his opportunity to fulfill one of his ambitions to make a wine from the Primitivo grapes of Puglia. His plan was to make a hugely alcoholic 21% wine, however a sudden drop in temperature in the hills that year arrested its development at 14% with large amounts of residual sugar. Still seeing great future for the wine, he put it on Slovenian oak for ten years and then into concrete tanks. Two years after Antonio's death, his daughter bottled it and sold it (a total of 45 years later). This is a once in a lifetime wine and has a raisiny finish that may make it another forty-five years. It is dried fruits, coffee, chocolate, and dried plums.

 

The wine list as a whole has some real value on it at the upper end, a great collection of great wines, from great vintages. The wine alone is a good reason to go to Alto, then there is the food.

 

Appetizers are what got us there. Last time we needed a midtown restaurant I chose The Modern and, after what a let down that was, my right to even suggest was taken away. Urchin picked Alto. She had been to the bar before and had three appetizers, with that as a base, she felt confident it was the right place to go. So when Bubby, Trombone, Urchin, and myself sat, it was she who was hanging out for ridicule if we were let down again, especially if we didn't love the first round. Everything was shared; here is how it went:

 

Appetizers:

Augie: Sliced Raw Diver Scallops olive oil, flaked sea salt, and manilla clam salad. A very large scallop, sliced horizontally, topped with the olive oil (which was grassy) playing off the protein richness of the scallop. The clams brought the flavor of the sea, and a mix of micro greens addied contrasts to the package.

Urchin: Bluefin Tuna Carpaccio baby greens and preserved truffles. If this dish was not superb it was only not so in that so many people in New York are doing a version of it and it is simply very good.

Bubby: Seared Foie Gras creamy polenta, pears, pistachio and pear cider reduction. Rather than contrasting the richness of the seared foie with something cloyingly sweet, this played up the richness with the polenta and pistachios and then drew it out with the vinegar and crisp sugars of the pear. A fantastic preparation.

Trombone: Roasted Baby Beets La Tur Goat Cheese, endive salad and a banyuls vinaigrette. This one I didn't catch a taste of but it was very pretty.

 

Pasta:

Me & Urchin Braised Snail and Black Truffle Ravioli Chanterelle mushrooms and Parmigiano. I've really only had snails either in garlic butter or en croute. These had a great bite in the middle of the pasta envelope. They tasted rich and, when a piece of the chanterelle was put on the fork with one, it ended up with a very pleasing earthy richness.

Trombone & Bubby: Veal and Fontina Agnolotti organic carrots, baby mushrooms and Parmigiano emulsion. The dumpling was really more about the meat than anything else. It was nicely focused on the flavor of the veal with everything else coming together to draw out its richness.

 

Entrees:

Trombone: Olive Oil Poached Pacific Yellow Tail Black barley-greens onion broth and gremolata. Trombone wasn't very hungry, so the rest of us selected and ate this for him. All the other ingredients were well represented but the revelation of this dish was the confirmation of how perfect slow-poaching is for steak fish. The flesh tightens, but none of the volatile oils are released. It maintains the flavors of the fish while still benefiting from the bite of tighter flesh.

Bubby: Roasted Breast of Squab semolina gnocci, winter squash and truffle reduction. This was the huge winner of the round. It was juicy and flavorful, with a perfect texture. I assume it was done sous-vide, but that went unmentioned. It was so good Bubby was bad about sharing it, but the two bites I had were great.

Me & Urchin: Slow Cooked Four Story Hill Rib Eye for Two braised short rib, preserved truffles, shaved Parmigiano and broccoli rabe. Not mentioned is a cranberry bean side that was served table-side when the beef came back sliced after presentation. Not often, but occasionally, I will try a steak outside a steak house. If it always went like this I would do it more often. The rib-eye was great meat -- juicy, tender and deeply flavorful -- and enjoyed additions no steak house could make. After it had been sliced off the bone, some pepper and shaved Parmigiano were put on top. The sides were unique -- the rabe a little bitter and a little crispy proving a good foil for the steak's richness, while the beans added a nice texture that potatoes wouldn't have.

 

Although dessert was mostly about the Solaria Jonica, Urchin and I did order two plates, which showed all the cheeses. Each cheese had a unique accoutrement and the parings were all excellently executed and would have been perfect with the cheese had it been eaten alone, but did not work as well in the scheme of our overall wine-drinking. Bubby had black truffle ice cream served with caramel that was fantastic. Trombone had Tiramisu and our front waiter also added a chocolate mille feuilles that tasted like devil dogs would taste if talented people made them.

 

The food French people eat every day is not like the food fine French restaurants sell. Seriously fine French restaurants sell food rooted in French tradition that has been taken to a new place, for lack of a better term. This is exactly what Scott is doing with Italian food at Alto. All these dishes are clearly grounded in Italian tradition but he has taken foods of the north (on which the menu concentrates) and applied his expert hand. The food is truly great and the restaurant takes it's place among other worldwide greats whose cuisines are first and foremost defined as "fine" but nevertheless remain rooted in their places of origin.

 

To begrudge Alto its break from tradition is to insist that Italian food must remain the humble, authentic cuisine mothers make their families. Although wonderful when prepared by expert chefs, it is not haute. New Yorkers and Bruni alike insist they are ready to welcome a chef making extraordinary Italian food. The good news is, based on the level of business I witnessed at Alto the other night, the New Yorkers were telling the truth.

 

Bravo Urchin!

 

Morimoto NYC: Omakase bar night 7, the porn

Night 7, variations on themes but still no repeat dishes. No nitrogen intermezzo, but a torch came out.

mushi awabi steamed abalone with apple cider vinegar. Rather than playing up the richness of the abalone, this contrasted it with acidity. The texture was great -- more bite than chew, lightened by coolness and acidulation.

buri pastrami with schimi. Buri pastrami (made in-house) with dried candied olives, a caper berry, and a foie gras croissant. Different kinds of richness all together.

onkou sumiso ae monkfish with mustard miso The Japanese key lime, squeezed over the top of slightly bitter broccolini, the fish, and the sweet/hot mustard ended up creating a subtly rich amalgam of tastes.

Uni, lamb, and kobe sashimi, with a ginger shallot dip for the lamb, garlic soy for the kobe, and sea salt from okinawe for the uni.

fluke and amber jack

shijimi jiru freshwater clam soup. Strips of a starchy root vegetable in a light broth with tiny little river clams (about the size of a thumbnail).

Fugu Carpaccio with ankimo puree and ponzu. Hot olive oil poured over the fugu, topped with monkfish liver and ponzu. There were also red shiso flowers in the garnish.

intermezzo mango sorbet with mango coconut sauce and mango black seseme salsa.

Tuna collar with habanero sauce. Broiled tuna collar is amazing, it is like they made steak out of butter. The best part of this was the sauce. It had real heat from the habeneros while also showing the flavor of roasted peppers and made a deeply flavored condiment for the richness of the tuna.

ankou nabe monkfish hot pot. Monk fish meat, liver, skin and collar in shantung broth with greens and mushrooms. You scooped the flesh out of the pot with a slotted ladel and dipped it in a ponzu sauce, then finished the broth with a soup spoon.

boston mackerel and yellow tail

shake chazuke salmon rice bowl with green tea and yuzu pepper sauce. The salmon, which had been salt-cured back when they were running, was steaked and cooked with the rice. You then poured green tea from a pot over it and mixed in the yuzu pepper which came as a dollop on a demi-tasse spoon.

pre-dessert white chocolate mousse with pomero ume compote

Dessert chocolate tart. Salted chocolate and caramel stacked with a tuille and yuzu ice cream.

Use Your Name

My friends have told me that if I have a special ability with food and wine, it is not a gifted palate nor an especially deft hand in the kitchen; rather it is the treatment I receive in restaurants despite the fact I am basically destitute financially and not particularly good looking or well connected. Essentially, I receive the treatment restaurants give their regular customers, and that is achievable from your first visit to any good restaurant (a good place being one with a vision and a mission beyond making money.)   This is a series about the behaviors I see as natural that some do not.

Use your name, and theirs. Every time I call a restaurant, I say, "hi [whatever they just said their name was], it's Augie. I was hoping we could arrange a table for..." I don’t do this trying to trick them into thinking I am someone they know (in today's world of computer reservation tracking it would never work). The familiarity I am trying to establish serves two purposes: one, if I have been to the restaurant before they immediately search me in the database, and, two, if I haven't it shows a familiarity with the process that reservationists appreciate. Plus it's just polite and friendly, and who doesn't want those qualities attributed to their interactions?

Once at the place, assuming there is a conversational tone in the room, introduce yourself to your bartenders and servers at the beginning of service, and use their names when addressing them. It will take many visits to actually become familiar, but if the place is good enough to draw you back multiple times you have already started the work that would otherwise begin around visit five. If not, you have at least created a congenial atmosphere that will add to the experience.

The benefits of this practice are boundless. In a crowded room, you are familiar enough with the staff to garner attention by using their names. On quiet nights, things become far more conversational and you will never eat alone if you have friends at a good place. Best of all, as the staff changes and people move on to new ventures, which inevitably happens, you will know people at different places. New York restaurant staff seem to work rounds at restaurants at similar approaches, if a bartender goes missing from a Batali place look at a Collichio place, so if you like John at place A and he moves to place B it is likely you will enjoy place B as much because it is the similarity that made him attractive to place B and place B attractive to him.

Cru Valentine's: 693 simapticillian stars

Took my best girl to my best restaurant for Valentines Day. There is something grand about being very comfortable in a room as nice as Cru's, with a staff as talented as the one at Cru. Cru has become one of our "occasion" restaurants and the fact that it manages to stay so special, in spite of my being there quite a bit, is a testament to how well its team executes their mission.  At its size, the wine list at Cru could never get in a rut, it couldn't even get in a furrow, which must present a challenge to Shea and the kitchen (one which, I am happy to say, they have risen to for more than two years now).

I am aware there are people out there that view the ambiance of Cru as Old Boy and thus find it a little off-putting, but that has never been my feeling. If you could have seen Wife in black satin, nestled into the chocolate-colored velvet of the banquette at one of the tables for two brought in specially for Valentine's Day, you would find it hard to imagine Old Boys, too. The room is warm, sedate and confident and, with all the deep brown, round wood, it feels somehow like a fantasy spot in an old forest made for eating and drinking fine food and wine.

We started it all off with a glass of Billecart Salmon NV Rose with Robert, the sommelier's, compliments. I guess it is a no brainer, but Valentine's Day and a glass of pink bubbles was of course a perfect coupling. Minerals, shrimp shells, and strawberry on the nose, the persistent action of the bead did a nice warm-up job on the palate.

For dinner, I chose a '98 Meursault-Charmes by Roulot to carry us the rest of the way. Alex suggested, and we agreed, that being a little more mineral-driven then the typical Meursault it would play well through all the courses. It was almost Chablis-like in its minerality, like a jagged stone had been well polished then softened with notes of wood, lemon, herbs, and pears.

First out from the kitchen was a carrot chip cone with whipped goat cheese. Crisp when bitten, the chip softened to a kind of carrot leather which sweetened the piquant-ness inherent to the goat cheese.

Next up was a trio of amuses: an aranchini, a mini Cuban sandwich, and a tart shell filled with truffled robiola and a pine nut.  The robiola tart is awesome, when I pop into Cru for a drink and they ask if I would like anything to eat, without fail I ask for a platter of these (so far, no luck, but I'll keep trying).

The first official course was Bigeye Tuna Tartare with Red Shiso and Pumpkin Seed-Balsamic Dressing. Along with these, I tasted either lovage or celery leaf. Whichever it was, that little bit of astringent greenness made a nice contrast for the richness of the tuna and the sweetness of the balsamic. The tuna itself was a rough chop, more like a rustic tartare than today's omnipresent purées, giving the dish an added dimension of texture.

For the second course, I chose Roasted Diver Scallops with Cauliflower-Almond Purée, Wilted Baby Spinach and Hon-shimeji Mushrooms. Wonderfully golden and crisp on the surface, the scallops were rare enough to maintain their bite.

In the next slot, I went with European Turbo Rösti Warm Fingerling Potato & Artichoke Salad, Parsley Purée & Caviar Sauce. The Rosti was more a potato crust than the cake I expected. It was a golden brown layer of finely shredded potato on one side of the fillet that seemed to have absorbed a little butter during caramelization, either that or this was the single greatest piece of turbot ever.

For the final savory course, the Poularde Baked in Buttermilk with Herbs Spaghetti Squash Gratain, Glazed Baby Turnips with Leeks, Natural Jus with Cranberry &Black Truffle was best suited to the wine we had chosen, so I ordered it. As far as I know there isn't a word for the texture of this meat, though al dente comes to mind. It was soft and moist, yet you felt your teeth cutting it through the whole bite. The total effect was wonderful, the cranberries offering a bit of tang to an otherwise very rich dish.

A pre-desert of Honeycrisp Apple Consumé Yogurt Sorbet and Yuzu Cloud was next, and served as a tart break from the savory courses.

Passion Fruit-White Chocolate Cheesecake Confit Pineapple and basil Pistachio Ice Cream brought us home. Forgetting that there was a cookie on the plate fashioned into the shape of a straw next to a line of crumbled pistachio, and that for some reason basil-pistachio ice cream tastes uncannily like Jagermeister, this was a great dessert. The highs of the pineapple, and earthiness of the basil, kept the cake from getting too sweet.

The Cru team has been doing their thing for a little while now. At a point when most people tend to settle, they seem to keep striving to remain creative. Shea is managing to keep things fresh and interesting, while staying simpatico with Robert's epic wine list. There is nothing better than having eaten the tartare and later in the meal smelling the chardonnay and realizing that the nameless herby lettuce leaf smell I have found in some chardonnays and Alsatian white varietals is actually shiso. The boundless directive of Cru lets this magnificent tiny little flower out of its fine Japanese bonds to play among the wines of the world. Where else could we have spent an evening devoted to celebrating fine pairings?