Augieland

Trattoria Della Posta, 283 lunadimielellian stars

One of the truths I love most about travel is that as great as the better restaurants in the major cities often are, most often the best time to be had is wandering into the small little hole-in-the-wall place on a side street or the long-standing restaurant in the converted country house just beyond the last road in town that a local mentioned as good.

Nowhere is this truer than in Italy, so much so that the same lesson can be applied to its cities. No one should die without seeing Rome, Venice, and Florence, but I have found that with them already visited, cities like Erbusco, Udine and Monforte d’Alba offer better return on your travel time than the more major cities.

Italy is a very regional place and each region is unique. Larger cities there, like everywhere else, tend to draw from many regions and the world, creating a blended cuisine that, while universally appealing, is not necessarily unique. Smaller, less cosmopolitan cities tend toward a regional cuisine typical to the place, the tradeoff being that most often it is rustic dining with humble foods born of humble tradition reveling in their humility. Finding a fine dining establishment at this moment whose focus lies beyond foie, Kobe, and bluefin tuna is a true feat indeed.

I found Trattoria Della Posta the first time the way you find all those “best ever” places anywhere you travel – a local friend said it was a very good place for me and Wife to dine on the optimal versions of Piemonte’s regional dishes during our honeymoon. We went back because it was just that. This time we enjoyed:

Amuse of porcini and tomato: porcinis and tomatoes that I suspect were roasted with herbs and puréed with olive oil. The result was an earthy, coarse emulsification with the metallic tinge of tomato paste that made me wish we had gotten a sparkler to start.

La carne cruda battuta al coltello con tartufo bianco d’Alba: I try the carne cruda at every single restaurant because of how interesting the variations of the dish can be. Here it is as polished as it will get, hand chopped veal formed in a ring mold, drizzled with good olive oil which picks up the aroma of a pile of cinnamon colored white truffle that has been shaved over its top, with micro greens, pomegranate kernels and bits of Castelmagno garnishing. The meat itself is lightly sanguine and perfectly salted, the olive oil fruity, the Castelmageno wonderfully and unapologetically strong in pieces small enough to blend well and provide a lactic contrast to the meat’s richness, the pomegranate sweet and texturally opposed to the other components, the greens light and slightly astringent, and the truffle the kind you fly to Italy in October for.

La cipolla ripena di toma di murazzano e salsiccia di Bra cotto al forno: this dish was not on the truffle tasting menu but is a house specialty that was well remembered from the honeymoon trip, so we requested it as a substitute for Wife’s raw meat course (she is on a brief raw meat hiatus). This is a light, tangy fondue made of aromatic local cheeses and strewn with bits of seasoned meat, collected in a roasted onion and roasted again at high heat. Because it was a substitute for a course on the truffle menu they were kind enough to top it with truffle in a shade of ecru. The resulting mélange was like a perfect version of southern American sausage gravy, except with light, zesty cheese aromas as opposed to simple milk (it now occurs to me that white gravy may be a good way to get more truffle in my egg dishes, a dilemma I am continuously facing).

L’uovo in camicia con fonduta di toma d’elva a tartufo bianco d’Alba: a gorgeous yellow fonduta in a covered bowl laden with white truffle. There are many cheeses in the Langhe region and all the ones that are used in fonduta make each version unique. Those made with toma tend to fall a little flat in my experience, but not in this case. Definitely mellowed, it still held nuance of its healthy aroma and sharpness of its lactic notes. Once the egg set in the center of the dish is stirred through, its brilliant orange yolk turns the dish a vibrant saffron color and you have what is almost undeniably the perfect vehicle for white truffle enjoyment.

Gli agnnoloti del plin al burro fuso e tartufo bianco d’Alba: a savory meat stuffing with the slight tang of game in a dense chewy pasta envelope, simply dressed with butter and topped with taupe colored truffle. A respectable dish that I would never reject, though it was not necessarily in the league of fits-like-a-glove the other dishes inhabited with their truffle accoutrements. The dish was exceptional and made sense as unique and typical to the region, but the pasta outshone the truffle in this paring.

Il filetto di fassone con la cappella di fungo porcino e tartufo bianco d’Alba: tornadoes of filet mignon, seared and topped with roasted porcini caps, dressed with demi-glace and topped with a snowy white truffle. These were sided with a skewer of autumnal vegetables draped with the thinnest strip of pancetta, and a square of polenta topped with a thick oleaginous mixture that, although on the stranger side of the texture spectrum, was as thick with the foresty flavor of mushrooms as its consistency suggested.

Cheese: a world-class cheese cart was presented and I deferred to the woman pushing it to choose five from the area, each more pungent than the next, and she did, well.

A mini crème brulée was served for its appropriate bit of sweetness at the end of the meal.

Dessert was a puff pastry tart full of apples and apple brandy that I had in the place of chocolate soufflé. Nice and light, it suffered from so much sugar caramelization that it was more caustic than anything else.

We washed this feast down with a bottle of ’97 Giacamo Conterno Monfortino, followed delightfully by a magnum of the ’93. In America I would be terrified to open these gems so early in their maturation (Barolo traditionally made as this is I find best saved), but while wandering around the mile or so between the Conterno vineyard and this restaurant we learned that these two vintages are drinking well at this time, in this, their place. They were both beautiful – vibrant, elegant and youthful, with austere red fruit and soft, mature tannins. It could just be they are best suited to the food of their region, could be they taste better breathing the same air the grapes expelled on the vine, could be we were on vacation and relaxed enough to forgive the bawdiness of premature Barolo opening. No matter what, this was one of those meals where the food and the wine were in perfect synergy.

More often than not, as humble food is refined it ends up losing its roots to some degree. Provincial cuisine tends to trade a certain integrity when it aspires to a global standard of fineness, making a place offering food at a top level, unlike that to be found in the closest city to the region or the major-metropolitan cities of the world, a exceptional find in the gamut of food.

This is the perfect meal for celebrating the wealth of products indigenous to and better in this area which keep drawing us back across the ocean. A version of everything we had is available in almost every restaurant in Piemonte. Good sense and long tradition have made these the dishes available because they showcase the indigenous product as well as can be done.

Without turning to the indistinct food of the fine dining world, but offering fine dining all the same, this restaurant a couple of kilometers from the center of town in Monforte D’Alba sits right at the crossroads of rustic and haute. Della Posta produces food of the utmost quality and precision without ever losing a sense of its localness, and this is reason enough to make the trek.

Momofuku Ssäm Bar, 781 blastedillian stars

Well, I finally made it to Momofuku Ssäm Bar. It was my birthday and with many Rhones, steins, and Jagers well consumed we decided it was time to throw ourselves into the hands of David Chang and his partners in crime. Eight of us strolled in on our ankles around midnight, proudly wielding a white truffle (a birthday present from Asam and Seraph), presented it to David, and asked him to feed the eight of us until we could safely assume the edges would be dulled of what otherwise promised to be hangovers as sharp as the cutting edge of the awesome Masamoto knife Wife gave me earlier in the night.

I was way too well served to fairly critique the meal, but I feel safe declaring that based on how fun this food was drunk it is probably quite good sober. Here are pictures, some shot at particularly jaunty angles, of what it looked like. Over the course of the meal there was heat, sweetness, sourness, unctuousness, lightness and depth, a lot of dishes were consumed running quite a spectrum of flavors and textures.

Of the two oysters, I preferred the one with the red in the dressing. I woke up wishing I could eat another couple pounds of the roasted pork shoulder in bibb lettuce leaves with pureed kimchee. The lightly pickled vegetables were great, the mushrooms my favorite for their distinct ginger zing. Dishes like veal head terrine, fried cauliflower salad, and anything involving apples and bacon start at good and can only be made better. I remember these as better. The truffle played in two dishes, a roasted poussin that was near perfect, and a dish with wide gauged chewy, gummy Asian noodles with a poached egg that besides being first-rate was exactly the unique type of experience I look for. The hamachi was the first truly original uncooked fish appetizer I have encountered in a long time of eating uncooked fish appetizers. As for the pork buns, well they are possibly the greatest après-Jager food there is.

Barron Point Oysters (WA) – w/ preserved lemon

Caraquet Oysters (Canada) – w/ cucumber, melon

Cured Hamachi-horseradish, edamame

Seasonal Pickles

Steamed Buns-pork belly, hoisin, cucumber

Grilled Spanish Mackerel-salted plum, pickled daikon, ponzu

Warm Veal Head Terrine

Winesap & Northern Spy Apple Salad – Benton’s bacon, lychee, peanuts

Fried Cauliflower–pickled chilies, delfino, mint, fish sauce

Mutsu & Macoun Apple Salad – crispy pork jowl, arugula, soy bean sauce

Roasted Poussin – acorn squash, crispy onions (and our truffle)

Noodles, poached egg, and our truffle

Col. Bill Newsom’s Country Ham (Princeton, Kentucky)
Edward’s Wigwam Smoked Ham (Surry, Virginia)
Finchville Farms Country Ham (Finchville,Kentucky)

Bo Ssäm-Berkshire butt (except I swear when it was presented it was called a shoulder, whichever it was it was great), dozen oysters, kimchi, rice, bibb lettuce.

It was my birthday so I am sure if you ask Wife, Thursday, Bear, Soho, Octopus, Code, or O’Groom you may get a better feel for nuance and subtlety. But as far as my old drunk self goes this place hit me like a happy hammer, and I’ll be back.

Enoclub, 292 cavernillian stars

During the truffle season, on Saturday mornings most tourists to the region of Piemonte will end up in the town center of Alba to walk the market and see all the Truffalos and their wares for sale. This trip comes with the warnings of locals that never, under any circumstance, should you buy – the prices are ridiculous, most of the truffles aren’t really the truly great ones from Alba, and so on.

By mid-afternoon your head is full of the aroma of truffles and you are hungry for a meal that must in some way involve that pungent scent eager merchants have been wafting at you for hours. What is needed is a kitchen, some simple supplies, and a trustworthy truffle hunter (every local knows one and will introduce/recommend one to you, necessitating that your local acquaintance be of a stature that he can prioritize you amongst the truffle hunter’s real clients -- usually local restaurants specializing in the real Tartufi Bianchi d’Alba which, believe it or not, are not as prevalent throughout Alba as you would think). Alternatively, you can seek out a restaurant that already has this infrastructure in place. If your referring friend is the same as mine (the greatest proprietor of the greatest hotel of all time, Giulio of La Saracca in Monforte d’Alba) you will end up in a basement off Piazza Savona, in a restaurant called Enoclub.

Besides running a simple hotel with more character than any other I know in the world, I list restaurant recommendations throughout the Langhe region as one of Giulio’s strong suits. Wife and I met him when we honeymooned in Monforte d’Alba. After guiding us through a couple of days in his town, Giulio’s parting advice was that for one of our nights in Alba Enoclub was a dependable place where we could find both a good wine list and real Alban truffles. The time we had on that visit was so good that we actually scheduled this day trip to the truffle market mostly to have an excuse to have their tajarin again.

It’s always around lunch on the third day of vacation that I regain a sense of how much food I actually need, and that’s when this meal fell. So in a lunch that can only be called light when vacationing I went with:

Peperone alla fiamma con Bagna Cauda: the classic dipping “hot bath” of garlic, olive oil, and anchovies in this case is puréed and served atop a composed dish of roasted red peppers, steamed cardoons, cauliflower and broccoli florets, and endive leaves. I had almost been convinced that the bad rap anchovies have was deserved in the case of the brown fleshed variety and completely unjust in the case of the white ones. This dish redeemed forever the product, now dooming the producer. If brown fleshed anchovies, which are the primary component here, can be this subtle and well behaved with little more than vegetables and olive oil as a counter someone is doing a bad job of preparing them elsewhere.

Tajarin al burro fusso con Tartufo Bianco d’Alba: the classic long thin strands of eggy noodles typical to the region dressed with fresh butter and showered in shavings of white truffle. I have been told that white truffles with red in their coloring such as the one we were served here grow on the roots of cedar trees. True or not, the markings of these are not dissimilar to a wine-colored birthmark on a beautiful woman and make for even more drama in the presentation. Apart from that, this dish is as simple as can be and something available throughout the region, which is what makes it so hard to explain why this one is notable as good. Maybe the chef has a better command of al dente, maybe he has a better butter source and combines the pasta cooking water more gently when dressing, maybe the locals are right and few guys actually use the superior local truffle, all I know is I have not had a better version of this dish.

Fruit in Moscato Aspice: perhaps because wine is the theme of the restaurant, but this version of this dessert seemed to play up the fact that Moscato is a wine rather than working with its aromas of fruit. The aspic was boozy as if it had been augmented with a spirit; not bad, but decidedly strong.

Enoclub is the type of place I frequent at home in New York. I have been twice in two years and both times the owner and his wife greeted me at the door. Attention is paid to detail and everything is made comfortable without going to far. The restaurant makes great food of the region. Like the places I love here in the city (think Hearth) it seems a place run by people who love what they do and are proficient enough to be successful at it. The lasting impression is that they do it because it is honestly what they want to do rather than because they think it will make them money. If I lived in Alba, much like Giulio I think this is the place I would suggest to people who care more for quality food than pomp or circumstance.

Antica Corona Reale da Renzo, 273 embryoillian stars

“Get the egg.” Sitting in the tasting room of Giacomo Conterno winery, having just tasted their ’04 Barbera (driving acids, red fruit, barnyard) and’99 Monfortino (black olives, black licorice, black tea), I was appreciating Roberto Conterno’s craftsmanship, conviction, and palate when he advised this for my upcoming dinner at Antica Corona Reale da Renzo. I took the suggestion seriously, maybe a little too seriously.

In the town of Cervere in the region of Piemonte is da Renzo, a well respected restaurant apparently so famous for their egg dish that not only is it patently recommended by wine-makers and hoteliers alike, but the picture on their menu’s cover is of it. Outside, except for a small sign fixed to a fire escape it is pretty unremarkable, inside it feels like a small country house converted for dining (linen and lace curtains, lace doilies, small separated rooms just about the right size for four tables, and a fireplace). All in all there is the sense that over a long time, through modest but real aspiration, rational appointments have been made here with the intent of excelling beyond the standard regional restaurant.

Having just come from tasting at G. Conterno the wine choices were pretty easy. Assuming that whatever this egg dish was it would play the richer side of the spectrum, there seemed to be sense in the cleansing acidity of a Barbera. We started with ’02 and moved on to ’04, the older a little more settled and showing more of the earthy notes, the younger bright fruit and acidity.

The food choices were more confusing while strangely simple at the same time. Everyone said get the egg, however they didn’t specify which. There is one antipasti egg dish, one primi piatti, and one secondi. The antipasti and the secondi both involve tartufo bianco as well, confusing the “get the egg” directive all the more. The waiter explained that although they were indeed different, they were not vastly so and therefore he wouldn’t be able to decisively tell me which was meant. Not wanting to have missed the one, I decided to go with both and figured the pasta that had uovo in its description would complete the cycle perfectly.

Cotechino on whipped potatoes was sent out as an amuse, setting the stage for things to come. Cotechino is rough cut pork and pig skin sausage seasoned with autumnal spices, usually boiled and served with lentils to celebrate the New Year. Here, what is often presented as hearty fortifying fare lightened by its accoutrement is served with whipped potatoes and somehow ends up a more refined dish. The bead of the filling would be called rough in relation to its size, but its texture feels as though each individual bead of pork has been tumbled in a polisher. The Cotechino slice is set on velvety whipped potatoes laden with butter and cream. To my American raised palate it tasted reminiscent of the absolute pinnacle of the flavors in corned beef hash.

First up was Uovo affogato su cardo gobbo di Nizza, fonduta di Raschera d’alpeggio e tartufo bianco d’Alba: presented under a cover and already topped with the shaved truffle making the release of the dish’s aroma at the table more dramatic is a poached hen’s egg resting on thick slices of local cardoons, in a fonduta of the sharp local cheese Raschera. Cardoons are celebrated in the Langhe and should be; at their best they look like a Paleolithic species of celery and taste like artichokes would if they had a little more conviction. These were some potent, bitter samplings which made sense as they drew distinction to the creamy cheese sauce and the unctuousness of the bright orange yolk of the egg once it was broken and allowed to ooze into the concoction.

For my primi, being perfectly willing to see a theme all the way through to the end, I had Ravioli al Tuorlo d’uovo, di seirass della Valle Pellice e Murazzano D.O.P.: saffron colored pasta envelopes that we call tortellini in New York, filled with a mixture of ricotta and Valle Pellice, the milky ricotta tempering the more strong, salty aged cheese. With notes of nutmeg, dressed simply in butter, the quality of the noodle and the cheese were encouraged to show off without getting too fussy.

Uovo in cocotte al tartuffo bianco d’Alba: a bowl of hot cheese with cubes of bread and a fresh hen’s egg in it, topped with a pile of shaved white truffle, is once again presented lidded. As the waiter removes the lid he proceeds to begin mixing the soupy concoction, immediately explaining that if you don’t the egg will set and rather than thickening the mix and lending the richness and ability of the yolk to translate the truffles’ aroma to the palate, the dish would end up as scrambled eggs, cheese, and white truffle pieces. Their way is genius, what you end up with is a thick soup whose nature is to mark your being with the aroma of white truffle.

For dessert I shared Aspice ai Frutti di bosco al Moscato d’Asti “Biancospino” dell’Az. Agr. La Spinetta su, salsa di pesche gialle ed il suo sorbetto, or at least I had a bite of the Moscato aspic with a red current in it, the gel wrapping the nuanced grapefruit and stone-fruit notes of the Moscato around the tart little berry.

I went into da Renzo looking for a meal centered on the white truffle and had a meal centered on Piemontese tradition. Three interpretations of very similar dishes, all based on regionally typical ingredients, gave an opportunity to see roots in this food. The people of Piemonte have been handed some pretty variant cards – their chicken eggs with their bright orange yolks are legendary, the flavors they coax from the milk in butter and cheeses are incredible, and white truffles may be the single all-time greatest ingredient. However, cardoons as they grow are inedibley bitter and fibrous, and judging from the table bread the flour available is not of the highest character. Yet all over the region the strengths of some ingredients have been accented, others’ weaknesses compensated for, and in the long run the combinations are even better than the parts.

At da Renzo these traditional and kind of standard dishes are refined and raised to another level. With a component as strong as white truffle it is easy to let it outshine the others it is put in combination with. All over the Langhe there are many ways to show off white truffle; the best three are through the fats of butter (usually on pasta), cheese (usually thinned into a hot sauce called fonduta) and egg yolks (any way that keeps the yolk loose). Here opportunity has been taken where possible to elevate these interpretations to a refined level and the result is marvelous.

 

Gotham truffles

Few things in the world get me to act as foolhardy as white truffles. On the first Thursday of October, Wife, Asam, Seraph and I stepped into Gotham for a quick introductory dinner for Seraph (she is new to NYC and it is a quintessential New York place, the thinking went). As I stepped to the hostess stand I smelled white truffle. When I commented on this as strange so early in the season, my olfactory supposition was confirmed as the hostess explained that earlier in the day Gotham had purchased their first white truffle of the season, greatly changing our planned course for the evening’s dining.

The fact that this meal was to be Asam’s treat is what made my rather opulent decision seem easy, at least to my obviously truffle-skewed brain. I saw a simple opportunity to eat truffles somewhat affordably by asking the restaurant to sell me the truffle and slice it onto the meal Asam was paying for, in effect splitting the check. Upon inspection, we realized it was more truffle than four people needed so we decided to pay a truffle supplement (my tab) and have the kitchen plan a tasting menu with three truffle courses at its center (Asam’s). In the long run the truffle itself was mediocre – flabby with a quickly dissipating aroma rather than a true deep pungency. If anyone is to blame for this, though, it is me for believing the case would be any different before mid-November in America. The dishes Gotham put together did their best to play to a weak sample of tartuffo bianco and were very good, great considering we blindsided the kitchen for a an all truffle menu on their first night of truffle season. Here’s the porn:

The evening’s amuse was sea bass cevice with the chew of flesh given a proper opportunity to tighten under the influence of citric acids. It played the brighter side of the flavor spectrum with mango, fine herbs, sliced grapes, and citrus, tempered by bits of avocado and olive oil.

Cream of Porcini soup with toasted pine nuts, lardons and roasted porcini was the first truffle course. When the truffle hit the hot soup its aroma automatically released. Sadly, beyond that the star of this course was the soup.

Seared Nova Scotia halibut in an airy citrusy sauce with mushrooms and fruit was the next thing to be topped with truffles. Again, a great course linking earth to sea, bridged by the light fruity notes, but no truffle wow.

Slow-poached hen egg on creamy risotto did the most to try to aid our truffle in strutting its stuff. But what I remember most about this course was how deep the flavor of the stock was. The stock so deep it was almost gamey and the lactic touch of melted aged cheese came together in this toothsome risotto.

The end of savory was the New York strip steak with Gotham onion rings. I am always pleasantly surprised by how nice this steak is.

A pre-dessert of grapefruit granita and a milky gelato.

Three mini versions of desserts from the menu closed things down: a red velvet cake, a cannoli, and tiramisu.

Modern: 761 Popzillian stars

Modern art leaves some people wanting, while others are totally exhilarated by it. As with all art, there is just no knowing. I personally love some artists while others make me say "so what"? One of my all time favorite pieces of art is a Warhol self-portrait, but the cans of soup and Marilyn Monroe works that made him famous have no sway over me. Modern art simply impresses me or it doesn't. I have yet to see a piece that upset me as such, or one that struck me in my tracks. It is more often that I say things like, "that is just a different chair, it is not a new chair, and it is not a particularly beautiful chair, it is a different chair and I think this time they used chrome. I can't say for sure why this chair is in a museum."

Ask any New Yorker when the last time they went to the Empire State Building, The Met, or The Statue of Liberty was and you will be amazed how many have never been or at least not since a grade school trip. Locals go to local spots; tourists go to tourist spots. Which came first, the hotel bar or the museum restaurant? Both are obviously geared toward travelers, the décor and the prices always on a much higher scale than their quality or value.  People on vacation spend more money than they would at home and they expect everything they see to be a spectacle.

If Danny Meyer has a gift it is for creating places that attract certain types of people, and giving them exactly what they want, every time. At Blue Smoke, he established the first place in New York that serves exceptionally good BBQ to people who want and can afford it, in a room that feels authentically like a NY BBQ room would feel, had there ever been one before. There is no dumb kitsch, like chevron signs, but there is a lot of wood and the coffee comes in a mug, not a cup. At Gramercy Tavern, Danny created the room you eat true, American, fine food in. Danny has made a bread bar make sense at Tabla, and the perfect room for bankers to have meetings at Elleven Mad. What New Yorker isn't delighted to have Chicago dogs in our life, and to eat them sitting in a beautifull park? This long, successful track record makes me suspect that The Modern is perfect and it is I who was in the wrong place. Truth be told, I seldom go to MOMA, I hardly ever eat above 23^rd Street, and I hate places tourists like. So why go to The Modern? Because all of Danny's other places make so much sense to me.

The design of The Modern is very, well, modern. There are highly polished chrome columns, frosted glass drop ceilings, a bar of raw marble, and a gorgeous glass wall looking out on a sculpture garden. There is the prettiest spork I have ever seen laying next to your napkin when you first sit in your free-standing, half-round banquette, complete with leather throw pillows. It ends up feeling like the lounge in an ultra luxury hotel in South Beach.

I was out with Trombone and Bubby and we decided, with a list so vast and in the interest of efficiency, we would ask the bartender to pick us a white from Burgundy from '02 to kick off our wine experience. Our Bartender automatically deferred to a sommelier that quickly showed up and suggested a Meursault Les Meix Chavaux, by Domaine Roulot. Boy was it good. It started off all warmed butter on the nose and opened to show mint and cashews. On the palate, it was lemon and pineapple, with hazelnuts and cashews as it came up in temperature. It was a perfect pairing for the corn-nuts, which were on the bar as a snack

The wines for the rest of the evening were good, if a little lackluster. They were all paired per course with the tasting menu and from the by-the-glass list, and ended up feeling a little trite. There was a bit of irony at the end when the sommelier from the beginning of the night poured the last wine of the evening from a carafe and, when I asked what it was he said, "you tell me." So I went through the rigors of tasting, and declared it Northern Rhone because of all the Syrah, but with a serious amount of Grenache. It was the old vines Fonsalette, by Rayas, which is Southern Rhone, but a 50% Grenache 50% Syrah blend. So I guess what we have learned is if a wine guy blinds you on a purplish red wine just say "Fonsallete," and get it over with.

I would list the wines for you except that at the beginning of the meal the Sommelier said there would be a list for me at the end, and when the end came there wasn't one, so I gave them my card and they promised to email me what I had had.*

Dinner started with a beggar's purse stuffed with caviar and crème fraiche. I am a guy that believes everything on a plate should be edible; I eat the flowers when chefs use them as garnish. The purse was presented on a thin slice of lime, so I picked it up with the purse and it blew it right out of the water. The caviar was completely overwhelmed by the lime's rind and the crème fraiche barely toned it down. There was a lovely piece of gold leaf on top, which I also ate but, like I said, I believe if a chef puts it on a plate he wants you to eat it.

The amuse bouche came next. It was house-cured salmon with a small salad of small greens. It is not salmon season and, although there were flavors of the cure, there was no flavor of salmon.

The rest of our dinner was the Winter Truffle Menu, with the slight variance that, in a confused negotiation where we asked to substitute out two courses for Trombone (not a huge fish fan) we ended up with an entire change of course and order at the end. Not a huge deal, because Bubby and I are omnivores and nothing will upset us but, because the change wasn't explained as a choice of the chef in order of course flow, I assume our message was lost on the way to the kitchen. My assumption is based on the fact that when we got to the changed course, the fourth, there was a lag in an otherwise flawless service.

Black truffle Mile Feuilles with Hamachi and Sullivan County Foie Gras, with a Toasted Hazelnut Dressing: The toasted hazelnuts added a great crunch to the otherwise very soft construction of the dish. For some reason, breadcrumbs were also added, kind of showing you what the hazelnuts were there to do, but paling in comparison. There was also a slight metallic bitterness to the mille feuilles that was not bad, but not explainable.

Roasted Langoustine with Yogurt Emulsion and Cardamom Oil: Two langoustines with a very subtle yogurt. Langoustines have a unique texture. Especially when roasted, they take on a very particular mushiness, and I found it interesting to pair it with an also very mushy cactus pear. Except for the seeds of the pear, it was a rather soft dish in execution and taste.

Buckwheat Soup with Black Truffle ravioli and a Poached Quail Egg: This was our favorite course. It had a deep flavor of mushrooms, not so much the truffles, but a good, honest flavor. As a note, poached quails' eggs are always over-cooked. This restaurant obviously has a water circulator (it shows up in the proteins) why not soft boil it in that? Now that would be modern.

Next up should have been Black Cod with Minted Baby Leeks and Blood Orange Sauce but, rather, it was Pancetta Wrapped Diver Scallop Studded with Black Truffles, Braised Sunchokes and Truffle Jus: I am pretty sure the scallop, which had had bits of truffle threaded through it, had been cooked sous vide, before a final sear. If not, it was in a cool oven for a long time. It was cooked all the way through; yet not rubbery as overcooked scallops tend to get when the process used was fast and hot.

Prime Aged Beef Striploin and braised cheeks with Chicory Emulsion: Pretty sure this was also done sous vide, because it was very uniformly cooked, however it was presented as Waygu beef and was tougher then the Waygu I have previously experienced. If so, this dish witnessed the bringing together of two popular trends in New York fine dining: sous vide and Waygu. Unfortunately, as sometimes evidenced in modern art, just because some hot ideas can be combined, doesn't mean they should.

Pheasant Breast 'Crépinette" with black Truffle and Seasonal Vegetables: An adaptation of the DB burger, it seemed to be a ball of ground pheasant stuffed with foie gras and truffle, bound in what I imagine is the crepe. Probably cool, but I had squandered my attention on everything before it.

We were so spent at this point we opted to skip dessert.

The Modern makes a lot of sense for what and where it is. In my head, I can understand why every decision was made. The truth is, everything was very solid; the place was full of what looked like happy people. Not every person should go to every restaurant. I think going forward I will spend my food dollars at Union Square and Gramercy Tavern, and leave a seat there for people that understand Ad Reinhardt.

*On 1/17/06 I found the following email in my inbox and, as a testament to the fact that, no matter what, a Danny Meyer restaurant is about thorough service, here is a list of what we drank. The last two are paired to the wrong course but the names and vintages seem right.

Course 1:  Black truffle mille feuilles with hamachi and foie gras

Wine pairing:  Sylvaner "Cuvee Vieilles Vignes", Dirler-Cade, Alsace,

2003

Course 2:  Langoustine with yogurt emulsion

Wine pairing:  Savigny Premier Cru "Hauts Marconnets" Chanson Pere &

Fils, Burgandy, 2003

Course 3: Buckwheat soup with black truffle ravioli and poached egg

quail

Wine pairing: Saumur, Chateau du Hureau, 2002

Course 4: Black cod with minted baby leeks and blood orange sauce

Wine Pairing: Domaine de Trevallon, Vin de Pays des Bouches du Rhone,

2003

Course 5: Beef Striploin and Braised Cheeks

Wine Pairing:  Chateau de Fonsalette, Reynaud, Cotes du Rhone, 1990

Course 6:  Pheasant breast crepinette with black truffle and seasonal

vegetables

Wine Pairing: Chateau Gruard Larose, Saint Julien, Bordeaux, 1994

Best truffle menu '05: CRU

At this point, I think we have to officially recognize that the white truffle season of '05 is drawing to a close. With only a couple more weeks left to get away with deeply inhaling from the plates of New York like Jack Colton, face to the bonfire, in the plane in Romancing the Stone, I figured I'd give an update.

What a season it was. Thanks to whatever the magical, meteorological events of the year were, we had a glut. There were more, bigger (which doesn't mean better) and, best of all, cheaper truffles than we have seen in a very long time. They showed up everywhere this year, and all around town restaurants were more than happy to offer you truffles on their dishes, for a supplement of course. I hope, like me, you said yes to every waiter who asked: how else are we going to encourage restaurants to buy the delicacies when they are cheap and keep ourselves deep in truffles for the years to come?

How could I not love truffles? I have been told that the reason sows are used to search out truffles is that the scent of a truffle is the pheromone, androstenone, which causes the pig to present herself to be mounted, thus alerting hunters to the fact that a truffle has been found. In fact, the pheromone that is in all those silly colognes that guarantee to put a woman in the mood is a copy of the active pheromone in truffles and pigs and some say male sweat.

So, truffles are the smell of pig sex. Pigs and sex: two of the greatest things in the world brought together in a magical tuber (not a fungus) that has eluded most of man's attempts to cultivate it.*  What could make me happier? In fact, Wife claims a big deciding factor in my loving her is that I believe her breath smells like truffles, which it does.

I spent a lot of the white truffle season of '05 going restaurant to restaurant, eating all the truffles I could, and here is what I have learned:

Cru is hands down the most adept with truffles. Their truffle menu offers up to seven total dishes, all of which play to the truffles' strengths using heat, great olive oil, simple dairy, pork fat and/or some sweet flesh, to translate the wonderful aroma. You may order three, five, or seven, courses and a note is made that "other traditional truffle preparations are available upon request." I had the seven course version and was presented with an eighth course of white truffle ice-cream at the end that was amazing (after the three bites it took me to commit to the idea of sugar and earthy flavors commingling well). 

Shea Gallante is deft in his handling of truffles, and marries this skill with the integrity of his vision for the truffle menu at Cru. There is a crudo, a sous vide, a homemade pasta, and a lobster dish, all adapted to truly put the truffles in the forefront. The menu from my night is attached. Shea, more then anyone, seemed to understand that, at ½ of last year's prices, he could go truffle crazy and offer a special showcase to his guests at a value.

Robert Bohr has a great by-the-glass wine list for pairing. All of the offerings have 3oz taste portions available and there are all sorts of wines that pair well with the earthiness of truffles. There are white Burgundies and dolcettos and vintage champagne and all sorts of other fun wines to play with.

Babbo has an eight-course truffle tasting menu that is actually four truffle courses, plus four desserts.

Hearth has the greatest truffle dish I'll never taste, but I am sure it would have been great. Just imagine those white truffles slivered onto Marco's already perfect Gnocchi. Talk about gilding the lily.

Gotham does Gotham. They seem the perfect time-warp to eighties decadence, right in the middle of '05. The truffles are served on a very thin-gauged taglietelli with a reduction of mushrooms and, what I assume to be, demi-glace, all expertly prepared and quite fun to eat, even if the one dish costs a little more than a quarter of the entire truffle menu at Cru.

Gramercy Tavern slices their truffles in the kitchen, thorough and wonderful, but lacking the charming theater of table service.

Otto, at a benefit to help Mario's TV brother Emeril raise money for Katrina victims, served white truffles on homemade fettuccini with a Parmigiano and cream sauce that was the perfect example of simplicity.

Employees Only Although I don't believe it is seasonally dependant, Employees Only keeps their Gibson onions in white truffle oil. Because this is advertised nowhere it led me to a very atypical 3^rd and 4^th drink, just so I could be confident enough in my supposition to ask the bartender. I was sure I was just imagining that my drink smelled of truffles, as were Wife and Bear, even though I made them smell it like a thousand times (more on drinks three and four.) This is a lovely touch, the way the aroma of truffles blends with the aromatics in gin is marvelous. Do stop at two though, I have found my friends and family get belligerent after I have had a third gin.

All in all, I would say no one did as much, for the diner, with the windfall of truffle abundance as Shea at Cru. Sadly, no one else seemed to greatly alter their menus or prices from last year. Most people kept with the status quo in prep and price, seeing the windfall as one of profit rather then an opportunity to create more truffle addicts, which seemed a little piggy considering the abundance and is probably why I kept going back to Cru, or cooking with truffles at home, rather than support an artificially inflated market.

I am sorry to say I have not made it to Daniel this year, but I hear their truffle dinner is top notch. I must also confess that I have no interest in letting Per Se mess up another of my meals, even though the guys at Babbo claim the restaurant as their only competition for best truffle dinner this year.  I will keep looking and eating, but I feel safe calling it a clear victory for Cru as the truffle champions of this season.

 

*The French had some success germinating and growing seeds of trees known to already host truffles, but that took forever, and urban sprawl and World War II pretty much put an end to that anyway.

Gramercy Tavern 703 gojillian stars

For Christmas '01, Bestfriend told Wife to give me a copy of Think Like a Chef by Tom Colicchio. On Bestfriend's recommendation, I read it like a book rather then just recreating the dishes inside. The story of Young Tom at the beach eating the family's whole allotment of shell steaks while they swam, because he was playing with salt, struck me. I remembered eating myself sick on a basket of tomatoes out of our family garden when I was eight, because for some reason my dad had brought home a box of something called kosher salt. I had finished the book, made the chicken, and was desperately awaiting Spring so I could pop over to the Greenmarket and buy ramps and morels and try my first trilogy when it was announced that, to re-stimulate a post 9/11 NY restaurant community, a special two-week Restaurant Week would be held in January.

The plan was that I would eat ten lunches, spend about $240 (including 20% tips), and try a serious amount of this guy's food. If you eat ten consecutive lunches in any restaurant because you are so appreciative of the chef’s new book, even if you are doing it on the cheap, you become a regular of that place. If you become a regular of a place as special as Gramercy Tavern you go for many occasions.

Occasions are different for different people. My new associate, Client One, has just moved to New York City from London and is a vegetarian. My birthday was Thursday. GT has a wonderful vegetable tasting menu. Occasion! Last night Coworker, Client One, Client Two and Augie had dinner in the back of GT. C2 had been before, Co and C1 were both new to the experience.

We met in the actual tavern portion and had cocktails -- for me, gin Gibson; for C2 vodka-soda; and the rest went with the Rouge draft beer. GT always has wonderfully esoteric beers on draft and even if you know the producer, Brooklyn Brewery, for example, GT will have a unique label of theirs, such as Saison, which they are pouring now. One down, we popped back to start our dinner.

C1 and I went Vegetable tasting menu $80.00, Co and C2 Autumn tasting menu $95.00. We also decided to add a $60 white truffle course to be split by the four of us and fit in at the chef's choosing.

The first wine was an Alzinger Smaragd Reisling, '02. I was torn between this and an Auslese from Germany. Our server figured the Austrian was the way to go because it would have the fruit and acidity to make it fun with the foie that the autumn menu offered first, but would not be as sweet and slow down our palettes at what was the beginning of an eight-course menu. Well chosen. It was light and bright, while remaining engaging enough to play off the food.

The second wine was an Olek-Mezy Chinon '99. Opened with the white, so that if anyone hated the Riesling there would be a red, it was interesting, light enough not to muddle their first courses while still being a red, which most members of the Client family insist is all they drink. Hey, I knew it could take me all the way to the mushrooms. As it turned out both were well received and the Riesling went pretty quickly.

At some point in this dinner truffles were going to show up so, following the "what grows together goes together" credo, I went Barolo for number three. '95 Roche dei Manzoni, Capella Santo Stefano had the earth and minerals, while incorporating the kirsch that plays to modern palates (without getting in the way of the food.) Plus Wife and I walked up and touched the Capella while touring the hills of Monforte (really do stay here) and I love that.

First up for dinner was fennel a la grecque with figs, feta, and mint. It was presented on a thin rectangular plate, nicely spread so that there were four fennel ribs (I believe braised) with the other ingredients between, encouraging you to include each ingredient in each bite, and they played very well together.

Eggplant napoleon with piquillo peppers and lemon came next. A lemon section was presented on a sliver of roasted (or at least skinned) piquillo pepper on a small salad. Lemon played again in the Napoleon in the form of zest. The eggplant, which was like a caviar or a caponatina but simple enough that it tasted like eggplant, was great. The discs that separated the layers were some how like flat gougeres without the cheese. They had that egg-y toothsomeness that made them fun to bite with your front teeth.

Penne with Savoy Cabbage, cranberry beans, autumn truffle and Parmesan was cast as character three. Great simple dish with black truffles, strangely, sliced in the kitchen. As great as it was, and as much as they permeated the entire dish, I thought the wonderful waft of truffles hitting the hot food for the first time was lost. At this point the big tragedy of the meal happened. Co, who hadn't flirted with the attractive waitress in a couple minutes, called her over and had her remove my half-eaten dish while I was distracted picking the Barolo.

Next came our supplemental white truffle course. Homemade fettuccini in what was basically a butter Parmesan sauce, with a fried egg and sliced white truffles. The sauce was creamy and really worked to translate the aroma of truffles. In fact, I was very happy that when I skipped to the loo between courses, I smelled the remnants of truffle in my retro nasal cavity over that awesome hand soap they use. I still wish the truffles had been sliced at table but it's hard to argue with the result.

Roasted beets with wax beans, garlic chips and chervil showed up after the truffle course. A thin crimson beet juice covered the bottom of the plate with roasted yellow beets on top. It was a lot of fun to knock the little fried slivers of garlic and sliced wax beans into the beet juice, let them turn red, and suck the sweetness out of them while you ate.

Last entrée was mushroom tart tatin. Roasted mushrooms stacked on puff pastry with a pickled mushroom salad and a mushroom cappuccino. The tart tatin paid great attention to detail: scoring the broader stems in the mix, giving it a look that made me I think they may have snuck me some roasted bacon till I bit it. The cappuccino is just the amazing essence of good mushrooms and the pickle brightens up the earthiness of the other two components.

Possibly the greatest dessert ever invented for people that prefer savory to sweet is GT's coconut large pearl tapioca with passion fruit sorbet and basil oil. I have yet to find anyone not floored by it. So I was delighted to see a smaller version of it in the dessert amuse spot. C2 took one bite, decided he didn't like it, put his spoon down, then had the layers of flavor hit him and devoured the rest in four swift spoonfuls.

Two versions of a tasting dessert were next. One was a study in chocolate with an opera cake, a chocolate raspberry tart, and an ice cream. The other was raspberries: a canoli, a napoleon, and a pile of them with some crème fraiche. And it all came together to a finish with a plate of petis fours.

Jack Nicholson is one cool M-er F-er. When he is around guys like Bon Jovi say "oh my god, that's Jack Nicholson!" The best part is no one ever says "Jack is cool because..." He is so cool it is just accepted. GT is this kind of cool: the place exudes a, "we have nothing to prove" confidence that is readable throughout the place; from the guy in the t-shirt sitting at a table next to an 80-year old couple in bespoke clothing (all there because this is our unique place in our unique town) to the fact that a little dessert wine was sent over at the very end to say Happy Birthday. They really just rule.

Babbo Truffle 111 stars

In the first week of November 1999, Wife (then Girlfriend) took me to Babbo for the tasting menu to celebrate my birthday.  While perusing the menu we came across the truffle tasting which in those days, being as young and aspiring as we were, was way out of grasp of our purse strings. Each year, as I age, Babbo reminds me I am doing so in the dead middle of white truffle season.

At this point, the Babbo birthday truffle dinner had reached epic proportions.  In my mind it was the pinnacle of these affairs. I have tried truffle menus at many of New York's restaurants in the intervening years and am the sucker that adds white truffles to just about anything you will allow me to, happily paying the supplement and considering myself lucky to live in a place that these wonderful little nuggets of somehow sexy earth travel to. As part of our honeymoon Wife and I spent two of our days in Monforte d'Alba (go here as soon as you can) and another two in Alba proper. Wife argues that the reason I really love her is that I believe her breath smells like truffles. However, if ever asked, I had never been to the summit because I had yet to sit down at Babbo and have the truffle tasting menu for my birthday.

This was the year. A friend of mine asked for my help getting a reservation for Babbo for a special occasion, which happened to fall on my birthday. When I mentioned this fact he said "you get me this reservation, I'll take you for your birthday the next week."

DEAL!

Last night, under the guise of celebrating my birthday, six of us sat down for the truffle tasting menu at Babbo and everyone was a-titter. The waiter went through his routine describing the Babbo approach and method and service and declared us geniuses when he heard our plan was to each have the truffle tasting menu and pair it up with some of the more traditional Piemonte wines.

For the wine service, our waiter came clean on not having had the opportunity to taste many of the wines we were talking about and graciously bowed out, sending David over to field our inquiries. After some discussion involving facts like, that for an all truffle dinner we thought it best to go with a truly traditional minerally, austere, older Barolo or Barberesco and were thinking about starting with one of the Piemontese chardonnays, David strongly suggested a Trebbiano d'Abruzzo by Valentini '01. It was precisely the right thing; open tank fermentation and the resulting oxidization had made a white with real depth and complexity. It was fabulous, and got better once it lost some of the chill it had when first opened. It was all I could do to make it last until the first course.

While choosing the Trebbiano we also ordered the first red. Being six we decided we should or more, could, get a magnum. After a little give and take we settled on an '88 Barolo in magnum. Wow is this a wine. We lost a lot when we lost Guiseppe Mascarello this summer. Red fruit, flint, roasted meats, smoke, a truly special wine that evolved the entire time it was open. We all fought to keep it in our glasses through the entire meal just to see where it would go.

We discussed the idea of doing a vertical with our second bottle, and plucking another vintage magnum of Mascarello from Babbo's extensive list, but finally decided to go horizontally with an '88 Giacomo Conterno Monfortino, and an '88 Aldo Conterno Gran Bussia Riserva, both in bottle. The only flaw with these two amazing wines was their not being in magnum and coming after the Mascarello. Both were dynamite, with the Giacamo showing more anise and the Aldo being a little more fruit forward.

Truffles are an aroma, truffles are not a taste. Two things truly magnify the aroma of truffle efficiently, heat and lipids. Hot lipids are the easiest, and therefore probably best, way to express the truffle's genius. 

In Piemonte, the home of the world's greatest white truffles, every restaurant has their version of a couple of dishes that do this; their simplicity is the key. There is fonduta, a hot bowl of melted cheese to which white truffles and, in very special cases, an egg are added. Taigarene is a small twist of doughy pasta served swimming in butter after which truffles are grated over it. Carne cruda is raw meat, usually veal, hand-chopped (but sometimes sliced) that gets good olive oil drizzled over it and then, you guessed it, white truffles flutter down on this as well.

Babbo's menu definitely embraced simplicity. There were eight courses, four of which involved truffles and it cost $250 per head. The other four courses were non-truffle desserts. First up was Tom Biggs farm eggs with guanciale. The egg had been fried sunny side up in a ring mold and some sliced guanciale (cured pig jowl) was fried like bacon and set on edge around it to make a frame. There was a drizzle of olive oil as well. Truffles were shaved tableside. Being at the farthest table from the kitchen, at the back of the upstairs, I saw what was definitely going to prove to be a high hurdle to our genius plan: the food was no longer hot, so we had truffle-y egg and great bacon, but, well, no heat.

Up next was pappardelle with Parmigiano Reggiano. Simply very wide hand-cut noodles dressed with butter and a grating of Parmigiano Reggiano. The noodle was an interesting choice, as its girth did not really encourage the truffles to spread and incorporate the way a smaller shape would have. But still an austere canvas to let the truffles strut their stuff, which they probably would have had the pasta been hot. The most interesting thing about this course was the red truffle. The insides of white truffles range from the grayish color of the exterior to the khaki color of a J Crew chino. In my experience the darker ones are more aromatic. The truffle sliced on my dish had a pink interior, beautiful.

Classic tortellini in brodo came third and greatly benefited from the fact that the brodo was brought upstairs in little cast-iron teakettles so when it was poured over the truffles that had just been laid over, that wonderful shock of truffle wafted up in all its glory.

Veal loin with pancetta and cauliflower: two slices of a veal loin on two fried cauliflower florets. The veal had sage sandwiched inside a pancetta wrap, then seared and served spread on a plate. Again a dish almost designed not to retain heat during its travel to table.

Next was a cheese course, the ever-present coach farms green peppercorn studded brick with some fruit mostarda. Next, a warm chestnut honey spice cake, a very good spice cake. Bittersweet chocolate crema followed and it would have again been a solid recreation, but it had had some kind of berry liqueur that all six of us agreed just wasn't right and somehow made the entire experience bad. Last we had a sampling of desserts from the menu; pear semifreddo, pumpkin cheesecake, and another version of spice cake, all quite good, the pumpkin cheesecake being the table's favorite.

We are lucky enough to be alive while there is a truffle glut. Two weeks ago the price of white truffles dipped from an average of $1800 - $2000 dollars a pound to $1100 - $1350. I would ballpark this menu at about ½ ounce of truffle per person for the whole dinner. Not knowing this, I am not sure how I would feel about the dinner, but armed with this knowledge I can't help but feel Babbo is ripping us off. There is no value and the cost of ingredient to cost of this dinner is almost criminal. Add to that the fact that nothing special has been done for this menu, it is all just other menu items adapted. The notion of covering plates for their long travel from the kitchen in order to save the precious heat was not even thought of. I have to say this meal is not worth the money. Go right around the corner to Cru and get the seven-course truffle menu for $220, the entirety of which includes truffles (right down to a truffle ice cream for dessert), where you will truly get your dollar's worth.

Maybe I built up the idea of Babbo's menu to heights it could never achieve. If so, I am sorry. Except for Lupa, I don't know a better place in New York to sit down and have a great glass of wine and an exceptional bowl of pasta. But Babbo is credited as being the dream place, where the true genius of the cucina d'Italia is supposed to be revealed to us, and I can't help but feel this menu was designed by businessmen to profit from, rather than by food-lovers to share a special product with us.