-Quinn
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“A woman should never be seen eating or drinking, unless it be lobster, salad and champagne. The only true feminine and becoming viands.”
Lord Byron (1788-1824)
Like Black Sunday, or any other moment of historic gloom, my little devout cohort mourned the loss of our local Red Lobster at Wilshire and La Cienega at the tail end of Beverly Hills' famed Restaurant Row. Now you may ask, why the Lobster? One is that there is a group of us foodies that really love the joint on several levels. Primarily, it is one of the tastier and more dependable chains in existence. There are also the famous Ruben tales that we insist on him telling each time we go. When Ruben was working there as a youth, one afternoon included a butt nekked crack-head passed out in a toilet stall. Did this ever happen at Chasen's? I think not.
So, our options are limited: Monrovia or Lakewood. I choose Lakewood primarily for it's very own take on the Restaurant Row concept. In about a four block span, there are a plethora of chain restaurants back to back, from the sacred (Marie Calendars) to the profane (Hometown Buffet). What sweetened the deal was that our good friend Sherman is also a big fan of the Lobster and graced us with his presence on a trip down south for a Sunday brunch.
Well, Red Lobster doesn't have "brunch" per se. They have seafood for days, and this makes us very very happy indeed.
Olive Garden has those salt licks that they call bread sticks, but the Lobster has cheesy biscuits. At least three unique sources of the "bad" cholesterol eek through their flaky exoskeletons.
Ruben simply dotes on them.
And the requisite fake Caesar salad to go with them. My old roommate and I used to make the most exquisite Caesar salad together, with freshly coddled egg to emulsify the dressing and a liberal amount of coarsely diced anchovies for nerve. It is almost an ongoing surprise to see what passes for one of these things wherever one goes, but Lobster's is just as fine as any. An ultra creamy dressing loaded with Parmesan cheese granules goes quite well with the biscuits.
And there is no tarted up salad that cannot be augmented and improved with black pepper, if you please.
Appetizers! Ruben's delight! As if one's main course was not going to be a jamboree of fried or butter soaked crustaceans, one is often compelled to take it to the next level as the laboratory chefs at the Lobster wish to take us to. Behold, Lobster Pizza...
Barely tastes like lobster, truth be told. But this does not prevent our intrepid Ruben from indulging with the rest of us. I mean, it's REAL lobster, for crissakes!
The sampler platter was almost like a more palatable red-headed stepchild of one of Ruben's favorite RL meals: the Admiral's Feast. It's the all-breaded and deep-fried plate. Think if Gorton's and Mrs. Paul had an illegitimate preemie then this would be it. Praise God for clam strips! No one speaks of HoJo's anymore, and that saddens me.
Sherman ordered one of the more traditional meals that always includes one sorry-ass excuse for a lobster tail. But I usually get one of those combos myself, because they're good. And the paltry lobster bit takes on a new life when submerged in drawn butter - one of the most perfect culinary combinations every devised.
However, Ruben and I opted for mix-and-match shrimp fiestas. You really cannot go wrong with brochettes and scampi. You can go wrong with pasta. Looked good on paper, but not so much in real time. Not as bad as the "sourcini" that my friend Russell has about ten years ago at the Yukon Mining Company, but not that delightful.
Ruben is in hog heaven at all times.
And it is this collective regression back to our most silly, playful selves which is probably the primary reason we go back. Not quite like Ponce de Leon-style, but the Lobster has the most endearing effect on us when we fine dine there. And after three plates of shellfish and butter, I usually find nothing in the world to be wrong.
As we were leaving, the true players were coming. One gentleman, dressed to the nines, as if he just came back from auditioning for a reunion tour of the Time. The Lobster's appeal crosses all socioeconomic and cultural lines, as far as I can see. What I would give for a cheesy biscuit saturated in drawn butter right now.
-Quinn
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Jonathan Gold just published his 99 essential restaurants for the latest issue of the LA Weekly:
http://www.laweekly.com/eat+drink/dinin ... -99/16643/
Here is where I still am itching to dine, and putting it out there on the blog in hopes of finding co-conspirators:
AOC
Babita
Casa Bianca
Cut
Father's Office
Spago
Valentino
-Quinn
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My last trip to NYC, I was determined to eat well. Cut down on the Sabrett's, the supposedly best pizza in the world, etc. I was going to have some memories to take home with me.
My love of Mozza in LA led me on a quest for some definitive Mario Batali cuisine. I wanted to eat the pasta tasting menu (slurp!) at Babbo, but resos were not to be had. Otto, Mozza's East Coast sister, was happy to take me on, and off we go.
My escort, David Chlopecki aka David Mason aka Milk Boy aka Shasta De Laurenta aka Premium P****
David is a non-stop fierce dichotomy and one of the best friends a mutherfucker could ask for. I knew that this would be a wonderful afternoon.
Our first course, two veggies: salsify and cauliflower:
The salsify had a nice citrus lilt and a anise-like quality, while the cauliflower was a bit under seasoned and dry. These were cold/room temperature preparations and I prefer the hot verdure that Mozza offers in contrast, but next trip to Otto shall result in some varying selections.
Then, the cheese course:
Before the cheese came along, three small plates were ceremoniously drizzled with black truffle honey, spiced apricots, and persevered cherries. This is by far the best accompaniment to a cheese course that I have ever experienced - the honey was a perfect foil to the strength of the cheeses that would soon be delievered:
We ordered a five-cheese plate. The one that I wanted to have for sure was the Gorgonzola dolce, but David suggested that we let the server/host select the rest (good call, and I will get to the impeccable service later on). When asked for general preferences, I did state that I enjoyed hard and strong. Aside from the one soft cheese we were brought, the others were superb. Of note, a sheep's milk cheese that had been wrapped in herbs that infused the rind was exceptional.
Now for our seemigly simple, trite, and obvious choices...
For David, a carbonara:
By all reports, a fine dish, and sized appropriately. I think that Americans think that Italian food is not legit unless it is comprised of a mixing boll of cheese laden carbs. David smiled throughout the dish.
As for me, pepperoni pizza:
What! I could have had that down the street! Not really. I know that Batali is known for curing his own meats (his pop runs an Italian meat shop in Seattle) so I wanted to try something that I have had my whole life and see if there was a difference. There was. I often eat the meat off of my pizza before attacking the crust. The reason I did so here was that is was so perfect - mellow pork flavors, slightly charred on the perimeter, and just enough garlic and pepper nuances. The crust was hard with some resistance and the sauce/cheese ratio was humbly calculated.I do prefer the naan like crust as Mozza better, but this was a pizza to be reckoned with and I would love to try some of the other permutations one day.
Desert:
For me: olive oil gelato
David's pick: lemon lavender
The olive oil was like a little bit of heaven, that's what it was. Very subtle and creamy. A small ribbon of oil swimming about and a few grains of salt against the sugar. I could eat this everyday. The lemon was just as good in its own right, the potentially strong flavors taken down to a more palatable denominator.
The service was some of the best I have ever experienced. The host/captain/server (?) was attentive, conversational, warm, and accommodating. All of the line staff were just as smooth.
When do I get to go back!!!!! If only Otto were not a five hour flight away.
-Quinn
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Life, as we know it, consists of a series of events strung together over time. If we're fortunate, the good events outweigh the bad, more good luck and we can enjoy good health and fat wallets, and if we're REALLY charmed, we get to eat at Urasawa. In deciding how best to write this post, I thought of mentioning the cliche seminal moments written about in countless tomes through the ages; falling in love, the birth of a child, etc. etc. I'd go on to mention my own greatest hits including that bit about love, as well as when I bought my house, the first time my work was published, the release of my book, meeting David Bowie, seeing Prince live for the Nth time (twice in one day, 5th row with Ruben, and 10 ft from me and Quinn), spending a week with Marc Almond, and now, last night's meal at Urasawa. Yep, that covers the biggies.Quinn's a smart cookie and he's finally decided to nurture his melon and go for intellectualism and it's paid off with a degree in social work. Damn do-gooder. LOL Well, he generously chose to invite Bob and me to his celebration dinner at the one place we've all been dreaming of.
We picked Quinn up at his pad and drove over to Beverly Hills. Needless to say, it's not our usual destination and, as we pulled onto Rodeo Dr., Bob mentioned that he'd never even been in that part of town. I can't say the same as my folks dragged me there time and again when they had out of town guests; Beverly Hills was on their sightseeing route. I developed my distaste for it as a child and have never outgrown it, and I am happy happy happy about that. Other than last night's dinner, my BH adventures had been limited to shuttling MY out of town guest to her plastic surgeon for a boob job consultation, the surgery that followed, and the subsequent follow-up visits. I'm not complainging, though, because it meant she visited more often and because sometimes we'd stop at Sprinkles for cupcakes.
Dinner at Urasawa is kind of legendary. Before I'd ever heard the name, there were whispers about the "ultimate sushi bar" on Rodeo where each person's dinner cost $350 and I'd never get to eat there. In fact, in Jonathan Gold's guide to LA sushi entitled "Raw Power", he lists Urasawa under the heading "When You Win the Lottery". Back when I first heard about it, I'm sure it was in its previous incarnation, Ginza Sushiko. At the time, it belonged to Masa Takayama (who eventually moved to NYC and opened Masa), and Hiroyuki Urawasa was his apprentice. Hiro now owns this nine seat restaurant tucked away upstairs in the Rodeo Collection.
You can read other people's well-researched posts about Urasawa on blogs and Chowhound, so I'll just say that the service was impeccable (the waitress slides open the door when you arrive, again if you have to go to the potty, again when you return, she delivers completed dishes the 6" from the bar in front of you to right under your nose), Hiro was very pleasant and became friendlier as our three hour meal progressed, and most importantly, the food was beyond out-of-this-world. We took photos and notes and even some video. The chef spoke very softly, his English was heavily accented, and I missed some of the details for which I apologize. Still and all... Enjoy!
Summer vegetables in brine served in beautiful crystal, dusted with gold leaf and to be downed like a shot. It was a tasty preamble, an amuse buche that had the desired effect of galvanizing our palates in preparation for the wonders to come.
Toro Tatake - three slices of immaculate tuna belly seared, served in a shallow pool of what I think was Ponzu, with grated daikon, paper-thin slices of scallions, a smattering of wine-colored sprouts, and gold leaf. As you can imagine this dish was rich, fatty, perfectly flavored and downright exciting.
Nikogori - A terrine of mountain potato, uni, sweet shrimp and nikogori (a natural gelatin derived from cooked fish), topped again with gold. (Let me pause to say that all three of us counted uni among the foods that we would never eat. I had it once before and despised it. You're looking at three converts.) Goddamn was this good, sweet and savory, faintly tasting of the sea.
A trio of sashimi served atop a beautifully carved block of ice decorated with a single blue iris, garnished with freshly grated wasabi and seaweed. Two morsels each of uni, red snapper, and toro. This dish exemplifies the true wonder that is sashimi. Three offerings, each radically different in flavor and texture, one better than the last. Again, the uni was a revelation, sweet, rich, and meltingly soft. The snapper has a mouthfeel that I have grown to love over the years; it frightened me in my teens and I steered clear of it in favor of softer fish like tuna and yellowtail. The flavor is subtle and the flesh is a bit rigid, somewhat chewy, and a fabulous foil for the other two. And finally the toro, fully unlike any other toro I've ever had. When I took the chilled block into my mouth, I was first struck by that wondrous tuna flavor. As I bit down on it, it felt as though biting on a sponge, all of the liquid escaped to flood my tongue, and then I chewed the remaining meat. It was truly unusual and I remember concentrating hard on the sensation when I ate the second one.
Chawan Mushi - Warm egg custard with sea urchin and sperm sack, scallions and gold leaf. Unfortunately, I did not make out what variety of fish gave up his little squigglies, though I've read here that Hiro has been known to serve fugu sperm sack. As though this meal couldn't get any better, I think I actually made audible pleasure noises while eating this (and that's so not my style). My exact words were "I want to keep eating this for days". And I didn't mean for lunch on consecutive days, I meant non-stop for hours and hours and hours. It was just sublime. It was a warm ray of sunshine on my palate, immensely flavorful, unspeakably decadent. And the uni.... Oh god, it was fabulous, gently cooked, barely warm, and with the flavor and texture of small fish roe. Hiro should get a cookie for this one.
Helpers appeared and spread a paper napkin before each of us. Atop it was placed a shallow bowl filled with salt upon which sat a smooth, shiny stone of about 5" in diameter. At the far lip of the bowl was a parchment splatter screen of sorts.
There appeared a lovely bowl nestling three pieces of the most marbled, fattiest toro you've ever laid eyes on. Diminutive chunks of love as red as watermelon.
We were instructed to take each piece and sear it on all sides on the stone, paying particular attention to the fat. Great wisps of smoke floated about as the meat was browned and the fat rendered.
Up to this point, Quinn had been on note-taking duty, but he was incapable of performing as he was lost in the pleasure of this dish. He said, "This is one of the most heavenly things I've ever eaten in my life." People, it was gorgeous. Meaty, dense, carmelized, unctuous. I started making lists in my head of the people I know who deserve to experience this much pleasure. Those who would appreciate it. I pray for riches so that I can gift this dish...
And then, we lost our minds. Japanese beef cooked in sweet sake, soy sauce and yuzu juice. This, my friends, is the pot roast of the gods. Served atop a tender slice of daikon, garnished with scallions and one snow pea cut on the bias, the meat was completely infused with spectacular flavors, almost sweet, and more tender than the finest fillet mignon. It was dazzlingly beefy, an unexpected comfort food and perfectly timed within our meal.
Shabu Shabu - though it deserves some other name. Something way fancier. We were presented with a small pot of hot water into which a fanned piece of parchemnt had been placed. As instructed, we first seasoned the liquid with two kinds of seaweed, and then dropped in a generous slice of foie gras. It gently cooked for about a minute, until it had rendered a surprising amount of fat and turned soft. That was followed by a slice of impressively marbled Kobe beef swirled in the glistening broth for mere moments before dunking it in a soy-based sauce and devouring it amidst much eye-rolling ecstasy. A slice of scallop and one sweet shrimp were similarly blanched and their exquisite sweetness savored. Lastly, a slice of king eel was dispatched to the pot and cooked until opaque, about a minute. The flesh was quite firm, subtle in flavor, and surprisingly lean for eel. Finally, we were given stone spoons with which to shuttle the soup to our eager mouths.
The sushi round was heralded by the arrival of a square stone bowl of the house-pickled ginger. Of course, it was like no ginger I've ever had, spicy and gingery to be sure, but it was deeply perfumed, reminiscent of apples somehow.
Toro - Divine, firm in texture, it tasted absolutely like fish and was the perfect beginning.
Blue Fin Tuna - Rich and meaty, Bob was still raving about it on the way home.
Toro - Again, this toro was wholly different from all of its other presentations. The fish was sweet with the texture of rare beef and just as satisfying.
Skipper Jack - I've had Skipper Jack sushi before and it's delicious. I believe it's related to yellowtail and presents with similar flavor, though a firmer texture. Hiro's did not disappoint, it was mellow and delectable, easing us into bolder flavors to follow.
Spanish Mackerel - So perfect, flawlessly fresh, with that deep smokiness and firm flesh, it reinvigorated our pallates.
Red Snapper with freshly grated yuzu - Solid but not tough, yielding after a few more bites than the mackeral, this sushi was sweet and citrusy, perfectly punctuated by the yuzu.
Small Shrimp - Glorious little sweet meats formed together in Hiro's hand and placed atop the rice. It was like sweet shrimp only more so, now another new favorite.
Mirugai with yuzu juice - Mmmmmmmmmmmm..........! Giant clam is my very favorite sushi so you know I was doing backflips at this point. When the chef was preparing the mirugai course for our neighbors, I watched as he selected a piece and tossed it hard onto his cutting board. The first one moved a bit, but was discarded in favor of the next which undulated fiercely before curling up upon itself. It was the showiest moment of the meal and was tickled to witness it.
Earlier in the evening, I watched Hiro place three shitake mushroom caps onto a brazier at his side.
I believe he brushed them with soy sauce and grilled them slowly.
Shitake sushi - Each cap was cut in half, brushed with yuzu juice, and cupped around a small ball of rice. Mushrooms of this quality are well served by simple preparation. In a single bite, we enjoyed the soft outer layer, still warm from the fire, giving way to sweet, tender flesh and scrumptious mushroomy, woodsy earthiness.
Needle Fish - Easily the most eye-catching presentation of all the sushi, the meat was separated from the skin of a very small critter using the blade of a long sushi knife. Hiro split the meat lengthwise and rolled the ends into each other. A stunning, classic presentation of a firm-fleshed, smoky fish, tasting somewhat like mackerel.
Cuttlefish (squid) - Chewy goodness scored, salted, dusted with ground yuzu skin and mopped with yuzu juice. The best I've ever had, sweet and tender.
Uni - I'm such a convert that I was filled with joy at seeing another slice of sea urchin layed before me. I fairly writhed with the pleasure of its briny sweetness.
Abalone - I had abalone sushi once before and, like uni, it was wretched and never ordered again. The food police should require a restaurant to be licensed to serve it because done wrong, it's completely inedible. Not so at Urasawa. The beast was prodigiously scored, I'd go so far as to call it tenderized, and topped with soy, yuzu juice, and ground yuzu. Miles apart from the crap I ate the last time. I doubt that I'd ever order it, but I'll gladly eat Hiro's version again.
Toro - The final permutation of this versatile wonder, grilled completely (not seared), it looked and tasted so like beef. A tiny prize of fat and smoke, and sweet, chewy meat. Unfuckingbelievable.
Anago (Sea Eel) - Topped with yuzu juice, this was the least fatty eel sushi I've ever experienced. Smaller, too, than the gigungous slabs served at sushi joints, it was compact and meaty with a slight bitterness on the back end.
Tamago - Looks like pound cake, right? This wasn't the omelette that I adore, but something completely different. It was very cakey, though light. The mouth feel was surprising. A delicate, sweet ending to a powerhouse round of sushi.
Grapefruit Gelatin - I am NOT a fan of grapefruit for the simple reason that I don't do bitter. Can't stand it, actually. But, again, I was happy to put this in my mouth. There was enough sweetness to please my palate and push the bitterness far off in the distance. The gelatin was topped with red beans and gold leaf and served as a perfect palate cleanser.
I'll make note, too, of the lovely presentation, a crystal goblet snuggled into a cylindrical block of wood. Niiiice!
Sesame Ice Cream with soy milk and honey - A fucking revalation. Just gorgeous to taste, a touch of sweetness surrounded the nuttiness of the sesame, and we were all in heaven.
The ice cream was accompanied by a stone bowl of matcha frothed before us by the chef. Though I don't drink tea (I don't like the way tea tastes... Sue me.) it was perfectly paired with the dessert. Unobtrusive and cleansing. It was followed by a small cup of another tea, this one tasting of grilled rice.
Dang, it took me nearly as long to write this as it did to enjoy the meal. And enjoy we did. Dinner at Urasawa was one of the greatest pleasures of my life. I'll necessarily be a bit more frugal in the coming months as it set us back quite a bit. This was by far the most expensive meal I've ever had:
Omakase - $275 per person
2 beers (Bob) - $20
2 Cokes (me) - $8
Iced Tea (Quinn) - $6
3 bottles of Evian - $24
With tax and tip, it came to $380 per person. It hurts, but it was so worth every damn penny. Might I suggest, ever so gently, that you sell your soul, find a sugar daddy, or strut your cookies down Sunset... Just hustle up the cash and go. You won't be sorry.
Urasawa
218 N Rodeo Dr.
Beverly Hills, CA 90210
(310) 247-8939
A few final notes on the experience... There was no music, which I enjoyed, though Bob mentioned that, had there been music, we would have been able to talk louder. As it was, we spoke in hushed tones and I was probably the only one of us who heard all the conversation since I was sitting in the middle. In regard to the food, each of us has food we will not eat, I mentioned the uni earlier. Well, Quinn ate eggs (Chawan Mushi and Tamago) for the first time in 30 years, I ate foie gras (I still didn't like the texture but got over it), grapefruit, and tea, and Bob ate mushrooms, and we're all glad we did. Shazam!
-steen
Quinn's Commentary
The truth is that this experience was much more fulfilling than walking across the stage and getting hooded for my MSW. The other truth is that my bank account is really feeling the impact! Not to completely parrot Steen, but it was totally worth it and I would love to make this at least an annual event - there's got to be enough potential milestones ahead of us to warrant this kind of treat.
A lot of what made this experience is perceptual and visceral. The minute we walked off of the elevator, the server slid open the door and said "Quinn?" I like that sort of ESP shit! Not to mention the bar itself. The smoothest wood, freshly sanded - unlike any surface I have even dined upon.
What I would have said at the end of the meal (and I did) is that Hiro excels at the cooked and prepared courses rather than the actual nigiri. I have a change of heart in retrospect, but at the time, this felt true. The stone cooked toro and the braised Japanese beef were revelations. As for the toro, I had to consider it several times upon first bite to make sure it was not the most ethereal beef I had ever consumed. It is because of these moments that I frequently caught myself with a (hopefully) sweet perma-grin on my mug. I'm not sure if I will order uni of my own volition, but this is the second time this year that it has been presented to me in such an outstanding manner (earlier this year, I had the uni sabayon at Providence as part of their tasting menu - I had dreams about it twice that night!)
The nigiri was utterly perfect in terms of quality, size, presentation, taste, and probably most importantly, rice-to-fish ratio. What put me off ever so slightly was the use of his special sauce and yuzu juice. After a few pieces, those tastes felt redundant. Having said that, a couple of days later I realized that I have been dipping my sushi piece after piece in shoyu since I took my first bite at age seven! It was just unfamiliar and like all good memories, that flavor lingers on in my mind and in the inner recesses of my tastes buds for life.
As a contrast, I went and had some sushi at a place that shall remain nameless (as to not invoke an unfair comparison). It was good and fun and all that (I just love fish and shellfish, period) but my sushi mojo has been altered for life. Not a bad thing, I don't think.
I think good meals should touch me deeply, from time to time, in the manner that MFK Fisher would write. This surely did, especially that I got to celebrate my graduation with my beloved Steen. Hey, next time, we should bring a boom box with Malcolm McClaren's "Madame Butterfly"!
-Quinn
tags: Urasawa, dining, sushi, Japanese+food, Beverly+Hills
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Foodies and critics alike swoon over the goodness that is Clementine. The downside: Century City. Is because of my year in the trenches working in the men's furnishing department at the fallen Broadway at Ye Olde Century City Mall. Probably more that the traffic is so miserable - the Beverly Hills corrodor of traffic lights and then the business of the world of business that is Century City. But I had to run an errand and so I went. And not a regret to be had...
A lovely display of baked goods, ready to cook, and deli salads were festooned in a most comfortable environment. My meal was a roast beef sandwich on "rustic bread":
"Rustic" scares me as a social construct. Could mean the difference between homemade goodness and sawdust. The bread was just like the Lionel Poilâne style that I had crafted myself years ago from a non yeast starter. Bubbly and moist. The beef was perfectly pink and devoid of fat, seasoned with horseradish sauce, pickled onions, and arugula. On the side was was looked like a cup of sunomono. It was actually fresh sweet pickles, not too sweet and riddled with plump coriander seeds. All in all, a perfect lunch.
For my dainty little dessert, I opted for the thumprint cookie with orange marmalade:
Again, not to sweet, firm but flaky, and the jam in the middle was just enough of a confectionery bite to sate my sweet tooth.
Now, more reasons to venture out into the Century City - I'm exhausted just thinking about it...whilst visions of those biscuits with country ham that were sitting in the display are dancing a minuet in my anti-Westside head!
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And today's special from my favorite ice cream shop on Heliotrope is:
Strawberry/Balsamic and Spiced Pumpkin Seed...
As those bears in Silverlake say, WOOF!
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"I clambered over mounds and mounds
Of polystyrene foam
And fell into a swimming pool
Filled with fairy snow
And watched the world turn day-glo
you know you know
The world turned day-glo you know"
-Poly Styrene (c) 1976
The dulcet tones of the X-Ray Specs danced in my head as I devoured my atomic orange chicken at Dino's Burgers in Lincoln Heights.
Mark moved to the east side, to a deluxe house in the sky. Of course, being the food fiend that I am, I knew that any trip to his new hood would have to be couched with some sort of iconoclastic meal. My searching came upon a lot of talk about this brightly colored chicken at Dino's on 7th Street.
The overhead menu says nothing of the bird, until the kind counterman handed us a laminated sheet that declared the chick in all of its glory. 1/2 a chicken, beans, rice, tortillas, fries, and cole slaw for just a little bit over five bucks! And on a real plate - fancy!
Now, the beans and rice were very good indeed; the slaw, forgettable but wholly edible. But that chicken! Moist, juicy, delicious, and just as bright as the China Syndrome and Three Mile Island combined! The sauce is what made it, a perfect tang that I imagine tenderized the meat to its consistency. The bonus: the chicken sits on the soggy (yes!) fries, thus the juice and sauce infuse the spuds. I am crying right now as I type.
I have been wanting to trek back down to Dino's again, but schedule has not permitted. According to Gold and other food bloggers, there are other Dino's locations that I have a better bird on the grill. Maybe a Dino's reconnaissance mission might be in order, but a quick turn off the 7th street exit is fine by me. Glow on!
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Danube
http://www.davidbouley.com/
One of the loveliest restos I have yet to dine - in the middle of a Klimt painting. Excellent service - doesn't hurt that my kid sis and her BF know people in the know. Our two course a la carte excursion seemed to blossom into five extra courses! Let's see how I do.
Amuse - lobster cappuccino: not so much, but this was not an augury of bad tidings by any means.
1 - Foie gras with pomegranate - a generous portion and absolutely perfect. I slight bit of char on the perimiters to foil the buttery flavor with the tart tinge of the fruit reduction. Marvelous.
2 Lobster bisque with ginger (compliments of the chef) - one piece of lobster and a few pieces of soft fragrant ginger in a smooth creamy base. Thanks!
3. Goulash with spaetzle - the beef was way tender, but the sauce was amazing. Probably eating the pasta with the sauce eclipsed the actual meat.
4. Pan seared hallibut, with fava beans and ginger (compliments of the mutha-fucken' hoooooouse!)
5. Deserts! Real apple strudel with Tahitian vanilla ice cream. Quite nice, but...
Elderberry gelee with white chocolate mouse (compliments of the chef)- indescribable. We all wanted to have seconds.
AND chocolate creme brulee with banana ice cream (again, compliments of the chef)- brilliant as well.
Sis' BF had a desert with pumpkin seed ice cream that was really fun to boot.
AND each of us got a chocolate souffle with chocolate chip ice cream (dare I say, at the risk of sounding redundant: COMPLIMENTS OF THE OOOONLY CHEF!)
And a plate of tasty treats from the Bouley bakery that we could not consume and a take home bag of extra sweets for "the lady" - no, not me.
More to come about the Little Owl and Sbarro in Times Square (yes! The ironic, bitter funny part) - to follow soon.
The Little Owl
http://thelittleowlnyc.com/
What a charming little place. 20 seats and jam packed full of happy looking diners in the middle of the West Village.
Started with the boquerones salad - I could have had seconds. The waitress described this as a "deconstructed Cesar salad" but it wasn't that fancy. Perfectly large white anchovies with romaine and bread crumbs - exactly what a starter should be -- got me started. The pork chop was all that. Must be since it was called "The Pork Chop." I wonder how they get the flavor to permeate through all that thickness, and the dandelion greens underneath were a perfect foil. I found myself fool heartedly trying to consume the juices from the bottom of my plate with my fork to no avail. The funny thing is that the chop was "medium rare" (?!?!?!?) Could this be? I thought that the fear of various creepy crawly things were a genuine fear. Didn't seem to factor into the equation as the meat tasted perfectly cooked. The raspberry beingets were more like mini jelly filled donuts, but one order for three with the Nutella was just enough to end the meal. Big ups to the team for this one. Loved the cozy space and vibe throughout.
Teany
http://www.teany.com/index.html
Moby's tea room in the lower East side was an apropos apres culture trip after my jaunt through the Tenement Museum: http://tenement.org/vizinfo.html.
Yes, Moby, the bald headed techno hippy who has changed the face of TV commercial soundtracks forever. A simple order of grilled farmhouse cheddar toasts with ploughman’s pickle and sliced tomato and the de rigeur soy chai latte was a lovely afternoon snack in the middle of profound gentrification. One sight of note: the two ladies sitting at the window reading their books and not speaking to each other. Reminds me of that Sandra Bernhard routine where she is a child coming home for lunch, announcing to her mom that she will "have a side order, ma'am!) and ignores her!
Sbarro
http://www.sbarro.com/
OK, for people who have traveled to NYC and are not the sorts who think that waving cardboard signs in front of Al Roker's face is a good time, the 7th Ave/Sbarro combo might bring upon small shutters. But in the pouring rain awaiting my matinée of "Grey Gardens" http://greygardensthemusical.com/ , it was a somewhat welcome respite from the downpour. Shockingly, the pizza station had a man actually throwing the dough in the air, and not in that showy way that Lucy tried to master back in the day. So, I felt that perhaps I was going to be afforded something passable. I had a slice of white and indeed, it was just fine and not objectionable in any way. The supposed "best pie in NYC" is often a lot of hype and truth be told, the best pizza in New York, in by book, was at a little family owned joint in Carrol Gardens, Brooklyn, of which I cannot remember the locale. What made the Sbarro experience was the crowd: groups of junior high school students, German pensioners, people who had flashed their "Hot Grannies from Duluth" signs for the Today Show cameras. For people who are itching to get to New York because it is so damn hip, I invite them to spend some quality time in the 40s with a requisite slice in the basement dining hall of Sbarro. Even Hollywood and Highland ain't this good.
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OK, so my short term memory is shot! But I will do the best I can to recount the lovely meal that I had at what is often touted as being LA's best restaurant du jour:
Amuse Bouche: Tiny mug of carrot soup with curry foam and a little side of seafood salad - muy yummy.
1. Kanpachi with lime foam and gel - also way tasty.
2. Uni sabayon with black truffle - I dreamed about this twice last night, for reals.
3.Scallops that were to die for - can't remember the exact preparation for the life of me.
4. Pea soup with eggless flan - the weakest link in the chain I thought, but really quite impressive nonetheless.
5. John Dory with rhubarb and cinnamon foam - the cinnamon worked extraordinarily well with the fish.
6.Salmon with squash and black truffle sauce - quite a large fillet for a tasting menu with a really decadent sauce. And a bit of squash puree on the side with the salmon skin, like a fishy chicharon.
7.Cheese - a goat, a sheep and a blue with walnut bread, toasted walnuts, and a fig. The blue was off the chain.
8. Kalamansi soda with vanilla ice cream - amazing desert. Very fun and a great blend of tastes. Perfect after the cheese.
Apricot Tube thing with white chocolate and olives - I like how the olives worked into the sweet dish, but it was a bit peculiar to eat for me. Still very very good, but I wanted chocolate.
Behold! A plate with chocolates (looked and tasted like they were from Boule - yum!) and a raspberry French macaroon for each of us.
Impeccable service that was also quite playful. In the midst of it all, I was very impressed, but maybe overwhelmed to the extent that there were a few "is that all there is?" moments during the three hours. Thank God for food blogging - writing it all down now in hindsight helps me to recognize what a singularly exceptional dining experience this was. Certainly not every week, but a good celebratory splurge fo' sho'.
- Quinn
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