Elegance weaves through this longer menu, one which was cut short before. James Syhabout’s subtle flavors pulse lightly throughout. Delicate sauces, some impossibly light and ethereal, turn up on several dishes and make the entire meal lighter. Proteins feel smaller and more integrated into their surrounding courses. This menu is now ruminative in its precision and deliberateness – tight and nearly perfect.

A quiet intensity naturally flows.

There is also difficulty in pinning the food down to a certain style. It is rather unique. Ingredients are fresh, farmed, foraged, and mostly local. There is much California in approach but its precision and technique is anything but figs on a plate. Plates might look Naturalist, but the similarities mostly end there. Its lushness might recall aspects of Nouvelle but the food is obviously more modern.³ Textures are well thought out but naturally blend into the fabric of dishes, without the daring of an El Bulli or Mugartiz. Maybe it is just Alameda Country processed through the Commis filter – which happens to be a captivating personal vision.

The food has always been good, and sometimes great, but the best dishes were trapped in a format that did not feel true to their aspirations. They were inhibited. In its first incarnation, Commis ran three courses with an amuse. Two small intricate dishes, very much of the leave them wanting more vein, a giant protein thud, and dessert. It was as if there were two menus. It jumped from the artistry of amuses to the large sustenance of proteins, without warning. Wooing and temptation with one bite; a forceful slam with the next.⁴

Picture a remarkable dish of vertical carrots, brown rice vinegar, honey, and seaweed. The seaweed brought out the umami in the earthy carrots, marrying earth and sea. The vinegar and honey tingled the senses, a sweet and sour pull that opened up the flavors on this spectacular dish. It was inspired work, then at the vanguard (2009) before the current vegetable craze. Cooking with flavor profiles instead of ingredients just made sense after eating this dish. But it was immediately followed with a large piece of grilled fish. There may have been bright flowers, or an in-season sauce, but the jump was too drastic. There was no flow.

So I waited for a longer menu. A second meal in 2010, with more courses, had similar moments – brilliance followed by odd serving sizes and incomplete jumps. Then the menu went back to four courses. And so I waited. For this meal.⁵ March 2013. When is the next reservation available?

A Pacific oyster was served with mustard cream under a mousse of pea leaves. Brine was the initial rush of flavor and then gave way to the the smoother vegetal-ness. A wave crashing and leaving the quiet foam behind. The mustard was subtle and filled in the edges – twirling and biting in the background. The luscious mousse was the first of several seductive sauces. Much of Commis is framed in this one bite – product, textures, and nuance.

Think of the mousse as it disappates. Syhabout really understands texture⁶ – silky sauces, crunchy contrasts, complementary components, and its timeline. Here he played off the silken similarities of stringy crab and wilted sprouts. Their densities however were very different and threw an interesting twist on the complements theme. Sweet and delicate, singular yet distinct, they showed off the the kitchen’s exactness. The bouillon, with dashes of grassy olive oil, was round and slightly fatty in the mouth. Secondary flavors of fennel and anise perked up at different points.

This was tremendous – light and subtle with a balance that hung with each bite. The herbs were subdued and lingered in the background, again, filling the space, expanding the range. Each spoonful had gravity despite its ethereal nature.

Looking like the garden floor, semi-dried beetroot, steamed apples, hazelnuts, and burnt honey followed next as immediate contrast – bolder, crunchier, substantive. Crispy at first, the beets hid a satisfying pate de fruit texture inside – a gumminess that quickly caught the teeth for an instant.⁷ Textures – gummy, soft, crunchy, and crisp. Every component had sweetness but the dish was balanced by the earthiness, the bitterness, and the nuttiness.

And then an orange yolk peeked out of a cloud.

There were immediate memories of another Syhabout egg dish that made my favorite bites of 2010. It was a masterpiece of textures with such a satisfying long, sweet finish.⁸ Flavor profiles, not ingredients. I suspect he also cooks and thinks in textures too.

Here, the richness of the yolk and the lushness of the potato puree delivered a single sensual note. Sweet and savory spices popped in and out with each bite. Somehow it maintained a lightness. Breadcrumbs underneath added textural contrast.

Surprise and mystery.

Veering slightly into the Commis of old, this grilled cod with artichokes, and sauce of Oregon truffles was a nice piece of fish. It was cooked beautifully. The skin was crisp, though our inner Yelpers felt it could have been crispier. The essence of the truffle sauce, for it was barely there, cast slight earthy notes with the dense fish. The vegetables broke up the (many) similar bites of protein. It seemed large. At this point, some people might prefer more substance but this felt slightly disconnected from the previous dishes.

Sitting at the counter, the recommended seat, one sees some action and plating. Cuts of saddle were frequently being chopped before being whisked away for their final presentation. It looked like the protein punch, coming on the heels of the fish. Would this cut maintain any of the delicacy of earlier dishes? Or had we veered into that second menu again, where the protein mains bear little relation to the earlier courses? It was presented as a calf’s saddle roasted in salted butter and plated with young green garlic and grasses. Black trumpet mushrooms and dehydrated cauliflower also sat to each side.

What grows together goes together came to mind. Or perhaps a variation: Meat goes with what it eats.

The grasses and garlic, some raw, others dehydrated, immediately hooked into the grass notes of the calf.⁹ They danced around in a torrent of secondary flavors with the butter. It was a joy to eat – to chase these flavors around in the mouth. The crispness too was balanced just right for the tender meat. This was a sensational dish. It was a sensational end to the savory menu – a (rare) protein course with daring.

Could I have another please?

Sweet enough, desserts by Joshua Meisman carried over similar themes from the savory menu. Vegetables and herbs made appearances, similar textures recurred, and stabs of flavor were well placed. Cara cara pudding had acidic hints but was largely smooth and mellow, with just the right shock, of taste, texture, and temparture, of a sassafras ice. A refreshing recharge.¹⁰

Oro blanco jelly, with its sweetish mellow flavor, made a wonderful and unexpected pairing with cocoa nibs. The combination brought out the fruitiness, and acidity, of both components. And both paired smoothly with a sweetish parsnip mousse and parsley milk.

And that is Commis with eight courses.¹¹

This meal was the one I was waiting for. It is what I imagined when I thought of a Commis tasting menu, in those years before one. The portions were cut down from previous visits, allowing the delicate flavors and textures to maintain their character over the entire meal. The ephemeral sauces keep one wanting from one dish to the next. And with more courses, the chain of want is strong. The effortless matching of ingredients distinguish Commis – creative but rarely strained – quiet but very confident.

With this menu, two stars in October.¹²

- chuck

1 – It seems like everyone claims their food “tells a story” these days but I think that is sometimes too literal. The dishes themselves, composed of ingredients, flavors, technique, textures, and temperatures, have a natural rhythm and patterns through an extended menu. They themselves tell a tale, before seasonal, cultural, and historical associations are layered on top of the narrative.

To date, there are a few instances where this was very clear to me. At Pierre Gagnaire, in what was arguable my best Western meal ever, the textures of liver and seafood over several courses built to a crescendo before softly fading over the last two dishes. At Urasawa, shrimp was repeated throughout the meal in different guises – raw, brains, roe, that, that. It was a character whose story was being told that day. And at Masa (Tokyo), where similarly fish were repeated, a pattern I could just touch upon but not discern, something fleeting and just out of my grasp.

2 – I’m sure you’ve seen the articles. I won’t link to them because they were written to be linked to. Troll bait is the future of journalism (or has it always been?) If you don’t like the practice of tasting menus, it is very easy to avoid such restaurants. Besides, in today’s current commercialized environment, it won’t be too long before you see your favorite tasting menu chef in the frozen food isle; so just wait a bit longer if you dislike tasting menus.

3 – I’m currently reading Great Chefs of France by Anthony Blake and Quentin Crewe. As they describe the history of dining in France, it seems as if every generation described their food as “lighter, more about the ingredients.” La Varenne in the 1600s, Menon in the 1700s, Escoffier in the 1900s, and Gault and Millau in the 1960s. And I still find contemporary French food heavy! Marinated meat, espagnole thickened with flour, probably over-cooked by today’s standards, everything served at once – I can’t fathom how heavy it was in, say, 1720?!?

4 – When I write that a tasting menu was needed at Commis, I am strictly speaking from a diner lens. I obviously have no knowledge of the business side, what Syhabout thinks the market, an area he has called home most of his life, needs. In a brief conversation at dinner, he said it’s a function of the small space and the market – ferreting out a common ground between neighborhood spot and ambitious restaurant.

5 – How did I end up here? Admittedly, there are a few places I need to re-visit within the Bay Area. When Tasty Bits gave me a few choices, Commis seemed to be the best pick; and I was sold when he said they only offered the eight-course tasting menu.

6 – With a Big Green Egg, I chanced upon a way to cook very small beets to this consistency while using the cool-down period for cooking. Put them into the Egg when it’s cooling down. Assuming it’s around 350-400 degrees, cap it off completely, and let the beets sit in there until the Egg has cooled down to 0. The beets will cook, slightly dehydrate themselves, and absorb the smoke within. Take them out, peel, and refrigerate for the next day. I always find their smokiness is more intense the next day – just like I like them. If you are slow-cooking a shoulder, throw them in at any time, and experiment with the textures of different time durations.

7 – An oft-repeated mantra is “it’s all about the taste.” I don’t completely agree. Texture for me is just as important. I sometimes wonder if I remember texture more than flavor. It often defines a dish. Ice cream is arguably texture, not a taste. Pasta is more about shape, and thus texture. The best dishes are able to work across a few dimensions – where ingredients can fulfill at least taste and texture balance or contrast. When I see puffed rice, I am quick to judge: they are thinking about texture but is this the best textural component? I happen to love puffed rice so maybe the answer is yes!

8 – This could be my favorite egg dish of all-time; even better than the l’Arpege egg. Below is what I wrote about the egg dish in my Perfect Meal 2010 post:

The ubiquitous egg of 2010, mandated by PR firms as menu necessities, was omnipresent in restaurants. Uneven ingredient and conceptual quality rendered it tiresome. Not the case at Commis. This riff on the infamous l’Arpege egg was indeed world-class, belonging in conversations with its ultimate influence. Its yolk was half-cooked to an exceedingly satisfying texture throughout – particularly in context with the textural contrasts of the oats and onion puree at the bottom. Near the finish, the jam lent its sweetness, lasting for ten seconds or more, as the oats were chewed.

(photo by The Ulterior Epicure from a meal we shared together, used with permission.)

9 – What grows together, goes together could perhaps be modified to Serve it with what it eats. Good grass-fed beef can have strong grass notes. Grass, then, is a natural pairing that can pick up on those flavors and play with them. John Shields served a Beef Cheeks with hay-infused milk at Town House that was also remarkable.

Ryugin served foie gras with aichi figs since the figs were used to fatten the goose.

It seems like fun territory to continue exploring.

10 – Sassafras is a strong taste and it’s possible some might find it too strong. But I love root beer, and I love root beer floats even more. My preferred float requires leaving the soda out for one day so it loses some of its carbonation. The foam that develops from a fizzy soda hitting ice cream must be minimized. A somewhat flat root beer mixes better with the ice cream, slightly softening its edges so they can be sliced off with a spoon. The effect is something like a glacier that is shedding ice; here, the slightly icy ice cream sits in a broth of root beer – perhaps my favorite dessert. And what is my favorite root beer? Sparky’s, of course, with its intense hit of wintergreen!

11 – One more dessert, or amuse, would have been perfect. After my first meal, I left hungry, despite ordering an extra course. Here, I felt sated. A vegetable-forward amuse could have been interesting. An extra dessert would have been nice too – I feel tasting menus usually have one less dessert than needed. (My general opinion? Skip mignairdeses and do a proper course – mignardises look impressive but rarely satisfy.)

12 – This meal was two Michelin star quality. If they stick with this current eight course menu arrangement until October; I could see the Michelin Man going for two. And if you’ve read this blog long enough, you’ll already know that I called both Saison and Atelier Crenn in the seasons before their respective two stars awards.

It was a domestic year with zero passport stamps. An island enchanted me for two days. There, I discovered a new chef and found new perspectives on old favorites. In New Jersey, a day trip from the city, an exciting meal showed two chefs ready for a national stage. In red-hot Charleston, the puzzle pieces of history and modern came together in a remarkable conversation with the past. And the embers kept slowly burning, faint smoke and bitter char, gripping me over and over again. There was no Paris. No Tokyo. No San Sebastian. But the blank pages of 2012 were filled instead with interesting chefs in the United States.

Even then, I failed to make the trek. Ubuntu alumn Justin Yu is celebrating the vegetable at his restaurant Oxheart in Houston. Viet Pham, nearby in Salt Lake City, is doing interesting work at Forage. Blue Hill Stone Barns eluded me yet again, despite being in New York; and I missed the Atera and Blanca openings by a few weeks. There was no way I could make it to Nashville for Catbird Seat, The Dorrance in Providence, or Yusho in Chicago. Los Angeles seemed like a million miles away.

San Francisco, my own city, was a hub for guest chef dinners and I missed out on all of them. Ben Shrewy, John Shields, Ideas in Food, Matthias Merges, the entire 12 Days of Christmas, Jeremy Fox, Jeremiah Langhorne, Scott Anderson, and many more. Missed opportunities.

Still, I ate very well in 2012 – one of the better dining years yet. Every high-end meal, save one that I just do not get, was very good to excellent. Food in America, all of America, has arrived. Every region has a world-class restaurant, many with a few.¹ The areas outside of Michelin coverage are bubbling with talent. Here are my favorite dishes of 2012, imagined as a perfect meal.² Only restaurants that allowed pictures are included.³

Smoked beet w/ chocolate, balsamic, & woodruf from Sean Brock at Willows Inn First Harvest Dinner

Sean Brock has been a staple of guest chef dinners. This smoked beet showed him in the perfect guest appearance. Stripped down, Brock was in elemental mode, practicing the Southern alchemy of fire and smoke. This smoked beet was a stand-out of the night. Smoked for many hours (did we wake up to their scent?), they had a great mix of smoke, mineral, sweet, & acidity. A perfect little bite that engulfed the mouth with flavor – more.

Vegetables, fermented anchovy from Saison: My Favorite Meal of 2012

Vegetables are in, Michel Bras is a household name, and similar dishes are sourced from restaurant farms – all is good. Four years ago, none of this was true. A dish, or bowl, of freshly-picked vegetables can still stand out vibrantly in a tasting menu – as an introduction, a pause, or a statement.

Here, a bowl of crudites, both farmed and foraged, sparkled in their clarity. Where are the anchovy dew drops in the Laguiole morning mist? Tucked underneath was a small Iberico ham ravioli. There was glory without it. A small brussel sprout hid in one rendition and it was more tender and sweet than any I’ve had before. A breathtaking bowl of vegetables.

Berries, grass soup, queen’s anne flowers, thyme from Willows Inn – Island as Plate

It was a sunny day and vines strangled the roadside bushes. The roads blushed with color – red dots, white puffs, and purple stains. Sun-ripened berries hung supple and plump, dangling on the vines or splattered on the road. It is the best time of the year anywhere. Of the place, in the place, the brush in a bowl – this was Lummi Island, July, plated.

Each bite was different. The tartness and astringency of the red current might dominate one mouthful before the sweet grass broth refreshed the next. Each berry broke down differently in the bite. Herbaceous tones inflected each slurp – so many dimensions and angles to the flavor. It could be served as dessert; instead, it was the official welcoming to Lummi Island – this is why we’re here. And this dish is one reason why Blaine Wetzel rocketed up my list of favorite chefs.

Glass eels, curly cress, trout roe from Elements – Explorations

Sunchoke ceviche, shima-aji puree from Elements – Explorations

Dubbed “Noodles of the sea” by the table, the glass eels demonstrated how the elements team deconstructed Japanese into their own brand of New Jersey, with perfect calibration. The roe popped salinity, mixed with spicy inflections of cress and horseradish cream, as the eels were slurped down. Excellent use of texture – pop, the slight rough of the cress, a few bits of nori, and the silkiness of the eels. In many ways, it exemplified elements’ cooking – unique ingredients, house-curing, and foraged bits.

Sunchoke ceviche reversed the traditional notion with a fish puree supporting the earthy vegetable. Roasted tomatillo punctuated with spice but lent a smoky background note. Miscellaneous freshwater plants, “duck food”, added texture and greenery. It nailed the essence of ceviche with new ingredient combinations. And it was also my favorite dish of the elements’ meal – superb. elements is a restaurant that is worth the (small) effort.⁴

cuttlefish, strawberry, smoked roe from Aubergine – Fog of the Sea

Strawberry and cuttlefish haunted as a careful orchestration of unlikely partners. With each bite, the roe popped, burst into brine, and finish with a taste of smoke. And sweetness would cling to the smoke. The strawberries too would breach, bright and acidic at first, but left a faint sweetness that paired with the smoke. They mingled with the chew of the cuttlefish textures. A stunning work of art from Justine Cogley – a Charlie Trotter veteran. If you’re visiting the Bay Area, blaze down the 1 or through the mountains, and allocate a night for Carmel two hours away – believe.

Smoked salmon from Willows Inn – Island as Plate

Early in the morning, puffs of smoke emanate across the grounds of Willows Inn and mix with the ocean overcast. Salt and smoke fill the crisp air. It is the soul awakening – the smokehouse. You see the white puffs driving into the parking lot. Its smells lazily cling in the air around the inn. And it competes with the sun-setting horizon as one of two views outside the restaurant. On an island teeming with artists, the Willows Inn team too has elevated their craft to an art with this traditional device.

Caught nearby using old Indian netting methods, the salmon was thrown into the smoker. After smoking all day at very low temperatures, the fish is served directly from the smokehouse. The first plates begin scenting the room, and the smell builds with each new serving. It sweats, with little if any albumen, but mostly it smells – wonderful. Each bite captures the mouth with smoke, letting faint sweet touches out. Its texture is creamy with a raw warm center. It is a remarkable piece of fish.

Charleston Ice Cream from McCrady’s – Seeds of Muse and Obsession

Creamy, buttery, nutty with just enough flowers and herbs to cut its richness. The smell was intoxicating – of butter and nuts – and, on a cool February Charleston evening, with fireplace crackling, it was also the smell of warmth and comfort. And it was the smell of history,⁵ of reclamation, of talking to the past, of imagining the glory where an entire city and region was defined by a simple grain. It was the centerpiece of the menu, the restaurant, and it was just rice.

A signature dish.

A successful decoder ring, an unambiguous statement of “this is what we do.” It encompassed everything about Brock and McCrady’s and focused it on one plate. It is a relatively simple product, taken to an obsessive level. Brock claims this is the dish that changed the way he cooks. After six meals over four years, I agree.

30-day venison tartar, shaved smoked venison, wild rose, cress, blackberry from Willows Inn – Island as Plate

The single red meat dish of this Willows Inn dinner was the first official course – venison tartar. This immediately piqued my curiosity – how would this work? I’ve challenged the narrative where red meat must conclude a tasting menu in previous posts. If used as supporting role, or in smaller portions, the satisfaction from eating red meat could be used earlier in the menu. However, very few chefs venture beyond the protein with a side of vegetable or puree – a caricature of the possibilities.

A tartar was made from 30-day aged venison, whose game and minerality gave the dish backbone. Shaved smoked venison, mostly seen in the photo, perfumed and enveloped the mouth, smoothing the strong flavors of the meat. This was already great. Cress and blackberry jabbed with pepper and tartness, bringing dimension to different bites. But those glorious notes of the wild rose! They complemented the smoke above and the game below, engulfing the dish with a wonderful light floral quality.

Flowers are omnipresent on today’s menus, in appearance, but why are their floral flavors not more fully explored in the savory?

And again venison – this time smoked over tea and sitting atop luscious duck liver. Still bloody red and tender, each bite packed a wallop of earthy smoke. This smoke formed a backbone for the dish as the sweet notes of the duck liver danced around. Puffed rice added a bit of contrasting texture.

Duck liver, venison lightly smoked over tea from Aubergine (post will come)

Old tuna, old beef from Saison – My Favorite Meal of 2012

38-day wood pigeon, cured things from Saison (meal never written)

Saison continued their protein aging dishes in 2012, often in small but powerful quantities. There was aged tuna macerated in Burgundy, tuna ham, 38-day Mendocino lamb, 88-day beef, and other small pieces of funky protein over the course of a few meals. The fish is the most interesting, as it is still a black art, but the composed dishes of aged meat are surprising in their restraint.

Old tuna, old beef, a humble name for the minerality- and salinity-driven proteins, grass and seawater in an infinite tug between surf and turf. Old tuna, old beef, but just as importantly, Pungent Herbs, as they stand against the slightest funk of age.

My dish of the year. From my meal of the year.

The 38-day wood pigeon was intense but just short of a cheesy funk. The pickled things provided some interesting pairings – cherry blossom, dragon berry, olive, pear, & more. All of the intensity of a late-stage meat course without the heavy palm-sized baggage.

Kerre Melk Stampers by Kobe Desramaults in Willows Inn First Harvest Dinner

Sometimes the dish is merely a wow. Here, a collective wow silenced much of the dining room. Kobe’s Kerre Melk Stampers was his take on a traditional Belgium dish but it still retained his trademarks. Potato, buttermilk, peas, goat whey, and arugula – everyday ingredients. Dairy is used more for its acidity. This dish expertly straddled a line between lightness and creaminess, with just enough richness to be pleasurable. It was my favorite dish of the night and, for that, unfortunately, my notes are bare. In de Wulf should be on everyone’s food itinerary.

Frozen pine from Aubergine (post will come)

Snow fell in Carmel just before the New Year with this sublime dish of liquid nitrogen cream cheese flavored with pine. Every bite was just a touch gummy, requiring an extra chew that swathed the mouth with strong pine notes. Seated by the window, you could just feel the Holiday air rush in. And that chew was just so satisfying! A small tang from the sour cream hung on the finish. Followed by the Candy Cap, Maple, Sorrel below, these two desserts were a stunning end to my last meal out in 2012. Eat your Christmas Tree!

Elements of Coal and Ash from Atelier Crenn (post never written)

Pastry chef Juan Contreras has a flair for dramatic presentation but his desserts taste even better than they look. Newly minted two Michelin stars, it could be argued he is completely under-the-radar. Here, eggplant is used as dessert, braised in chai spices. Smoked cashew ice cream resonates with the visual cues of coal and ash. The Food Fashionista has an excellent breakdown of the dessert, its components, and techniques. Contreras is the perfect pairing for Crenn.

Preserved carrot, hazelnut praline, spruce, white chocolate by John Shields in Willows Inn First Harvest Dinner

John Shields also has a way with liquid nitrogen but there was none on Lummi Island. And, as mentioned in the Willows Inn First Harvest Dinner post, this dessert was so good that notes suffered. It is John Shields making dessert – that alone says enough!

There were more.⁶

And what of next year?

Sweden, it calls. Frantzén/Lindeberg looks stunning. Ekstedt could be caricature or brilliance, and I’m hoping for the latter. Of course, Faviken. Australia looks very interesting right now – Attica, Royal Mail Hotel, Garagistes (Tasmania), and others. Japan, oh Japan – Sawada still takes my breath away.

Locally, Saison moves to a new space. Justin Cogley just wowed me last week at a marvelous Aubergine dinner. Somehow, I did not manage to make it to Trey Foshee’s Tbl 3 last year. Meadowood is a must for 2013. Canlis, Forage and Oxheart are not that far away. Suna, The Dorrance, Wolvesmouth, Yusho, Grace, Providence, Blanca, the list goes on. And I always have a blast in Charleston, always.

- chuck

1 – Why are there so many end of the year lists? I like Frank Chimero’s post on the strong desire for edges and structure.

And if you asked me tomorrow what my favorite dishes of 2012 were, the list would probably change. This is very difficult to put together and I’m sure I missed something. And I may have eaten something better but I like to use this yearly post to showcase what I find most interesting and very good.

2 – Without an understanding of their economics, I think Michelin should make a US guide for starred restaurants. The results would be surprising. While there probably would not be any additional three-star restaurants, there are enough two-stars, and many many one-stars to make an interesting publication. And road trips are the best!

3 – Actually, the only restaurant that did not allow photos was Masa, New York, where A Life Worth Eating and I shared a meal. Which is a shame. Every item on the menu would be considered for this post. It is, bar none, the best sushi in America – for ingredient and rice quality. It is not the greatest experience but it is amazing food – equal to a Tokyo three-star. Beef supplements ($150), truffle supplements($100+), and $50 ice cream truffle sundae supplements add insult to injury. Our meal, at just under three hours, was my longest of five meals there; usually, it’s an hour and half tops.

4 – In fact, given their work with meats, seafood, and fermentation; I will go further and say 2013 might be the year elements breaks through and receives the acclaim they deserve.

5 – Considered one of the foundations of historical Charleston cuisine, and culture; Charleston Gold Rice nearly came and went within three-hundred years. It is a long grain rice that is very aromatic and flexible in its starchiness. It was exported and known world-wide as one of the world’s best rices. It fell out of favor during the Great Depression and was left for dead. If not for the work Dr Richard Shulz, and later Anson Mills, it may still be sitting in the USDA seed bank.

6 – Other impressive dishes from the year:

crab, peas, fava – Aubergine

Raw scallop w/ fennel & rose water – McCrady’s

Local waters octopus, mussels, squid ink juices, lemon thyme, truffle bread puree

tuna ham, dried sea urchin, tuna gelee – Saison

“kamado-san” – kani gohan, dungeness osumashi, & pickles – Kyle Connaughton

liver, toffee, milk, bread, beer – Saison

85-day dry-aged & cured wagyu ribeye, emulsified wagyu fat – Elements

Burgundy-macerated aged tuna – Saison

Atelier Crenn

Husk fried chicken

Candy cap, maple, sorrel – Aubergine

Follow the embers to the wild and the pure.

The wild creeps in, maybe mistaken for decoration, with an Emersonian edge. Bitter flowers jabbed at the silkiness of a warm chawanmushi custard with tender sweet peas. A bowl of crudites, both farmed and foraged, sparkled in their clarity. Where are the anchovy dew drops in the Laguiole morning mist? And where was the soil? Old Beef, Old Tuna,¹ but just as importantly, Pungent Herbs, stand against the age. Wild fennel lent a fleeting sweetness to nettles and Montana golden trout. Small vibrant hues as foils for the naturally sweet and rich.

And the pure sea in all its forms. Rich white sturgeon caviar. Pristine Fort Bragg uni. From fresh scallops to live abalone. “Just kissed by the embers”, the faintest touch of smoke stuck to the saline notes of a kelp-cured sea bream. The purity of the tuna spinal fluid, like a shot of the purest ocean. Hearthed uni sat atop tuna ham, caked a bit like dried salt. One dehydrated by flame, the other by time,² a distilled interplay of complex brine, each bite a wave. Old beef, old tuna, a humble name for the minerality- and salinity-driven proteins, grass and seawater in an infinite tug between surf and turf. Macerated in Burgundy, a “very old” piece of bluefin tuna gushed with Earthy spoils.

Skenes’s food lies bare on the plate. There is not much to hide behind, just nature, age, and fire.³ His technique is a caress. The aging is transformation. The minimalism close to absolute. But it’s a soft, balanced sparseness; not angular or cold. Butter muddles few of the dishes. Fat is spare too.⁴ There is a Japanese spirit to the food.

This meal was special.⁵ Having correctly predicted two stars for Saison last year, I expected three this past October. This meal, and others, was of that level. And this was my favorite meal of 2012.⁶ But, for now, the pictures will tell the rest of the story.

rhubarb soda, coriander flower, candied grapefruit

grilled peas & parmesan

white sturgeon caviar, ember-roasted chicken glee, fort bragg uni

kelp-cured sea bream, cherry blossom, mountain yam

scallop, kumquat

tuna spinal fluid – light taste of sea

kindai tuna tartar

tuna ham, dried sea urchin, tuna gelee

golden Montana trout & its roe, wild nettles

poached egg, leek, oyster leaf, oyster foam

crudites, fermented anchovy, iberico ham lardo ravioli

roasted turnip, sea urchin

brassicas

old tuna, old beef

dungeness crab, daikon, okra, consomme of crab brains & shells

abalone, abalone liver

liver, toffee, milk, bread, beer

rabbit ‘a la royale’

aged bluefin, macerated in Burgundy, marrow, beets, chocolate mint

38-day Mendocino lamb

gabietou cheese

lemon

wild strawberries, olive oil cake, nasturtium ice cream

mignardes

caneles cooked in the hearth⁷

This was my last meal at the old location. It felt right for the cooking. I watched the new location razed down, and built back up, as I walked through (my old) neighborhood. Now, old brick fronts a new, modern building. Supposedly, the new dining room has no separation from the kitchen. I eagerly await Saison 3.0 in 2013. Follow the embers to the wild and pure.

- chuck

1 – My next post, next Monday, will be my Best Dishes of 2012. There were some quiet dining room moments – stunning, silent pauses around the country – but Old Beef Old Tuna was my favorite bite of the year.

2 – In the last Saison review, I asked how the aged proteins might be incorporated into the menu. After four meals, it’s clear Skenes is aware of their power, even more so in small portions. The small pieces of aged meat carry more flavor than the traditional protein punches at the ends of menus, without their heft.

3 – Perhaps the food equivalent of Blood Meridian-era Cormac McCarthy. Blood Meridian is my favorite book. It manages to convey the totality of life and death with every sentence. His sparse sentences, without much ornamentation, give them a brooding weight. Every word matters.

4 – The Crudites has ravioli made of iberico ham sitting at the bottom of the bowl. It’s soft, melting, sweet, and decadent; but I think the dish stands just as strong, if not stronger, without it.

5 – This meal took place in September at the Chef’s counter. Skenes knew I was coming in but the counter was the counter – the other party received the same dishes. There won’t be a counter in the new place.

6 – Willows Inn and McCrady’s were also contenders, but the Saison aesthetic hits the bullseye for me right now. That said, I’ll be the first person to sign up for a Skenes/Brock or Skenes/Wetzel collaboration dinner – the smoking and wild foods possibilities!

7 – These were good but the canales at Boulette’s Larder are better. The hearth’s smoke was a great touch. I haven’t tried new pastry chef Shawn Gawle’s version yet. Boulette’s makes 24 canales per day. Until recently, when they only made twelve, a visit to The Ferry Building was often met with heartbreak.

Sean Brock saw a realm of smoke. John Shields catalouged the environment and found plants in full blushing bloom. Dotting the bay, fishing boats must have piqued Jason Fox’s curiosity for the waters below. Kobe Desramaults, too, thought of weeds and herbs – and the dairy of such diets. And with its salty breeze and clear air, Lummi Island must have reminded Kyle Connaughton of Hokkaido. For Blaine Wetzel, it is merely home.

The First Harvest Dinner was held at Willows Inn on Lummi Island. It was to be a celebration of harvest and bounty. Chef Blaine Wetzel asked his team to write down the names of five chefs they wanted to cook alongside. The most frequent names were invited out for four nights of foraging, fishing, farming, and cooking two dinners. A get-away to a get-away.

The restaurant experience of the final list deftly read like an in-the-know gastronaut’s dream tour: Townhouse, McCrady’s, In de Wulf, Commonwealth, Michel Bras Hokkaido, Fat Duck, noma, and Husk. The cooks at Willows Inn have great taste. Many of the invited chefs cook in a way that would honor the island. Would shedding their proper jobs for a few days unleash something new, creative, or even profound?

2012 was the year of the guest dinner – every week yielded some new possibility.² At odds with their often expensive cost is the quality – it is hard to pull off. Rarely true collaborations, the meals feel herky jerky, abruptedly changing direction with each course. The visiting chef is in a new kitchen, working with new talent, with potentially new ingredients: new ideas and new experiments. New, new, new does not always materialize immediately; but it might later pay dividends for the chefs. For this, guest dinners might be considered as patronage supporting an art.³

This dinner was quite good.⁴ With this line-up, how could it not be?

Note-mode was for the previous night at Willows Inn proper – one of my best meals this year (opinions of Blaine’s dishes below can be found in that review.⁵) This night was more social, and drinking, so notes and photography suffered some. Dinner followed a similar routine as the night before – cocktails in the hotel lobby and outside decks, with groups being ushered in at dinner time. Everyone was seated, and served, within a half hour of each other. It is a proper way to dine when staying somewhere – please just show up by 7pm.⁶

Meals at Willows Inn begin with a series of snacks – small bites, analogous to amuse bouches, that percolate and brighten – quick taste and texture diagnostics for the palate. Restaurants like noma serve them, as does In de Wulf. The Rhubarb and Lovage was a near-exact replica of what Kobe serves at the beginning of his own meals. Austere, lean, and, with two ingredients, a perfect summarization of Kobe’s cuisine – minimal. And yet, it has a signature.

Rhubarb & lovage – Desramaults

Kale leaf w/ rye & truffles – Wetzel

Magenta sprem gazpacho w/ cucumber – Fox

Stripped down, Brock was in elemental mode, practicing the Southern alchemy of fire and smoke. This smoked beet was a stand-out of the night. Smoked for many hours (did we wake up to their scent?), they had a great mix of smoke, mineral, sweet, & acidity. A perfect little bite that engulfed the mouth with flavor – you wanted more. His diminutive onion course, later, was similar. A sweet onion, bittered with char, peppery nasturtium, and a nice rye kick.

Smoked beet w/ chocolate, balsamic, & woodruf – Brock

Shigoku oyster w/ egg yolk & coastal plants – Shields

The Shields plate often looks like wild nature. He also has a gift for pairing similar textures. At a Townhouse meal, Sheets of Cuttlefish & Pork Fat melted identically in the mouth, their differing savoriness identifying each ingredient. Here, the oyster and egg yolk both gobbed with fattiness. With each bite, the leafy and crunchy plants sang with tartness and salt, with shifting tones of sweetness and brininess. Shields has a gift for dimension and layering without feeling too busy.

Despite their troubles at finding the right place,⁷ the Shieldses (both John and Karen) will go down as one of this generation’s best talents – cult figures. Answering yes to Did you eat at Townhouse? will become a small badge of honor for those who made the trek to Chilhowie. John in particular has been busy guest-chef’ing and one should make every effort to catch him in the wild.

Crispy halibut skin w/ razor clams – Wetzel

Sockeye salmon tartar, fennel, huckleberry, horseradish, & sea beans – Fox

Sockeye salmon tartar found Jason Fox mixing techno with a natural bent. The salmon was fresh, fished off the shore less than a mile away. The seasoning of fennel and sea beans lent a seasonal lightness to the fatty fish. But the frozen huckleberry balls were too abrasive, in texture and temperature. If served in their natural forms, while still utilizing the same taste profile, this dish would have clicked better for me.⁸

Moving from raw to the barely cooked, Blaine’s smoked salmon stunned as it did the previous night. An accomplished chef at the next table shook his head – damn.

Smoked salmon – Wetzel

Summer cabbage, red currant, coriander flowers – Wetzel

Grilled onion, nasturtium, goat cheese, rye – Brock

Crispy nasturtium wrapped spot prawn w/ green garlic emulsion – Fox

Venison heart, red currants, rhubarb, shitake – Brock

Quinoa w/ pinenut butter & coriander – Shields

Brock’s meat course was perfect for this sunny day on Lummi Island. A shitake broth lent its umami to the minerality of the venison heart. The red currants and rhubarb popped bright and strong. This was firm meat which quenched that desire, but treaded lightly so late in the menu.

Sometimes the dish is merely a wow. Here, a collective wow silenced much of the dining room. Kobe’s Kerre Melk Stampers was his take on a traditional Belgium dish but it still retained his trademarks. Potato, buttermilk, peas, goat whey, and arugula – everyday ingredients. Dairy is used more for its acidity. This dish expertly straddled a line between lightness and creaminess, with just enough richness to be pleasurable. It was my favorite dish of the night and, for that, unfortunately, my notes are bare.

Kerre melk stampers – Desramaults

Burnt bread & peas – Desramaults

Kamado-san – charred leaks, seven grain rice, dungeness osumashi, sea lettuce – Connaughton

Connaughton is the best chef you’ve never heard of. He plated the infamous Gargouille at Michel Bras Hokkaido. Given how the Japanese strive for perfection, one can just imagine how the Hokkaido version compares to the Laguiole. Kyle then moved on to become Head Chef of Research at the Fat Duck. He is now part of Chipotle’s research team. Impressive credentials.

Connaughton ended the meal on a kaiseki note with Kamado-san – kani gohan (crab rice), dungeness osumashi (soup), and pickles. A humble dish to remind us of the extravagence of the earlier courses. Here, the smoky rice had a wonderful texture thanks to the crab meat and grains. Profound in its apparent simplicity.

(Note: You can read more, and buy, the double-lid donabu rice cooker pictured above, dubbed the “Kamado-san”, at Toiro Kitchen)

Wild berries dotted the Lummi Island landscape in September – red, blue, and purple spots everywhere. Kobe paired beetroot and wild berries with a near-savory goat curd ice cream. Creamy, with little sweetness, it allowed whey caramel to pop out with its sweet burnt notes at times. There were also earthy undertones to the dessert. Stylistically, I found this dessert much more satisfying that what he served at his restaurant last year.

And like Kobe’s Kerre Melk Stampers, Shields’s preserved carrot with white chocolate dessert was so good, the notes suffered. Karen Shields is America’s best dessert chef, bar none, but here her husband made a strong case for number two.

Beetroot & wild berries, goat curd ice cream, whey caramel – Desramaults

Preserved carrot, hazelnut praline, spruce, white chocolate – Shields

If you have read this blog post over the past year, a few of these names will pop out – and my praise is high. Their styles were similar enough to yield a continuous whole meal; and, to think, it was still largely improvised. To get the chefs out of the congresses and into the wild. Willows Inn is a destination and, with top caliber talent like this cooking, it makes for the perfect two-day stay. Next year’s Harvest Dinner should be a must-attend event.⁹

- chuck

1 – Yes, this is mostly the intro from my last Willows Inn review – it still captures the event. I’ve always liked the idea of musicians, or artists, sampling their own work. Has an author written a series of books that borrow from each other heavily? Repetition and patterns.

2 – My personal theory is that the Internet, specifically Twitter, has opened up lines of communication. When you follow the right people, you can see relationships begin and blossom online before your eyes. People working interesting projects get incorporated into smaller, more serious networks, filtration systems that help grow dreams.

Guest cheffing this year has also been driven by cookbooks. Instead of just giving a talk at a book store, cooking at a restaurant seems like an equally good promotional vehicle for a cook book.

3 – For my first contact, I would prefer to experience the chef completely in their own element and context. I used to hope the dinners would be true collaborations but that rarely, if ever, happened. And I have thought of previous guest dinners as auditions – but, outside of the Manresa/Redzepi dinner, few do the original justice. There is an analogy between recorded music and live performances – I’m usually a fan of the former overall; but agree there are more exciting moments in the latter. Of course, one could argue that every meal is a performance, subject to random whims of fancy and chance.

4 – On this night, I was a guest of the restaurant. But I flew in one day early, on my own dime, to try out the normal Willows Inn. Everyone at this meal had the exact same menu and each chef came out to every table to present most dishes. And I believe most, if not all, seats were by invitation only.

5 – You can read my review here: Willows Inn – Island as Plate. When asked by Opinionated About, one of my table companions, to list my favorite meal of the year; Willows Inn was on the very short list with Saison and McCrady’s (see Seeds of Muse and Obsession.)

6 – In fact, I think it is the height of dining when the restaurant shares a hotel. By removing the time slot, and giving you the table for the night, it takes much of the transactional feel out of the experience and ratchets up the you are a guest quotient. One can amble down when they are ready. And many of these same places just put the charge on your hotel bill. A lot of restaurants talk about their guest experience but very few escape the big reveal at the end – this was a transaction and here’s the bill!

At the top tier of restaurants, you could probably increase both the average bill, and customer satisfaction, by rolling the transaction into the hotel bill. (There is a downside – out of sight, out of mind – can also get one in trouble when it comes time to pick the third or fourth bottle of wine.)

7 – Without being privy to details, it is un-imaginable to me how a chef of John (and Karen) Shields’s caliber do not have investors banging on their doors to open a restaurant. Karen is the best dessert chef in the country – without equal. John is one of the very best chefs. To have them both in your restaurant…

8 – This is admittedly a problem I have with many seafood dishes that broach modern waters. Natural seafood, in a pristine state, is near perfection. Sitting atop vinegared rice, in their symbiosis, is the only true rival to its nakedness.

9 – Who would I love to see board the ferry next year? I think these chefs would fit right at home: Josh Skenes and his fire, Scott Anderson and Michael Ryan (Elements) looping the island on foraging expeditions, Justin Yu of Oxheart plucking vegetables from Nettle Farm, and Ben Shrewy representing international with his love of nature. Or just get the man himself out there – Rene Redzepi placed Willows Inn at the top of his bucket list.

CONVERSATIONS

Burkhard Bilger described the historical streak at Husk and McCrady’s as “a kind of revisionist history”, in an excellent New Yorker profile.¹ When the epiphany hits, especially at the more rustic Husk, it just makes sense that colonists would feast on such a vegetable, vinegar, and pork parade. But the label assumes Brock is trying to re-create the past and brand his version as authentic. Arguably, he is not.

He wants to “seek the truth” that “lies in history.” ² The cooking is a conversation with the past – asking questions and bridging cultures. To Mary Randolph and her many vegetable recipes – where his menus have shifted from pork to plant. To the yeoman farmers and slaves – where heirloom crops are cooked with modern technique. To Thomas Jefferson – would anyone have appreciated the Tennessee Truffle more? And to the city and region itself – “what does it mean to be a Southern restaurant in the Carolina Rice Kitchen?” Every plate from both restaurants continue the dialectics.³

History is recurring in Brock’s food but the motif is Carolina Lowcontry – then, now, and beyond. How accurate can texts describe the tastes of the past? There is only interpretation.⁴ The disconnects between past and present, the gaps in experience, can only be studied and iterated. Sometimes this results in a direct hit: “Hoppin’ John… was awful… until we discovered the seeds… then it made sense.” More often, it’s cycling through the many ongoing experiments inside the historic building – rooftop garden, house-made bottargas and ham, countless jars of fermenting blobs and picked vegetables – and giving them new context. Or it’s composing an iconic dish with precision and technique – like the elevation of fried chicken to an arguable Platonic ideal at Husk.⁵ The food draws connections between disparate points: historical, imagined, and “improved” – building on the culture of the place.

Sweet-tea brined fried chicken cooked in many fats at Husk.

Pig Ears / Pickled Onion / Marinated Cucumber – a Asian-influenced favorite at Husk. Asian? There was a relatively unknown Chinese presence in Charleston since the 18th century

The old smells and tastes of the Carolina Rice Kitchen are the ghosts that Sean chases. Seeds are an intermediary to that past. They are tools of reclamation – biological time machines – the truest link between his cuisine and yesteryear. Carolina Gold rice, benne, antebellum wheat, Abruzzi rye, Jimmy Red corn, and Sea Island red peas were foundations of America’s first creole cuisine – due in part to slaves, trading vessels, and crop rotations. Some, like Carolina Gold, were regarded internationally as the best. But golden ages die. Much of the farming knowledge and labor simply ran away after the Civil War and dispersed. The North’s Industrialization, focused on efficiency and profitability, eradicated the rest by the Great Depression. Lost was how the plants worked together to re-nourish the soil. And without the soil… Today, a plant could be sprouting for the last season, unknown in a random field. A few people are desperately looking for them, including Sean. It is a historical mystery with few clues, and diners are privy to glimpses of these investigations during meals at either restaurant.

“but it won’t be long before Charleston becomes a stop on their culinary itineraries.” – me, in my 2007 review of McCrady’s.

Husk crudites

AUTHENTICITY

It wasn’t always this way. Brock had a reputation for molecular from his stint at The Capitol Grille in Nashville. But it was the ingredients that surprised me during that first meal in Fall 2007. The meal still had an international flavor to it but touches like ham consomme, Tennessee truffles, local milk-fed pigs, and the by-catch wreckfish, from the brackish waters, were potential evidence of a transition. Brock had just started a garden, began raising pigs, but he had not yet delved obsessively into heirloom seeds and heritage animals (the latter was to come in a few short months.) The food had local ingredients and seasonal tastes, augmented by molecular techniques; but it had not yet embarked on its journey through the past, layering histories into the food.

Fast-forward five years later: James Beard recognized Brock’s talents, magazines can’t stop writing about him, and Husk is a national sensation.⁶ The experiments continue at McCrady’s but they are just as often based on product and preservation – pickling, fermenting, curing, dry-aging – as technique. The experiments with dashi – variations like toasted rice, cabbage, mushrooms – are not Southern per se; but they make sense in a Southern context. This is the revisionist history at play. It is also the influence of restaurants like noma, where what it means to be a cuisine of the place has been validated. And with its strict “below the Mason-Dixon line” limitations, Husk has also helped Brock realize the unlimited grand potential in his small region of the world.

It is not historical cuisine a la Epcot: it is not “authentic Southern cuisine” as written in cookbooks; it is merely “authentic Sean Brock.” This is chef, farmer, seed saver, plant hunter, anthropologist, and amateur scientist trying to find the best Southern flavors. Time is not a barrier. Fine dining is not going casual; instead, the market has embraced full expression of a chef. Fine dining now values journeys, obsessions, and personal style, outside of its limiting French and Spanish influences of the past. In fact, you could argue a premium is now placed on local cuisines. And McCrady’s is one of the most inspirational meals of this kind, for its commitment to a region and its history; and a chef that is obsessed with the journey through time – both past and future.

“What is Southern food?” – it is a question that is asked throughout…

Pork skins w/ Tennessee truffle

THE MEAL (FEBRUARY 2012)

More vegetables have made their way to the McCrady’s plate.⁷ It is somewhat ironic since, post-molecular, Sean became known, and celebrated, for pork. But vegetables are his first love – have you seen his arm? In Notes from a Kitchen (page 86), he says crudites were a very Southern dish and common at his family’s dinner table. It makes sense – vegetables are more plentiful than meat. As Jeffrey Steingarten wrote in his Vogue article, The Virginina Housewife cookbook had 14 recipes for pork; and 40+ recipes for vegetables.

Here, a seemingly simple slate plate of green strawberries paired with sweet grilled beets and arugula leaves – yes, please.⁸ It is a great transitional dish; full-flavored winter beets, full of sugar, with the lean-ness of acidic strawberries – spring is coming. Next, floral notes of rosewater beautifully brought out the sweetness of raw scallops. The fennel buds and sprigs were sharp. This was such a refreshing, but sensual, dish.

Beets w/ Ambrose Farms Strawberries

Raw scallop w/ fennel & rose water

Oyster & peppergrass – briny, green, acidic, sour

While walking through Charleston earlier in the day, the most beautiful city in America, we stopped for a tour of the Russell House. Russell was a wealthy merchant and his entire family, and their slaves, lived on the grounds. There were many mouths to feed. We sat in a waiting room before the tour and the docent noted we were sitting in the original kitchen – which was just a giant ravaging hearth. It was manned all day for the families and frequent parties. Obvious in retrospect, of course a hearth was the main cooking device.

Thanks in part to some incredible meals at Saison, I have become a little obsessed with cooking over wood fires, coals, and embers. Wouldn’t it be interesting, I thought, if Brock used more smoke at McCrady’s? (He later wondered this too.) It is the great smell of cooking outside, especially on a cool, crisp night. It permeates the South. Why wouldn’t Brock reach back into time and apply more precision to this most primitive of techniques? He is a man, after all, that makes his own charcoal from pig bones. And cooks some impromptu BBQ in the parking lot behind Husk. McCrady’s conveniently has two large fireplaces in the main dining room. And, on this night, a dim smoky aroma lured one into the dining room.

A grilled swordfish seemed busy at first sight: milk-poached sunchokes, crisped sunchokes, sorrel leaves, sorrel puree, pickled ramp hollandaise, and sheep’s milk yogurt. But the spectacular quality of the fish, so meaty and dense, held up to all of the ingredients. Each bite contained a slightly different juxtaposition of elements – be it the sting of sorrel or pickled ramp, the crunch of crisped sunchokes or ramp flowers, or the ‘sauces’ of hollandaise vs sheep’s milk yogurt vs sorrel puree. A faint smoke purred underneath it.

Octopus and grilled mussels, by contrast, had great smoky depth. A taste of the sea would yield to hints of bitter, before an eventual decay into smoke. The umami of squid ink and (Tennesse) truffle bread puree served as a backbone for the dish. Sparks of sweetish onion and thyme jumped out in varying bites. In some ways, it was like breathing the outside air – the sea breeze from the Charleston Harbor mixed with the winter smoke from chimneys.

Grilled swordfish, milk-poached sunchokes, crisped sunchokes, sorrel leaves/puree, flowers, pickled ramp hollandaise, sheep’s milk yogurt

Local waters octopus, mussels, squid ink juices, lemon thyme, truffle bread puree

Considered one of the foundations of historical Charleston cuisine, and culture; Charleston Gold Rice nearly came and went within three-hundred years. It is a long grain rice that is very aromatic and flexible in its starchiness. It was exported and known world-wide as one of the world’s best rices. It fell out of favor during the Great Depression and was left for dead. If not for the work Dr Richard Shulz, and later Anson Mills, it may still be sitting in the USDA seed bank.⁹ Slowfood USA has an excellent write-up on its history.

Creamy, buttery, nutty with just enough flowers and herbs to cut its richness. The smell was intoxicating – of butter and nuts – and, on a cool February Charleston evening, with fireplace crackling, it was also the smell of warmth and comfort. And it was the smell of history, of reclamation, of talking to the past, of imagining the glory where an entire city and region was defined by a simple grain. It was the centerpiece of the menu, the restaurant, and it was just rice.

A clear signature dish, without peer.¹⁰

A successful decoder ring, an unambiguous statement of “this is what we do.” It encompassed everything about the chef and restaurant and focused it on one plate. Michel Bras has his gargouillou, Saison its brassicas, Willow’s Inn a perfectly smoked salmon, and Sean Brock serves Charleston Ice Cream. These are some of my favorite things in the world, and all are relatively simple products, taken to an obsessive level. Brock claims this is the dish that changed the way he cooks. The fact that the rice was no longer grown in any meaningful quantities is a testament to a misalignment of quality vs convenience in our food systems.

Charleston Ice Cream, red bay leaves, roof-top herbs

Puffed salsify, salsify, indian cress, cured egg, black butter,

Tennessee truffles are farmed where the climate approximates the Périgord region of France. They are potent. Were they the equal of the best French Perigords in season? Have you had such a mythical fungus? This was a product grown in the region, an expression of the nearby land, one of many plants imported into the region over the centuries. (Try finding something of this quality during truffle season in France. I tried, in 2007, with little luck.)¹¹ This truffle was generously shaved over a celeriac baked whole in rice and hay for a nice, heady aroma.

After crackling in the hearth all night, the onions were finally unwrapped from their foil. Plated with cabbage, mushrooms, and mustard flowers; the smoke just hung in the mouth. Bitter, earthy, with just a touch of sweetness from the onion. It was also refreshing to see vegetables getting their own dish this late into the menu.

Rice & hay celeriac baked whole, sheep’s milk whey

First season onion, cabbage, wild mushrooms

In his excellent Faviken cookbook, Magnus Nilsson (who just cooked at McCrady’s) explains that hay is an old-world cooking technique where heat is conserved and slowly cooks the meat inside.¹² As an added benefit, one gets the smoky hay taste. But there’s also a nice symmetry between barnyard squab and hay nests. This was aged at a higher temperature to quicken its readiness. The lemon curd added the right brightness, a welcome counterpoint to the squab reduction.

Anson Mills deserves mention too. Their products can be found on menus across the country, usually noted as such, but even that is not enough. The ingredients’ humbleness – grits, oats, and farro – belie the extraordinary, potentially revolutionary, story behind them. The grains are special enough to be featured as a dish of their own. They are some of the most incredible products one can buy for a pantry (though you should store them in the freezer.) And, yes, you can buy them here. You should. It is the great heritage/heirloom paradox – they will only survive if we eat them. Brock and Perennial Plate did an all-grains menu earlier this year – it looked special. Brock has credited Glenn Roberts for his great influence. He also helped Brock gain access into the heirloom seed growing practice – “you have to prove yourself.” The seeds are too precious to simply give away to anyone. The lamb was nice, flavorful and cooked right, but the oats were really the star.

Squab, squab reduction, arugula pudding, onion flowers, lemon curd

Lamb, Antebellum oats, grilled onion, carrot

And then to dessert. Winburn Carmack’s desserts take on a savory character, veering just into the sweet zone. The ice cream finished with the great tang of its cultured sheep’s milk. Blood orange bitters were subtle, and hinted at citrus inflections with each bite. The greens were not everyone’s idea of dessert but they do add a hint of contrast. In Carrots, Vaudovan, Buttermilk; the buttermilk was oddly refreshing, despite its sourness. Vaudovan danced around the sweet notes of the carrot – if everything in the world was seasoned with vaudovan… The carrot was further intensified by the bright herbs.

Blood orange bitters, cultured sheep’s milk ice cream

Carrots, vaudovan, buttermilk

McCrady’s in Charleston is like the past, present, and future of Southern food remixed through the eyes of Sean Brock. Strong ties to the past help form the food’s identity, but don’t limit it. There is an inspiring tone – history can be recaptured and it can evolve. In five years, Brock’s food has changed noticeably – more focused, of the region, and more natural. The clarity and confidence of vision helps him marry modern cooking with heirloom ingredients and recipes seamlessly. It is a blend, a modern soup, served with a pickled ramp flower.

One could argue McCrady’s has a destiny. No other restaurant in American has its legacy, and future, interwoven into such a long, coherent arc. To be located in the fertile Lowcountry. In a building constructed by a Revolutionary War veteran POW. That once hosted President George Washington. If the walls could talk. Perhaps they do through the dishes at McCrady’s. A chef who was once fascinated with molecular cuisine but ventured back into his own past – a garden planted, animals raised, and seeds saved – a continuing chapter in Charleston Lowcountry cuisine.

“Was visited about 2 o’clock by a great number of the most respectable
ladies of Charleston – the first honor of the kind I ever experienced.
Dined with the Members of the Cincinnati and in the evening went to a
very elegant dancing Assembly at the Exchange, at which wee 256
elegantly dressed & handsome ladies”
- George Washington’s journal on his visit to McCrady’s

If George Washington were to dine again at McCrady’s, he would have to toast the chef – and cannons would blast over Charleston for everyone at Husk and McCrady’s.

- chuck

1 – It is a great article that goes into depth about the “grand culinary reclamation project”; you can see read an abstract here. Unattributed quotes in this review can be attributed to the article.

2- From page 66 in Notes from a Kitchen: A Journey Inside Culinary Obsession by Jeff Scott and Blake Beshore. Notes is a unique look at chefs and their creative process. It is mostly photographs with great essays and interviews, often layered on top of scenes from notebooks, kitchens, farms, and the great outdoors. The first volume showcases Sean Brock and Johnny Iuzzini. Buy them while you still can.

3 – The role of (literal) story-telling during a meal is an interesting topic. Sean Brock is a great story-teller – did you see him on Charlie Rose? The servers at McCrady’s are very knowledgeable about the food’s history too – they are involved with harvest and farming. The entire package at McCrady’s works seamlessly – it’s natural and not forced. Eleven Madison Park, during its re-launch, had servers telling tales of NYC and got panned for it. According to reports, they immediately backed off. It sounded very contrived. How much of a role should the restaurant, server, or chef play in explaining the food? A good story needs no explanation; but an engaging piece of work always benefits from backstory, context, and exposition. Does knowing a grain is rescued from history add anything to a McCrady’s meal?

4 – We probably think everything “worthwhile” has probably been documented and/or studied by someone. But, then, what is meaningful changes over time too, and we look at new problems from different perspectives. At the dawn of industrialization and mass markets, and eventually GMOs, who would’ve guessed old farm almanacs could reveal so much? Document now – people, and technology, can sort through the cruft later. Is there any other reason not to start a blog today?

5 – The fried chicken is only available by special request, in advance through Sean Brock personally, but it re-defined fried chicken for me. It was brined in sweet tea and fried in Benton’s ham fat, lard, butter, and chicken fat. He fries it slowly over 40 minutes. Skin comes out crackling and meat has a hint of sweetness. It is very very very good. Very good! Even better the next morning in the CHS airport! (If it was sooo good, why were there leftovers? Three people, three chickens!)

6 – With Husk’s popularity now, it is entertaining to read this old blog post from Sean Brock about a failed tomato dinner. Can you imagine the response now?

7 – Sean Brock is one of my favorite chefs, and he knew we were coming, but if anything colors this review with rose-tinted glasses, it is the fact that McCrady’s has a direct connection to George Washington. I’m not one to hold heros but George Washington, with Alexander Hamilton and John Adams, would adorn my personal Mount Rushmore.

This was my sixth Sean Brock meal. My first was in 2007 – reviewed here: “Ingredient Fetish”.

In 2011, I ate at Husk twice (dinner and brunch) and McCrady’s once. Both TomoStyle and Ulterior Epicure were more studious and blogged about our first Husk meal – sensational in every respect – and I saw first-hand how much Brock had grown as a chef. Ulterior Epicure hinted at what happened after our first Husk meal – “Brocked”. And, of course, UE blogged about our McCrady’s meal too.

8 – Grilled beets seem to be a bit of an obsessions for Brock. We had one tiny piece at The Willow’s Inn First Harvest Dinner (next review) – it was smoked all day – sensational. As David Shields is quoted in The New Yorker profile: “We have this vision of antebellum agriculture as a kind of Never Never Land… But it was a frenzy of research. They took the… beet culture of France… and tweaked them to create this extraordinary myriad of vegetables and grains.” Order his beet dishes.

9 – You can buy this at Anson Mills. You should buy this. Buy it now. If we don’t eat these great products, they won’t be around.

10 – I’m a sucker for the signature dish – it’s a nice succinct answer to “who are we?” Some might bemoan its theoretical failings; chefs might feel type-casted like an actor; but, to me, a proper signature dish is the one that clicks and encompasses everything about the chef and restaurant on one plate. It’s not forced – it’s immediately clear. For me, it’s an important signpost across many repetitions and meals.

11 – For the French Truffle Trip in 2007, we spent too much money for relatively mediocre experiences. There were some star dishes – l’Arpege’s 2002 Antony comte with truffles, Pierre Gagnaire’s cotton candy with truffles, Relais d’Auteuil’s raw scallops and truffles, and Ledoyen’s truffles, sunchokes, & foie gras.

The entire meal at les Ambassadeurs was truffle nirvana – clearly better than the rest from a truffle perspective. That salad, wrapped in truffles, will always haunt me. The Ledoyen meal was among the best I’ve ever had – an under-rated restaurant in Paris despite its three stars. The rest? A very expensive lesson that a truffle is not necessary a truffle, even in season, even in France.

12 – A lot of cookbooks have been released this year but three were sensational: Art of Cooking with Vegetables by Alain Passard, Charred and Scruffed by Adam Perry Lang; and Faviken by Magnus Nilsson. Each book is highly recommended for the home cook because they share a similar philosophy towards cooking – they treat their recipes as frameworks, not absolute. Each does a wonderful job of laying down a philosophy about cooking overall, without getting too bogged down in measurements and ingredients. They teach a respect for ingredients and process; and their best advice is to just “pay attention.” Every meal I cooked this summer was influenced by one of those books.

Blaine Wetzel is the twenty-something chef of the inn. Born in Washington, he cooked in California, Las Vegas, and found his way to Copenhagen, before it was popular. His pedigree is stellar – Richard, Stratta, and Redzepi.² Lummi Island, and its surrounding waters, are his inspiration – plants, berries, herbs, flowers, and fish. Nearby farms supply the meat and milk. Up the hill, Nettles Farm grows what nature does not.³ And the winter months are stocked with pickles and preserves. Willows Inn’s proximity to its entire menu is perhaps only matched by The Sportsman.⁴

Less is more. Butter is used sparingly, mostly relying on the animal’s fats. It is a natural cuisine. Chickweed, coriander, queen’s anne – herbs and potent flowers are used for full impact with minimal footprints in the dish.⁵ Smoke drifts and lingers throughout the meal; throughout the day, really, on the grounds of the inn. Most dishes have been pared back; it is analytical in its reduction. The extravagance here is the vision of minimalism, eschewing the tendency to turn everything into a salad of leaves and greens with this type of food.

This is a meal from late July, the night before Willows Inn’s First Harvest Dinner. It reads like a love letter; it might be.⁶

The menu officially reads five or six courses but many snacks are served throughout. More substantial than hors d’oeuvre, each danced around themes of the restaurant – smoke, herbs, and the island’s treasures.

smoked sunchoke roots

With the gooey inside consistency of a date, a smoked sunchoke root was the first dish. The burnt ends of moss came out still sparkling, whiffing small clouds of alder smoke. The outside was expectedly dry. Every bite released sugars from the root. The crunch to filling ratio of a crepe, roe, & crème fraîche was just right. The salmon roe, caught less than a mile away that day, had a faint brininess when tempered by the sweet-ish cream.

Smoked cod lay creamy on the salty chip but a dab of mild sauerkraut mediated the two. The dill, looking too precious, gave it that careful edge. An oyster brined in sauerkraut was refreshing with nice competing edges of salt, sour, and sorrel. It retained all of its briny glory. Tapioca, like a slightly chewier roe, was also a nice textural complement. And its rocky plating stole a scene from the beach outside. Earthy, pungent, and bitter – the smoky kale chips had a nice crunch that was almost sweet but kept getting pulled back by the Olympic Peninsula preserved truffles.

The shitake was carefully grilled with just a few pinches of sea salt. Is anything more necessary?

It was a sunny day and vines strangled the roadside bushes.⁷ The roads blushed with color – red dots, white puffs, and purple stains. Sun-ripened berries hung supple and plump, dangling on the vines or splattered on the road. It is the best time of the year anywhere.⁸ Of the place, in the place, the brush in a bowl – this was Lummi Island, July, plated.

Each bite was different. The tartness and astringency of the red current might dominate one mouthful before the sweet grass broth refreshed the next. Each berry broke down differently in the bite. Herbaceous tones inflected each slurp – so many dimensions and angles to the flavor. It could be served as dessert; instead, it was the official welcoming to Lummi Island – this is why we’re here. The snacks were good but this was profound.

Early in the morning, puffs of smoke emanate across the grounds and mix with the ocean overcast. Salt and smoke fill the crisp air. It is the soul awakening – the smokehouse. You see the white puffs driving into the parking lot. Its smells lazily cling in the air around the inn. And it competes with the sun-setting horizon as one of two views outside the restaurant. On an island teeming with artists, the Willows Inn team too has elevated their craft to an art with this traditional device.

Caught nearby using old Indian netting methods, the salmon was thrown into the smoker. After smoking all day at very low temperatures, the fish is served directly from the smokehouse. The first plates begin scenting the room, and the smell builds with each new serving. It sweats, with little if any albumen, but mostly it smells – wonderful. Each bite captures the mouth with smoke, letting faint sweet touches out. Its texture is creamy with a raw warm center. It is a remarkable achievement.

smoked salmon

30-day venison tartar, shaved smoked venison, wild rose, cress, blackberry

The single red meat dish was the first official course – venison tartar. This immediately piqued my curiosity – how would this work? I’ve challenged the narrative where red meat must conclude a tasting menu in previous posts. If used as supporting role, or in smaller portions, the satisfaction from eating red meat could be used earlier in the menu. However, very few chefs venture beyond the protein with a side of vegetable or puree – a caricature of the possibilities.

A tartar was made from 30-day aged venison, whose game and minerality gave the dish backbone. Shaved smoked venison, mostly seen in the photo, perfumed and enveloped the mouth, smoothing the strong flavors of the meat. This was already great. Cress and blackberry jabbed with pepper and tartness, bringing dimension to different bites. But those glorious notes of the wild rose! They complemented the smoke above and the game below, engulfing the dish with a wonderful light floral quality.

Flowers are omnipresent on today’s menus, in appearance, but why are their floral flavors not more fully explored in the savory?

The smoky floral continued to hang when a cook presented the next dish – a prawn merely seasoned by the salt it was buried and cooked in. These were caught one-hundred feet off-shore, the server said. Yes, directly out there, pointing toward the horizon where the water twinkled below a setting sun. We looked out of the window, imagined a hundred feet, and mentally dipped our heads into the water. Neat. Dig the prawn out, break its shell, fight for the meat, and suck out the tomalley.

Again, what more is needed? The meat had bite, presumably its character since it was nicely cooked, and it was sweet. Saltwater burst out of the shells and infused with each bite. They were swimming around earlier in the indoor saltwater tank.

spot prawn






cone cabbage, mussel whipped cream, red currants

Cone cabbage flexed a playful side. Here, cone cabbage was poached in mussel juice and roasted. It was then paired with a mussel whipped cream. Austere but strangely luscious, the mussel cream had little, if any, sweetness, just a subtle taste. Sometimes the sweetness of the cabbage would peak through. Or the citric hints of coriander flower or tart currants would hit. These were sharpish flavors tempered by a mussel cream!

halibut skin, halibut emulsion, pickled razor clams


snap & english peas, mangalitsa lard, whey, mint

Alain Passard’s peas and grapefruit had kicked off a minor obsession this past summer. His recipe in The Art of Cooking With Vegetables, an excellent cookbook, uses thyme, butter, and the nice kick of grapefruit that somehow gets assimilated into the sweet nature of the peas. It sounds strange but it works. Mint, with its rosmarinic acid, also pairs equally well with peas. Pea, mint, and fat, as my endless repetitions have convinced me, are a guaranteed success.⁹

In this beautiful dish, the pods were left for extra crunch and texture. Whey lent a slight sourness with the sweetness of the peas. But the mint was the magic. Lard coated the mouth and the mint spiked out. It electrified the dish.

But the frenzy of tequila, fried sage, and brown butter over-powered a grilled oyster. If food memories trigger fondness, tequila is a tricky gamble.¹⁰

The final dish of king salmon and mustard greens was again too powerful for me. It ventured dangerously close to the leafy protein style that has become en vogue. The integration is largely lost on me – protein and leaves inter-mingle but their mouthfeels are so distinct that there is no bridge between the two. The mustard was interesting, in its variety of forms, but every bite was too forward. The fish itself was beautiful.

grilled oyter, tequila, sage


king salmon, mustard seeds & greens, pods, flowers



strawberry sorbet & fruit, wild alpine strawberry, chamomile, nougatine, & flowers

One dessert. A neighbor later complained there should have been more. And she’s absolutely right when it was this good. There was no sudden shifting to France in aesthetics. Composition followed the meal at large and blended seamlessly. Tart, sweet, floral, refreshing, soothing – this was a spectacular dessert.

What is a destination restaurant? It should offer a unique menu with distinction. Chef Blaine Wetzel’s commitment to Lummi Island ensures this collection of dishes could not be found anywhere else in the world. It is clearly singular. The berries were capitivating, the venison the dish of the night, but it is the salmon that lingers, like its smoke on the palate. It captured the restaurant on one plate – the rustic and wild, elevated to art. And, for that, the food is extraordinary.

Noma is the easy comparison because of Wetzel’s past employment and locavore constraints on the food. However, noma is more bountiful, more modern while Wetzel’s food is rustic and minimal. The food shares many similarities to In de Wulf in Belgium, one of my favorite meals. And the totality – constraints, philosophy, food – has shades of The Sportsman too. Willows Inn ranks very very high for anyone traveling for food. It is the definition of destination dining.

- chuck

1 – Interestingly enough, these pictures from The Fifth Flavor in 2010 look very much like noma. When contrasted with the dishes above in this post, it’s exciting to see that Blaine has developed his own style while still practicing the locavore and anything is an ingredient philosophy of noma.

2 – Blaine and I have crossed paths a few times over the years. He probably cooked at Alex when I visited. He worked at Manresa during the Manresa/Noma dinner before moving to Copenhagen to work on noma. Upon visiting noma, Blaine showed us around the restaurant. And he reads this blog. Despite this, we did not receive special treatment. In fact, the nearby tables with Sean Brock, John Shields, Jason Fox, and Kyle Cannoughton, or Kobe Desramaults, were certainly more important than mine! Every table in the restaurant was served the same meal, everyone beginning, and ending within a half hour of each other.

3 – Garden tours are offered every morning. A quick ten minute walk up, worth knowing anyways if a tsunami hits. They generally start right after breakfast. Breakfast? I usually skip breakfast:

4 – It’s not a competition and I’m sure there are other places operating within a very tight radius but it’s hard to eat much more ‘locally’ than this. Obviously, some will argue that it’s difficult to create a world-class restaurant when the ingredients are so localized; just as others argue a vegetable menu can not be as accomplished as a meat menu. There will always be grand restaurants for those people, with lobster from Brittany, whole roasted lobes of foie, toro from the Mediterranean, caviar from Iran, and enough butter to poach the remainder of the menu. There is a time and place for everything.

5 – The cynical might call it trendy – I call it the way I like to eat these days. Very light, little butter, very satisfying, and even refreshing. It’s what I try to emulate at home.

6 – More of my reviews read this way – why? I have discovered a style that I enjoy and I’ve done a better job picking the restaurants whose ideas align more closely with mine. Sometimes I venture outside this bubble, and I really wonder why.

7 – The Willows Inn site advertises free bikes, and electric bikes for a small fee. Electric bike, I thought, how silly is that? Sean Brock, paraphrasing his ride home the night before, summed up his enthusiasm with “Hell yeah!” Terribly out of shape, the first hill had me smiling – “Hell yeah!” Getting a little too used to the juice, and seeing my power bars dropping half-way through the ride, I started worrying “Hell no!” The fear of peddling home, forced me to peddle home.

8 – As a youth, in the then-wilds of Florida, I would escape for hours on the weekends to pick blackberries and blueberries. Riding through the endless terrain, I found a forgotten blueberry patch, surrounded by swamp, inaccessible without an ATV. Rattlesnakes loved the shade of these bushes, their sideways prints always etched into the sand.

Lining most swamp, and lakes, were endless blackberry vines; dense and impenetrable. Always mindful of alligators on the water’s edge, you don’t know fear until a rabbit bolts out unexpectedly. It never sounds like a rabbit! And why is it running?!?! And then there was the day I discovered wild boar tracks – armed with a mere .22, those berries did not look so good anyways.

There was also a forbidden peach tree that sat across a muddy narrow creek surrounded by under-brush. Those supple peaches were protected by the endless alligator tracks through the mud. Tiny little feet with a big fat tail between them. Invisible protectors of the peach – a peach is not worth a limb.

Blueberries were strictly for cereal. Blackberries preferred cobbler. Alligators? Deep-fried.

All of it is gone now – golf courses and houses for the retired.

9 – The astute reader will recognize this formula from one of my all-time favorite dishes: Jeremy Fox’s peas, mint, & white chocolate.

10 – Of course memories influence food – it is impossible to argue otherwise. However, it seems like it is equally impossible to create dishes that mine this territory in fine dining because everyone has different vantage points. There are tricks, like The French Laundry’s endless quotes on every menu, but I’m not sure how much of a shared memory different generations, and nationalities, have when it comes to the food of their childhood.

For me, tequila brings some memories of a very bad night and one missed day.

11 – Some misc info:
a – Great photos of the island Eat Live Travel Write’s blog

b – Good article on recent history of Willows Inn in Food & Wine

A short drive from the Bay Area, Aubergine has generally been omitted from the recent stories of California cooking. This is unfair.¹ The surrounding beaches, mountains, hills, forests, fields, and farms are ripe with ample bounty. Microclimates persist throughout the region. Some areas get daily waves of fog and afternoon breeze; others are geographically protected. This allows for diversity of crop. And while hours don’t make a difference, it is closer to the seafood. Plying his craft away from media cycles, Cogley is an emerging voice in the exploration of California’s regional terroir.

This was my second meal at Aubergine, last March. The first meal was very good but the last few protein courses were disproportionately heavy.² So I asked for a more vegetable and seafood focus – they were my favorite dishes from round one and Cogley’s Twitter feed had shown a few more exciting prospects since. Lately, whenever possible, I have found myself taking this pseudo-pescatarian approach to tasting menus.³ And Cogley excels with this approach.

zucchini, squash blossoms, tarragon

From crisped to natural crunch, differing zucchini preparations were presented first. The dish had great textures and seasoning – the salty chips breaking into the crisp raw would have been satisfying on their own. But the tarragon re-defined the dish. Forming a strong herbaceous backbone – spicy, minty, sweet – it provided structure and focus.

A tangy yogurt mousse and bright lemon verbana gel set a backdrop for the surprise pairing of cocoa and spring onion. Each scoop would start tangy but soften to the sweet verbana gel. The sweetness of the stringy onions merged beautifully with the slightly bitter cocoa crumbs – an earthier burnt onion. One is reminded of Quique Dacosta’s “we used the langoustine to sweeten the vanilla.”

But it was the slight bitter perfume of turmeric that paused the menu. Like a soft fog rolling in, the subtle heat enhanced other flavors – sweet crabs and peas, earthy fava leaves – and faded long into the finish. It was a remarkable display of restraint, and power.

lemon verbana, cocoa, spring onion

green tea, kasugo dai, wasabi

crab, fava leaf, snap pea, turmeric

Vegetables are in Cogley’s DNA, having spent four years at Charlie Trotter, two as chef de cuisine.⁴ Like other modern cooks focused on terroir, he is able to use a single leaf, or herb, to highlight or focus on a dish. When done right, dishes are light but bold, without a leafy mouthfeel.⁵

Raw, pickled, pureed, and even the tops – a vertical landscape of carrots showed off their versatility. Carrots take so well to umami flavors – seaweed, burnt ends, meat – and here, the fermented flavors of miso mixed with the varying bites of sweet, tangy, and carrot concentration. But the dish was arguably missing a crunch factor. The raw and pickled carrots crunched, but there wasn’t a complement. Perhaps the sponge could have worked better as a rock – to break the saltiness off in chunks, and to mix into the bites of carrot, instead of a sponge left after the carrot had been chewed.

Before the California foie gras ban,⁶ this foie gras torchon was every bit as good, if not better, than the infamous French Laundry torchon. Creamier, somehow smoother, it had the texture of a room-temperature Bordier⁷ that almost sweats its fat out. It coats your mouth in such a way that a hot preparation never can. The varying accompaniments – minerally fava leaves, pickled rhubarb, sweet rhubarb puree – were interesting diversions. But a great foie gras is always enjoyed best alone.

miso, carrots, young ginger

foie, rhubarb, charred fava

And Cogley excels at seafood, in what was the strongest arc of the menu. He refuses to skimp, sourcing locally and internationally in search of quality. And he knows how to prepare it. Chilled mussels and mussel ice offered a great re-set after the foie – a cool ocean wave. The cucumber flavors of borage and citrus flavors ebbed while the ice slowly melt in the mouth. Foie gras fat washed away with a crisp brine.

Strawberry and cuttlefish haunted in its careful orchestration of unlikely partners. With each bite, the roe would pop, burst into brine, and finish with a taste of smoke. And sweetness clings to smoke. The strawberries too would breach, bright and acidic at first, but left a faint sweetness that paired with the smoke. They mingled with the chew of the cuttlefish textures. Absolutely stunning.

chilled mussels, mussel ice, asparagus, borage

cuttlefish, strawberry, smoked roe

A kanpachi was immaculate, of Japan quality,⁸ with great bite and a slightly sweet oceanic flavor. Citrus beurre blanc was just tart enough for the richness of the fish. And the parsley meringue, once melted, lent a beautiful green note. This could have rivaled the dish of the night, if not for the meringue; its crunchy texture detracted from the natural beauty of the fish.

Abalone and chicken broth, of such different terrains, belong together. Here, a slightly smoky chicken broth accented the abalone’s meatiness. Others would rave about the abalone’s tenderness but I prefer mine with more chew. Particularly here, the chew could have been used to tease out more smoke with each bite. Sea lettuce umeboshi ratched the umami factor even more. But it was the salty umeboshi, with its fruity inflections, that brought the dish together and let it sing with clarity and focus.

kanpachi, parsley meringue, citrus, lobster knuckle

abalone, sea lettuce, hijiki, umeboshi

asparagus, miners lettuce, elephant garlic, marrow

And then the last meat dish.

Aged for two weeks, the duck had the slight depth of funkiness, that something more missing in many duck dishes. Here it was roasted beautifully, golden on the outside, ruby rare in the middle when cut. The fat coated the mouth lusciously with each bite. But the finish! The subtle and beautiful peppercorn, coriander, saffron, and date broth smoothed the game and fat. Spice and sweetness perfumed the meat flavors and lingered long.

duck, date, saffron, sichuan peppercorn

ossau iraty, bib lettuce, morels

white chocolate, shiso sorbet, yogurt

praline ganache, yuzu sherbet, raspberries, rose

There is a clear sense of terroir at Aubergine where the environment is represented by the food. Cogley’s food can be light but focused – assertive flavors that don’t overbear the palate. Vegetables star and augment; herbs focus; and seafood really shines. Technique is controlled, dipping from French, Japanese, and various Modern schools. But it coalesces around showcasing nature. It is one of the better restaurants in the area, and country.

While technically the Central Coast, Aubergine at L’Auberge Carmel deserves to be mentioned, and considered, when discussing big restaurant itineraries of the Bay Area. It is a wonderful two-hour trip south from San Francisco proper along a variety of interesting and scenic roads.⁹ Carmel, the city, may not be for everyone but the beaches have an accessibility with just enough West Coast ruggedness. Watch the day end with a picturesque sunset on the beach and then stroll a few blocks over to finish the night at Aubergine.

- chuck

1 – Marinus is another restaurant that does not get its proper due. While the food is more classical in style, Chef Cal Stamenov has been foraging long before the trend. In one article, the source no longer linkable, Cal described having an open door policy for anyone nearby that found, or grew, interesting ingredients.

2 – This dish from the first meal was genius: a chilled dungeness crab, young coconut, roasted banana, & candied peanut – the flavors were Thai-like and they were beautiful together.

It is also worth noting this meal was comped.

3 – Regular readers know my issues with heavy, uncreative meat dishes at the end of long tasting menus. A month ago, I met Jing Theory at Sons & Daughters. We both opted for the “vegetable tasting menu”, citing similar feelings, but we had to throw in some seafood for 1-2 courses.

4 – A restaurant I have never visited and, given its impending closure, probably never will. The food looks anachronistic but I would like to try it if schedules permitted. Despite this, there’s no denying his influence and the quality of the chefs that have passed through the kitchen.

5 – The leafy mouthfeel is a style of vegetable dish I don’t get. It is most often seen with meat dishes, where the meat:leaf ratio verges toward 1:1. The leaves are meant to break up the monotony of the meat, or to a more natural alternative to a sauce or puree; but the mouthfeel is too leafy.

6 – My politics have been largely left off of this blog but how silly is a foie gras ban? I’ve had the Thomas Keller French Laundry/Per Se foie gras a half-dozen times in his restaurants; and have made it many more times at home – I love it – it’s my favorite Thomas Keller dish – but this torchon was even better.

7 – You don’t know the glory of Bordier? They sell it at a few stores in Paris and a few top restaurants also serve it. But I’m convinced l’Arpege gets a slightly different version from the rest – it’s always better. Resist the temptation to eat it when they first place it on your table – it’s too hard. Let it sit. Watch it sweat. Be patient. When you can wave your knife through, without effort, the glories of Bordier are ready for consumption.

8 – Japan is magical – you should visit.

9 – You can, and should, make an adventure out of it during a Bay Area vacation. It is two hours away. You could drive down the Highway 1 and experience a certain deja vu – for you’ll instantly recognize the many car commercials you’ve seen. Downtown Santa Cruz is just a few blocks off the highway; stop in for Verve coffee and Penny Ice Creamery – I personally like the espresso shake!

poached egg, salsify, beet puree, carrots

Rarities like Kindai tuna and mangalitsa hogs popped up on the elements menu before they became more widespread. Here, glass eels,² Kindai shima-aji, and Duroc pork provided sustainable and heritage protein options. Something new could only be one course away. Cilantro and wild onion flowers packed powerful seasoning despite a minimal presence on the plate.

And sometimes, it’s not the ingredient, but the experiments in form that make the food exciting. Wagyu is usually aged minimally by American standards because the fat turns rancid but here it was aged for over three months and cured nearly as long – beef ‘ham.’ Whipped mangalitsa lard, sweet in itself, filled the inside of a macaron, and it seemed so appropriate following the five-month mangalitsa lomo course. A 40-day dry-aged duck was paired with tobacco and mustard in a tartar – intensity.

seaweed, oyster in its own shell, monkfish liver

Since my last meal three years ago, the restaurant has matured. There is less focus on brash combinations and perhaps more concentration on harmony. Ingredients have been pared down. Space, or pause, is effectively used to focus on particularly indulgent or complex tastes. Working largely outside of the press, a short train ride away from New York City, elements has refined their approach. It was a good restaurant. Now it is great.³

This was a special meal arranged in advance. Knowing it would be my last trip to the area for awhile, I invited nearby Ideas in Food and DocSconz to the party. We are all known to Chef Scott Anderson; Ideas in Food has even cooked with him many times. This meal is not the norm for elements; but anything can happen if you book the chef’s table. Yes, we paid the bill. And DocSconz took some incredible photos that are really worth seeing.

japanese ice fish tempura, shirako

glass eels, curly cress, trout roe

The beginning courses took us to Anderson’s childhood and reference point for cuisine – Japan. Textbook tempura – equal to Michelin-starred tempura from Tokyo. Light as a pillow, sweet as candy.

Dubbed “Noodles of the sea” by the table, the glass eels demonstrated how the elements team deconstructs Japanese into their own brand of New Jersey, with perfect callibration. The roe popped salinity, mixed with spicy inflections of cress and horseradish cream, as the eels were slurped down. Excellent use of texture – pop, the slight rough of the cress, a few bits of nori, and the silkiness of the eels. In many ways, it exemplified elements’ cooking – unique ingredients, house-curing, and foraged bits.

Sunchoke ceviche reversed the traditional notion with a fish puree supporting the earthy vegetable. Roasted tomatillo punctuated with spice but lent a smoky background note. Miscellaneous freshwater plants, “duck food”, added texture and greenery. It nailed the essence of ceviche with new ingredient combinations. And it was also my favorite dish of the night – superb.

sunchoke ceviche, shima-aji puree

sashimi of kindai shima-aji parts, asian pear, turnip, cilantro flower

After a volley of dishes, the Kindai toro course sat near-naked, barely adorned. The long pause – where the apparent simplicity of the plate beguiles the complexity of flavor. Rich, fatty toro coated the mouth with its luxurious hints of the sea. Simple flowers – nasturtium, buddha’s hand and pink lemon – brightened. This was the menu taking a minute to slow down and savor some of the most precious meat in the world – an ebb in the flow.⁴

kindai toro tartar, chu-toro tataki, cured otoro

house-made kimchi, beef tongue, honey mussels, cilantro

pacific herring milt, pacific herring, cider

japanese bluefish, fingerling sweet potato, wild onion flower, poached in pork jus

With fish, there is also an affinity for the hog. They get much love – heritage breeds, hams, charcuterie, and the love of lardo. Always the love of lardo. The mangalitsa lomo was hung for five months, simply laid on the plate, with the earthy tang of the trumpet royal vinaigrette. More controversial, the whipped lard macarons had an enjoyable chew and sweetness. But it was the fat that glazed the mouth that made it delectable. Others at the table were not as crazy about them.

The milk-fed Duroc had been killed a few days earlier and its flavor is what you might imagine real pork to be, before the industrial age. Neither too lean nor fatty, it just had a very clean pork taste.

mangalitsa lomo (hung in oct – this was feb), trumpet royal vinaigrette

kimchi, black pepper macarons, whipped mangalitsa lard

milk-fed duroc pork, veal sweetbreads, hazelnut puree, smoked butter, served w/ tea from bones

And then the dark meat.

Since my last visit, elements has begun aging their meats and experimenting with fermentation and curing too. The meat dishes are tighter than that last visit, with less extraneous ingredients. Duck was sparsely plated but packed with flavor. A duck katsuobushi had smoky herbaceous notes and rich mouthfeel while the 40-day tartar was intense.

The ribeye ‘ham’ was a pause course – hints of complex blue cheese notes and a sweet, melting fat. In many ways, it was the essence of beef. Which made the final composed course, dry-aged wagyu with dried main sweet shrimp, a final umami punch of glutamate. In an ideal world, the ham would have been the perfect ending – a savory, soft landing.

21-day aged roast duck breast, 40-day duck tartar, duck liver pate w/ apple cider bread, duck katsuobushi

85-day dry-aged & cured wagyu ribeye, emulsified wagyu fat

110-day dry-aged wagyu, dried maine sweet shrimp, beef jus, tonburri

whey & absinthe, tarragon, chevril, sugar, anise hyssop

hoja santa ice cream, japanese sweet potato & white chocolate puree, barley, mezcal, rose, thyme

A train ride, a short walk, and yet it is a million miles from the big city. It may lack the three-star sheen of New York’s finest but more chances are taken here – especially with product. Some dishes might be a touch too busy, a few too many ingredients competing for attention, but the food is honing in on a distinctive style – a Japanese respect for ingredient mixed with the surrounding bounty of New Jersey. It is the ideal of so many restaurants today; perhaps because it got a head start several years ago. The elements logo is tattoo’d on Anderson’s wrist – a permanent history⁵ – and hopefully that means he will be in Princeton ⁶ for a long time.

- chuck

1 – DocSconz says it best on his blog post about the same meal:

but it is not so much a trend setter as it is a stellar interpreter of the moment. While Ferran and Albert Adria created Vanguardist cooking, Rene Redzepi made foraging respectable, Dan Barber brought the farm to the fine dining table and Sean Brock has made the South rise again, Anderson has been a master of exploring those styles and more and distilling them into his own compound vision. A meal at Elements right now is a meal that fuses all the current dining trends into a unique combination. An approach like this could easily lead to a convoluted disaster of a meal, but Anderson, Ryan and the rest of the Elements team manages to keep it all together and create a meal that, though interpretive and reflective of today’s food trends, still remains original and creative. For a snapshot of contemporary fine dining trends in one place at one time, I would be hard-pressed to think of a restaurant better than Elements.

2 – I’ve always missed their season when traveling to San Sebastian. What a fascinating journey these little guys take! Visiting Etxebarri when elvers are in season would be a culinary jackpot.

3 – This reminds me of the exact trajectory of another restaurant – McCrady’s. My first meal there was very good but the dishes that stood out were the more ingredient-focused. Fast-forward four years: Husk is the (amazing) realization of that McCrady’s meal; and McCrady’s, well, you’ll have to wait a few more weeks for that review. elements is already destination-worthy but if Anderson can continue the momentum, you will be reading about it in the national media too.

4 – An entire menu of such courses might be the culinary equivalent of shoe-gaze. Top-grade nigiri has the same quality but it usually gets served in rapid-fire succession. The best margherita pizza, such as one by Una Pizza or Don Antonio, also invokes a similar reaction – but it gets too cold when contemplated too long!

5 – Anyone interested in tattoos, the maps they might draw, and the worlds they decode, should read Russian Criminal Tattoo Encyclopaedia volumes 1 – 3. It is a fascinating study of a system of symbols and the role they play in a class of people. Beware too – it is highly offensive. If you want a first printing of Vol 1, which is quite rare, I might part with it if you buy me dinner at Saison.

elements is here to stay

6 – If visiting Princeton, I would also recommend The Bent Spoon – very good ice cream with great texture.

Michel Bras is in the DNA – carrot and nasturtium pays homage to his plating style

It was recently reported that Ubuntu would be no more. Vegetables, not vegetarian – the restaurant had sharp positioning that distinguished it from the vegetarian cliches of pasta and grains, pizza, and raspberry vinegar salads. It was the type of necessary restriction that unlocks great creativity. The menu grew more daring with each season and, with its second Spring, found a strong voice in its “seed to stalk” vision. Critically acclaimed, but never popular, will it be remembered as a seminal restaurant in American dining? ²

With shades of Boy the Earth Talks To, Ubuntu’s dishes were an exploration into essence, and expectation.³ Our notion of eating vegetables is largely homogeneous – we tend to eat the same parts cooked in relatively the same ways. When accustomed to eating the shoots, what could be done with the roots? Is the plant’s flower an equal, or better, expression? Where do the flavors in the plant lie? What are the textural differences between the plant’s anatomy? Can the entire plant be used?⁴ And, of course, everyone’s initial question – can a serious meal be composed entirely of vegetables?

‘Moon and stars’ melon – a reference to the biodynamic practices of the Ubuntu garden

Summer hints at autums

Over three years, Chefs Jeremy Fox, Aaron London, and staff dug into an exploration of Napa seasons and bounty. Usually farmed, sometimes foraged, the best dishes could explore the same ingredient in different forms – light broths, soothing dabs of pudding or pureed stalks, leaves and flowers, raw and dehydrated preparations. Landscaped plates were an appropriate metaphor for the cooking. Textural and flavor range inherent in vegetables would be further mined by tracing the plants from their roots to their outer flowers, and through their development over a season.

It was unique food, even in today’s world of vegetable appreciation.

Three years, fifteen meals, and two chefs – below is a collection of my favorite dishes with re-written descriptions.⁵ They range from the three-star Michelin worthy peas and white chocolate to the unfurled, wild garden snake. Look at your next tasting menu – how many dishes contain no meat? The maps are still undefined. There is still much room for exploration and forging green paths of personal expression.⁶

Broccoli with Pine Nuts & Pine Nut Pudding

When Ubuntu’s earlier menus featured more pizzas, pastas, and salads in 2007, the seductiveness of this dish revealed Fox’s later intentions. The sweet and tart notes of the red pepper consomme played off the brassicas. Dabs of pine nut pudding rested under the florets, adding a touch more sweetness and nuttiness. With minimal, if any, butter, the dish had light and pure flavors.

How many ways can a beet be prepared in one dish? Taking obvious influence from Quique DaCosta, and his sometimes Yves Tanguy plating style, each bite was filled with contrasting flavors and textures of beet. Dehydrated, raw, mashed, and roasted – sweetness and minerality were expressed in each bite. The yolk is a yellow beet puree. And there was crunch. Impossible to control each bite, the dish mixed the survey of possibilities with the random walk of nature.

Six Degrees of FORONO BEETS – hazelnut “soil”, avocado, WATERCRESS, rhubarb pickle

‘forono’ BEETS and BEETBERRY – red quinoa, charred STRAWBERRY, hazelnut

CALCOTS – romesco of PIQUILLOS, maldon salt, tomorrow’s news

brioche and mushroom “creme brulee”, burnt with love – CALCOT with maple and BAY LAUREL buds, greenhouse LEEK

Sometimes classics were re-imagined with vegetables. The caramelized and bitter notes of the brioche/mushroom crunch were consumed by the luscious mouthfeel of the sweetish leek custard. Calcot and bay laurel buds danced atop. Fox became interested in ember cooking through the Seven Fires cookbook – and more dishes began to integrate charring and the smoky bitterness that ensues.

Showing Ubuntu as its most whimsical, the Garden Snake was Aaron London’s ode to the garden – roots, soil, leaves, & flowers.⁷ It rushed across the plate, overflowing, bountiful, casting off greenery with each turn. Each bite was a different composition of textures and flavors, with the truffled pecorino lingering in the background as the vertebrae of the dish. With shades of bitter, sweet, grassy, earthy – the Ubuntu garden was literally snaking across the plate.

The Garden Snake – Leaves, Flowers, Roots, Lemongrass Oil, Herbs Soil, Truffled Pecorino

carta da musica

CAPSICUM and po delta black rice broth – summer SUCCULENTS, our sevillano olive

Here, a roasted pepper jus and black rice broth finished a meal with a light touch of umami. Ubuntu never fell into the easy trap of serving grains for vegetarian’s sake. There was restraint here, a mere essence, where the nutty broth lingered on the palate. Purslane added lemon notes and peppers filled the bowl.

And then there was peas and white chocolate. Twice shucked, the peas gave the faintest resistance before bursting with sweetness. The cool broth, a pea essence, further accented each bite. Salt from the macadamia punctuated each crunch before the enveloping creaminess of the white chocolate. As the tastes rescinded, chocolate mint kicks a last quick, bright burst.

The dish recalls the genius of Alain Passard⁸ – the ability to breathe distinct new life into the most ordinary of ingredients – peas. It is a masterpiece.

2X Shucked PEAS and GOLD SHOOTS in consomme of the shells – white chocolate, CHOCOLATE MINT, macadamia

Vegetables are en vogue and that is a good thing. Some restaurants pursue a leafy course that attempt to balance richer elements on the plate while others are beginning to let vegetables star, using protein as supporting element. With its vegetarian limitation, Ubuntu cooked toward the essences of plants – seed and stalk – and re-worked them into a unique vision of vegetable cooking.

And those meals continue to impact my fine dining lens. The changing seasons, a closeness to the land, a varied palette of taste and texture, and, when respected, a lighter style of eating more appropriate for longer tasting menus. Ubuntu will be missed.

- chuck

1 – Feed Me the Spring turned out to be hugely inspirational for me – it proved that vegetables could carry an entire meal. And it was the beginning of an incredible nine-month run by Fox – burn strong and bright.

There were a few intermediate steps, of course, between those three years between Michel Bras and Ubuntu. Manresa, with its bio-dynamic garden project; the mercurial genius of l’Arpege; a noma meal in 2009; and the persistent realization that the beginning vegetable courses of tasting menus were more exciting than the latter hunks of meat. Sometimes you can just imagine the chef screaming “rescue me” before delving into six more courses of protein.

I am working on a post detailing my most influential meals – would you believe Chez Panisse and Jean Georges make the short list? What restaurant had me contemplating a separate sushi budget?

2 – Perhaps it will once we bloggers become rich, powerful and famous:
Ulterior Epicure – United Colors of Napa
Food Snob – Ubuntu, Napa
DocSconz – Ubuntu? U Bet!

3 – I always thought of this in terms of the George Hearst character in Deadwood, “Boy the Earth talks to” – though his talent was for discovering rare metals, not cooking. But for the new breed of chefs using Nature as their inspiration, chefs like Rene Redzepi and Ben Shrewy, it is a powerful image. (Yes, Deadwood is my favorite TV show – ever.)

4 – You can read more about these lines of thinking by Justin Yu, who owns and operates Oxheart in Houston. He cooked at Ubuntu under both Fox and London; and his restaurant was recently rated #1 in Houston by Alison Cook. Judging by the pictures on Twitter, and his pedigree, it could soon receive national recognition. It is on my to-do list.

5 – Chef Jeremy Fox knew me from my frequent Manresa visits, where he prepared the meat dishes- “that guy is hard to please.” Over its entire run, I probably ate at Ubuntu 15 times and, yes, many meals were very “VIP”. Quite a few lasted more than five hours, and one as long as seven! As a result, Chef Aaron London knew me too, for better or worse

I don’t know if anyone else besides the chefs themselves ate this gamut of Ubuntu dishes.

6 – This is not a value judgement on meat – I eat plenty of it. But the persistence of meat on menus confirms there is still much opportunity to explore in the worlds of vegetables. And even Ubuntu could not explore the vast possibilities of the vegetable – fermentation and pickling would be considered under-utilized by today’s standards.

This will continue to be a theme. As recounted in Twinkle Twinkle 11 Michelin Stars, the media believes fine dining is going casual. Perhaps it is, on the surface, where designer jeans have replaced stuffy suits. But the food on the plate tells a different story – it is not going “casual” as much as it is going “personal” – caviar and foie gras are no longer pre-requisites for consideration as a serious restaurant. A vegetable dish can take as much time and artistry to develop, and sometimes at comparable cost.

7 – I ate at Aaron London’s Ubuntu four times but, sadly, never wrote up a meal. DocSconz did write up a meal we shared. By the third meal, London was developing his own style within the vegetable constraints imposed by the restaurant. It was a more bountiful version, wilder, but still exciting. London is rumored to be looking for a San Francisco space – I hope he continues exploring the same concepts in his new digs.

8 – Have you picked up Alain Passard’s The Art of Cooking with Vegetables. The peas, thyme, and grapefruit recipe has been on weekly rotation. The book has guided me through this Bay Area Spring. The recipes are interesting while still being accessible to the home cook. They leave room for the intelligent reader to improvise, explore, and create their own. And the book is composed entirely of collages by Passard – no photos. It is a strange effect at first but now one I find refreshing and charming.

For a guy that could toss his ego around however he wanted, it is a quiet and thoughtful book.

The Garden Pot

As free association, l’Agape Substance’s menu reads of a French Fall—of harvest, abundance, gardens and countrysides. But the food is sleek and modern – a cool breeze on the Left Bank. You can read the menu as ingredients – or flavors. They sing, bright and clear, in contrast to the muted chorus of butter across the city. And the vegetables – is this really Paris?

Chef David Toutain has worked at Marc Veyrat, l’Arpege, and Mugaritz – all inspirational and integral to the new fine dining of herbs, vegetables, and terroir. You can trace aspects of his cooking to each – the wild herbs and esoterica of Veyrat and Mugaritz coupled with a l’Arpege vegetable obsession.² But his cooking is his own. And it is worth noting he is friendly with the folks at In de Wulf and La Grenouillere – a nice triangle of modern cooking in France and Belgium.

This reservation was made before I had a chance to say no. I insist, your reservation is complete, and oh, you are sitting at the chef’s table.³ The restaurant had only been open a few months. Tucked behind the pass, Chef Toutain would literally turn around and place each dish on the cramped table. l’Agape Substance is more Tokyo than Paris – there is no space. Outside of one or two dishes, this meal looked similar to what most ate that night (we could see it all.) But this is very much an in-the-moment restaurant, where the preparation might change mid-service – there is energy here – bustling and contagious.⁴

Berce/Hogweed, Yuzu jelly, Rice cracker

The first three dishes touched upon many of Toutain’s characteristics, and they would be repeated across the meal.

Crab with Carrot/Grapefruit consomme had a lingering smokiness, almost a perfume, a backdrop for a thrilling tug between sweet crab and carrot and points bitterness in the broth. Clear and light – a poetic dish that reinforced the ephemeral nature of dining.

The textural mix of poached egg and squash puree provided more substance, a rich blend of the slightly sweet. Tiny stabs of salt brought the dish to life – sometimes it is the simple things – and the verbana foam rounded the edges with a herbaceous note.

And then to wake up the palate! Almost electric, the cold acidic tomato soup spiked with clarity, using sorrel snow to intensify more. Snow dishes often cross the extreme, nullifying taste, but leaves here would have been lost. Hello, welcome to l’Agape Substance.

Texture, technique, seasoning, and flavor – and what a progression.

Crab with Carrot/Grapefruit consomme

Poached egg, Verbana, Squash

Tomato, Sorrel Snow, White licorice

Avocado 3 ways – Sorrel, Yuzu, & Fish eggs

Umami played an integral role in the cooking as well. Toutain used dried shrimp, smoked salmon, and other elements to add depth to the vegetables, to complement and add savoriness. Its flavor was used to fill out the background – dimension that is sometimes missing from a string of vegetable-centric dishes in other menus.⁵

The first bite of zucchini and squash puree was sweet with the peppery nasturtium essence floating around; but it was the dried whole shrimp that gave the dish shape and form. The smoked salmon in the French beans tasted much like a ham might – simple but effective. Caramelized, with browned spices, the carrots were intense with deep earthy flavors. A simple purslane leaf sat atop, tangy counterpoint with ginger foam. You’ve read it before – carrots are the new caviar.

Zucchini, Nasturtium foam, Squash, Dried Shrimp

French beans, Miso, Smoked salmon

Carrot, Ginger, Carrot top puree, Purslane, Browned spices

Squid and pork have been paired before – there are many complements between these two seemingly disparate products. A thinly sliced cuttlefish has the texture of lardo. Here, Toutain had an especially thoughtful rendition where he used the natural chew to his advantage. With each bite, and it took a few, the smoky fragrance of the speck filled the mouth.

Every Part of the Duck looked, and sounded, like overkill this deep into the menu. Who knows what lie under the cover of a thick foie gras sauce – rich on rich. But the apples had a poignant acidity, biting, that played equal to the luscious foie gras sauce. Mouthfeel, balance, and offal.

Squid, Speck

Red mullet, Flowers, Sauce roasted with fish bones

Monkfish, Farro, Chocolate sauce

Porcini, Shitake, Hazelnut crisp, possibly Oyster mushroom sauce

“Every Part of the Duck”

Beef with Rye Marinade

15-day Pigeon, Corn, White miso

Bernard Antony

And vegetables found their way into dessert – it makes sense. It is clear that the typical patisserie fare would not fit in the menu. Tone down the sweetness and bring in different ingredients to allow the desserts to flow more seamlessly, more naturally into the arc of the meal.

The first dessert was particularly interesting – a sour rye ice cream, bitter apple, and the natural sweetness of parsnip, all combined to create a complex taste that straddled sweet and savory. Striking green across the plate, the purple basil sorbet and strawberries struck some of the night’s purist flavors – zing! Its refreshment was appreciated before the next heavier chocolate course. The quince granita was a nice, light touch for the end – why don’t more restaurants do this?

Rye ice cream, Parsnip, Burnt apple

Purple basil sorbet, Strawberries, Parsley puree

Chocolate

Quince granita

l’Agape Substance excels at clear and bright flavors. Textures are more international, with perhaps a puree too many, but it is a nice respite from the leafy vegetable-centric menus. Toutain manipulates the vegetable but still celebrates it by capturing their essence – their substance. While most dishes were strong, one does wonder how much better they might be if Toutain worked to refine the dishes; but there is energy and excitement in his in the moment cooking. And that is quite refreshing for Paris.⁶

- chuck

1 – Yes, this is the new, trendy menu found around the world. As farm to table is integrated into a restaurant’s core, ingredients are presented in lieu of dishes. It can be a variation on omakase – trust the chef; bespoke – how would you like that prepared?; or, most likely, supply management – this is what we have today.

Reading a menu, however, is enjoyable and it is here that I probably find myself slipping into conservatism. You pick it up, heavier is better, chew through descriptions, think of possibilities and combinations, and get a feel for the food and context. This is largely a European experience. It is also interesting that ingredient arrays are replacing long-form menus when there is research that suggests customers will pay more for longer dish names (note: pdf file.)

And, yes, farm to table is getting old as a marketing slogan. And the elder statesmen are saying “where else did food come from all these years” in defiance. But I think that misses the point. It is only recently that menus were products of the gardens, and all of the whims of nature. Of course ingredients came from farms but the dishes were much more static. Now, in many places, dishes are more fluid, more framework, and their composition might hinge on the sun, rain, moon, and stars.

These are interesting arcs. With freshness, have we lost some permanence and refinement? There is excitement in rapid iteration and in the moment; but, arguably, refined dishes, over time, are the pillars of reputation.

2 – Naturalism, New Naturals, New Naturalism – everyone is trying to claim the title. Instead, read Essential Cuisine Michel Bras – that’s the blueprint.

Marc Veyrat is, sadly, one of those restaurants I never made it to. Sometimes I wonder if people get hung up on calling cooking art because of its ephemeral nature. But all material culture, sooner or later, becomes art. Paintings, music, literature – they have physical legacies that persist throughout time. We can know them, re-contextualize them, and keep them relevant. Cookbooks are the only tenuous artifact in cooking. Cuisines are largely lost – how can we know them? Language is abstraction, ingredients change, and seeds are lost. Cooking Escoffier recipes today resemble nothing of what they did in 1900 – the ingredients are not the same.

And let’s not speak of Cancale.

3 – Thank you once again Gastros on Tour. I am sometimes equally insistent. Right now, you’d spend two nights in Charleston (Husk and McCrady’s), fly to Tokyo (Sawada, Ryugin), stop in Belgium (In de Wulf), and end your worldwide trip in San Francisco (Saison.) These are my current culinary obsessions.

If you’re a billionaire, and you need a concierge, email me.

4 – There is a new wave of restaurants in Paris that are more casual, food serious, and vegetable-centric. Spring, Septime, and Saturne to name a few. In fact, Luxeat said she’d pick l’Agape Substance over any Parisian three-star right now.

5 – I also like that Ideas in Food, in their Idea Box post, break out umami into its own category as things to consider when developing a recipe.

At home, when I’ve decided the Bay Area’s bounty should be celebrated and/or more clothes should fit, I eat salad and vegetables all day. But it never works. I break down at the end with a splurge of cheese, jerky, meat, or dark chocolate. For meat eaters to accept a vegetable-centric cuisine, working glutamate into the dishes might be key. And Toutain does this in very measured ways.

6 – I call it The New York Syndrome. There are great restaurants, plenty of options, but it’s difficult to get excited about them. L’Ambrosie treats foreigners like crap. Pierre Gagnaire is culinary Russian roulette. l’Arpege often requires initiation into a secret society for a truly great meal. Ledoyen requires the appetite of ten men, all preferably Russian oligarchs. Ducasse is slightly more exciting than staring at a white wall. I will never understand the fascination with L’Astrance, glorified fusion. Yes, I’m jaded; but I still think Paris is one of the greatest cities in the world – I would love to live and eat there for an extended period of time.