|
October 29, 2007
Bar Boulud Manqué, Bon Appétit Legerdemain, JoJo Masters Fusion
Dear Friends and family,
Once upon a time, restaurants opened discreetly, shyly, without fanfare. Even a reviewer didn't know till friends started reporting. "There's a cute little mom-and-pop bistro in the basement of my building." I know. Different era. We've been to the moon a few times since then. Art is motorcycles erasing paint. And if you have wrinkles, it's not because you're old, it's because you're too stingy to pay for Botox and Restylane.
Now, we of the scarifyingly overpopulated, man-eating media get press kits and eblasts, pre-opening gangbangs and invitations to friends and family tastings that once were only for friends and family. And highly-paid drum-beaters must manufacture compelling preview capers to capture the attention of magazines with long lead times, months before the doors actually open.
So it was for the "hard hat brunch" Saturday, behind the white barricade at Daniel Boulud's Bar Boulud, where a lack of construction hazards made hard hats more a metaphor than an obligation. Even Daniel's shovel was but a symbol of a long road to hoe before a hoped-for December opening..and if not, January. But the charcuterie feast in the rubble was real, gorgeous, thrilling..I do not think I exaggerate. I try to remember paté en croûte at the fabled Le Pavillon and the pretty, sliced pistachio-studded terrines on the rolling cart at La Caravelle in the golden era. Were they really as good as this in the innocent days before cholesterol was invented?
We have stellar salumi in this town now, thank you Mario Batali. But don't be confused. Italian salumi is like the best Italian food: rustic, traditional, uncomplicated. Charcuterie is not just ham and sausage with a French accent, though often rustic too. It's artifice and couturier design. What counts for the neighborhood is that Boulud has teamed with the Parisien charcuterier Gilles Verot and it's Verot's man, Sylvain Gasdon, who has been hanging out for months already in Daniel's underground testing kitchen, figuring out how to make these classics work with American products. Boulud stands on a chair to tell the tale alongside his gifted pal from Paris ("a certified head cheese champion"): wine bar up front, charcuterie display, banquettes along the wall, private rooms below, communal table in the rear. ("Great place to pick up a man," whispers Daniel's devoted amanuensis Georgette Farkas.)
I am planning just to nibble. But there in front of Boulud's starting lineup, Gasdon and assorted kitchen journeyman in unwrinkled whites lies exquisite dazzle, impossible to resist. Compôte of pistachio'd beef cheeks, ham persillé, pâte grande mère and pâte grand père, Lyonnais sausage in brioche, head cheese and duck pâté en croûte. I do remember here and there terrine wizardry at Les Frères Troisgros and Alain Chapel and early thrills at Fernand Point's Le Pyramide; more recently, fatty masterworks at Aux Lyonnais, a Parisian bistro resurrected with great style by Alain Ducasse. But never anything like the impromptu abundance on display in the skeleton of Boulud's Lincoln Center stage.
Well, of course, the company's wine director Daniel Johnnes is pouring reds. There are cheeses that might have been ignored in the cause of moderation, except not by me, who is incapable of bypassing a perfect St. Nectaire or a ripe Époisse. Given the level of overindulgence, I can't see any reason at that point to ignore desserts: remarkable raspberry-lemon tart bergère and a modest triangle cut of apple ginger tart macaronade will have to do for now. And yes, I did go home to sleep it off.
Short and Sweet by Bon Appétit
It's a new cleverness - short and sweet and delicious. Bon Appétit pop-up restaurant. A duplex lounge for private parties, pulsing with music and sparkle from a thousand Mylar streamers by night. And by day, Bon Appétit magazine's café open to the public. But only for two weeks, just long enough to make a splash. (Speaking of splashes, I'm wild about the floor - a patchwork of glossy paint splashes.)
It looks and feels like 70s disco madness all over again as we check in to salute our pal, editor Barbara Fairchild. The music throbs. Lights flash on twisting Mylar. Except instead of everyone boogying madly, we're drinking pink cocktails and eating Govind Armstrong's ambitious food. There he is, the Los Angeles star (we did Celebrity Cooking Showdown to its cruelly speedy showdown together), managing to cook risotto on a hot plate, shaving on the white truffles.
Heaven only knows what this ambitious promotion cost - maybe less than a giant sign in Times Square, maybe more. Presumably the lounge makes money nighttime from its rotating star celebrants. Rockwell claimed opening night to raise money for the playground he's designing downtown. The Kite Runner opening with Katie Couric gets its night too. But the cafe is open to the public for lunch, cookbook signings, tastings, etc. from 11 a.m. to 3 in the afternoon. All this week.
Waldy Malouf Smokes
The evening begins with lobster tarragon fritters with a saffron-sherry dunk and smoke curling up from dry ice lurking in your flute of kir royale. There's even a mellow hint of smoke in the air. Then the six of us -- strangers gathered to sample Waldy Malouf's adventurous Thursday night tasting -- move to a counter with tall stools in front of Beacon's open kitchen.
Not all chefs with wood-burning ovens are as fixated on smoke as Malouf. So I'm taken by surprise when the chef dishes up deliciously smoke-tinged wild striped bass, smoked on a bed of fennel with a lemony tang. The chef himself wheels and turns, fetching and dishing up. In the big open kitchen behind, his crew watches transfixed. The chef has even programmed the music. Moroccan to go with the oysters and scallops. Rockabilly with the short ribs and grits. The sommelier pours rather expensive wines, considering the evening costs just $85. "We are choosing wines where only one bottle is left," he explains.
After the small square of wild mushroom pizza, a duo of roasted oysters, the scallop on cabbage seared in the oven, that bass and a kabocha squash plumped raviolo, Walouf says he has programmed a five-minute break at this point. "You can take a walk or a smoke or a joint or a Viagra," he improvises in recognition that one of tonight's diners is a doctor whose practice focuses on male sexual vigor. We vote to plow on, a signal for the squab, followed by a huge marrow-bone split in half with garlic and fresh grated horseradish. Yes, Waldy grating. Then short ribs with foie gras on grits. At that point the little squares of kobe beef seared on a hot stone seem much too much. Thank heaven for sorbet with roasted quince and verjus, the perfect ending with an anticlimactic overly airy chocolate soufflé alongside fabulous smoked vanilla bean ice cream.
"Oh dear, I forgot the garlic fries," says Waldy, setting a tall cone of fries on our counter. Even the divine smell of garlic is too much after such excess. I am amazed when one of his guests pops a fry in his mouth and emits what I believe is a yum.
The largish Madeleine is to take home for breakfast. We share a cab with new friends. I'd say this is a steal at $85 plus tip. Thursdays only, starting November 8.
Jean-Georges Does Asia
Your new cook book celebrates Asian Flavors. So where do you throw your party? Spice Market obviously, where I assume chef/entrepreneur Jean-Georges Vongerichten gets to reserve the downstairs bar wholesale. My guy and I went to show respect and affection -- Jean-Georges is unfailingly sweet and modest, this man who changed the way chefs cook thirty years ago at Lafayette and went on to go global. But with each new wave of guests, food world stars, media, the bloggards, sensational tidbits never stop coming and we linger, making a dinner out of the tasting -- duck sticks, chicken samosas, chile rubbed beef skewers.
Would I cook from Asian Flavors of Jean-Georges (Broadway Books)? Now that I eat out eight nights a week, I rarely cook - but I am tempted to try the tuna ribbons with ginger marmalade. I would look at the photographs -- cookbooks as food porn -- and then I would make a reservation at Spice Market as I often do. The place has had its up and downs over time but has been up on my last four outings.
An Obsession with Bacon
When I was a cook - and I really was a wonderful cook, highly competitive with my other foodie friends who cooked - I used to have a theory that anything tasted better with sour cream or bacon. There was an interlude when balsamic vinegar was my cure-all for a dish that lacked spark. Chicken soup, pasta with sausage. But back to bacon. That incurable counter-countercultural icon James Villas supports my theory in his new, The Bacon Cookbook (Wiley.) He even wants you to believe that bacon is a guilt-free indulgence and not a monument to salt and fat. I say Yes Yes Yes.
Give me a choice of the best foie gras or the best bacon. No contest. I'll take the bacon. I'm pretty partial to my own meat loaf but a recipe called "Jean's best meat loaf" with bacon inside and outside is something I would try.
Last time I spoke to Jim he sounded cranky..I hope he got a psychic lift from testing all these recipes. Nothing like a croque monsieur with real bacon to cheer a man up.
Cook for a Cause
The French Culinary Institute will offer the public half a dozen hands-on holiday cooking classes to benefit HELP USA, a provider of homes, jobs and services -- including a culinary arts program for the homeless and low income families.
The celebrated chef instructors of the FCI will host six evenings that start with a three-hour hands-on holiday cooking class, and end with a three-course dinner paired with wine. The Institute plans to donate $200 of each $450 ticket to HELP USA. FCI founder and CEO Dorothy Hamilton has also announced that the school's famed instructors will be teaching in HELP's Culinary Arts Program. "Help Cook for a Cause" classes run from Wednesday November 7 to Friday December 7 from 7 to 10 p.m. Reserve in advance at www.helpusa.org/FCIcookforacause or by calling 1-800-280-0073.
|
|
|
|
|