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| RER 2.18.15 |
The New York
City Restaurant Week menu at Butter Midtown displayed a
treasure trove of textures and a flourish of welcomed color, like watercolors
on a studded canvas. It was a journey of aesthetics and consistencies battling
it out—dissonant, jarring, evocative, subtle and sensuous.
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| RER 2.18.15 |
On jade green
ringed bread plates, fluffy golden parker house rolls, crusted with flaked sea salt,
sat high and domed, only outshined by smooth rounds of sweet and herbed butter.
Both bread and spread were sweet, but the crisp flaky outer layer of the roll
and staccato of salt countered the airy insides and the creamy butter. Rougher
slices of baguette with heavy singed crusts deserved the herb-studded variety,
chewy and aromatic.
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| RER 2.18.15 |
A cube of chopped
pale fluke was encircled by negative space and an emerald line chasing itself
around the plate. The appetizer felt like an absence of color and life, only
awakened by rich magenta blood orange pieces and thin slices of prickly green
English cucumbers whose skin echoed the emerald ring. The raw fish and blood
orange were cut to the same size, mimicking texture and slippery appeal, while
the cucumber added an almost imperceptible crunch, varying the mood and
tripping the tongue.
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| RER 2.18.15 |
Four plump
ravioli, over-garnished, rested snugly in a shallow bowl; a tangle of toppings
disguising the meat filled pockets and a pool of buttery sauces. The bowl’s
rim, decorated with a red brown floral motif like at grandma’s, matched the
julienne candy striped beets perfectly, again connecting plate to dish. The
freshness of the beet was crisp like raw vegetable, but the buttered
breadcrumbs crunched like oven-toasted happiness, while the pasta was soft,
bursting with stringy tender meat. Bright green chile pesto added heat and a
thick feeling in the mouth contradicting the garlicky sauce collecting at the
bottom of the bowl.
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| RER 2.18.15 |
Again, a
distracting decorated plate highlighted its contents, allowing dessert to
visually blend in with its surroundings and transcend flavor. The springy slick
custard of the crème caramel, glided through teeth, while the ruby red
pomegranate seeds got stuck and stumbled. Crunchy almond brittle echoed the
dance of the seeds, but it was the syrupy sweet kumquat rind that caused a
stutter: stop, put down the fork, cut the candied peel and savor.
The experience was
about texture— the way each element played with its compatriots and each layer
added to the textual architecture of the dish, the way the mouth perceived
moments and memorized them, the way texture can trump taste and produce
something satiating and musical.
RER
2.18.15
