passport to PARIS: Verjus

RER 7.27.15

Indulgence can be overrated, and in fact, moderately pretentious, demolishing modesty and humility. Luxury can be over-drawn, where extravagant elements intertwine disharmoniously.

This, however, is not Verjus. The Parisian restaurant is unassuming with light rushing in like a sunroom off of a kitchen. Technique, ingredients and assembly speak to indulgence minus the bad connotations. The warmth of the orange-pink evening light is reflected in the atmosphere— the staff, the pacing, even the familiar foods refined to elegance.

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RER 7.27.15

Each amuse bouche was constructed to be savored and ephemeral, catering to both texture and flavor. The crispy chicken skin swathed with creamy meaty chicken liver or the crunchy sourdough crostini topped with fera and popping orbs of pickled mustard are prime examples. The four bites melted in the mouth, leaving the residue of freshness and a quiet innovation.

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Some of the courses were confusing in a mysterious and magical way, in that they almost combined the unimaginable. The way different varieties and stages of tomatoes played together with the green purslane and the house-made toasted fresh milk cheese, dusted with a powder of dehydrated tomato, evoked the feelings of salad, unconnected but willing to converge. Two silvery sardines topped with tiny cubes of summery zucchini and new potato effortlessly brought together the briny with the mild, embellished with herbal dill and scientific dehydrated egg yolk.

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RER 7.27.15

Others looked familiar but guaranteed an inexplicable flourish of decadence. Plump yellow cappelletti nestled with nutty chanterelles evoked memories, but middles made of studded ricotta and cervelle created new ones.  A polite pile of sirloin tartare exuded fineness, but the crisp nature and bite of the cucumbers and beans toned down the decadence while elevating the appeal to the tongue.

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Dessert, too, only looked disjointed and unprepared: common oat moments and fresh peaches and pretty wild blueberries, spun into dreams with a sweet and creamy white chocolate mousse.

The insightful courses compounded expectations and anticipation with surprise and whimsy, manifestations of profound flavor profiles, thoughtful layered texture and attentive aesthetics. Verjus presented a deep knowledge of the complexities and simplicities of food and experience, resulting in more than just a meal.

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7.27.15

RER 7.27.15

the world is your OYSTER: Stingray Lounge

RER 7.1.15

Oysters are supposed to be sexy, at least that’s what people say. They’re an aphrodisiac (if that’s a thing) and a delicacy. I want to believe it. I want to believe that those slimy wet globs are as seductive, visceral, delicious, and intriguing as people say they are.

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RER 7.1.15

RER 7.1.15

Stingray Lounge made me believe. The new-in-town seafood bar and eatery does in fact make oysters sexy. There is something poetic in the mechanical dirty work of shucking an oyster. There is something thrilling about not knowing what to expect when the shallow dish of ice displaying a ring of mysterious morsels slides in front of you. There is something luxurious about the smooth and creamy nature of the Blue Point, the sheer softness of the Stingray, or the melt-in- your mouth quality of the Pearl Passage. There is something surprising in the strong flavor of the Kumamoto, the meaty firmness of the Conway Cup, or the metallic saltiness of the Hood Canal. There is something unnerving about their slinky texture and origins, and yet there is something intoxicating about an oyster’s pure freshness, overwhelming rawness and pristine character.

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It is not just about the oysters themselves at Stingray Lounge— it’s about the ambiance you are thrown into crossing the threshold as well. No matter how bright and bustling it is on Washington Street, there is a captivating silence and refreshing refinement that oozes mature sexiness encapsulated in the lounge. The details help to make the experience sensual: the cool greys and blues, painted brick, speckled marble slabs, finely appointed furniture. You forget where you are and submit. 

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Despite the trendy vibe, Stingray still maintains a warmth and friendliness where extravagance and attitude have not overwhelmed familiarity. Plus, the 4 to 7 pm happy hour offering half-off oysters and bubbly makes it easy to come, sample and linger.

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7.1.15

RER 7.1.15

NYCRW: BUTTER midtown

RER 2.18.15

Sometimes texture trumps taste. Sometimes what lingers longest is how each morsel felt on the tongue, silencing what speaks volumes with pure pleasure and interest. Sometimes it’s the seduction of touch and feel that is more invigorating, and disconnect is what binds.

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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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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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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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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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.

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2.18.15

second YELPing...

RER 10.4.13

I never really do this, but I created a list of pros and cons for the literally beautiful Beauty & Essex for my yelp review. I have seen in many yelp reviews lists like this, and in some ways my list was less pros and cons, but more delicious and unappealing, smashingly memorable and lacking character, highlights and lackluster. We went to the LES staple for one of my good friend's birthday, and I was excited.The food was perhaps as eye catching and mouth watering as the space, with its refined black dark décor and its beautiful people. Beauty & Essex is a place to see and be seen, but not necessarily order mains. For more, check out my “pros and cons” list yelp review.  

RER

10.4.13