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I have a few other meal reviews to write, not least the best sushi I've ever had, which we found in Prague, and another restaurant there, as well as some thoughts on the Easter Feast, which I cooked four (of eight!) courses for, and both the splendid meals I had today. But I promised that I would write up the meal I had recently with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
entscheidung.
When Heath was in London for Easter we made a trip to Alain Ducasse' restaurant at the Dorchester. They have two Michelin stars, and are pushing towards a third, according to the latest guide. It was a very good meal, but I feel there's a little more room for improvement than that implies.
Due to a slight miscommunication about timing, I arrived early, but went straight to the table to enjoy a dry martini whilst I waited. To accompany this I was brought a plate of cheese puffs - little balls of choux pastry made with emmental and sprinkled with paprika. These were quite splendid - warm on the tongue, sharp and salty, and the pastry so light that they almost evaporated in your mouth. I had foolishly left my book in my pocket as my overcoat was taken to the cloakroom, but I passed the time quite happily enjoying the atmosphere, under the sparkling lights from the outside of the Salon Lumière.
Once Heath arrived we decided fairly quickly to go for the Menu Printemps, and some wines which I hope he's going to remind me of so I can update this review to make it more comprehensive.
The first course was chilled Scottish langoustine in a rich nage caviar from Aquitaine. The langoustine were good and fresh and flavoursome, although the creamy sauce they were served in didn't really seem to add anything except a bit of texture. Neither of these things are particularly important though, because the real star of the dish was the caviar. There's something quite thrilling about the pop-pop-pop-pop sensation as you press the eggs against the roof of your mouth and wait for the pungent fishiness to spread over your tongue that really is incomparable.
The second course was hand-made ravioli of foie gras with fresh herbs & black truffles in duck consommé. This was probably my favourite course of the meal. I began by spilling a small spoonful of the liquid into my mouth, and it was everything a consommé should be - warming and heartening, and yet more, infused as it was with the black truffle which is perhaps my favourite flavour*, and the chives and tarragon which I thought very well chosen. I would have been quite happy had that been all the tastes delivered by this course, but then I took a mouthful of ravioli, and oh. Oh, oh, oh, how sweet and smooth it was. I forced myself to take my time, savouring each bite.
Next we had roasted Scottish lobster "primavera" style. In my youth I was always violently opposed to "mushy peas", thinking that they were a vile corruption of a foodstuff that couldn't possibly be improved from the simple popping of the pod and eating them raw, preferably having taken the pod from the stem oneself in the childhood summer sun. I now admit to having revised this opinion, as they managed to savour all the sweetness I remember, and intensify it into these swirls of bright green. Perhaps it is only next to such exquisiteness, but the lobster itself was almost a disappointment. I remember commenting that of all the traditional luxury foods - champagne, caviar, fois gras, and of course truffles, lobster has generally been the one that I feel least deserving of its place in the list. Perhaps it's just that I've never had it done just right, but this was not the occasion to convince me otherwise.
The final fish course was baked fillet of sea bass, crayfish and asparagus, and a champagne sabayon. This was probably my least favoured course. The sea bass was good, but the crayfish were a little bland, and I know they can be much more than that, and the sabayon was strange and a seemed predominantly sour and bitter, which are flavours that do very well as afternotes, but certainly shouldn't serve alone. It was redeemed rather by the asparagus, which was my first of the season, tiny slivers full of flavour and just the right amount of crunch.
The main course was roasted farm house veal loin from Limousin and braised morel mushrooms in Arbois wine. This was extremely good. It was, I think, the first time I've eaten veal since my splendidly ridiculous trip to Houston, and the meat was almost as good but not quite. This pleases me, since I managed to enjoy it immensely, without feeling that the trip could have been skipped**. As it turned out though, this was another course where the supposed accompaniment stole centre stage. Those mushrooms. Oh, those mushrooms. For a long time I had held a course at Nobu, where they served about six different kinds of mushroom in a light soy based sauce, and every single one was delicious and distinct and glorious, to be the pinnacle of what can be done with that humble but delicious fungus. Now I know different. They were small slices, dark and shrivelled, but each one exploded in your mouth with earthy, salty, almost-sweet joyfulness. I carefully metered them out as I ate the veal, and managed to save three for the end, which I devoured almost hastily and felt ripples of sensual pleasure all through my body.
The cheese course was truffled brie de meaux. I think everyone reading this knows a)how I feel about cheese, and b)how I feel about truffles. If I say that I wasn't disappointed, then that probably conveys all that I need to. I nearly slid off my chair.
For the final course we had a choice of sweets, and I went for lime souffle with white cheese and sichuan pepper sorbet. The souffle was actually a bit of a disappointment, although that may just be because my expectations were so raised by those at The Square and Morgan M. The sorbet though was an absolute joy. I'm a little sceptical of calling something containing cheese a sorbet, as I rather think of it as an ice with no dairy, but regardless of the name it was extremely good. Not terribly sweet, but the smooth sourness of the cheese was the perfect counterpoint to the spice of the pepper.
The petit fours that followed were nice enough, but nothing outstanding enough to stick in my mind. The meal had another very special punctuation mark though, because as we were finishing our brandy, and about the last people in the restaurant, the sommelier asked us if we'd like a look around the wine cellar. Of course we leaped at the chance, and it was really quite something. It's built into the corner of the dining room, and I'm not sure how much was mirrors and how much really was magical expanding of space to fit more wine that seems feasible, with shiny techy bits to adjust the temperatures in different areas of the cellar. Heath was far more composed than me, and had a look at some of the more exciting bottles, which I hope he'll tell you about in the comments when he reminds me what we drank with the meal.
All told, it was one of those evenings that reminded me just how good life could be.
*I was lunching today, withjamesofengland at 1 Lombard Place, and commented that it's very easy to please me by by splashing something in truffle oil. "Oh yes, a man of simple pleasures, you are," he said, mockingly.
**I say that, but the think I got most of from that trip was the overwhelming experience of the Rothko Chapel, which I think will affect me to my dying day.
entscheidung.When Heath was in London for Easter we made a trip to Alain Ducasse' restaurant at the Dorchester. They have two Michelin stars, and are pushing towards a third, according to the latest guide. It was a very good meal, but I feel there's a little more room for improvement than that implies.
Due to a slight miscommunication about timing, I arrived early, but went straight to the table to enjoy a dry martini whilst I waited. To accompany this I was brought a plate of cheese puffs - little balls of choux pastry made with emmental and sprinkled with paprika. These were quite splendid - warm on the tongue, sharp and salty, and the pastry so light that they almost evaporated in your mouth. I had foolishly left my book in my pocket as my overcoat was taken to the cloakroom, but I passed the time quite happily enjoying the atmosphere, under the sparkling lights from the outside of the Salon Lumière.
Once Heath arrived we decided fairly quickly to go for the Menu Printemps, and some wines which I hope he's going to remind me of so I can update this review to make it more comprehensive.
The first course was chilled Scottish langoustine in a rich nage caviar from Aquitaine. The langoustine were good and fresh and flavoursome, although the creamy sauce they were served in didn't really seem to add anything except a bit of texture. Neither of these things are particularly important though, because the real star of the dish was the caviar. There's something quite thrilling about the pop-pop-pop-pop sensation as you press the eggs against the roof of your mouth and wait for the pungent fishiness to spread over your tongue that really is incomparable.
The second course was hand-made ravioli of foie gras with fresh herbs & black truffles in duck consommé. This was probably my favourite course of the meal. I began by spilling a small spoonful of the liquid into my mouth, and it was everything a consommé should be - warming and heartening, and yet more, infused as it was with the black truffle which is perhaps my favourite flavour*, and the chives and tarragon which I thought very well chosen. I would have been quite happy had that been all the tastes delivered by this course, but then I took a mouthful of ravioli, and oh. Oh, oh, oh, how sweet and smooth it was. I forced myself to take my time, savouring each bite.
Next we had roasted Scottish lobster "primavera" style. In my youth I was always violently opposed to "mushy peas", thinking that they were a vile corruption of a foodstuff that couldn't possibly be improved from the simple popping of the pod and eating them raw, preferably having taken the pod from the stem oneself in the childhood summer sun. I now admit to having revised this opinion, as they managed to savour all the sweetness I remember, and intensify it into these swirls of bright green. Perhaps it is only next to such exquisiteness, but the lobster itself was almost a disappointment. I remember commenting that of all the traditional luxury foods - champagne, caviar, fois gras, and of course truffles, lobster has generally been the one that I feel least deserving of its place in the list. Perhaps it's just that I've never had it done just right, but this was not the occasion to convince me otherwise.
The final fish course was baked fillet of sea bass, crayfish and asparagus, and a champagne sabayon. This was probably my least favoured course. The sea bass was good, but the crayfish were a little bland, and I know they can be much more than that, and the sabayon was strange and a seemed predominantly sour and bitter, which are flavours that do very well as afternotes, but certainly shouldn't serve alone. It was redeemed rather by the asparagus, which was my first of the season, tiny slivers full of flavour and just the right amount of crunch.
The main course was roasted farm house veal loin from Limousin and braised morel mushrooms in Arbois wine. This was extremely good. It was, I think, the first time I've eaten veal since my splendidly ridiculous trip to Houston, and the meat was almost as good but not quite. This pleases me, since I managed to enjoy it immensely, without feeling that the trip could have been skipped**. As it turned out though, this was another course where the supposed accompaniment stole centre stage. Those mushrooms. Oh, those mushrooms. For a long time I had held a course at Nobu, where they served about six different kinds of mushroom in a light soy based sauce, and every single one was delicious and distinct and glorious, to be the pinnacle of what can be done with that humble but delicious fungus. Now I know different. They were small slices, dark and shrivelled, but each one exploded in your mouth with earthy, salty, almost-sweet joyfulness. I carefully metered them out as I ate the veal, and managed to save three for the end, which I devoured almost hastily and felt ripples of sensual pleasure all through my body.
The cheese course was truffled brie de meaux. I think everyone reading this knows a)how I feel about cheese, and b)how I feel about truffles. If I say that I wasn't disappointed, then that probably conveys all that I need to. I nearly slid off my chair.
For the final course we had a choice of sweets, and I went for lime souffle with white cheese and sichuan pepper sorbet. The souffle was actually a bit of a disappointment, although that may just be because my expectations were so raised by those at The Square and Morgan M. The sorbet though was an absolute joy. I'm a little sceptical of calling something containing cheese a sorbet, as I rather think of it as an ice with no dairy, but regardless of the name it was extremely good. Not terribly sweet, but the smooth sourness of the cheese was the perfect counterpoint to the spice of the pepper.
The petit fours that followed were nice enough, but nothing outstanding enough to stick in my mind. The meal had another very special punctuation mark though, because as we were finishing our brandy, and about the last people in the restaurant, the sommelier asked us if we'd like a look around the wine cellar. Of course we leaped at the chance, and it was really quite something. It's built into the corner of the dining room, and I'm not sure how much was mirrors and how much really was magical expanding of space to fit more wine that seems feasible, with shiny techy bits to adjust the temperatures in different areas of the cellar. Heath was far more composed than me, and had a look at some of the more exciting bottles, which I hope he'll tell you about in the comments when he reminds me what we drank with the meal.
All told, it was one of those evenings that reminded me just how good life could be.
*I was lunching today, with
jamesofengland at 1 Lombard Place, and commented that it's very easy to please me by by splashing something in truffle oil. "Oh yes, a man of simple pleasures, you are," he said, mockingly.**I say that, but the think I got most of from that trip was the overwhelming experience of the Rothko Chapel, which I think will affect me to my dying day.
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Wonderful review
Date: 2009-04-23 03:10 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2009-04-23 08:23 am (UTC)From:I love lobster, but have found it's really only worthwhile in fish-specific restaurants and dressed very simply, in the same way I'd rather eat good steak unmolested by sauces. I've never understood the appeal of caviar, although I'm sure this will change one day as it has all of the components I favour (interesting texture, salt-sweet flavours).
no subject
Date: 2009-05-01 03:14 pm (UTC)From:(Please excuse me butting in on your LJ, Sebastian, I occasionally pop by for your wonderful restaurant reviews. I find the way you write about food fascinating: although I love good food, I can't imagine ever being able to be so analytical about the tastes and experience of eating.)
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Date: 2009-05-01 03:28 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2009-05-01 03:36 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2009-04-23 09:00 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2009-04-23 10:10 am (UTC)From:no subject
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