The first (of many) amuse: a velvety sunchoke puree with just the faintest taste of fresh earth.
Cauliflower “panna cotta” with California sturgeon caviar. A mother-of-pearl spoon at a place setting elicits an almost Pavlovian response in me.
Shirred egg custard with lamb gelee, potato chip and chive.
Two different butters arrived for the bread (which was warm and golden and gobbled so quickly that it escaped the camera’s glare): a lightly salted pot on the left and an extravagantly dense quenelle of unsalted from Andante Dairy on the right. Look at that color and then blame me for expecting to hear it was duck fat.
Three different salts: sel gris at the top, a Filipino white salt similar to fleur de sel, and pink Jurassic salt, mined from a deposit in Montana that was a seabed back when dinosaurs roamed.
Salad of roasted Belgian endive, sour Michigan cherries, pecans, oxalis, and kola nut gastrique.
Pave d’aubergine confit, with cauliflower, chickpeas, sultanas, harissa, pine nuts, cilantro, and yogurt was perhaps the most perfect expression of a humble eggplant that I’ve ever tasted.