côté mas (in the kitchen with taïchi)

beef tatakiThe daily menu at Côté Mas is short, seasonal and mostly locally sourced. San Miguel cured ham is sliced to order on an antique slicing machine; Aveyron beef and lamb are cooked Mediterranean-style and served with garden vegetables; desserts, such as Ile Flottante, are all contemporary takes on French classics. The surprise comes in the subtle use of Asian ingredients, such as in tuna tataki, marinated with garden herbs and served with black radish, wasabi spaghetti, soy jelly and yuzu. The reasoning becomes clear as soon as you notice Taïchi Megurikami leading the kitchen. A Japanese chef at the helm has long been part of proprietor Jean-Claude Mas’ plan. “They will take something as inspiration and make it better,” he says. “They will create something sublime.” Like spheres of duck foie gras with very three distinct flavors: soy sauce, honey, and red mulled wine. Then again such an unorthodox approach to French cooking is in keeping with Mas’ attitude towards making wine, full of the spicy, new world aromas and flavors of the Languedoc.

IMG_2412 ile flotante Taïchi Megurikami

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the elusive bresse chicken

bresse chickenBresse chicken is one of those seemingly mythological creatures I’ve long heard about it, but never seen (or eaten) myself, kind of like a unicorn. The great poets of gastronomy wax rhapsodic over the flesh of these particular birds, which are raised free-range in eastern France and have the distinction of being the first animals designated with an AOC, or appellation. While I would have loved to chance upon a whole roasted bird, I was still pleasantly surprised to find a version of it on the menu at Camelia, the courtyard garden at Mandarin Oriental, where I’ve been staying on the rue St. Honore. In the hands of Michelin-starred chef Thierry Marx the plump breast of the bird is layered in a terrine with black truffle and foie gras de canard, surrounded by fruity girolle mushrooms in a savory jus. I never imagined a bird could stand up to the intense aroma of truffle or the pungent flavor of duck liver, but this poultry more than holds its own. Satisfying as an appetizer, it only serves to make me crave the full bird experience.

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death by butter (and salt)

IMG_2267Needless to say my vegan, raw food diet has gone out the window pretty quickly here in Paris. Good riddance, I say; especially when there is butter like this to be had. (and fleur de sel, and foie gras, and croissants as ethereal as angels wings.)

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dragonfly

Because you can’t gather dinner in Central Park everyday, it’s nice to have a local to keep you in comfort food when the urge arises. Though the doorway of Dragonfly looks more like a crime scene than a reputable restaurant, inside Chef Cornelius Gallagher – late of Oceana and Lespinasse – is cooking up his own personal riff on the flavors of Thailand, Vietnam, and Hong Kong. And it’s infinitely less grisly than the door handle might suggest. My favorites from a recent serendipitous drive-by: giant wasabi-infused tater tots and a signature curry coconut shrimp with fresh pea shoots. Come the next rainy day I’ll be tackling the cleverly-themed Street Cart menu. The thought alone of Fresh Sriracha Bacon, Hot Roasted Foie Gras, Kim Chee Tempura, and Marrow Dumplings is making me want to cuddle.

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top 100: le cirque

If you don’t believe it possible that any single establishment could embody the look, attitude, and (un)consciousness of an era, look no further than Le Cirque. In the go-go 1980’s Sirio Maccioni’s restaurant at the Mayfair Hotel was where the elite came to meet and eat. On any given evening you might find the Nancy’s (Reagan, Sinatra, and Kissinger, if you have to ask) cheek by jowl on a red leather banquette alongside European royalty, assorted movie stars, Jackie O, and an editor or two from Tina Brown’s Vanity Fair furiously scribbling it all down. It wasn’t, however, solely about the intermingling of the power elite – it was also about the food. David Bouley, Terrance Brennan, Jacques Torres, Sottha Khun, Bill Telepan, and Geoffrey Zakarian all spent quality time in the kitchen at Le Cirque. And it should be remembered that under Daniel Boulud the restaurant ascended to four-star status, repeatedly regaled by the New York Times. Few people would argue that as the 20th century drew to an optimistic close Le Cirque epitomized not only everything a restaurant should be but also everything a city could be. Today – despite the bonfire of many an interim vanity – much of what made it great remains. For one there’s the impeccable white-jacketed service fronted by the most hospitable hosts in town. You are welcomed like an old friend – more to the point, an important friend – into one of the more elegant dining rooms in the city. The ceilings might soar double or triple-height but the mood is nevertheless cozy and intimée at a banquette overlooking the room. Le Cirque may have lost some of its buzzworthiness and fallen out of favor with the Page Six set but the air remains rarefied. If anything, the diminished spotlight only serves to focus the attention squarely where it belongs: on the food, which I’m happy to say succeeds from the first amuse to the final petit four. In between, a half-dozen meaty Blue Point oysters on the half shell are cause for celebration. So, too, a restrained rectangle of foie gras with quince jelly. The fish is impeccable: both turbot a la plancha atop olive oil crushed potatoes and john dory in a rich bouillabaisse broth make for satisfying main courses. And I dare you to find a desert to trump the ethereal Floating Island. Under the toque of Executive Chef Olivier Reginensi there remains a handful of oldies but goodies like lobster risotto, diver scallops with black truffle in puff pastry, baked Alaska and Chateaubriand for two, but for the most part Le Cirque has gracefully found its feet in the 21st century, moving beyond those flashy holdovers from another era – society swans included.

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under the spell of amber

My first Michelin-starred meal in Hong Kong turned out to be quite the doozy. Under the guidance of Dutch chef Richard Ekkebus, Amber at The Landmark Mandarin Oriental has two of those coveted stars. But wait, there’s more:  the San Pellegrino “World’s 50 Best Restaurants” Awards ranked the eatery at number 37 earlier this year. Not only is it the only Hong Kong restaurant on the list, it’s the only restaurant in Hong Kong to have made the list since 2005. (I’d been told the city is emerging with enormous gastronomic energy – this factoid only served to solidify my stomach’s growing expectations.) Needless to say lunch at Amber did not disappoint. From the amusing amuse of foie gras lollipops shellacked with beetroot to the perfectly-formed olive-studded focaccia, my meal was a languorous mix of creative aesthetics and fresh, contemporary flavors grounded in traditional French technique. Dungeness crab with crème fraiche, avocado, Granny Smith apple and cucumber was so composed I almost hated to mess the plate. Line-caught Atlantic cod was roasted with the skin on and served with salted celeriac and Iberian pork neck in a Cabernet reduction that perfectly played off the meatiness of the fish. For dessert a terrarium of tiramisu was inspired – so, too, the cheese trolley – yet the  bliss of dark chocolate gunaja with speculoos crumbs was downright genius.  This wasn’t at all what I expected of Hong Kong – but I’m so happy to have had my expectations thoroughly upended.

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last supper at le bernardin

When friend and photographer Lyn Hughes called inviting to me a literal last supper at Le Bernardin last weekend I didn’t hesitate. I also didn’t bother taking out my camera phone – when you’re with the court photographer it’s not only considered unseemly but redundant. Rather I relaxed – if you can call it that – over a leisurely orgasmic eight courses of Michelin three-star cuisine at its finest. Eric Ripert and Maguy la Coze’s seafood temple is shuttering for a summer renovation rumored to be costing in the neighborhood of a few million dollars – its first since bursting on the New York dining scene 25 years ago. (Not that you’d guess the old girl’s age from her perfectly pristine interiors) Here then a tasting menu of Lyn’s images from our Last Supper to get you through the August drought.  You can see plenty more of her food porn on the restaurant’s website, too. Or better still, book a September table now and beat what’s sure to be an onslaught of old flames out to check if the collar still matches the cuffs

Fresh off a plane Chef Ripert nevertheless made a point of greeting every table.

Progressive Tasting of Kumamoto Oyster “en gelée”; from Light and Refreshing to Complex and Spicy.

Seared Langoustine; Mâche and Wild Mushroom Salad, Shaved Foie Gras, White Balsamic Vinaigrette.

Barely Cooked Wild Salmon; Asparagus “Risotto”, Smoked Pistachio Pesto.

Crispy Black Bass; Lup Cheong and Beansprout, Mini Pork Buns, Hoisin – Plum Jus.

Toasting the end of just another night’s service – and a month-long vacation.

The morning after: let the demolition begin.

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flip burger boutique

Fans of Bravo’s Top Chef series will recognize the Chicago season runner-up Richard Blais, the spiky-haired molecular gastronome currently masterminding Atlanta’s two Flip Burger boutiques.  Heralded for a creative take on American cuisine, Blais has worked his way through the kitchens of Thomas Keller,  Daniel Boulud, and Ferran Adria.  He’s even been a competitor on Iron Chef: America.  So what’s he now doing running a burger joint? Reinventing what we’ve come to expect from a burger, fries, and shakes.

“Fine dining between two buns” is Flip’s motto and it sets you up perfectly (almost) for what’s to come, starting with the sleek red and white interiors.  Spacious booths are padded out to create a cocoon of leather, giving the whole enterprise the feel of, er, well, the Enterprise.  Spotlessly clean and vaguely futuristic, you’ve arrived at a burger joint the Jetson’s could only dream of.  A quick glance across the menu and it looks like burgers and fries and shakes, but look closer:  chocolate beet milkshakes? short rib kimchee and pickled garlic burgers? foie gras nuggets?  Huh? This is serious food, meticulously prepared: parsnip frittes, sesame sweetbreads, roasted bone marrow with braised oxtail, fried pickles with buttermilk sirancha, and burgers galore, like the farmer burger (organic grass-fed beef, scuppernong preserves, tomme and collard greens), the pate melt (veal and pork, lingonberry jam, cornichons, pickled shallots and swiss cheese), and the southern (chicken fried beef, pimento cheese, b&b pickles and chow chow), all served on brioche buns.  And don’t forget the milkshakes, chilled to a custardy thickness courtesy of liquid nitrogen: nutella and burnt marshmallow, krispy kreme, and an unbelievable foie gras.  That it’s all neatly delivered in an unpretentious, budget-friendly “boutique” is genius.  That it’s delicious – even when adventurous and whimsical to a fault – well, that’s the real surprise.

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chowing on the chatahoochie

Think you know Southern food?  Well, think again. folks.  Atlanta is the up-and-coming next big gastro destination, mixing comfort foods and fine dining in a hi-lo twist that will keep you coming back for more.  And more.  Over the next few posts I’m going to focus on a handful of restaurants that are changing the way we think about food in the deep South, but for now I’ve got a foie gras milkshake calling my name.

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the edible revolution

When people think of Irish food they tend to focus on the mythology of the humble spud – or pints of creamy Guinness.  Yet what many don’t realize is that while the Slow Food movement may have been born in northern Italy, it first gained traction and was embraced in Ireland.  Almost a generation ago a new breed of Irish chefs who had trained abroad and saw the creeping spread of pesticide-grown, antibiotic-riddled foods realized that back home the burgeoning globalization of agribusiness had yet to invade their country.  The good stuff, as it were, was still being produced locally on small farms:  beef and lamb that tasted of the pastures where they were raised, fresh dairy that didn’t have to travel across a continent, produce within a stone’s throw, and fish and shellfish foraged from the surrounding ocean.  At the same time, the growth of the Celtic economy saw a wave of returning emigres, and suddenly there were artisanal cheese-makers sprouting up near the dairy farms in Cork and Kerry, smokehouses outside the fishing villages in Clare, and stone-ground mills in the rolling hills of Wicklow:  sustainable, affordable, and deepening the country’s connection to the land. The little island was a big Greenmarket.  To be a locavore wasn’t so much a political statement – notwithstanding the colonial legacy of enforced exportation of most homegrown foods in return for nutritionally poor imports  – it was a practicality.  England may do the gastropub with more spit and polish but walk into any humble village pub in Ireland and you’re likely to find a menu with unadulterated ingredients sourced within a five-mile radius; they just don’t crow about it so much.

Of course like anywhere, you can eat a bad meal in Ireland, too.  But I didn’t have that problem in Doonbeg:  crab claws with tomato concasse, samphire and chili butter; foie gras and cherry confit; loin of Clare lamb, roasted girolles and eggplant; pear sorbet; and a board of farmhouse cheese.

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