Chef had to tell us three times to eat our snack.
Two cylindrical slabs of foie gras, each at least an inch thick and scattered with fleur de sel, lay nestled against a pile of brioche wedges. Presented at a restaurant, the small plate could have commanded $40 without comment. Meanwhile, Chef Gabriel was still cutting, covering a dinner-sized plate with slices from the foot-long torchon that he'd prepared the day before. Two whole unprepared livers, each the size of of a fat New York strip steak, lay in their plastic packaging on the counter. Another small white plate held two whole Umbrian truffles: impossibly black golf balls.
The scene turned eleven adult foodies into an awkward gaggle of teenagers lining the bleachers at the first school dance. Swathed in our aprons and alternately chattering and nervously silent, we crowded in close, we sniffed and sipped the sauterne, we did everything except...eat.
This past Friday evening, I attended my second class at the Culinary Communion, a cooking school run by Chef Gabriel Claycamp out of a house in West Seattle. My first class, charcuterie, had been an afternoon-long orgy of sausage-making: chopping, seasoning, mixing, grinding, and stuffing enormous bowls of cold meat and fat. I ended the day exhausted, spattered with lamb blood, full of homemade sausage, and glowing with satisfaction.
The structure of the foie class was familiar. Chef Gabriel began with a brief talk about the ingredient at hand, covering a bit of history, basics on purchasing and handling, and some ideas about wine pairings. The bulk of the three-hour class, however, was dedicated to cooking the meal that we would consume at the end of the night. The menu:
* Pan-seared foie gras with vanilla brioche french toast, buttered pink lady apples, and honeyed vinegar syrup
* Top sirloin steaks with foie and truffle flan, wild mushroom ragout, pommes anna
* Foie-Reos: foie gras mousse sandwiched between foie gras "cookies"
Armed with our recipes--each student receives cards with recipes prepared for that class, along with pages of reference information--we split into teams and went to work.
The students had a wide variety of cooking skills, but it seemed that everyone was able to participate as much or as little as they wanted to. By the end of the night, I had worked on cutting slices for searing, making the flan and actually searing the foie. Chef Gabriel moved through the kitchen constantly, answering questions, keeping everyone involved, and calling the class to observe as preparations reached key stages. Eventually, the cooking finished and it was time to eat. A bustling class became a loose, happy dinner party as we relaxed and enjoyed the fruits of our labors.
What did I learn? First, I learned that there's a fine line between whipping heavy cream and churning butter, and that a food processor will take you screaming over that line in about five seconds. Second, I learned that foie is finicky stuff. Everything that we made was tasty, but I will never again take a perfectly-seared piece of foie for granted.
The best part, though, was re-learning a lesson that I already knew: food should be magical, but not mysterious. After the third exhortation to eat and enjoy, one of the students (it may have been me) reached out, cut a piece of foie, wiped it on a wedge of brioche, and ate it. The spell was broken and the class descended, slicing, piling, salting, eating. There was so much foie that more than half the torchon survived the initial onslaught. Forty-five minutes later, we were deep into our recipes, and the plate sat on a table, surrounded by wine glasses. I cruised by, cut a piece, hit it with some salt, popped it in my mouth, and let the fat melt on my tongue. I moved on to the next task and the kitchen whirled about me.
]]>The word is definitely out -- the place was *packed* on Friday.
]]>There are a couple of items that you can order to share, but May Thai is more appetizer-entree oriented. And the menu is short with specific dishes, not a matrix of sauce/meat combinations.
Having said that...
The dishes are fresh, flavorful, and well-balanced (hot-sour-sweet-salty). Some of the food packs serious heat. This is a good thing. I'm looking forward to a return visit.
This was our second trip up from our home in Seattle. We stayed at the Westin Grand on Robson Street, which was a tad generic, but upscale and had a very pleasant and helpful staff. The hotel featured kitchenettes in all rooms, which is a huge plus for foodie travelers. We hadn’t yet explored Yaletown, so the location was perfect.
Day One
We arrived by train in the early afternoon and checked in. Then, dinner at West. This was a return engagement, as we had visited earlier in the year and been absolutely blown away. We had the West tasting menu with wine pairings. I could write a novella about just this meal, but I’ll just list the menu with a few notes:
Amuse: Butternut squash soup
A pleasant revelation, as neither of us are fans of squash. The soup was rich, nutty, and slightly sweet.
Bluefin tuna tartare with avocado, brook trout caviar, and citrus dressing
We particularly enjoyed the intensely floral sauce. Just a touch was plenty – it was like licking an orange peel, in the best possible way.
Nori-wrapped dungeness crab with ginger and cilantro in a lemon grass shellfish bisque
The star of the evening. The bisque was a foam--rich beyond imagining--surrounding a dark, crispy (deep fried?), delicious nori pouch filled with crab.
Addition: Artichoke heart with duck confit mousse and foie gras
The super-star of the evening. The mousse filled a small hollow in the (steamed?) artichoke heart. The whole piece was sauced with a reduction with mushrooms. It tasted exactly as you think that it would, only better. Much better.
Twice-cooked foie gras with crab apple jelly; pain d'epices
Crazy good. Visually, the jelly was like a riff on the aspic from a pate. Very light and refreshing.
Braised short ribs with wild mushrooms; sweet potato and nutmeg gratin
The gratin was wonderful, and the braise was perfectly tender, but the sauce on the beef was too unrelievedly sweet. Neither of us could finish our course.
Selection of cheese (blue from Quebec, local camembert, French sheep’s milk) with raisin walnut bread
Mocha banana cake with tapioca sauce; white chocolate ice cream with chocolate ganache
All of the wines were wonderful but, despite our oath to take notes, we were too enraptured by the meal. The one exception was a Yalumba Viognier that took our breath away. Oh well, we’ll just have to go back. Service was stellar. This was only our second appearance, but we were welcomed as friends (thanks to Chef Hawksworth for stopping by!).
Day Two
We had stocked up with provisions at Urban Fare the day before, so breakfast was baguette, butter, jam, cheese, and some simply amazing rosemary ham (the hot calabrese was less successful). Vij’s was closed for the holiday, but we fed our Indian jones with lunch at Rangoli: samosas, mother-in-law’s pork, and a very fluffy beef keema (sp?). We also bought some takeaway that we stashed in the hotel fridge for lunch on Christmas day.
For dinner, we went out to Szechuan Chongqing on Commercial. We’d been before and were looking forward to returning, but didn’t enjoy our meal this time: scallion pancake, chongqing chicken, and tan-tan noodles. The pancake was good, but the tan-tan noodles weren’t as good as we remembered, and the chicken was just sweet and insipid. Maybe Christmas eve isn’t the best night to go out to dinner to *any* kind of restaurant.
Day Three
We started with dim sum at Kirin. Wow, wow, wow. I will fight armies for the pork with mushrooms and dried scallops steamed in lotus leaf. Then, back to the hotel room for a day in bathrobes, nibbling on Urban Fare provisions. Dinner was Rangoli takeaway: kale and potatoes, Bengali dal, cumin rice, and beef curry.
Day Four
This was the roughest day. We didn’t feel up to Bacchus or the like, so we tried Elixir for brunch. The food was just barely passable -- the duck confit hash was disappointing: lots of potato and very little duck. The croque monsieur was odd: three "fingers" of toasted ham-and-cheese sandwich on egg bread, no béchamel. The frites were good, but the drinks were weak. What really did us in was the service, which was indifferent and incompetent -- as has been suggested elsewhere on this board. It’s been a while since I’ve been that thoroughly ignored.
For dinner, we headed out for a completely aggravating experience at Feenie’s. I feel a bit wiggly about criticizing any restaurant based on one visit (especially on someone else's turf), so please take the following with a grain of salt. In my defense, I’ll humbly argue that any place that’s the “baby bistro” to a restaurant as highly-regarded as Lumiere -- and packing as much attitude as Feenie’s does -- ought be ready to consistently deliver the goods at a high level.
Despite having reservations, we were plunked down at a table perched in a no-man’s-land between the alcove behind the bar and the waiter station on the hall to the kitchen. Anita was jammed up against a wall and couldn’t see anything, while I had a fluorescent-lit view of the restaurant working areas. Our waitress didn’t make a single right move all night long: my…um…favorite was her suggestion that the reason I ordered the bottle of Fin du Monde was that it was the largest bottle of beer with the highest alcohol content, so I could get drunk the fastest. Followed by a struggle to extract the champagne-style cork during which we had to warn her twice (while ducking for cover) that yes, the cork would come flying out like a bullet and yes, she would hurt someone.
I am at a loss for what to write about the food, other than to say I walked out feeling like a world-class chump with a big hole burned in my wallet. I ordered the Feenie burger, which by itself ranks as one of the top two hamburgers I have ever had in my life. However, I also ordered the pan-seared foie gras addition. How could I not experience such an audacious, wonderful idea! But for an extra $25 (twice the cost of the burger) I got two *tiny* slivers of foie. I had to pull apart the sandwich to even confirm that they were there. I’m still furious.
The rest of the meal was uninspired. The salads were average. The bolognese on Anita’s tagliatelle was completely overpowered by the sweetness of caramelized onions. Meanwhile, our server showed her finishing school charm by incorrectly correcting Anita’s pronunciation, informing her it was “TAG-lee-uh-tell-ee.”
Day Five
We started with cheap breakfast at the Elbow Room, with all that that implies. We didn’t have to walk far or wait long, but the food wasn’t very good: rubbery omelete, toxic hollandaise. And, well, charging extra for hash browns at a diner is like charging for smoke at a BBQ joint. We had lunch at the Yaletown Brewery, which was distinguished by the fact that it served both hamburgers and beer. Dinner on the train on the way back was more cheese and rosemary ham from Urban Fare, along with a couple of slices from a regrettable mortadella.
Overall, we had a wonderful trip, and we can’t wait to come back and try the restaurants that were closed while we were there!
]]>Aesthetically, the space was an urban treat: vaulted ceilings, exposed brick, wood beams, cool and funky light fixtures, and huge stained glass art glowing on the walls.
We ordered a bottle of wine while we waited for our table -- it was a drinkable Barbaresco that felt a little expensive for how it tasted. On the other hand, it was hard to tell as both it and our second bottle later in the evening (Chianti Riserva) were served practically blood-warm. Did I mention that they had temperature issues?
Our table--which didn't take long to obtain--was directly in front of the oven, which served two purposes: it took a bit of the chill off (okay, I'll stop now), and it also allowed us to observe the antics of the pizza chef, who appears to be Via Tribunali's weak link.
We opened with a shared board of Armandino Batali's salumi. Or, at least we think it was. The menu entry made it hard to tell if it was Salumi or just salumi. If you know what I mean. Another menu nitpick, courtesy of my polyglot wife: the menu is entirely in Italian, and slangy Italian at that. You can figure it out, but it was more than a little precious and occasionally an obstacle.
Anyway, salumi: pork and lamb prosciutto, some hot coppa, some regular salumi, a bit of grana, and some olives. Yum. Salads followed: respectable mixed greens with ham shaved on top. Dressed with...you know...dressing. Oil, vinegar, etc.. I liked the ham -- it was lightly salted and delicately flavored. Hey, wait. Prosciutto crudo? Could be.
Our server not so gently suggested that we order at least three and maybe even four pizzas. We ordered two, and promised to order more if we were hungry. Two was plenty after the appetizers. One we ordered with prosciutto, mushrooms, and cheese. The second, the Via Tribunali, had more than one and less than five cheeses, two of which were ricotta and fresh mozzarella. Neither pizza came sliced, and yes, it was a bit irritating, given the dull knives that we had to work with. We soldiered on.
Unfortunately, neither pizza was really worth the effort. The mushrooms were canned and tasted like it. The sauce was unspectacular. The crust was too thick to be thin and too thin to be thick, but that's my opinion, not of the entire group. Both pies had too much stuff on them and were undercooked--the middles were pretty soupy. An extra few minutes in the oven would have helped...but there was so much moisture in the pile of ingredients...I dunno. I'm not a pizza chef, and I didn't even stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night.
Either too dumb to quit while we were behind or too drunk to care, we ordered dessert and were redeemed. The affogato (sp?) was wonderful: dense, rich ice cream covered in sweetened meringue crumbles and a shot of espresso. The pastela Napolitana (sp?) was just as delicious, with bits of candied citrus peel in a pastry that wasn't quite cake and wasn't quite a tart and wasn't quite a pie shell either.
The appetizers and salads were $7 and up. The pizzas ranged between $12 and $15. The large majority of the wine selection was over $40. Not get-dressed-up expensive, but it ain't Piecora's, either.
The staff ranged from friendly and competent (the host) to amusing but inexperienced (our server) to buffoonish. The latter refers to the pizza chef who, given that it was Saturday night, I can only presume was the "Dino" mentioned on the menu. Dino cavorted around the restaurant for much of the evening, opened bottles of wine for tables of his friends (staggeringly expensive bottles, to judge by the reactions of the staff), and generally enjoyed himself. All of which I ordinarily heartily approve of, so long as the food is good. Given the state of our pizzas...well...it's hard to be forgiving.
Via Tribunali reminds me of an Italian motorcycle that I once owned: beautiful, but deeply flawed. It was a *fantastic* space, and there were enough tasty things to make me want to go back. Maybe in a few months, after things calm down and the kitchen gets its game on, although I don't know that kitchens work like that when it's, like, one guy.
]]>We had tagliatelle ragu variants for our main course: Anita's was standard tomato and meat bolognese, mine was wild boar w/white wine over spinach pasta. Good stuff, although the pasta was a bit overcooked for my taste. We drank a serviceable bottle of sangiovese with our meal.
Service was low-key but attentive, and the dining area was cute and cozy. The reggae music playing in the background was a bit bizarre, but not intrusive. We feel like we got good value for our money. I ordered the most expensive entrée, but we still escaped for about $70 with tip. We’ll definitely return.
]]>Before our friends arrived, we started with cocktails at the bar: Maritime ale for me and a devastatingly stiff champoire (champagne and pear brandy) for Anita. To her credit, the bartender caught us comparing notes and making faces over Anita's drink and immediately offered to remake it: "Is it too strong?" It was and she did. Very tasty little concoction.
The food was...uneven. My starter -- beef carpaccio with sel gris, white truffle oil, arugula, and shaved parmesan -- had way too much salt and I couldn't taste the beef at all underneath all the other stuff. Anita's spinach and vinaigrette with goat cheese and shiitake salad was overdressed ("Completely sodden," snorts Anita, "And just one little piece of goat cheese"). One of our friends ordered the spanish calamari and offered a taste as they arrived. I think that he liked them, because they were gone when I looked up. I never got a sample, but in retrospect I'm glad that I didn't get my fingers too close.
The same friend ordered the paella and had good things to say about it. My petit filet was much better than my starter. It was topped with a touch of Cabrales compound butter, a reduction sauce, and served over potato puree. A well-prepared classic. Anita's main was a chicken tagine: half a chicken with moroccan couscous and some poached dried fruit. This dish was a disaster. The couscous was oily and had way too many almonds. The chicken was dry -- completely unforgivable (practically incomprehensible) considering the cooking method. The sauce was sweet despite the server's assurances that it was a savory dish. More on this later.
For dessert, Anita and I both had cheese from Brasa’s cheese table, a long slab of (?marble?) festooned with around fifteen wedges. Points for presentation, but the placement near the front door seemed weird to me -- especially since the table was something of a gathering point for the service staff.
Anyway, we had our server select our cheese and received six serviceable (if somewhat boring) slices: Mimolette, Agur, Humboldt Fog, and three others that I don’t remember. Hard to criticize, I suppose, as we were offered the opportunity to choose for ourselves. But it would have been nice if our server had at least tried to ascertain our level of cheesy adventurousness.
Of course, that would have required our server to operate at a level that she hadn’t even come close to all night. She abandoned us after taking our drink order, finally reappearing with said drinks and a, “Ready to order?” Questions about the food were answered with a verbatim recitation of the menu listing, and we were told at least twice, “Oh, it’s a savory dish.” I chose a McCrea Syrah (a.k.a. Old Faithful) for our meal after joking to our dining companions that I wasn’t going to bother asking about a couple of interesting looking bottles for fear of being told that they were “savory,” or perhaps that they were made with grapes.
As I write this, I’m trying to view the experience through the lens of what happens at just about any restaurant on a Monday night -- you better not expect the A team, because you’re not going to get it. Nevertheless, I can’t imagine bothering with a return visit at full price. I would, however, go for their half-price bar food and drinkies, as the space is inviting and the menu looked tasty.
We’re off to Assaggio tonight. I do love this promotion.
I was especially impressed by the attention to texture throughout the meal. For instance, the crunchy bits of salt on the otherwise completely Japanese-style ahi tuna and seaweed salad were a revelation. Also, the textures of the watercress soup and salmon mousse were perfectly balanced, the former thicker than you'd expect and the latter creamier and smoother than you could imagine. Where they mingled, it was nearly impossible to tell one from from the other (other than by flavor, of course).
Now, just because this thread has been such a Union love-fest, I'll play the heretic critic
1) Ask for a table away from a window. They absolutely radiate cold.
2) The blueberry sorbet was a "something" bomb, but not, IMHO, blueberry. I don't know where y'all buy your blueberries, but mine don't come that tart. Paired with the creme fraiche, the whole dessert was a party of sour.
And finally, an anecdote. Our waiter was just a bit behind all night -- we sat for some time waiting to put in our order, our wine would arrive just after the food that we'd ordered it for, he got the first bottle wrong...not big stuff. He knew it was happening and apologized profusely toward the end of the meal, explaining that he had one of the local food critics at another table and implying that things weren't going as smoothly as they should. I certainly believed that he was having a rough night when I saw how his hands were shaking while he refilled our wine glasses!
Still, a wonderful night by any estimation -- we can't wait to return!
]]>I suppose that there's a certain amount of familiarity breeding contempt in my evaluation, but I also think that when a restaurant presents itself at that level, everything has to be perfect, every time. I don't think that Canlis justifies the premium that they charge just because they're Canlis.
In my experience (and I know that I'm probably slaughtering a couple of sacred cows here ), once you've reached a certain level of quality -- that is to say, once you've purchased a premium piece of beef from a butcher who knows what they're doing -- how you prepare the meat makes a lot more difference in how it tastes than its provenance.
That said, I'll be happy to take the Beef-si Challenge with anyone who wants to throw down the bux for some top-quality steer.
I was impressed by the pasta textures. The fettucine was obviously handmade and had a nice, delicate tooth, and the sauce was spicy and yummy. The lasagne could have been served as a dessert -- it was that light, fluffy, and composed, if that word makes any sense in this context to anyone but myself.
The caesar salad was not a by-the-book rendition, but it was tasty. The misto was unremarkable. The lemon tart was actually tart, not sickly-sweet, which instantly won points with us.
The wines by the glass were good, and kudos to whoever wrote their wine menu -- I really felt like I knew something about how the wine was going to taste before I ordered it, and the reality generally matched the descriptions. This was especially welcome as I am shamefully ignorant about Italian wine beyond the most basic varietals. The by-the-bottle pricing is a little odd, though: $35 for a bottle that goes for $7/glass either means that you're getting a steal if you order by the glass, or practically no discount if you order by the bottle. Given the quality of the wines we ordered (and Washington alcohol prices in general), I suspect the latter. Can anyone confirm or deny?
Service was attentive and professional. The waiter won points after serving Anita a glass from a newly-opened bottle that had gone off. We called him over and explained that something didn't smell right; he took one whiff and said, "Yep. That's corked. Would you like this one or something else?" She had a fresh glass within seconds. Nothing heroic, mind you, but nice to see the proper response without a lot of histrionics.
Definitely a noisy, open space, but not uncomfortable. However, I can see how someone expecting a cozy leetle Italiano joint would be put off. This is not that restaurant!
Anyway, the price was reasonable: salads, entrees, dessert, four glasses of wine and a fat tip for our server came in just under $100 if memory serves. We'll return, I'm sure.