Corton: Not My Scene

Maybe I don’t belong at a place like Corton—it’s my first venture into truly “fancy” fare, and perhaps I’m just not a fancy girl. Corton has been featured in almost every Hot List of 2009, with Executive Chef/Partner Paul Liebrandt repeatedly taking the honor of Best Chef for his modern French menu. You certainly don’t have to look any farther than the high art set before you in each and every course to recognize Liebrandt’s passion and ingenuity.

But ingenuity aside, when is eating a flower fun?

Don’t get me wrong: dining at Corton is an experience. The atmosphere is exquisite, diners are dressed to the nines, complimentary courses dot the meal, and the service is, for the most part, professional.

I say “for the most part,” because when my friend Eileen and I visited about a month ago, service started out exceptionally strong, only to plummet. The sommelier was gracious and recommended a luxurious riesling, our server had a pleasant demeanor and seemed quite proficient at explaining extremely complicated menus, and dishes were brought out promptly. Following our entrees, however, there was about a 40-minute lull before the next complimentary course appeared (some sort of tart, sickly sweet lemon foam that neither one of us particularly liked... there was coconut sorbet under there, too—one of my favorite things in the whole world—but I couldn’t get past the foam).

It took another 20 minutes for dessert menus to arrive. I ordered the highly recommended caramel brioche, stunning to behold, yet strangely processed, and almost stale in taste. The blue cheese was distractingly pungent, and the only flavor discernible from a paper-thin square set on the brioche was ‘burnt.’ [Please judge the brioche for yourself: everyone raves about it. So again, maybe I’m just not a fancy gal.] When our server came to clear our plates, he paused before taking mine. “Are you sure you’re through?” he asked, brow furrowed with worry. I told him ‘yes’ with a smile, but his concern continued. “Was everything to your liking?” he pressed, motioning to my almost full plate. I thought about it, and decided to be honest. I motioned to Eileen and said, “Her dessert was wonderful, as were all of our other dishes [ok, I wasn’t totally honest]. This just wasn’t my favorite.”

The server was horrified. He tried to cover it with a thin smile, but Eileen and I didn’t see him again for 45 minutes, and only because we flagged down another server for the check, and he in turn motioned to our server. When the check appeared, we couldn’t help but notice that the mignardises (a selection of truffles), which had accompanied other couples’ bills, were absent.

Here’s a look at some of our dishes. I apologize for the lack of detail, but complex descriptions came at us so fast, with dishes presented in such an unfamiliar way, that we were lost in a sea of foam and anysse hyssop.

The restaurant offers a three-course prix fixe menu for $79, as well as a chef’s tasting menu for $125. We opted for the prix-fixe:

Canapes:
Gougeres stuffed with some sort of melted cheese (divine). Those spongy green things? No clue. I believe green olives were the main ingredient. Salty, but good.

Second amuse bouche (not pictured—sorry, the mousse was in a cup and I didn’t want to stand up to take a picture of it):
A foie gras mousse with some sort of gelee on top: good, not great. Again, not my thing. I like foie gras a little firmer.

Appetizers:
Hamachi
Meyer Lemon, Violet Mustard, Smoked Steelhead Caviar
Was this good? Sure. Was it pretty? You bet. But give me more hamachi and less flower petal.

“Vol-au-Vent”
Crayfish, Morels, Anise Hyssop
I didn’t try this. Eileen thought it was interesting, but wanted nothing to do with the green foam.

Entrees:
Elysian Fields Farm Lamb
Pimento Crusted Loin, Eggplant Chutney, Ricotta
My square of lamb was actually very well cooked and seasoned. No complaints here. It came with a side of this potatoey-tasting thing:
I can’t remember what it was, but I liked it, too.

Maine Lobster
Parmesan Crumble, Burgundy Carrots, Balsamic Brown Butter ($9 supplement)
Eileen adored her lobster.

Dessert:
Complimentary Sorbet with Foam
See above for comments on the lemon foam.

Brioche
Passion Fruit, Coffee, Banana
See above for my comments about the Brioche. You can’t deny its beauty. It’s like a little mini Cubist movement.

Dark Chocolate Fondant
Caramel, Yuzu, Olive Oil
This was a big hit. When Eileen took her fork to it, the inside was a comforting, gooey sinful mess. A refreshing way to end a meal filled with such intricacies and refinement.

Our experience at Corton made my head swim. And perhaps therein lies the reason critics voted it Best Restaurant of 2009: they appreciated a restaurant that could elicit such a powerful reaction. After all, critics eat out all the time, often visiting the same restaurant every day of the week in order to form a fair judgement. Maybe critics were so jazzed at the notion of finally eating somewhere where no one knew what the eff to expect on a given night, that the only thing left to do at the end of a week was throw up their hands and crown Corton king.

For Eileen and me, it made us yearn for simpler food: food that looked like food, and food that tasted like food.

Corton
239 West Broadway
New York, NY 10013
(212) 219-2777

Babbo: Revisited

In an attempt to make good on all those entries promised in “Blogs are a-comin!”, here’s a look back at dinner with my brother Bill and his girlfriend Lori, at one of my favorite dining destinations of all time, Babbo.

Our meal dates back to Friday, February 27th. A little late to be writing it up, I admit, but I found all of these photos somewhere deep in my computer and figured there were a couple additional points worth mentioning. Number one, I enjoyed the Pasta Tasting Menu back in November much more than the Traditional Tasting Menu. Not because I relish the idea of carb after carb; in fact, more protein would’ve been welcome in the Pasta Tasting. However, the progression from savory to sweet worked better for me in the Pasta Menu, and there were just so many winners amongst the pasta dishes, (particularly the casunzei with poppy seeds). The Traditional Menu, on the other hand, had a bunch of good dishes, one spectacular dish, and then one dish that was kind of awful.

Both menus vary regularly, so don’t take my word on which one is better—be sure to study both ahead of time, or, don’t do a tasting menu at all. Order off the regular menu, which looks fantastic—it’s what I intend to do on my next visit.

Second point: in my first report, I made a big deal about how it’s all kinds of impossible to get a reservation at Babbo. That’s not entirely the case. If you call exactly one month prior to the date you want the reservation, at precisely 10 a.m., the woman who answers the phone is actually quite accommodating. I had no trouble securing my Friday night reservation. And when I arrived that Friday (it was after a conference, so it was an early 5:30 dinner), it looked as though the handful of folks without reservations who were waiting at a quarter to 5:00 p.m. for one of the six unreserved tables (my last tactic), got in no problem.

Here’s a look at our menu:
And here’s a picture of the complimentary Ceci Bruschetta (garbanzo beans with black olive paste and balsamic vinegar, on grilled peasant bread):
[Not pictured: Babbo also serves the best complimentary peasant bread in existence. It’s warm and incredibly soft, like a sponge. The downside is if you eat any, there’s a good chance you won’t finish your food.]

On to the Traditional Tasting Menu…

Culatello with Ramps and Pecorino
Culatello is cured meat from the rear legs of a pig. This was silken and salty, more delicate than prosciutto, and a tad bit spicy (it is rubbed with wine, salt, pepper, and garlic… and then wrapped in a pig’s bladder to mature). The ramps gave a garlicky, slightly pickled, taste.

Pappardelle with Hedgehogs and Thyme
Pappardelle is one of my favorite types of homemade pasta. It reminds me of Italian Chow Fun. This dish was a winner—simple and comforting. And all three of us were relieved when we were told that the hedgehogs were only mushrooms.

Duck Tortelli with “Sugo Finto”
The gentleman who came by to describe each dish made it a point to tell us an interesting story about the “Sugo Finto” sauce, which is a mock meat sauce. Unfortunately, after waiting so long to write this up, I don't remember the details. In a nutshell, the sauce has a tangy and rich complexity that suggests it took all day to make, but really, it’s rendered rather quickly with… pancetta, I think he said? Anyone? Either way, we weren’t crazy about this dish. The sauce was good, but the filling (a duck/ricotta mix) was a bit too gamey for us.

Grilled Hanger Steak with Royal Trumpet Mushrooms and Cipolline Agrodolce
This is the “Spectacular” dish I mentioned above. The first bite was a tad salty, but only the very first bite. The rest was phenomenal, especially when mixed with the sweet and sour onions. “Awesome,” Bill agreed, chewing happily.

Coach Farm’s Finest with Fennel Honey
After the hearty, magnificent Hanger Steak, which is when our Traditional Tasting Menu really hit its stride, I think all of us were a bit disappointed that we were already on to the transitional course, or the “pre-dessert.” Still, the goat cheese with peppercorns, coupled with a simple drizzle of fennel honey, was a nice pairing, and got us psyched for the real dessert to come.

“Crema con Mosto”
This dessert and the next one just really weren’t my thing at all. Lori absolutely adored this dish, but, we’re still not sure exactly what it was. There was a distinct taste of orange and chocolate-- two flavors I love independently, but don’t really care for together.

Chocolate “Tartufino”
“Tartufino, tartufino… is that like tartufo?” Bill said excitedly, his only input when we were deciding if we should go with the Traditional Tasting Menu. [Give Bill a simple bowl of vanilla ice cream and he’s a happy boy. He actually e-mailed me from a cruise ship to say, “Sharon, do you know you can have ice cream any hour of the day on this boat?”] Tartufino is kind of like tartufo, except, instead of ice cream, you’ve got hazelnut mouse, and it’s served with a drizzle of chocolate, not completely coated with it. This dessert was sickly, sickly sweet. Lori and I only ate a bite. Even Bill, sorely disappointed, only had a few bites before he gave up.

Pecan and Date Budino with Caramel Gelato
Again, similar to the Pasta Tasting Menu, this is when the pastry chef sends out a different dessert for each individual, not just the one listed above. We also enjoyed a kumquat panna cotta and a lemon tart. We were so excited at the variety, I plum forgot to take pictures, so here are three photos in various stages of eaten-ness.
...can you guess which was our favorite? (They were actually all very good; we were full beyond belief at this point.)

Even though I enjoyed the Pasta Tasting Menu more than the Traditional Tasting Menu, Babbo is still a unique, lively place and one of the most reliable dining destinations in Manhattan. I guarantee you a memorable meal. …And where else can you hear Guns N’ Roses while you eat?

Babbo
110 Waverly Place
New York, NY 10011
(212) 777 0303

The Curious Incident at the Spotted Pig in the Night-time

Ok, disclaimer upfront: this entry is light on detail about The Spotted Pig, a charming, hip gastropub in the heart of the West Village, headed by Michelin star chef April Bloomfield, and backed by a slew of famous A-listers: Mario Batali, Jay-Z, Bono, and Michael Stipe to name a few. I don’t have much to tell you about the food I sampled, and I certainly don’t have any scrumptious photos to share (I do have a funny one, though). What this entry is heavy on instead, is dirt. My personal dirt. I was debating whether to write such an entry given the lack of food particulars, along with a reluctance to turn this blog into Gossip Girl, but in a surge of optimism a few weeks back, I cited The Spotted Pig in “Blogs are a-comin,” and even alluded to “an exciting rendezvous.” If I have any loyal readers at all (I know I’ve got one up in Rochester —‘sup, Youngchae!), I didn’t want to disappoint.

So why am I short on detail, the girl who never goes out to dinner without her camera?

Well.

You know when you’re not quite ready to go on a date, but come across a fellow who reminds you of Edward Norton and James McAvoy put together, and you think, ‘Well, I’m ready to go out on a date with him’? That’s what happened to me! I met this Edward/James character, and figured it was prudent to pay more attention to him than the food, even if The Spotted Pig was a destination I had been extremely curious to try for some time.

I met up with a smiling Edward/James at 7:45 on a Wednesday evening. “It could be up to an hour and a half wait,” he said, in way of greeting/apology. [There are no reservations at The Spotted Pig; the web site instead advises: “You can always call ahead that evening and speak with our host, who will let you know how busy we are. If you are in the neighborhood, you can stop by and give your name and a number to the host, who will call you when a table becomes available. 8pm to 10pm is usually the busiest time.”]

We moved a few steps forward, ordered drinks at the small bar, and for the next 45 minutes to an hour, proceeded to get to know one another better. Bar seats were taken, so we stood, and when the hostess told us our table was ready upstairs, the quaint, cozy bar area had filled considerably.

Climbing the narrow staircase, it became apparent how such a little pub turns a profit. It’s not really a little pub—the restaurant actually seats 100, but small rooms, nooks and corners, keep the setting intimate. We were led to a corner room with only about six tables. I sat against the wall, and poor Edward/James pulled up a short bar stool.

We surveyed the one-Michelin star menu, seasonal British fare that sounded delicious and so unpretentious that it sort of became pretentious due to its unpretentiousness (“Bibb Lettuce Salad with Tarragon and Mustard Dressing,” “Chargrilled Burger with Roquefort Cheese and Shoestrings.”) We shared three plates (nothing from the entrees menu, as we thought we might want dessert):

Beau Soleil Oysters with Mignonette (6): $18
Fried Duck Egg with Ramps $16
Sheep’s Ricotta Gnudi with Brown Butter & Sage $15

By the time our oysters appeared, I was already impressed by my date, a budding ER doctor and perfect gentleman. I watched him load his first oyster, carefully applying the vinegar and shallot sauce. He tilted his head back, and down it went. I did the same: a wonderful burst of the sea. On his second oyster, however, an exciting incident occurred. Edward/James began coughing.

“Ooh, don’t choke,” I said, not quite knowing what to do. “I don’t think I know the Heimlich.” But then I paused. “…But how ironic would it be if I saved your life?”

The coughing subsided. In its place, the duck egg and gnudi appeared.

The Gnudi is legendary at The Spotted Pig; it’s the must-have dish if you go; if you type “Gnudi” in Google, The Spotted Pig’s gnudi appears on the first page, along with a song composed in its honor. It’s similar to gnocchi, but is made with ricotta instead of potato. Here’s an Ansel Adams-inspired shot of the gnudi taken with Edward/James’ iPhone; a candle was our only light (if you want a clear photo of the gnudi, there’s a beautiful one on the web site, in the upper right hand corner):
(Photo courtesy of hot ER doctor)

I took my first bite, eager to experience the sought-after little dumpling so many people have raved about.

It was a little salty.

Don’t get me wrong: the gnudi was melt-in-your-mouth creamy and decadent, with sage adding an autumnal comfort and warmth. It was just a tad bit oversalted.

The duck egg with ramps—essentially, a fried egg, with two slices of buttered toast—was rustic and soothing. But this was quite salty as well. The ramps were a treat, extremely fresh and garlicky.

Edward/James and I shared a lip-puckeringly tart lemon/lime tart for dessert, which didn’t really stand out. I think a firmer or more substantial crust might’ve helped. However, the coffee, delivered in its own French press, was deeply-roasted and rich.

Bottom line: I enjoyed the food at The Spotted Pig very much, and understand why there’s so much hype surrounding it. The scene is fashionable, the rooms are cozy, and the food is simple and satisfying.

The Spotted Pig
314 W. 11th St.
New York, NY 10014
(212) 620-0393