Showing posts with label tasting menu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tasting menu. Show all posts

Monday, December 7, 2009

Butter - NYC, East Village

Like Butter
Our first dinner as husband and wife deserved to be memorable, so after months of research, Butter, in the East Village, won our vote for a few reasons:
1. Executive chef/owner, Alex Gurnashelli - a laid back brunette that wasn’t afraid to use fat, but still balanced her indulgence with subtlety.
2. The Birch Room - the lower floor of the restaurant, Lincoln-logged with birch trees across ceiling and walls, brought the ultimate “Brear Rabbit rose-patch” vibe - secretive, dark and romantic.
3. The name said it all…my most favorite ingredient.

I had mentioned we were newlyweds when I made the reservation, so even though the Birch Room was closed that night (boo hiss) we were lavished with a spacious, corner booth beneath glowing branches of birch trees, whose movie-screen size pricked the same senses as a stained glass depiction in a cathedral.

Cocktails: My hubby (Bubba) went for a high-end Scotch (Macallan 15 yr), while I sipped a specialty, the Grape Crush (vodka, simple syrup, seltzer, muddled grapes.) But my crush soon turned to regret after the first super, sugary sip. The syrup overwhelmed every swallow and I think the grapes could have brought enough sweetness on their own.

Five course tasting menu ($90) - paired with wine ($130.)

How could we resist? We wanted to milk Butter for all it was worth and though most restaurants set a separate tasting menu for the evening or season, here they asked which items we didn’t want off the regular menu and went from there. Though it was billed as five courses, every interval presented each of us with a different dish, so we were actually able to nibble on 10 tastings.

Bread: Peppercorn scones – a course in themselves.

Amuse bouche:
Crispy risotto balls with grated parmesan - petite bites of deep-fried, carb-loaded heaven.

First course:
Brown sugar glazed pork belly – tales of the underbelly were true…and delicious. This was tastiest tummy I’d ever eaten (most times extremely fatty), for this little piggy was thick with meat, its bottom layer of fat never interfering with the integrity of the pork’s tender morsels, except to flavor. Grilled zucchini was delicate and sautéed just long enough to form a captain-sized, caramelized crunch (favorite dish #1.)

Seared foie gras over watermelon – the seared indulgence of liver was only matched by the clean wash of melon. Balsamic reduction wrapped the two in a syrupy ribbon that tied it all together.

Second course:
Pasta with lamb sausage – cavatappi (extra twisty elbow macaroni) was inspired with its potent, yellow tomato sauce- thin and garlicy. My only complaint was the lack of sausage and the pieces I did manage to dig out were overcooked. This sheepish star was muted enough for me to miss and there was an undeniable silence of the lamb (sausage.)

Pizza with heirloom and sundried tomatoes – what a concept…pizza made from pie crust! I don’t know if that’s exactly what Gurnashelli had done, but there was a flakiness and crumble that reminded me of dessert, in the best possible way. Heirloom and sundried tomatoes made for a superior “filling” and the oozing mozzarella acted as a snowy blanket to tuck it all in.

Third course:
Halibut with bacon and diced Yukon potatoes - was topped with champagne grape vinaigrette, but even with the extra “juice” it was dry and a bit overdone. This didn’t excite me the same as the others and though I wouldn’t call this fish a flop, it didn’t hook me either.

Skate stuffed with fontina, spinach and mushrooms - this skate started on thin ice and was almost 86ed from our menu (Bubba not being a big fish fan), but its flawless success was no fluke. With texture mimicking a crab-cake, it shredded in thick clumps for balanced bites of fish and filling.

Fourth course:
Lamb chop with eggplant puree - I don’t know what they put in that eggplant puree, but it was all I could do to not lick my plate. The meat formed a crisp crust of seasonings with savory depth that came in like a lamb and went out like a lion –ferociously flavorful. The garnish of fried squash blossom was the final accessory, propped as a playful feather in its cap (favorite #2.)

Sliced duck breast with cherry compote - over escarole was just ducky! The cherry compote added its tangy zing without overpowering the tender fowl and escarole added an earthy element that kept this bird grounded.

Fifth course:
Baked blueberries - with cinnamon, pastry wedge and buttermilk ice cream was like a deconstructed pie. Each component blended into one bite of 4th of July.

Raspberry jelly beignets – these really should have been called doughnuts, because they would have dwarfed any other beignet, but we weren’t complaining. The dipping well of crème anglaise was like liquid crème brulee - who knew beignets liked to swim? Everyone in the pool!

Amuse bouche fin: Dark chocolate truffle – the best ending to any story

Monday, November 16, 2009

Chef Sean’s gastronomic gala

The big dinner before the big day - September 17, 2009
I’d known Sean Kennedy since my high school days back in Jersey and we’d never grown tired of each other’s love for storytelling, food and booze…in fact, that’s probably what kept us so close over the years. He ended up as an executive chef in Tucson, followed by a few kitchen stints in the British Virgin Islands and Philadelphia, but even after he’d taken up boat-making in South Jersey, I always counted on him for a gourmet meal whenever I ventured back east. It had become tradition.

And just when I thought my multiple course meals were safe…he moved to Florida. So the only way I could lure him back to NJ with good reason was when I got married, especially since he’d promised my fiancé (Bubba) and me a seven course menu as part of our wedding gift.

Guest list
Chef Sean’s sister, Mary (aka Bones), would be assisting as sous chef yet again (she was also part of the ritual, as was my mother whose house we always used for the feast.) We had also included Bubba’s father (Larry), step-mother (Marcia) and our friend Jeannie, who was making her way as a singer in Nashville.

But by the end, we would all be singing (praises) for the flawless work and edible levity that emerged from the Kennedy kitchen. Time to eat:

Chef Sean’s lucky seven (courses)

First course: Tortilla soup- consisted of a thin, traditional broth made mostly from chili powder and chicken stock. Even our guests who weren’t fans of “spicy food” drank it down greedily. There was more of a refreshing burn than the feeling that your lips were about to fall off. Further cooling was brought on by several accoutrements topping the dish: queso fresco, sliced avocado, fried tortilla strips, sour cream, cilantro and a lime on the side. Besides the intricate array of accessories, the vapors from this liquid alone could cure “what ails ya.”

Second course: Duck spring rolls- Sometimes Chef Sean couldn’t find all of his desired ingredients at the supermarket (ie. the great basil fiasco of 2004) and this time, duck was the missing component. But there was no worry from the Kennedy crew. Bones just sauntered into the nearest Chinese restaurant and bought a whole duck for $15- now that’s initiative. And I’m so glad she did because there is no substitute for that beloved bird. Its meat shredded succulently beneath a crisp blanket of wonton and the hoisin/ soy dipping sauce softened a bed of sprouts beneath. Lucky duck!

Third course: Goat cheese soufflé – arrived with a salad of mixed greens, heirloom tomatoes, tangerines and chili/ honey dressing, only to be topped by homemade candied pecans. They were still warm with the soft crunch of sugar and the buttery intensity nuts exhibit when heated, but even though the pecans pleased, the souffle took the cake.

Fourth course: Shrimp and green bean tempura with carrot/ ginger buerre blanc- had always been my favorite of the Chef's creations and one I insisted be included. I could eat an entire plate of just the green beans, but I guess veggies aren’t considered healthy if you dip them in batter and fry them. But who cares when they taste this good?! As for the buerre blanc, I wanted to bathe in it. I wanted to put it on top of fish, pizza, a shoe…anything. It’s velvety, orange hue could sweep you off your feet with one glance, but the sassy bite of ginger mixed with subtle sweetness from the carrot made it a real Casanova. It continues to steal my heart.

…At this point of the night it was around 10pm, which is usually Larry’s bedtime. I told him, “Don’t feel bad if you’re too tired to stay.” I knew we were going to still be here for a while.

He said, “For this food, I’d stay up ‘til 2am.” My kind of guy- on with the meat course!

Fifth course: Sliced NY strip - appeared with caramelized onions and a beet demi-glaze that had been simmering for about 10 hours. Beef bones were sapped of their essential juices and red beets were added to give the sauce a strong, rosy color, which was a bit muted, but outstanding nonetheless. There was a complexity here that couldn’t be faked and a genuine sense of comfort from flavors that had steeped on the stove all day. The caramelized onions were soft enough to spread, almost like a savory jam, over the perfectly pink strips of beef. Onion jam?! Well, then just call me Lady Marmalade.

Sixth course: Goat cheese and crab ravioli with white wine/tomato broth - was indulgent, yet light. The liquid brought a perfect contrast to the rich ravioli and a hint of lemon perked the taste-buds to the tartness of the goat cheese. I was glad Chef Sean left off the grated lemon rind he’d originally intended on using because it ended up with the ideal amount of acidity (Marcia’s favorite.)

Final course: Mango mousse- originally the Chef was going to make a chocolate soufflé, but this would press him for time and he also wanted something a bit more cleansing for the palate. The mango mousse was the way to go. It set up perfectly in the refrigerator, having enough body to hold the spoon, but still bringing simple refreshment similar to Italian ice. This final bite was the equivalent of swirling that last piece of bread around the plate until you had to finally admit the meal was truly finished.