MARIANI’S

  August 6, 2006                                                                 NEWSLETTER

                          Detroit Soup Kitchen during General Motors Strike, 1926

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In This Issue

"THE RESTAURANTS IN TEL AVIV ARE FULL": WHY WE DINE

by John Mariani

 
A Polish youngster carrying bread made from Red Cross flour at an evacuation camp in Tehran, 1943. Photo by Nick Parrino.

     After days of watching the horrors people visit upon each other in the Middle East,  I had a difficult time deciding whether or not to dine out at yet another fine restaurant while the world was in flames and people were trying so desperately to survive on the streets of Baghdad, Beirut, Haifa, and what seems like half of the African continent. Psychologically I had no desire to go out; professionally I felt bound to do so.
      Then, while watching an MSNBC newsman reporting from Haifa, where bombs were going off in the background, I heard him say,  "The people of Haifa are terrified and clinging to life, but in other parts of Israel you'd hardly know there's a war on. The restaurants are full in Tel Aviv."
       There was also a report in USA Today that, while  the war in Iraq destroyed many of the country's date palm trees, supplies of dates are again appearing this summer in Baghdad markets to the delight of throngs of Iraqis who adore them, not least for their supposed aphrodisiac virtues.
      And then I remembered that on the day the World Trade Center was destroyed, Sirio Maccioni, owner of New York’s famous restaurant, Le Cirque 2000, called then Mayor Rudy Giuliani to ask how he might help in the crisis. Giuliani said two words:  “Stay open.”   That night Le Cirque did only 65 covers. Two weeks later, on a  Saturday night, the restaurant served 260.
   That sentiment has always carried weight with me, not only because sitting down to a meal requires the harried mind to re-focus attention on a basic human  ritual but  because it truly helps to return to a normal need.  After hearing of a tragedy, the appetite may flag, eating may be the last thing on one’s mind, and dining seems downright frivolous.  But to restore one’s appetite is to restore one’s strength, as anyone who has long been sick knows.
   Six years when I heard the news that my mother had passed away overnight, I was tying my tie in a room at the Crillon Hotel in Paris, ready to go down to dinner. The news had the obvious effect of bringing me to my knees, but after commiserating with my wife, I determined that going down to dinner would be the very best thing, rather than stay in the room and weep.  We went to dinner, sure that my mother, who gave me life, nurtured me as an infant, and imbued me with a love of good food, a woman who was a great hostess and loved nothing more than going out to a fine restaurant, would have insisted I do so.  And so, we ate very well and drank a very fine wine, toasting my mother as she so richly deserved.
    As a food and travel writer what I do for a living may seem odd (T.S. Eliot wrote, “We measure  out our lives in coffee spoons,” but I measure out mine in morsels of foie gras), but, whenever I think of it as ephemeral to the great issues of the day, I am reminded of a scene in the play based on The Diary of Anne Frank, in which the family, isolated for months in an attic but still believing they will soon be out, fantasizes about the first thing they’ll do when they return to the world outside.  Anne says she yearns to go to a dance. The teenage boy wants to go to a movie, a western movie! And the adults all start remembering and dreaming of a wonderful pastry shop, a good stew, a romantic restaurant with thick linen and fine wines.  None, not one, declares that the first thing he wants to do is to change the political structure of Europe.
   This scene made me realize not only that deprivation takes away freedoms of movement but also access to the most wonderful sights, sounds, and tastes of life--the very things we live for until they are taken away from us. Every human being on earth who has ever gone hungry thinks first of survival, then of doing something seemingly superficial--a dance, a western movie, a visit to a restaurant.  For when all goes well, when the doctor cuts out the cancer, when debt is retired, when the debris is cleared away, returning to normal means returning to those things that make life worth living.
                                                     Italians celebrating the liberation of Sicily, 1943. Photo by Nick Parrino.
                                                   


    During World War II director Frank Capra made a series of powerful propaganda films entitled “Why We Fight,” and if seeing yet again the cheesecake photos (an interesting turn of phrase) of Rita Hayworth and Betty Grable in servicemen’s lockers seems pointedly nostalgic, that does not destroy its touching allure.  “Why We Dine” is as reasonable a proposition as any other, once we survive the inevitable rigors and horrors of life that must be endured.  “Animals feed, man eats,” said Brillat-Savarin, “but only a man of culture knows how to dine.”
   So I carry on extolling and criticizing our world’s food culture, sometimes whimsically, sometimes with vitriol.  For the importance of dining out, and drinking good wine, and falling in love under the spell of candlelight at the dinner table is to enjoy all that terrorists--especially those whose religious fanaticism seeks to deprive people of all pleasure--would seek to destroy.  By indulging in life’s passions we do much more than live out our lives.  We gain strength in the belief that they are part of the goodness of man.
     Eat well, be well.


 

     It's been a season of replacement chefs in high-end, high-profile restaurants.
    Josh DeChellis left Jovia a few weeks ago, Bill Peet exited Pair of 8's, John Fraser took over the stoves at Compass, Benny Bartolotta has brought Table XII to eminence, Laurent Tourondel helped re-vamped Brasserie Ruhlmann, Kevin Garcia is now doing a fine job at 'Cesca, and Swiss-born Daniel Humm (below), formerly of Campton Place in San Francisco, has come aboard at the six-year-old Eleven Madison Park (last reviewed here in December 2003), replacing one of my favorite NYC chefs, Kerry Heffernan.  The change is distinctive but in no way alters the basic tenor of this, one of NYC's most beautiful and majestic restaurants, set within a 1930s skyscraper with 30-foot ceilings.
       I had just returned from California after eight days of heavy-duty eating, yet I was thrown  back in my chair by Humm's cuisine, an epiphany of creativity, refinement, and beauty of a kind I’ve rarely encountered. It is highly sophisticated food, without being in the slightest pretentious, and it impeccably echoes the cosmopolitan cachet of the dining room and service, which, under the redoubtable direction of Danny Meyer (who also owns Union Square Cafe, Gramercy Tavern, Tabla, The Modern, and Blue Smoke), is the most congenial anywhere.
      Three of us chose widely from the menu, while Humm indulged us with several amuses and tastings of other items. The first was a carrot and mussel nage, another a small, bright orange poached organic egg with Everglades frogs’ legs, sea urchin, and chanterelles, both lovely in color, texture, and layers of tastes.  With this we sipped Guy Larmandier, Grand Cru, Brut, Blanc de Blancs, Cramant.
     A Maine diver's scallop “En Chaud-Froid” with osetra caviar was next, with a cup of delightful, not-too-sweet-not-too-harsh Miyasaka, Nanago, Junmai Daiginjo, Masumi Prefecture Sake. An Austrian '04 Riesling from Franz Hirtzberger was a tantalizing match with a salad of  heirloom tomatoes and slices of pitted watermelon with basil and an almond-vanilla vinaigrette, and a small plate of velvety gnocchi of La Ratte potatoes with zucchini flowers, lemon confit, and light tracings of bottarga. An Alsatian  '89  Gewürztraminer by Albert Boxler, Sélection de Grains Nobles, went beautifully with a terrine of Êlevages Périgord foie gras with Bing cherries and warm sour cherry brioche (right).
       Fish courses came next: wild Atlantic halibut done “Mi-Cuit” with delicate flavors of fennel and olive oil, was accompanied by an '04 Sancerre by Henri Bourgeois, La Porte du Caillou. You don't often see wild Scottish langoustines this side of the Hebrides, and those served by Humm show why they deserve their proud appellation; poached in butter and dressed with a corail vinaigrette, they were plump, meaty, and sweet.  Loup de mer “à la vapeur” with zucchini “écrassé,” crispy tomatillo and Meyer lemon demonstrated amazing finesse, the fish silky and very fine, the accents of vegetables and fruit colorful enhancements.
          A serving of confit of  suckling pig was a marvel--cut into a rectangle about three inches by five (what do they do with the rest of the animal?), topped with its own very crisp skin and layered with meltingly tender white meat suffused with fat, with cipollini, apricot chutney, and white cardamom jus.  A full-bodied '04 Roussanne from Raymond Usseglio from the Rhône was a perfect marriage.
      Then came cheeses, with an '04 Alain Graillot Crozes-Hermitage, and to tease the palate towards sweets, a mascarpone sorbet with griottine brandied cherries, followed by a blueberry pecan financier cake with warm blueberries and black raspberry sorbet, accompanied by a lovely, faintly sweet '03 Chenin Blanc from Philippe Delesvaux, Sélection de Grains Nobles, and more than ample mignardises.
      Oh, I almost forgot the chocolate-banana soufflé with peanut butter ganache and roasted banana ice cream  and a glass of Niepoort 30-Year-Old Tawny Port.
     Even in New York--even in Paris--cuisine of this celestial caliber is a rare thing, and Humm (left) moves into the Big Apple spotlight by showing great talent tempered with respect for the kind of  quintessentially modern place Eleven Madison Park is. As Cindy Adams is fond of saying, "Only in New York, kids, only in New York."


         The restaurant is open  daily for lunch and dinner. A 3-course dinner is $68, with a 6-course tasting menu at $85, and seasonal 8-course menu at $115.

THINGS TO DO ON THOSE LAZY NIGHTS IN CEDAR RAPIDS

HOLD ONE TO YOUR EAR AND YOU CAN
EVEN HEAR HIM BEGGING YOU NOT TO EAT HIM

MARIANI'S VIRTUAL GOURMET NEWSLETTER is published weekly.  Editor/Publisher: John Mariani. Contributing Writers: Robert Mariani,  Naomi  Kooker, Kirsten Skogerson,  Edward Brivio, Mort Hochstein, Suzanne Wright. Contributing Photographers: Galina Stepanoff-Dargery,  Bobby Pirillo. Technical Advisor: Gerry McLoughlin.

 John Mariani is a columnist for Esquire, Wine Spectator, Bloomberg News and Radio, and Diversion.  He is author of The Encyclopedia of American Food & Drink (Lebhar-Friedman), The Dictionary of Italian Food and Drink (Broadway), and, with his wife Galina, the award-winning new Italian-American Cookbook (Harvard Common Press).

 Any of John Mariani's books below may be ordered from amazon.com by clicking on the cover image.

My newest book, written with my brother Robert Mariani, is a memoir of our years growing up in the North Bronx. It's called Almost Golden because it re-visits an idyllic place and time in our lives when so many wonderful things seemed possible.     For those of you who don't think of the Bronx as “idyllic,” this book will be a revelation. It’s about a place called the Country Club area, on the shores of Pelham Bay. A beautiful neighborhood filled with great friends and wonderful adventures that helped shape our lives. It's about a culture, still vibrant, and a place that is still almost the same as when we grew up there.     Robert and I think you'll enjoy this very personal look at our Bronx childhood. It is not yet available in bookstores, so to purchase a copy, go to amazon.com or click on  Almost Golden.                                                                                                                     --John Mariani

copyright John Mariani 2006