Virtual
Gourmet
This Week
Las Vegas Bets Big on Itself, Part One by John A. Curtas New York Corner: John Dory Oyster Bar by John Mariani Man About Town: Galatoire's Restaurant, New Orleans
by
Christopher
Mariani
by John Mariani Quick Bytes GOOD
NEWS! Esquire.com now
has
a
new
food
section
called
"Eat
Like
a
Man,"
which
will
be
featuring
restaurant
articles
by
John
Mariani
and
others
from
around
the
USA.
THIS WEEK: A Gentleman's Guide to Dining Etiquette LAS
VEGAS
BETS
BIG
ON
ITSELF,
Part
One
by John A. Curtas
Here's
a
look
at
The
Cosmopolitan's
new
entries
in
the
Vegas
dining
sweepstakes. Estiatorio
Milos
Our conversation was about Estiatorio Milos, taking place while José is (literally) dashing to and fro, kibbitzing with customers, gently berating waiters, and rushing by my spot at the tapas bar to pop the occasional deep-fried quail egg with artichoke or molecular olive into my mouth. The effect is like trying to interview Andrés Iniestia during a soccer match, but in between his Spanish-flecked patter and good-natured ribbing of this restaurant writer, he is full of admiration for what Chef-owner Costas Spiliadis is doing across the hall.
What
he's
referring
to
is
the
conceit
that
underlies
both
his
restaurant
and
Milos
--
that of exquisite food meant
to be
shared. Both restaurants eschew the "I'll have the Dover sole" form
of ordering in favor of making the ordering and eating of everything a
communal
experience. While Jaleo may trumpet its wacky, fabulous tapas served in
a
blizzard of small plates, Milos, as befitting the standard bearer for
the
culture that founded Western Civilization, prefers a more formal
approach. Both
restaurants are best experienced in groups of three to six-- the
better to enjoy a
variety of the bounty they offer, and at Milos, it's also the best way
to get
the most bang for your buck. Consider this: a whole, three-pound fish will run your table around $150. (They don't serve fillets here, believing rightly, that flavor and freshness is lost by cutting up a fish before it is cooked.) Split two ways, both the cost and the amount of fish is more than the average couple would want to spend. Bring one or two more hungry souls to the table, though, and that pristine pisces now costs no more than the average strip steak. The same holds true for the appetizers and salads. The Eipirotaki salad -- a major mound of sliced cabbage dotted with dill, Bleu des Causses, and orange slices -- seems expensive at $16.50, but not if you split it four ways--and there is plenty to feed four. Thus are all items on this menu made for a table of at least three adults, making the price/person more than reasonable -- especially in the realm of high-end dining with such impeccable provisions. Once you bite into a perfect piece of charred, slightly chewy octopus, or dip your lightly fried eggplant into a thick, tangy tzatziki sauce from another planet. Paper thin, fried zucchini accompany the eggplant in the "Milos Special," along with cubes of Graviera cheese saganaki. Crunch, cheese, yogurt and vegetables effectively becoming a celebration of all that is good and holy about the Mediterranean diet. Follow these with a platter of four spreads (tzatziki, fava, lemony hummus, and a silky taramosalata) and you'll start getting with the Peloponnesean program. That program consists of a deceptively simple, two-page menu, with eleven appetizers on the left side, five salads and vegetables on the right, two Creekstone Farms steaks, Gleason Ranch lamb chops, and a single heading that says simply, "From The Sea." Under that heading are the entries: fish in sea salt, and Astakomakaronada (an Athenian lobster pasta for two that will set you back a cool $120). But the deliciousness of this place is in the fine print at the bottom of the menu, that refers you to Milos' "display" -- the huge fish/seafood/vegetable counter against the far wall, beside the open kitchen, where the day's catch is displayed for you to peruse and choose from. Before you get to them, though, one appetizer is mandatory: avgotaraho aikieroto, aka bottarga, the famed roe of the Mediterranean gray mullet. One of the world's great delicacies, you will neither find nor taste a better version of this briny, nutty, haunting essence of the sea. Not too bad a deal for $32.
Most of these swimmers are also offered raw, and while the presentation won't make any sushi chef jealous, the sparkling fineness of the meat will have you questioning what you ever saw in tuna tartare. Landlubbers will feel right at home as well, since the provenance of the lamb chops (Gleason Ranch Sonoma) and the beef (Creekstone Farms) is as impeccable as their seasoning and roasting. We were lying in the weeds for those chops, expecting the same old, denuded, tasteless lamb that has become de rigueur in American restaurants ever since New Zealand figured out a way to sell frozen lamb by making it taste like de-natured beef. Instead, a big platter of chops arrived (again, enough for four), just to the medium side of rare -- instead of the other way around -- best showcasing their intense, lamb-ness. There is a serene elegance to Milos, whose original is in Montreal and branches in NYC and Athens, that strikes as soon as you enter the low-ceilinged, softly lit space, and continues throughout every refined, discriminating ingredient and taste placed before you. From a simple plate of lemon-grilled heli (eel) to the sweetest, thickest, creamiest goat's milk yogurt circled with the best, thyme-infused honey you have ever tasted, this cuisine walks the walk of the best ingredients treated with the utmost respect.
702-698-7910
The most interesting thing about Comme Ça (pronounced "kohm sah," meaning "like that") is that it isn't afraid to challenge nearby Bouchon and Mon Ami Gabi at their own game, that is, classic French bistro food. That Comme Ça thinks it can do so within a stone's throw of one and just a half mile from the other is a testament to the confidence of a baby-faced Californian chef named David Myers. After contemplating all this Gallic competition, you'll next notice CC's classic menu -- straight from the Rive Gauche in Paris: steak frites, omelets, soupe à l'oignon, steak tartare, that is a dead ringer for much of the same fare at the other two. The third thing you'll notice is the more aggressive seasonings Myers brings to that highly similar fare, like his steak tartare, and finally, after noticing all of those things, you'll see that everything seems to be being done on a slightly higher, and tastier plane than at Mon Ami Gabi (no small feat that), and can compete, tartare to tartare with anything Bouchon can throw at you.
After
you've
taken
notice
of
all
that,
then
swooned
over
your
crispy
skate
wing
Grenobloise
-- sharply accented by capers
and lemon, and bathed in brown butter -- and sat up and savored every
last lardon in your salad
frisée, you'll get knocked out by how fantastic
the burger
and fries are. Those
fries are twice-fried in peanut oil, crisping them to a fare thee well,
while
allowing a Equally arresting are the chicken diable and cheesy onion soup, along with a tarte flambé that even Hubert Keller of Fleur de Lys would have to admire. When a dining companion ordered the chicken diable at one of our lunches, we scoffed at her pedestrian choice. Two bites later, and we were converts: its peppery crust might not pass muster in Paris (Parisians run away at the mere mention of a hot pepper), but provides a nice, multi-cultural kick to a superior piece of chicken meat. The basil and mustard sauces might also curl a Frenchman's toes, but were carefully rendered and disappointing only in there not being more of them.
I
admit
to
being
a
little
biased
towards
bistro
food
–
having
probably
spent
more
time in Parisian bistros that most
people
spend in restaurants their entire lives -- but to these taste buds, it
is the
best everyday food in the world, and Myers’ renditions of these
classics are so
spot on, you could take them to the Left Bank. By the way, CC is an
offshoot of the Los Angeles original.
AND ONE MORE OFF THE STRIP. . .
The name means “Charcoal House Enjoyment,” and from the minute it opened in May, 2008, gourmands of all stripes have flocked here to taste Chef/owner Mitsuo Endo’s precise renderings of robata-cooked food. For the uninitiated, robata or robatayaki cooking is a simple yet sublime form of charcoal grilling, using Japanese oak charcoal to cook vegetables, fish, and meat around a small, pyramidal, glowing pyre of bright orange logs. But this charcoal house does not live by grilled foods alone. Endo’s house-made, fried, agedashi tofu and foie gras soups have become legendary, and legendary is what his kaiseki dinner is about to become. A kaiseki dinner is Japanese eating at its most structured, complex and beautiful. Japanese chefs consider it an art form balancing all the senses with the color, appearance and texture of its multiple courses. Everything from the seasonal ingredients to the serving vessels they come in (or on) must complement and build upon your total immersion in the dishes and techniques of the chef. No detail is ignored, nor considered too small to perfect. It is to traditional, barbaric western eating (giant slabs of protein, huge bowls of starch) what heavy metal is to haiku.
To
put
you
in
the
mood
for
the
delicacies
to
come,
Endo
begins
this
three-hour
feast by
presenting
what looks like a child’s wooden toy. Your server instructs you to push
the
fresh Takigawa tofu through the box and into a bowl by pressing on the
wooden
handle, and presto – ribbons of soft, silky curd magically drop into a
pristine
broth of sweet/savory intensity. Next, a platter is presented
containing sweet,
marinated smelts (ayu nanbantsuke) alongside a tiny whole
crispy crab (meant to
consumed whole), asparagus coated in crispy rice cracker crumbs, and
tofu
topped with salmon roe – each bite harmonizing with what has come
before and
afterward. From there a dobinmushi clear soup of pike eel, chicken, shrimp and ginko nuts, then sashimi of almost Bar Masa-like freshness, followed by wooden spoons upon which rest two circles of tofu – one seasoned with green tea sea salt, the other with a grapeseed, balsamic soy glaze. Even as Endo ratchets up the protein – with a foie gras egg custard that will bring tears to your eyes, and an ebishinjo (shrimp) soufflé suffused with a hidden, umami depth charge of uni (sea urchin) – he is careful to keep anything from coating your palate with fat, or sticking to your ribs with starch -- the better to keep your senses heightened at all times. The seven different sakes poured during the feast also help, rather than hinder, your appreciation of each mind-blowing course. The other animal proteins making an appearance are Kobe beef fillet seared on hot stones and flamed with cognac -- homage to the world’s greatest beef – and gamy, funky, softshell turtle meat encased in a gray-green turtle aspic that made for the single strangest thing we’ve tasted in years.
Even
if
you
can’t
stand
gurgling
down
some
Yertle,
this
food
will
work
its
magic
on you.
Japanese
food can be subtle to the point of invisibility, but Endo’s kaiseki
dinner
highlights this love of delicacy while bringing forth enough strong
flavors to
captivate his American eating audience. It is a Japanese food education
in
fifteen courses.
The kaiseki dinner must be ordered in advance by calling the restaurant. Depending upon the number of courses and types of sake ordered, the cost will run approximately $75-$150/person. Open for dinner Mon.-Sat.
Part Two of
Dining in Vegas will appear next week. ❖❖❖ NEW YORK CORNER by John Mariani JOHN DORY OYSTER BAR ![]() 1196 Broadway (at 29th Street in the Ace Hotel) 212-792-9000 thejohndory.com Ken Friedman and chef/partner April Bloomfield's Spotted Pig in Greenwich Village kicked off the gastro-pub fad a few years back, and the little corner eatery in Greenwich Village hasn't had any empty table since. So, too, their next venture, The Breslin, has had customers clinging to the rafters to get a table. It was with some puzzlement, then, that their first John Dory restaurant in Chelsea did not fare well, despite good reviews. It closed in 2009 with the promise of a relocation: John Dory Oyster Bar, in the Ace Hotel, delivers on that promise. It is not--how does one say?--a full-fledged restaurant, insofar as it takes no reservations, has only high tables and chairs, no main courses, and no bread is brought to the table. The waiters seem to dress as they please, as do customers. The décor resembles higher end pubs and seafood houses in London, with aquarium globes holding live fish, marine objets d'art around, but no soft surfaces whatsoever. This means the place gets very, very loud, and they pump up the jam after 9 PM. So what exactly is the appeal of John Dory Oyster Bar? Well, it's the food itself, served up by an amiable crew that starts with a warm welcome at the hostess station, where you will usually be told there is going to be a wait for a table. In midweek, this does not seem an agonizing problem, but on weekends you'll be standing at the bar for quite a while. A very sensible wine list--neither too big nor too small, with some good bottlings under $50, though not many--has been put together by the vivacious sommelier Carla Rzeszewski (left), whose guidance you should take about what goes best with that on the menu. ![]() Start off with those raw specimens, from sea trout tartare with crème fraîche and caraway to hiramasa (amberjack) with sprightly ginger. The night I visited they had sweet Nantucket bay scallops, and with just a little lemon and olive, they were superb, served at just the right temperature at their peak of flavor, though they may not always be available in what is always a too-short season. From the Raw Bar comes a wide array of seasonal oysters big and small, east and west, and since the one thing in the world I seem allergic to is oysters, I'll take my friend and colleague, Peter Meltzer of Wine Spectator to pronounce the six or more species he sampled first rate. Chilled Dungeness crab was plenty meaty, and you have to dig for the fattest parts in the body cavity. Chilling does not, ![]() The small plates live up to their name--with none more than $16--so sharing is not easy. There's a fine, creamy crab and coconut soup, and the tender grilled octopus with potatoes and garlicky aïoli is as good as it gets. There is also a panade, a term not often seen on American menus or, these days, even on French menus, where it is usually spelled panada. It describes any of a range of pastes used to thicken forcemeats or a soup made from bread, stock, milk and butter. At John Dory Oyster Bar the stock is lobster, and the bread soaks up all the flavors, rather like an onion soup. The night I sampled it, however, salt nudged out the rest of the flavors. There are a few simple desserts, and you should try the Eccles cake, made with a short pastry and dotted with currants (which also gives the dessert one of those unsavory Brit colloquialism--"squashed fly cake"), which apparently originated in the English town of Eccles. John Dory Oyster Bar is all that it wants to be, and for a casual meal, the food is very good. Its current success may put off those who have little patience with waiting, and a ten-dollar taxi to and from makes such waits even more unpleasant. But know all that beforehand, go with a couple of good friends early or late, have a cocktail or a beer at the bar, and you'll have a good time without too much expense. John Dory Oyster Bar is open
daily for lunch and dinner. Raw bar, $3 to $35; bar snacks, $3.50 to
$11; small plates, $4 to $17.
![]() MAN ABOUT TOWN by Christopher Mariani Photos by Louis Sahuc Galatoire's Restaurant ![]() When asked what makes Galatoires so wonderfully unique, I respond, “The answer is easy, it is the hospitality, service and food.” That may seem like a fairly typical answer to what makes for any good restaurant, but few are this good anywhere. Galatoire’s, along with nearby Brennan’s on Royal Street, offers each and every customer a feeling of importance. When you walk into either restaurant, you will be immediately approached with a smile and treated as if you were somebody of magnitude, southern hospitality at its finest. There is a common respect between Galatoire’s and its guests, a bond which has been formed over decades of consistency and tradition. Friday lunch is the prestige day to eat at Galatoire’s, a day when reservations are taken only for the upstairs dining room. It is not unusual for longtime regulars to pay surrogates to line up outside at six a.m. to assure a downstairs table at half past eleven. The downstairs dining room has never accepted reservations and never will; it is strictly first come first serve. Guests literally huddle and eagerly wait outside until the doors finally open and then quickly shuffle inside to claim their table. All diners are dressed impeccably, men sporting their best blazers, shirts and ties (many with bow ties), pocket handkerchiefs sticking up out of almost every jacket pocket, and most men flaunting a Panama planter’s hat, of course, removing it before sitting down. (By the way, Meyer The Hatter is heralded as the best hat store in New Orleans.) Every woman, peacock in spirit, is propped up on high heels, wearing a colorful dress, showing off her finest and most expensive jewelry, her hair looking as good if not better than on the day of her wedding. It is a statement to be seen at Galatoires on Friday for lunch, and many of the ![]() The clientele is an absolutely wonderful complement to the elegant and classic décor. Starched white cloths gracefully drape each table, silverware appears to be polished before each service, the walls are blanketed by gleaming antique mirrors and the waiters all wear black tuxedos. The entire service staff is made up of professionals, men of a certain age who have decades of experience under their belts. They take pride in their craft and are as important to Galatoire's as is the executive chef or maître d'. Without taking a glance at your menu, you can easily have a 15-second conversation with your waiter and feel confident that he will bring you exactly what you want. If they have it, they will serve it, no “let me check with the kitchen” responses here. Most waiters will have either a trace or an abundance of an unmistakable New Orleanean accent, a small but notable charm that adds character to the experience. The menu is filled with lush portions of fresh lump crabmeat, fried shrimp, oysters and seasonal crawfish, some covered with Hollandaise, others a rémoulade. I started with a mound of rich crabmeat maison; sautéed crawfish in a cocktail sauce with a strong presence of horseradish; shrimp etouffée and the season’s first taste of fried softshell crab. The meat in each bite was succulent and full of a distinct flavor found only in Louisiana. The portions at Galatoire’s are generous and meals are not meant to be rushed. It is typical for guests to linger until 4 p.m. after arriving hours earlier, ordering more food and more wine. For entrees we ordered a plate of fried shrimp and the sautéed pompano smothered in rich, buttery sliced almonds with a touch of lemon. The food at Galatoire’s is simple. There is no manipulation of ingredients. They start with great ingredients and finish with great food. For dessert, order the bananas foster, a dish actually created at nearby Brennan’s. There was a time when Galatoire’s seemed like it was coasting, resting on its considerable reputation and a crowd as faithful as a Catahoula to its master. But after some finessing by new partners, the place itself looks as if it had opened yesterday, and the kitchen has never turned out better food, now among the finest in New Orleans. There is a timeless feel to Galatoire’s that is difficult to find anywhere outside of New Orleans—even in New Orleans it is a rarity-- especially in restaurants across the country that tend to quickly jump on the trendy bandwagon in an attempt to stay modern. Many restaurants continuously go in and out of style, names and menus changing yearly, yet Galatoire's has been doing what they do best, serving real food and offering nonpareil service, and I suppose that is why they have had a line out the door since opening in 1905. It makes you wonder if being stylish and hip is really all that cool? To
contact
Christopher
Mariani
send
an
email
to
christopher@johnmariani.com
NOTES
FROM
THE
WINE
CELLAR
With White
Wines, There’s No Time to Wait
by John Mariani
I won’t tell you to pour your five-year-old white wines down the drain, but if you don’t drink them ASAP, you may well want to. The simple fact is, 99.9 percent of all the white wines in the world do not age well after a year or two and are at their best upon release, which may very well be the springtime after the autumn harvest.
It’s a big wine, well made in the bold California style, not too much oak, but I felt the wine, now less than two and a half years old, was not going to get any better in the bottle. There may have been some oxidation or it may be going through what is called in the trade a “dumb” period when some wines hibernate and later flourish. So while I enjoyed the wine with a fillet of simply grilled red snapper, I was glad I didn’t have a whole case of it in my cellar. More and more with white wines, I’m drinking them as soon after I buy them from the wine store as possible. And believe me, if a wine store is selling—always at a discount—a white wine more than three years old, you can bet it’s because it hadn’t sold very well upon release. My views on this subject are certainly not lost on the vast majority of winemakers around the world who never give much thought to aging their white wines for more than a few months or a year in the first place. I have, of course, had impressive examples of muscadet, pinot blanc, chardonnay, gewürztraminer, and riesling several years old, and the greatest of all German riesling dessert wines are aged for many years and can be drunk with delight even decades later.
One of the white wines
I’ve always been amazed by, which I’ve written about here, is
Valentini’s Trebbiano d’abruzzo, a varietal made in huge bulk by other
producers and
disdained by many in Italy as nothing but a workhorse white. Somehow
Valentini
manages to make his trebbiano long-lived, So, too, connoisseurs and producers of the finest white Burgundies insist that the very finest, like Puligny-Montrachet, Batard-Montrachet, and the rare Montrachet itself (which sells for about $2000) need at least three and perhaps even ten years of aging to achieve true maturity. Even then I’m skeptical and have no plans to wait that long, even if I could afford such prices. It’s almost a moot point, though, since these wines are such rarities that they are well beyond all but a Hong Kong wine auction bidder’s budget. The Brits have long exhibited a preference for what they call an “onion skin taste” of old vintage Champagnes, which comes from a certain amount of oxidation, which does nothing for my palate. I have tasted some fine old vintage Champagnes and applaud their longevity, but I much prefer younger, vibrant examples precisely because they are so fresh and blooming with fruit and acid. In any case, most people don’t order expensive ancient white wines, especially in more casual restaurants, like New York’s new Lyon Bistro (right), where the best-selling wines are sauvignon blanc and French chardonnay. “I personally love old Chablis,” says owner Francois Latapie, “but I don’t have the clientele for it here. They do like St. Véran, Macon, and Alsatian riesling, and the vintages I stock are the most recent, 2009 and soon 2010.” You take a chance with every bottle of wine you open—some might be corked, others oxidized by accident—which is why a good wine steward is critical when ordering expensive wines in a restaurant. But with whites, youth trumps age most of time, which is why, when a waiter at Napa & Co. in Stamford, CT, recently apologized because the bottle of Spanish albariño I ordered was a younger vintage than the one on the list, I just smiled and said, “Even better! Let’s see how it tastes."
John
Mariani's wine column appears in Bloomberg Muse News,
from
which
this
story
was
adapted.
Bloomberg
News
covers
Culture
from
art,
books,
and
theater
to
wine,
travel,
and
food
on
a
daily
basis.
❖❖❖ YEAH, SURE According to
a London poll, more than half
of British women pay for themselves on a first date, even though men
still want
to pay. Only a
quarter of women
said that they thought men should pay for a first date, while three
percent
said they themselves should foot the bill. Fifty-five percent of the
men expected to
pay the full bill on a first
date, with 41 percent of the men using
discount vouchers on a first date.
In Dover, PA, 37-year-old
Brian McDaniel
allegedly stuffed a bag of frozen
shrimp down his pants then attacked a grocery
store security guard, who sustained
minor injuries. McDaniel was
caught in the store's parking lot by the security guard and
a bystander. He is being held on $10,000 bail. ❖❖❖ Mariani's
Quick Bytes
FEATURED
LINKS: I am happy to report that the Virtual Gourmet is linked to
four excellent travel sites:
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consider this the best
and savviest blog of its kind on the web. Potter is a columnist
for USA Weekend, Diversion, Laptop and
Luxury Spa Finder,
a contributing editor for Ski
and a frequent contributor to National
Geographic
Traveler,
ForbesTraveler.com and Elle
Decor. "I’ve designed this
site is for people who take their travel seriously," says Potter.
"For travelers who want to learn about special places but don’t
necessarily want to pay through the nose for the privilege of
staying there. Because at the end of the day, it’s not so much about
five-star places as five-star experiences." THIS
WEEK:
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![]() Tennis Resorts Online: A Critical Guide to the World's Best Tennis Resorts and Tennis Camps, published by ROGER COX, who has spent more than two decades writing about tennis travel, including a 17-year stretch for Tennis magazine. He has also written for Arthur Frommer's Budget Travel, New York Magazine, Travel & Leisure, Esquire, Money, USTA Magazine, Men's Journal, and The Robb Report. He has authored two books-The World's Best Tennis Vacations (Stephen Greene Press/Viking Penguin, 1990) and The Best Places to Stay in the Rockies (Houghton Mifflin, 1992 & 1994), and the Melbourne (Australia) chapter to the Wall Street Journal Business Guide to Cities of the Pacific Rim (Fodor's Travel Guides, 1991). ![]() ![]() The Family Travel Forum - A community for those who "Have Kids, Still Travel" and want to make family vacations more fun, less work and better value. FTF's travel and parenting features, including reviews of tropical and ski resorts, reunion destinations, attractions, holiday weekends, family festivals, cruises, and all kinds of vacation ideas should be the first port of call for family vacation planners. http://www.familytravelforum.com/index.html ALL YOU NEED BEFORE YOU GO ![]() nickonwine: An engaging, interactive wine column by Nick Passmore, Artisanal Editor, Four Seasons Magazine; Wine Columnist, BusinessWeek.com; nick@nickonwine.com; www.nickonwine.com. ![]() MARIANI'S VIRTUAL GOURMET NEWSLETTER is published weekly. Editor/Publisher: John Mariani. Contributing Writers: Christopher Mariani, Robert Mariani, John A. Curtas, Edward Brivio, Mort Hochstein, Suzanne Wright, and Brian Freedman. Contributing Photographers: Galina Stepanoff-Dargery, Bobby Pirillo. Technical Advisor: Gerry McLoughlin. © copyright John Mariani 2011 |