Virtual Gourmet

THIS WEEK
ELEVEN MADISON PARK
ABANDONS ALL-VEGAN MENU
By John Mariani

NEW YORK CORNER
DUBROVNIK
By John Mariani

HÔTEL ALLEMAGNE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
By John Mariani

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ELEVEN MADISON PARK
ABANDONS ALL-VEGAN MENU

By John Mariani

Daniel Humm

Daniel Humm, Chef-Partner of New York’s Eleven Madison Park, has announced that, after four years of serving a full, multi-course vegan menu, “It became clear that while we had built something meaningful, we had also unintentionally kept people out. This is the opposite of what we believe hospitality to be.” As a result, “Starting October 14th, we will integrate our new language into a menu that embraces choice. We will offer a plant-based menu, of course, but also select animal products for certain dishes.”

This is a remarkable but sensible change in a particularly tough time for restaurants, for despite near-full houses most nights at Eleven Madison Park (EMP) business was lagging, and highly profitable private events have fewer and fewer bookings. “It’s hard to get 30 people for a corporate dinner to come to a plant-based restaurant,” he told the New York Times.

EMP has a twenty-four year history, opened originally in 2001 by Danny Meyer’s Union Square Hospitality Group as a high-end New York style dining room within an historic Art Deco building overlooking Madison Park, with a full-scale menu of meat, fish and vegetables. It was highly regarded by the critics for its fine cuisine under Chef Kerry Heffernan and its sophisticated service and wine list. Meyer hired Humm to continue that tradition, then sold the restaurant to him and partner (former general manager) Will Guidara, who tried to tone down EMP’s formality with gimmicks like pouring clams onto newspaper in the middle of a nine-course meal, inviting guests for a cocktail at the bar in the middle of the meal, and having captains do card tricks at the table. (Guidara left the restaurant in 2019.)

After closing during Covid, EMP re-opened in 2021. He contended, “The current food system is simply not sustainable, in so many ways.” This week he announced, “My team and I felt liberated and cracked open. The journey proved richer than any before. We created a new culinary language: mille-feuille without butter, meringue without eggs, almond-milk ricotta, sunflower butter, koji stocks, whipped cashew cream, even ‘land caviar.’”

Humm was betting on a trend many chefs have picked up on by offering alternative vegetarian menus alongside their meat and seafood menu, which makes capital sense, whether it’s Alain Ducasse at the Plaza-Athenée and Alain Passard at L’Arpège in Paris or Massimo Bottura at Osteria Francescana in Modena, Italy. But none attempted to go total vegan. At the time Humm went total vegan at EMP, I felt he was taking a great risk.

Many fans of the restaurant as well as food media wondered if Humm could pull off selling nine course vegan menus for $335––now $365––before wine, tax and tip, but at first EMP was booked weeks in advance, even garnering three Michelin stars––the first vegan restaurant ever to win that high honor–– although Times critic Pete Well hit hard, writing, “With time, Mr. Humm may stop overcompensating for ditching the animal products, too. Beets aren’t very good at pretending to be meat, but their ability to taste like beets is unrivaled.” Apparently that time has come.

And after all, running a restaurant is a business and even if EMP drew the well-heeled curious diner who probably enjoyed his meal once, how often would an omnivore return? How many vegans would seek out nine courses for that kind of money on a regular basis?

Four years later, Humm has now thrown in the towel on his experiment, recognizing that his crusading spirit and staff dedication was not enough to keep the restaurant profitable. “The all-or-nothing approach was necessary to develop our expertise,” he now says, “but that, too, comes with its own limitations. As a chef, I want to continue to open paths, not close them. Eating together is the essence of who we are, and I’ve learned that for me to truly champion plant-based cooking, I need to create an environment where everyone feels welcome around the table.”

Since I have always regarded Humm as one of the finest chefs of any kind in America, I welcome his change of mind and look forward to returning to EMP, hopefully without clambakes on the table or card tricks by the waiters.

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NEW YORK CORNER

DUBROVNIK

721 Main Street
New Rochelle, NY
914-637-3777

Immigrants from those Mediterranean countries carved out of the former Yugoslavia have added measurably to New York’s food culture, not least in the last decade when a plethora of Italian restaurants and steakhouses have been opened by Albanians, Slovenians and Montenegrins.

Croatian restaurants, however, are still rare––about 24,000 Croatians live in the five boroughs––but none that I know has the deserved longevity of Dubrovnik, which has been a success in the boom town suburb of New Rochelle for the past twelve years.

Founded by Jerry Tomic, the two-level, 85-seat establishment with an outdoor patio and fountain draws a very faithful crowd, many with families in tow, that lends it an Eastern European conviviality within its motif of brown and beige stone and wood, a ship’s steering wheel and black-and-white photos of Tomic’s own town (he also did much of the décor out of his own next-door interiors business). Tables are nicely separated and tablecloths and settings of good quality.

There is, too, an outdoor wood fired rotisserie and BBQ used to give meats, poultry and seafood a smoky patina.

General Manager Matija Zarak is the epitome of cordial Croatian hospitality, and he also oversees a wine cellar whose bottles are kept at the right temperature and that holds several bottles from Croatian wineries, including wines from Tomic’s family vineyards on the island of Korcula, like the varietals Pošip Ivan Tomic and Cabernet Sauvignon Tomic.

Everything served at Dubrovnik is made in executive Chef Antonio Selendic’s kitchen, including the warm puffy pita rounds and sourdough bread that goes well with a pool of olive oil from Tomic’s own farm.

As I found at restaurants on my recent trip to Croatia, a large platter of the day’s fish is brought to the table for you to choose from, which might include some of the more exotic Mediterranean species. They are priced by the pound and can serve two, filleted tableside.

You might begin with a platter of Croatian cheese, smoked and cured meats, or an equally ample platter of grilled octopus, fried calamari and shrimp.

Croatian cooks are famous for their seafood risottos and Selendic’s version of slowly cooked rice with cuttlefish is one of the best I’ve had this far from the Aegean, dependent on absolute freshness and careful incorporation of broth, the cuttlefish ink and seasonings.

We also enjoyed two of the grilled fish, orata with Swiss chard and New Zealand snapper with grilled vegetables (though I can’t imagine why that snapper had to be brought in from the South Pacific rather than the Mediterranean).

There are a few pastas, including with gnocchi with a veal ragù, and one; with lobster tail, mussels and clams over fettuccine and tomato.

If you opt for meat, the easiest way to appreciate an array of them is to order the combination ‘Miješano Meso’ for two or more people that includes a large, rosy filet mignon, succulent lamb chops and cavapi sausages. Only the addition of chicken breast misfired: It was under-seasoned and the meat cooked too long, becoming chewy. Had its skin been left on it might have been more savory.

The desserts at Dubrovnik, all made on premises, shouldn’t be missed, especially the thin palačinke with ice cream and Nutella ; the peach cobbler just right for summer; the espresso crème brûlée ; and the kremšnita of delicate phyllo pastry with vanilla custard crème .

A century ago local resident George M. Cohan wrote of New Rochelle as “Forty-five minutes from Broadway,” a town of “rubens” (rubes):

    Not a café in the town;
    Oh! The place is a bird
    No one here ever heard
    Of Delmonico, Rector or Browne
    With a ten-dollar bill you're a spendthrift;
    If you open a bottle of beer
    You're a sport, so they say
    And imagine Broadway
     Only forty-five minutes from here.

These days the city is in the throes of a major building boom, and what it needs are more good restaurants. For now Dubrovnik, near the train station, serves as a long-time anchor of what’s possible.

Dinner appetizers $12 to $22; main courses $25 to $50.

Open for lunch and dinner daily.

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HÔTEL ALLEMAGNE
By John Mariani

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

         It was now late afternoon, and Borel ushered the two Americans to a room set up to watch videos. Yves Collard was already there. A technician had advanced the video to noon of the day of the events, when Yves said Kōvar had checked in.
         Yves pointed to Kōvar as he entered the hotel and checked in. The technician then brought the video forward to three PM, and Yves showed them Bazarov checking in. Fast forward to seven o’clock, which showed both Bazarov and Kovar in the lobby, handing their keys to Yves on their way out. The technician let the next hour of the video play at a faster speed until Yves said, “Arrêtez! Là, vous pouvez voir l'homme T-Mobile.”
         The man, dressed in a T-Mobile jacket, was carrying a tool kit, as Yves had said. He approached Yves then took the elevator up to the seventh floor. It was just eight PM. A few moments later Bazarov and Kovar came into the lobby, picked up their keys and headed straight for the small bar. The technician pushed the video forward and showed the two men leave the bar twelve minutes later and take the elevator. The camera showed that the elevator stopped first on the third floor, then on the seventh.
         The technician switched to the cameras on the seventh floor, showing the T-Mobile man at 8:05 entering Room 702, to which Yves had given him a key. At 8:15 the elevator opened and a man emerged and walked to Room 702.
         “C’est Monsieur Bazarov,” said Yves. Bazarov was carrying the suiter.
         The technician let the video run for several minutes, then, at 9:07 the T-Mobile man and Bazarov, carrying the suiter, exited the room and entered the elevator, which first stopped at the third floor, then at the lobby. The T-Mobile man got out, went over to the front desk and could be seen asking Yves to sign the work order. He left the hotel two minutes later.
         At 9:18 Bazarov exited the elevator, carrying the suiter and checking out of the hotel by 9:22, leaving by the side door.
         Borel told the technician to stop the video and said he wanted his men to go over the entire day in detail, which would have included the next morning’s mass evacuation. He asked Yves to stay and identify as many guests as he could. The concierge readily agreed. Borel told him he'd been invaluable in the investigation.
         Katie and David were convinced that Bazarov was—at least in Paris—the enabler for the T-Mobile man and probably the two other perpetrators, who had checked into the other hotels on their own. There was no reason to believe Kōvar was in any way involved, at least for now, but provided Bazarov with an alibi, which turned out to be faulty because of the surveillance cameras.
         “He’s most likely KGB,” said David. “Most Russian embassy staffs are riddled with them. Let’s ask what Borel has on him, if anything.”
         Katie as smiling broadly. “Well, this has been a banner day for us two American snoops.”
         “I think so,” said David, looking at his watch and knowing Katie would be calling Alan with the update, which would lengthen their leash for a few days. “It’s only eight o’clock. Shall we splurge on a big deal dinner? Maybe that Grand Véfour place, or whatever you call it?”
         “Something tells me Grand Véfour will have been booked weeks in advance, especially during Fashion Week, and it’s got three Michelin stars. Let’s save that for when we finish up here in Paris. I have an idea! Let’s text Yves and ask him for a really good place that might not be booked, or maybe he can get us in.”
         Yves got the text and, pausing for a moment from watching the video with the police, texted back. “I try to make you a reservation at a very good place you will enjoy. I get back to you in a few minutes.”
         He was as good as his word, texting back, “L’Aubrac 37 Rue Marbeuf. Best French beef in Paris! Ask for my friend Yannick. Bon Appetit!”
         “Now that sounds like something we could both sink our teeth into,” said Katie.
         David suddenly felt famished.

    La Maison L’Aubrac was not far from the Americans’ hotel, and David was delighted to show off his new jacket, more than once asking, “I look okay, right?”
    The restaurant had seating outside and against the window, pleasantly lighted and with décor that must have looked modern when the place opened in 1977. The owners purported to have sketches by Picasso on its walls.
         Its claim to fame in Paris was its Aubrac Lagouile beef, whose carcasses were hanging behind glass, aging far longer than most French beef ever does. There was a wide selection of charcuterie and a good wine list.
         Yannick turned out to be the manager and greeted the Americans effusively, giving them a fine table overlooking the street. There were many tables occupied by Americans (it was very close to the Four Seasons Georges V Hotel and Fouquet’s), and Yannick asked to be allowed to choose their meal for them, which was certainly all right with Katie and David.
         Moments later Yannick brought over a cold bottle of Champagne made specially for the restaurant. “This is a little gift from Yves for making him feel better, whatever that means!” He popped the cork, poured the wine and said, “I wish you a wonderful meal.”
         It was far more than that, not only the Champagne and the food—a platter of several sausages, ham, pâtés and rillettes of rabbit and duck, two cuts of very rare beef, perfectly crisp potatoes in a casserole, and both a crème brûlée and a soft-center chocolate torte—but also because Katie and David were both elated and relieved by the day’s events. Things were going in the right direction, and Katie said she thought her story had legs, with lots more to come. She didn’t expect Alan to let her stay in Paris for weeks, but with the prospect of the two men arrested and the third, along with Bazarov, in the offing, the story was going to be rich in intrigue. The part in Marseille added some real melodrama.
         “What do you think the chances of nailing Bazarov are?” asked Katie.
         “An ambassador from Russia? Probably not very high. If he’s even still in Paris—which I doubt—the Russians probably won’t release him to the French. I don’t know what the rules about habeas corpus are in France, but I do know they operate under the assumption that an accused person is guilty and needs to prove his innocence. I doubt Bazarov will get anywhere near a French court.”
         “So, the T-Mobile guy takes the rap?”
         “I have a feeling the T-Mobile guy will sing his head off and nail Bazarov. Then the Russians will deny it, the police will show them the videos, the Russians will say that proves nothing, and so it’ll go.”
         “But you do think the police will get the three culprits to confess?”
         “Yeah, I do.”
          “So, they use water boarding over here?” Katie asked, half smiling.
         David sighed and said, “You always love asking me if police beat guys up in a back room, don’t you?”
         “Hey, David, it’s not unknown to happen, is it?”
         “No, it happens. Not as much now as it used to, but it happens.”
         “Because I remember the French soldiers used a form of water boarding on a terrorist in the movie The Battle of Algiers, about how the French brutalized suspected terrorists, who were actually Algerian revolutionaries. They even banned the movie in France when it came out in the mid-sixties.”
         “I remember that movie. I guess it was close to the truth back then. The French counterinsurgency police could get very nasty with anyone who rebelled against French authority when Algeria was a colony. I suspect it’s a lot different in the Paris Sûreté these days.”
         Katie didn’t want to ruin the tenor of the evening, so she held up her glass and said, “Here’s to Liberty, Equality and Fraternity!”
         “Sounds like something Superman would have said in college.”

MARIANI'S VIRTUAL GOURMET NEWSLETTER is published weekly. Publisher: John Mariani. Editor: Walter Bagley. Contributing Writers: Christopher Mariani, Misha Mariani, John A. Curtas, Gerry Dawes, Geoff Kalish. Contributing Photographer: Galina Dargery. Technical Advisor: Gerry McLoughlin.