fuckin' bomb happy hour, yo
Hung out with Alexis and Hambino in celebration of Ham's engagement. I had some greasy escargot swimming in garlic-hazelnut butter. Spongy, with a little bite. A pair of deviled eggs, and braised veal tongue. It was all good and all really bad for me. I think i was fairly unimpressed with the veal tongue though, it seemed like the braised all texture out of it. I am surprised Ham ate anything at all. The croque monsieur took care of my picky eater. This brief because it was two months ago, but worthy of some sort of mention. The happy hour is CHEAP. It was a sunny day and a peculiar location, next to a parking garage across the street from the Keller Auditorium. I had to take a key to the parking lot restroom to pee-- almost a deal breaker.
Afterwards, we went to the Gilt club to drink and pontificate, er gossip, with Broyles. Drank a bottle of something good and chain smoked on their patio. MMm
Showing posts with label French. Show all posts
Showing posts with label French. Show all posts
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Fenouil
there has been a lot of anticipation for me for Fenouil. i have a short list of kids that i make a point to eat from. don't think i know my shit. but this list extends from my familial Paul Klitsie and Adrian Hutapea to well loved John Gorham, Vitaley Paley and the illustrious and intriguingly psycho bi-atchy Naomi Pomeroy. its a list that only continues to grow
yesterday i finally made the trek to Pascal Cherau's Fenouil, who is also the exec of Lucier (a restaurant, i've heard, has been an architectural and culinary failure). he's a well respected chef that warrants a blushing smile when i see him, and my have i been curious.
before i go into food, i have got to talk about the design of the restaurant itself. (gotta make the best of my college education). POOP. it's like everything i hate about jamison square infused into the space. it is the epitome of everything that sucks about the Pearl district (old rich people/naive overpriveliged young suburbans). The kitchen looked like it had sex with the vomit of the Street of Dreams. of a restaurant with considerable notability, i expected a little more subtltey and class
their fucking water glasses had fleur de lis
Moving on. the food.
Rose, Gamay: whatever, i wanted to drink and not think about it. dry, it kinda tasted like nothing. unimpressive, but i was apathetic.
Frites a l'huile de truffes: uh. its potatoes that have been deep fried and tossed in truffle oil. what do you think? i was torn between the foie gras terrine, the fruits de mer, and this. but oh my fucking god. served with a pleasant and humble aioli. it was so powerful that you could only eat a small handful before you think that you may get sick, but it was so good that you wouldn't mind puking it all up to eat it all over again.
coquilles: aka scallops. a cook that i work with used to work at Fenouil. and apparently i ordered on of the most popular entrees. i think his exact words were "i could sear those scallops blind". it was very well done (not to be confused with overcooked). three perfectly seared scallops on a beautiful arugula potato whip and a pool of butter. finished with delicately buttered leeks, clover, and a drizzle of aged balsamic that tasted like chocolate. this bitch was heavy. i forgot to mention the slice of bacon set matter-of-factly on top of my row of scallops. probably not the best thing to order before i work, but whatever.
eating these tender morsels of bivalve made me forget about the hideous tile, the fake chandelier of candles and the ornate marble columns. at that moment, food was my architecture, i could have been eating in a buddhist temple or a russian shanty and it still would have been allllllll good.
In my neverending attempt to sabotage my sister and her "healthy" lifestyle, i convinced her that the quiche de mer was totally healthy and carb free. i failed to mention the immeasurable amount of heavy cream and probably a half-stick of butter in the crust. but i saw her savor every last bite, and smiled to myself for i knew she was grateful of my lies. my father had the paella, and had i not ordered the scallops this would have been my selection. if not for taste, for color spectrum. it was gorgeous. generously saffroned risotto, beautiful black sheen of the mussel shells, and a bold green of perfectly done peas.
My dad tipped over 20%, i've taught him well.
just another wednesday afternoon
originally 9/4/08
yesterday i finally made the trek to Pascal Cherau's Fenouil, who is also the exec of Lucier (a restaurant, i've heard, has been an architectural and culinary failure). he's a well respected chef that warrants a blushing smile when i see him, and my have i been curious.
before i go into food, i have got to talk about the design of the restaurant itself. (gotta make the best of my college education). POOP. it's like everything i hate about jamison square infused into the space. it is the epitome of everything that sucks about the Pearl district (old rich people/naive overpriveliged young suburbans). The kitchen looked like it had sex with the vomit of the Street of Dreams. of a restaurant with considerable notability, i expected a little more subtltey and class
their fucking water glasses had fleur de lis
Moving on. the food.
Rose, Gamay: whatever, i wanted to drink and not think about it. dry, it kinda tasted like nothing. unimpressive, but i was apathetic.
Frites a l'huile de truffes: uh. its potatoes that have been deep fried and tossed in truffle oil. what do you think? i was torn between the foie gras terrine, the fruits de mer, and this. but oh my fucking god. served with a pleasant and humble aioli. it was so powerful that you could only eat a small handful before you think that you may get sick, but it was so good that you wouldn't mind puking it all up to eat it all over again.
coquilles: aka scallops. a cook that i work with used to work at Fenouil. and apparently i ordered on of the most popular entrees. i think his exact words were "i could sear those scallops blind". it was very well done (not to be confused with overcooked). three perfectly seared scallops on a beautiful arugula potato whip and a pool of butter. finished with delicately buttered leeks, clover, and a drizzle of aged balsamic that tasted like chocolate. this bitch was heavy. i forgot to mention the slice of bacon set matter-of-factly on top of my row of scallops. probably not the best thing to order before i work, but whatever.
eating these tender morsels of bivalve made me forget about the hideous tile, the fake chandelier of candles and the ornate marble columns. at that moment, food was my architecture, i could have been eating in a buddhist temple or a russian shanty and it still would have been allllllll good.
In my neverending attempt to sabotage my sister and her "healthy" lifestyle, i convinced her that the quiche de mer was totally healthy and carb free. i failed to mention the immeasurable amount of heavy cream and probably a half-stick of butter in the crust. but i saw her savor every last bite, and smiled to myself for i knew she was grateful of my lies. my father had the paella, and had i not ordered the scallops this would have been my selection. if not for taste, for color spectrum. it was gorgeous. generously saffroned risotto, beautiful black sheen of the mussel shells, and a bold green of perfectly done peas.
My dad tipped over 20%, i've taught him well.
just another wednesday afternoon
originally 9/4/08
Monday, September 8, 2008
The Heathman
The immortal French 75: Champagne, Gin, and a lemon zest. bubbly and girly, but not the panty droppin version PandaBear makes.
Kumamoto Oysters: to describe how i felt when i tasted it cannot be described in words, but mere grunts of satisfaction, surprise and pleasure. very rich. served with champagne mignonette.
Dungeness Crab Salad: very cute molded avacado, mango and finished with a generous serving of fresh crab. drizzled with olive oil balsamic and a red pepper coulis. the avacado was either overworked, over ripe, or straight up sitting out too long. but other than that it was great. they didn't fuck with the crab, just let it be (as it should)
Crispy Veal Sweetbreads: The second I saw this on the menu I was sure I was going to get it. Sweetbreads, my friends, is the Thymus gland of the calf. This one was the stomach gland. What I have earned in karma for being a nice person, I have lost in my curious eating adventures. Anyways, I've always wanted to try it and i figured the Heathman would know how to give it to me. It had a texture unlike anything i've eaten. soft and velvety with a nice mild flavor. reminded me of a firmer foie gras and it disintegrated in my mouth as quickly as i put it in. but i really have nothing to compare it to. the oyster mushroom risotto complimented it well.
Yum, good food, and it wasn't on my tab. I wish my companions chose more adventurous selections. If you are going to a restaurant like the heath, you may as well try something that will push the limits of its caliber. Dave paid so he is awesome. Satheara's salmon was overdone. my mam, as usual, wished she had soy sauce
In the end:
I can now say I've eaten at the Heathman
I can now say i have had veal sweetbreads
I will always and forever look for kumamoto oysters on a menu
Dave is awesome
the phantom of the opera is AWESOME
originally 8/26/08
Kumamoto Oysters: to describe how i felt when i tasted it cannot be described in words, but mere grunts of satisfaction, surprise and pleasure. very rich. served with champagne mignonette.
Dungeness Crab Salad: very cute molded avacado, mango and finished with a generous serving of fresh crab. drizzled with olive oil balsamic and a red pepper coulis. the avacado was either overworked, over ripe, or straight up sitting out too long. but other than that it was great. they didn't fuck with the crab, just let it be (as it should)
Crispy Veal Sweetbreads: The second I saw this on the menu I was sure I was going to get it. Sweetbreads, my friends, is the Thymus gland of the calf. This one was the stomach gland. What I have earned in karma for being a nice person, I have lost in my curious eating adventures. Anyways, I've always wanted to try it and i figured the Heathman would know how to give it to me. It had a texture unlike anything i've eaten. soft and velvety with a nice mild flavor. reminded me of a firmer foie gras and it disintegrated in my mouth as quickly as i put it in. but i really have nothing to compare it to. the oyster mushroom risotto complimented it well.
Yum, good food, and it wasn't on my tab. I wish my companions chose more adventurous selections. If you are going to a restaurant like the heath, you may as well try something that will push the limits of its caliber. Dave paid so he is awesome. Satheara's salmon was overdone. my mam, as usual, wished she had soy sauce
In the end:
I can now say I've eaten at the Heathman
I can now say i have had veal sweetbreads
I will always and forever look for kumamoto oysters on a menu
Dave is awesome
the phantom of the opera is AWESOME
originally 8/26/08
Sel Gris
venison: deeeeeeeeeelish
stone fruit salad: fruit arugula and candied walnuts, comfortably predictable
hamachi, seared fois gras and consumme: greasy, i should have gotten the lamb
i'd go again, but stick to real sushi instead of the french fusion sort.
originally 8/15/08
stone fruit salad: fruit arugula and candied walnuts, comfortably predictable
hamachi, seared fois gras and consumme: greasy, i should have gotten the lamb
i'd go again, but stick to real sushi instead of the french fusion sort.
originally 8/15/08
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