Feast Blog

This report is several months old and the following meal was enjoyed in June, during my last trip to Los Angeles, accompanied by the delightful Mr. Richard and the beautiful Lisa. I won’t comment on the surroundings or décor; suffice to say the artist in me was thrilled with all the eye candy. It is not an understated, demure room by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, I would hazard to guess it could have been designed by Jeff Koons, if Jeff Koons did such things.

Sweet potato chips with Greek yogurt foam with star anise and tamarind. Delightful concoction of crisp, light chips (so much better than the bagged version, which I adore). The hint of tamarind and star anise enhanced the creamy yogurt. I think we were cleaning the bowl with our fingers…

Traditional olives with Piquillo peppers. Served in a can, these were to tease us for what was to come, the MG’d liquefied version. Traditional and piquant, a perfect amuse.

Liquified olives. The liquefied olives were the Molecular Gastronomic version of the traditional olive. Served in a mason jar, a waiter deftly and carefully served them in utensils similar to Japanese soup spoons so they could be consumed in one bite, letting the vinegared goodness squirt gleefully in our mouths. Bright, enticing, and very adventurous.

Caprese salad. How does one make a simple caprese salad better? For starters, making the globular bites of cheese and cherry tomatoes exactly the same size. Second, peel the perfectly ripe tomatoes. Third, use the very best olive oil, freshest basil, and enhance with blanched garlic. This offering was quite simply, the very best caprese salad I have ever experienced, with each ingredient speaking its own language, yet complementing its partner.

Guacamole with jicama and fritos and cilantro. In this dish, the jicama was sliced paper thin to act like an Asian wonton wrapper, encasing the guacamole. This was one of the first dishes to be served which, while perfectly fine, seemed out of place with the other Spanish flavors. In fact, being a California native who has eaten various versions of guacamole my whole life, I found the filling rather pedestrian, although the packaging was certainly unique. It looked pretty, but did not inspire me or send me through the rapturous ceiling as the previous courses had done.

Paddlefish caviar cone. So simple and again, so very, very good. The tuille cone – which so often can be made so thick as to overwhelm that which it contains – was paper thin and showcased the ample caviar. Just enough crème fraîche and chives to balance out the saltiness of the caviar. 

Conservas – raspberry and vinaigrette with King Crab. Another tin-served course, there is a refined palate at work that knows how to marry two seemingly disparate delicacies such as raspberries and crab. Here, succulent crab with a hint of vinaigrette and edible pansies provided a cool repass from the salty caviar. This was a favorite of mine and I was very lucky to have such good friends let me eat the bulk of this course.

Papas with bacon (Canary Islands); potatoes cooked with salt water served with mojo of parsley, cilantro, and cumin. I admit it; I am not a cilantro fan and was fairly sure I wouldn’t enjoy these potatoes as they were meant to be eaten, with the mojo. And I was incredibly wrong. Somehow the pervasive soapiness that I get from cilantro was absent here and instead, I got to experience delightfully tender morsels of salted potatoes, dipped in the enticing sauce. While dusted with a fine layer of salt, these were not too salty at all.

Avocado with tuna, rolled with cornnuts and micro cilantro. Like the guacamole purses, this was a course that failed slightly for me. And I like avocados! The creamy texture of the obviously great tasting avocado was too similar in mushiness to the interior tuna concoction. It was only the addition of the house-made corn-nuts that provided some much-needed crunch, but it was not enough. I’m sorry to say that I don’t recall the sauce. All I recall was a mouth full of mush.

Nitrogen Capairinha. To hearken away from our wine, we opted for the extra charge ($30) to try the molecular gastronomic capairinha. Prepared tableside, the ingredients are combined and then nitrogen is added to create the most decadent, alcoholic slushy imaginable. Made with a premium cachaça, Sagatiba, the shared indulgence cleansed our palate and excited us for what was to come. Expensive yes. And worth every penny.

Some bread. Bread is not automatically served at Bazaar as it is in most restaurants. We had asked for it early on as there were many courses from which we wanted to sop up sauces. Having the bread arrive so late in our meal, we realized why there was a delay: They were baked to order. Brushed with and served with some of the quality olive oil, it would have been quite easy to cancel the rest of the meal and simply feast upon the crusty, delightful loaves of goodness.

Hangar steak with Piquillo peppers. Surprisingly, here is where I began to falter and Lisa stepped up to the plate. I’m normally more of a carnivore and this hunk of meat was truly astonishing, so it was surprising to me how much she went after it. Don’t get me wrong – I had my fair share – but knew there was still more to come and happy with just a few bites.

Pollo croquettes. Simple fried chicken goodness. Not too heavily breaded and not overly complicated. Simple goodness. Tender and rich. Nothing special and not very memorable, but savory and satisfying.

Piquillo peppers with goat cheese and grape reduction. Another classic dish, classically prepared. No MG bells and whistles or unusual ingredients to detract from the wholesome goodness of the bright pepper and rich, creamy goat cheese. The grape reduction added a touch of richness.

Cauliflower couscous with harissa broth. While we were not impressed with the two ventures outside the Spanish flavors towards the Mexican, but this endeavor into Moroccan flavors was considerably more successful. The tiny bits of cauliflower mimicked the classic texture and sensation of rolled couscous. The harissa broth was rich and enticing, with a delicate spice that engaged instead of overwhelmed.  With some micro-greens and raisins, I adored this dish and its delicacy and trompe l’oeil innovation.

Lamb loin, truffle gelée, forest mushrooms, and potatoes. Again, it was Lisa who is not as big of a carnivore as myself who cherished this dish. I was slightly put off by the gelée – it was a thick, gelatinous layer which had to be worked through the find the other ingredients. Once discovered, the lamb was tender and rich and worked to be a great complement to the mushrooms. The potatoes were not overwhelming in flavor and the truffle essence – which so often can permeate a dish – was balanced, but the soft creamy texture was too incongruous with the hunk-o-jello and rich meat.

Mushroom risotto, Idizabal cheese. Of all the dishes of the evening, this was the one which faltered the most. Surprisingly both soupy AND pasty, this uninspired dish showed no predominant mushroom flavor in the rice despite the lovely whole mushrooms, nor was there the necessary creaminess indicative of a great risotto. It was more of a soup and rice soup and went mostly uneaten.

Sangria. Not really a course, but we were talking with the Maître ‘D about how much we were enjoying the wine and the capairinha and he offered to give us a miniature version of their much-lauded sangria. Made with white wine, I would happily return just to sit on the veranda (okay, I don’t think they have a veranda), so sip these…

Foie “popsicle.” This was not part of the chef’s choice on the tasting but there was no way we were going to leave without tasting this famous dish (well, I had had it before, but Lisa and Rick never had). Here, a perfect cube of cold foie gras terrine is encased in spun sugar and dusted with hazelnut bits. Best consumed all at once, the mouth is rewarded with creamy, decadent foie, a hint of sugar which disappears quickly once consumed, and the crunchy nut bits. 

We had been sitting in the dining room for some time and it was at this point we were directed towards the lounge/shop area for dessert. It is very difficult to not become overwhelmed with the bounty in both the retail establishment and the glass-covered patisserie offerings. From the menu, we went with the waiter’s suggestion of Panna Cotta, Flan, Crème Caramel along with some coffee and tea. Regrettably, while the desserts all had a decent enough flavor, we were again confounded with such a remarkably similar texture to be rather bored. Too many soft, gooey things, although I definitely enjoyed the heavy rich caramel poured atop the flan. But looking at all of the sweets in the shop, I can’t help but think we would have been better served choosing a selection of delicacies from the store. Lisa did order a small serving of the Chocolate Pop-Rocks, which proved quite fun and confirmed our belief; better stuff a la carte…

Even taking several months to getting around to writing this, it has proven to be one of the most memorable meals of 2009. The quality is exceptional, the service is never stuffy and we were completely charmed by waiters, bus servers, and quite pleased when the chef agreed to step out and answer some questions. I had grown weary of some of the MG attempts in Northern California (with the exception of those by Jeremy Fox at Ubuntu), but here there is enough variety and juxtaposition to make the scientific aspects of the meal more than just a novelty. It was truly a joy to behold.

My first night in Glasgow was blessed with a last-minute concert offering by a favored band, Zero 7. Because the show started at a surprisingly early hour of 7:30, I had to find a restaurant that could accommodate an early dinner. During my Kelvingrove museum trawl, I spied the menu at Two Fat Ladies and was already sold on returning there, happy they could seat me upon opening at 5:30. The restaurant was warm and inviting, painted in lush golden yellow tones with a frieze surrounding the room of a bas relief ocean motif. The thematic room provided a great atmosphere for the gastronomic delights that were to come. In my usual fashion, I ordered a handful of starters so as to give me to optimum number of tastes without filling up too much on a single entrée.

With only a waitress to serve and a single woman chef in the front kitchen (you can watch her from the outside window), I was very well taken care in my choices to eat as many tastes as possible Reading through the menu, I was unfamiliar with a soup known as “Cullen Skink” and the waitress advised me that it was very filling and hearty. I asked if it would be possible to just have a taste and they were very gracious in offering me a small teacup full. Essentially a chunky potato, leek chowder, this intensely rich offering was simply butter-sautéed leeks, potatoes, and smoked haddock in milk and cream (at least that is how I made it when I got home in a desperate attempt to recreate the lusciousness I fell in love with).

While I would have happily munched away at this soup for an entire meal, but too many other goodies awaited. First up with tuna carpaccio. Well, that is what they called it but but I am accustomed to carpaccio being thinly-sliced raw meat. Here, the slices were thick and generous – more sashimi like in their heft. Served with a caper-based dressed greens, thin slices of cheese and cracked pepper gave it all a well-rounded and balanced flavor.

From the waitress’ recommendation, the next course were three magnificently large Scottish langostines. With the same caper dressing, the only way to tackle the beasts were to rip them apart and gnarl in to extract out the sweet goodness. During my tuna course, a young couple arrived and sat across from me. She was unsure how to eat the langostines and I heartily recommended sucking out the eyeballs and making sure to get the brain material. Her boyfriend wasn’t sure she would but watching me do so, she gained some courage and chowed in herself. We were both rewarded with our hard work; the flavors in the eyes, the legs, the head, and the claws were all remarkably different and worth the effort to extract.

The final course was roasted scallops wrapped in bacon served with mushroom risotto and roasted vegetables. The difference in English bacon versus American bacon is width. Here, the smoky flavor of the thick ham-like bacon overwhelmed the delicacy of the scallops. I tasted them together, but opted to unwrap my succulent morsels to enjoy them in their naked splendor. The mushroom risotto slightly on the thick side, but I didn’t seem to mind. Coupled with the sweetness of the perfectly-grilled scallops, the rich flavor provided a great counterpoint of earthiness to the brightness of the sea.

Sadly, I had to dash to get to the concert, or I would have liked to stay to enjoy some cheese or dessert. But this meal was the definite highlight of my Glasgow trip.

In researching the finer restaurants in Edinburgh, one name was mentioned more than others; The Witchery. Looking at their website, one sees a celebrity list to rival an BAFTA runway. It took a bit of work to get reservations and before my arrival, I asked local cab drivers and hotel staff what they thought. All were enthusiastic with exclamations of, “Oh! That is where my husband brought me for my anniversary last year!” or “It is the most elegant restaurant in town — a place to go for special occasions!” Upon arrival, I could see the décor as reminiscent of an old world men’s club with its dark wood and elegance. I was greeted warmly and seated near the outdoor garden. Perusing the menu, I had mostly decided to order a variety of starters as they did not offer a tasting menu (despite asking beforehand).

At a table nearby, I spied another solo diner, a young woman asking the waiter what venison tasted like. It was obvious he couldn’t supply even the modicum of a reasonable answer and I intervened to offer an explanation. Realizing that she was not waiting for anyone, I invited her to join me at my table as we were both obviously dining alone. Melody and bonded quickly; both traveling alone, both looking for the best restaurant in town, and (charmingly enough), both members of a known cabal of knitters via Ravelry.com. Chatting about food and travel and yarn, a friendship was born over what would ultimately prove to be incredibly mediocre food.

Wanting to experience the ultimate in a haggis experience, I started my meal with their “Finlay’s of Portobellow award winning haggis” served with “neeps and tatties” (potatoes and rutabagas). Going completely traditional, I also ordered a serving of Scotch, a 20-year Oban. The potato was whipped and formed into a quennelle, then fried while the neeps was puréed and served alongside a golfball-sized haggis. Despite an insipidly thin sauce, this was the most intriguing dish of the evening so that doesn’t say much. Melody ordered a starter of scallop which was served in a half-shell with Iberico pancetta. These scallops were obviously sliced in half, swimming in over-seasoned, over-cooked and over-salted melted butter. Mel enjoyed them, but I found them inedibly salty.

Our main courses arrived. Melody definitely enjoyed her first-time venison, but I found it flabby and poorly prepared. Under the fanned slices of over-cooked meat was some of the same neeps purée that I had with my haggis and a slice of potato gratin all surrounded with a puddle of thin, clumsy sauce. The plating and all the components seemed rather bourgeois after the perfection and artistry I had experienced the night before at The Kitchin. The true catastrophe of the meal lied in my seafood platter. A cold selection of local seafood, the platter included oysters, clams, mussels, lobster, and prawns. There was also a half-shell offering of smoked salmon, tartare, and some mayonnaise-based fish salad. While not blatantly bad, it was obvious that it was simply not the best quality fish available, nor had it been recently prepared. The clams and mussels were puny and chewy. The lobster was mealy. The oysters were not well-shucked with bits of shell and no liquor left with the mollusk meat. Had Melody not helped me out, more than half of the offering would have sat un-eaten. 

I wasn’t ready to give up on the food and my new compatriot and I were having such a great time chatting that we decided to give the desserts a try. In my usual fashion, I opted for a cheese plate with a glass of Sauterne. Between The Kitchin and the café at Modern Art Museum, I had experienced several excellent offerings of Scottish-made cheeses and I was anxious to taste some more. God bless Mel for picking the dessert sampler which included a chocolate torte and sorbet, mango parfait, bread and butter pudding, pistachio macaroon, and puff candy ice cream. My cheese plate was offered in a rather perfunctory fashion with no descriptives and I called the waiter over to ask for an explanation of what types of cheeses I was being served. He started to tell me so that I could make notes when I realized he was speaking French. Well, they were all French cheeses — no local Scottish or even English cheeses. I didn’t bother to write them down. And Mel’s dessert sampler? I think we liked the chocolate torte but they were all unremarkable and went unfinished.

So, is The Witchery all it is cracked up to be by those locals who had raved about it? I believe it is but only because it is mired in a 1970s sentimentality of what a fancy, special occasion restaurant should be. It is all bells and whistles and no substance. And for those in search of truly excellent cuisine, it should be avoided at all costs. But for me, it will be the place where I at least met a great new friend.

I had a lot of dining recommendations for my trip to Scotland, but The Kitchin is the one I was looking forward to the most. Of my entire U.K. expedition, this was one of the two most memorable meals (the other being a grouse dinner I have yet to write up). A stunningly glorious meal as I am still recalling the most amazing razor clam I have ever tasted…

Dampierre 1er Cru Cuvée des Ambassadeurs, Champagne, France N/V

Amuse – Cauliflower soup with apple and crème Fraiche. A simple way to start a meal, but already showing bold moves to put a crème fraiche in a white, creamy soup. One would anticipate too similar textures being boring, but it was anything but. So often a cream of any vegetable soup tends towards the grainy, but this was absolutely perfectly smooth with a subtle base of coriander and the crème fraiche was not a hindrance in any way. The single beet root slice was eaten almost immediately and I regret not savoring it more slowly with the rest of the soup.

Dry Riesling Donhoff, Nahe, Germany, 2007
Razorfish (Spoots) from Arisaig, served with diced vegetables, chorizo, and lemon confit. Largest razor clam I have every seen; eight inches at least in length. It was studded with the smallest brunoise I have ever experienced with only the bites of razor clam being slightly larger than the vegetables. I had initially dismissed any additional servings of bread as I did not want to fill up, but in experiencing the elegance of the creamy lemon confit beurre blanc, I requested more bread to get every drop. It was that good.

Chardonnay Swamp Reserve, Hawkes Bay, New Zealand, 2006
Snails & Bone Marrow – roasted bone marrow served with sautéed snails from Devon, Iberico ham, and Scottish grolles with quail egg.
As with the razor clam, I was astonished at the size of the serving. In this case, the marrow was served “open face” with all the marrow easily accessible under the unctuous offering of snails, quail egg, and ham. My only complaint on the dish was that only a small toast bit was offered to scoop up the ample marrow, but I still had some bread left so all was fine. Intensely rich, the snails were not at all chewy with the addition of the Iberico ham being the only non-Scottish ingredient in the dish. Rich and satisfying, I knew I had to start pacing myself based on the confluence of flavors being presented.

Trimbach Gewurtztraminer, Alsace, France 2006
Pig’s Head & Langoustine, boned and rolled pig’s head, served with roasted tail of langoustine from Anstruther, and a crispy ear salad.
Inside was pork cheek and on top, fried pig ear. Bringing it all together was a collection of wilted lettuce greens, a creamy sauce akin to the most decadent tartare, and a rich circle of sauce. The langostine was perfectly cooked with no hint of being either under cooked and flabby or overcooked and hard. The thin layer of fried slivered pigs ears provided a great salt and textural crunch to the richness of the pig jowl.

Pinot Noir Hautes Cotes de Beaune, Domaine Delagrange, Burgundy, France, 2006
Poached halibut from Scrabster, served with ink pasta and a samphire sauce. I have to admit that I am not sure what samphire sauce is. With bits of saffron, I can honestly say I have never had a more stunningly perfect hunk of halibut. The “asparagus of the sea” bites were a bright juxtaposition of crunchy delight next to the tender and smooth fish and vegetables. Hints of saffron brought the dish together.

Mourvedre Yalumba, Borassa Valley, Australia, 2007
Venison – saddle of roe deer from Humbie, served with pumpkin, celeriac, roasted apple from Moira’s garden, and pepper sauce. A rather classic example of a protein offering with a root vegetable puree, a few slivers of vegetable that are fried to offer a crunchy texture, and some wilted greens. So incredibly tender

Mas Ameil, Maury, France, 2007
Cheese; Gabietou (ewe), Trappes (walnut cheese), Mont Briac (South France), Criffel (Dumfries), and Ealisa Craig (goat). Gorgeous cheese cart and points on being offered a wide selection of Scottish cheeses.

Recioto Della Valpolicelloa, Tommasi, Italy, 2006
Dark chocolate tart with served figs, chestnuts, and port ice cream. A perfect culmination to a fabulous evening. I have gotten tired of U.S. restaurants feeling the need to offer two and three desserts. One is fine for me and this was neither too sweet nor too heavy. I am only used to California figs and these Turkish offerings are milder and fatter.

A note on service; the waiters and waitresses are definitely international – from Australia, Barcelona, and France. They were young, energetic, and provided impeccable service without being over-bearing. I had to laugh that two or three times my napkin slid off my lap to the floor. Before I could realize it, a brand new cloth was offered even though the “dirty” one that had hit the floor would have sufficed. The room is elegant and modern. I am glad I had an early seating for a Friday night, there were two large parties which arrived at 8:00ish made the room rather loud. But I have found a reason to return to Edinburgh to eat Kitchin’s stunningly brilliant food.