Feast Blog

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.

Ah, Chez Panisse… what happened?

Meeting new friends T and S for dinner this evening, the general camaraderie and lusty, culinary conversation could not belie the fact that our
California Icon is becoming a pale reflection of itself. I would like to believe that I am simply so jaded in being able to receive the finest of California’s abundant produce and ingredients, that knowing I am walking into a temple of what should be arguably the finest ingredients available, would entitle me to one of the finest meals available. Sadly, this simply was not to be. However, starting our first heavily-vegetabled course, we ordered a half-bottle of Spanish Albarino do Ferreiro which was perfectly light and clean; almost Sauvignon Blanc-like without the astringency.

After a bowl of Lucques Olives and Acme Bread, we were served our first course of grilled leeks with mustard vinaigrette, beets, and house-cured pancetta. Not listed in the ingredients but obviously an integral part which was included was hard-boiled egg. I am an intense leek aficionado but was initially concerned that the sultry leek flavor that I love so much was masked by the montage of other flavors which were far from cohesive. It was not that any one component was over-powering the rest, but the lifeless, limp leeks, in their stringy and chew state, did nothing to elevate the smallish chunks of yellow beet and occasional crouton. The bastion of fresh ingredients was beginning to falter

For our next course, we ordered a full bottle of Vina Caneiro, Ribeira Sacra which was adequate, but far too young to show any depth or integration.

The main course of the evening was described as Daube d’agneau aux herbes; Cattail creek lamb shoulder with herb-scented soufflé, fall greens, and carrots Vichy-style. Being the showcase protein, the first bite I took was of the lamb. While tender, I was immediately overwhelmed with the saltiness of the sauce. After that, I was underwhelmed with the overall flavor of the lamb; it simply did not provide that unctuous lamb flavor one grows to expect from the Panisse experience. The herb soufflé proved to be the highlight of the evening but was farm from groundbreaking. It was quite simply a very well-prepared, miniature herb soufflé; light, accessible, and with a perfectly-portioned amount of herbs where too many could have been its detriment. The “fall greens” as far as I could tell were simple braised Swiss chard (which I enjoyed) but the “Vichy-style” carrots were limp and mushy to a point just shy of that which one would find in a can. Here was an opportunity to demonstrate the freshness of an ingredient, and instead they were overcooked to become lifeless, flaccid members.

We were given the option of a cheese course before our dessert. From St. Helena, Haiku, a goat’s milk cheese, from Wisconsin came Marissa, a sheep’s milk cheese, and another locally produced icon, Red Hawk from Cow Girl Creamery. The cheese was served with an accompanying bowl of chopped persimmons and three dates as well as a platter of thinly sliced nut bread. I still never bother with any flavored breads as a vehicle for cheeses, the dates themselves were the highlight of this course. The cheeses themselves, while not overtly bad in any regard, were simply too similar in their lack of depth as to distinguish themselves.

The formal dessert course was listed as a poached pear tart with muscat sabayon. I only needed two or three bites of this to know there could be no salvation for the evening’s catastrophe. The pears — like the carrots — were so far beyond their state of freshness as to invoke concepts of can-dom. To inspire and imply a fruit or vegetable is fresh, I believe a level of “toothiness” is required, akin to a great pasta being a dente. These pears exhibited the same insincere mushiness as our carrots. The crust was soggy and flavorless, and the muscat sabayon lacked any tang or sweetness as to even suggest any other ingredient than dairy. It was all so desperately sad.

We
discussed and debated our meal during its transgression. The service — far from being warm and inviting, was perfunctory and cold. Where was the spark that was missing? I had dined at Chez Panisse several times before and thought that perhaps my palate is simply becoming jaded, however my dining companions seemed as unimpressed as I; has this simply become a destination restaurant for the occasional diner and the tourist, the way travelers to Paris feel they must visit the Louvre? Like those who feel compelled to worship at any other venerated cathedral without the introspection of the implied worship, I believe the religion that is Chez Panisse has lived beyond its time and is a mythological anthem that no longer exists except in the reverence and adoration of its devotees. It is a religion of yesteryear.