Feast Blog

Over twenty years ago, I was completely entranced by the cooking of Michael Chiarello when he owned Tra Vigne. In 1985 he was named Food & Wine Magazine‘s Chef of the Year and I think that celebrity got to him because the quality at Tra Vigne went down hill, there were numerous rumors of Chiarello’s ego causing problems, and ultimately he sold the restaurant. For several years, Tra Vigne was sort of a laughing joke in the Napa Valley and the only business it saw was by tourists who didn’t know any better. He had a reputation in the valley as a bit of scamp.

And then Chiarello seemed to clean up his act. He put his name on a handful products through the brand, Napa Style. He started doing some television and getting a respectable mantle through television. But would he ever open another restaurant? Well, yes and hearkening back to those glory days of Tra Vigne, Bottega is packing them in and with good reason. I was going up to visit some old friends and suggested Bottega which is walking distance from their home. As it turned out, that evening was a special occasion with a related book signing by Lidia Bastianich and it was great fun watching Chiarello and Bastianich make the rounds around the room in between their own noshing.

It was quite an evening for me for a myriad of reasons; getting an opportunity to see old friends mostly, but also the menu gave me multiple opportunities for research. To start, there was a savory option of fried dough, which I wrote about here. I was having quite a time determining what to have as a main course and ultimately, it was easier to ask the waiter to just bring me his favorite fish course. I was not disappointed by the surprise; Adriatic Seafood Brodetto with monkfish, mussels, rock cod and fresh Monterey calamari, forno-confit tomato broth, olive oil-crouton, paprika-saffron rouille. Like a thicker and richer version of Cioppino, the selection of fish was fresh and the mussels were especially large and tender. I liked the rouille-topped crouton as a tangy counterbalance to the redolent sauce.

Being pretty full from a huge appetizer (half of which was packed for leftovers) and the entrée (also half of which was packed for leftovers), the table shared a selection of biscotti cookies. I tasted the dark chocolate square and a sugar cookie that had a hint of saffron to it. But then there came a follow-up dessert, a sweet version of fried dough, the full report of which is over on the Fried Dough Ho site!

Florio is a little restaurant in my neighborhood that I dine at only once or twice a year. Quite frankly, the menu has always been a bit too restrained for my tastes; generic steak frites and mundane roast chicken. Not bad at all, just dishes I always felt I could create at home. In fact, the times I have gone there I have always enjoyed myself, but was never blown away. But when my older sister comes to visit, Florio is a favorite for her for the very reasons I forget about it; she is a woman who revels in a good roast chicken, craves a hearty steak with fries, and loves its basic goodness.

When she arrived for the annual jaunt up Fillmore Street for pre-Thanksgiving shopping, I tried to steer her towards some other establishments. “S.P.Q.R. has a new chef,” I entreated. “Japantown is just a block away,” I reminded. Nope. She wanted Florio.

Trying to be a bit on the healthier side, I started with a salad of shaved fennel, anchovies, and pomelos. And was I ever surprised. That which used to earmark as staid and mundane was now surprisingly fresh and innovative. Sister Sue had a squash soup which was heightened with fresh wild mushrooms – so creamy and rich and engaging. Continuing in her vein of comfort food, Susan ordered a Berkshire pork Milanese with house-made sauerkraut, fingerling potatoes, and mustard sauce. Pounded thin like a veal cutlet, for $19 this dish was astonishingly good; tender, moist, and with a great crust, possibly made with the addition of panko for extra crunchiness. I was a bit jealous I hadn’t ordered the dish myself.

Except that I had ordered mussels. From Totten Inlet, this was offered as a starter for $13.50 but with my salad opener, I wasn’t worried that I had under-ordered. And then the mussels arrived. Crowned with an aïoli-topped crouton, I have to admit that I have never seen such engorged, fleshy, monstrously huge mussels. There is no way to get around the sexual innuendo of these bivalves, but beyond the obvious shape, the taste elevated the experience to one of ecstasy. They were tender and rich, a clean white-wine broth combining with the garlicky sauce of the aïoli to create a creamy milkiness akin to… well… Okay, I suppose saying the dish was orgasmic is going to far, huh? Enough said.

Suffice to say I have a new fondness and respect for Florio. It is far from staid and sedate. I have found a new gem in my neighborhood to bring friends. And a last word on service: Exemplary.

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.

Business found me in Las Vegas for my 45th birthday at the beginning of June. Before arriving, I had an invitation from a Facebook friend I had never met for a birthday cocktail, which I found utterly charming. I met Sonia Bañuelos of Saffron Paisley fame met me at the Parasol Bar in the Wynn. We were shortly joined by Denise of Delisch, and Meghan Riley. Debating where to dine for dinner, Daniel Boulud’s Brasserie is mere steps from the opulent water show, but despite the massive array of empty tables, I was told there was an hour+ wait. Getting hungry, we opted to squeeze into the lounge area, which is not quite as comfortable for where (we were told) at least the whole menu was available.

In our classic sharing mode, for the table I ordered a 2004 Outpost Zinfandel which was well-loved by all. Also for the table was the *small* version of the fruits de mer, an exceptional offering of chilled fish. On the platter was 4″ prawns, three types of crudo and tartare, a half lobster, mussels, oysters, and clams. The quality of the fish was exceptional and ample. I also ordered the terrine of foie which was easily one of the best offerings of foie I have tasted in a decade. Served alongside was an aspic of elderflower and a crème with an imperceptible flavor. We asked about it because it was so light and enticing and the waiter insisted it was horseradish, which was obviously wrong. Regardless, the foie itself was perfectly prepared with a firm, creamy texture and served with delightfully thin, toasted brioche.

Also on the table was a glorious charcuterie plate, the best burger I have ever tasted, a rich duck breast, and a side of creamed spinach. I would go back for the burger in a heart-beat, despite what I think was a $32 price tag. We finished up the evening with a cheese plate but because of the volume in the lounge, we didn’t really understand the cheese explanations which were offered. They were served with a few glasses of Tokaji and I was very surprised that in all, the entire meal with tip came to a mere $100 a person. Quite a bargain, considering the quality and bounty of the food offered.