Le Bernardin

My friend Drew and I have a few things in common. We both enjoy a good football game. We share a love of Korean fried chicken. We like a good barbecue followed by a raging dance party. We enjoy delicious food. Our birthdays are a few days apart from one another. So when Drew invited me to celebrate the latter two in a celebratory meal at Le Bernardin, the venerable seafood mecca with the most adorable executive chef ever, who was I to refuse? And so, at the beginning of October (I cannot believe I've let this get so out of control, but this month has been really, really awful at work, so please forgive me...please), my friend Drew and I sat down to a delicious meal in one of New York's (and the country's) best restaurants.

I had been to Le Bernardin, one of New York's (now) five Michelin three-starred restaurants, for lunch before, but I had never dined there at night. The room, which is quite stark with an almost corporate feel during the day, when it is awash in generous amounts of sunlight flowing in through it's giant street-level windows, takes on a completely different character at night. The dimness of the room is offset only by the flickering candlelight emanating from each table. The room benefits from this, as its loftiness is diminished, and each table feels more secluded than it would during daylight hours. It still feels undeniably large, and therefore a bit impersonal, but less overwhelmingly so.

In lieu of the prix fixe, in which the diner chooses one dish from each category of the menu, which is organized by ascending levels of doneness, from "Almost Raw" to "Lightly Cooked," we decided to go for the Le Bernardin tasting menu with the optional wine pairing.

Since this was pretty much forever ago, I am a bit fuzzy on the details, but I remember my general impressions of each dish. Also, since I didn't want to disturb the dining room with constant flashes, the photos are, well, not awesome.

When the bread plate came around, I went first for the olive bread, which, when offered, I have hard time passing up. What can I say, I love that salt. I followed that up with the brioche, which was rich, buttery and delicious.



The meal started with an amuse of a crab salad with potato crisps and an herb oil, which was very mild but fresh-tasting, and definitely served its purpose of whetting the appetite.



The first course then descended upon us, a gorgeously plated kamptachi tartare with marinated japanese cucumber and aged citrus vinegar. The tartare was awesome, with a pleasant richness that was cut by the freshness of the cucumber and given a lovely bite by the citrus. I was liking where this was going. (Wine: Assyrtiko, Thalassistis, Gaia Estate, Santorini, Greece 2008.)



This crab-zucchini panna cotta was next. The silky panna cotty was wrapped in a paper-thin slice of raw zucchini and came resting in a "vandouvan spiced broth" punched up with an awesome curry oil. (Wine: Gelber Muskateller, "Steirische Klassik", Neumeister, Styria, Austria 2007.)



The Sourdough Crusted Red Snapper, served with marinated heirloom tomatoes in a basil - scented tomato consommé was among my favorite courses of the evening. The fish was cooked to absolute perfect; the sourdough crust was perfectly toasted and crunchy, but did not get in the way of the delicate flesh of the mild snapper. The heirloom tomatoes were awsome, and it took pretty much everything in me not to take the bowl to my mouth to slurp up the remaining broth. ( Wine: Jurançon, Domaine Cauhape "Chant de Vignes," SW France, 2007. I absolutley adored this wine - it was light and punchy, not overly sweet and an incredible companion to the dish.)



The crispy black bass with braised celery and parsnip custard, served with Iberico ham and a green peppercorn sauce was eminently enjoyable. While the braised celery conjures up bad memories of Top Chef's Jame, who not only oversalted the celery into oblivion while attempting to recreate this dish in an elimination challenge, but also said she was not inspired by the dish at all, I found the dish to be lovely. The bass was, expectedly, fantastically cooked, with the crispy skin giving way to supple, tender flesh. The celery didn't do much on its own to heighten my enjoyment of the dish, it was certainly inoffensive and, hell, I like celery.



The parsnip puree was awesome - I recall it being described as "parsnip three ways," as there was a custard, a foam and a crispy parsnip twirl atop the cup. The puree was awesome, the custard was incredibly light and creamy, with the subtle, slightly bitter undertones of parsnip coming through as each spoonful coated my tongue. I did my best to break up the parsnip chip to enjoy the contrast of textures in each bite, but I gave up after a little bit. And I didn't regret it. (Wine: Rioja, Reserve "Vina Ardanza", La Rioja Alta, Spain 2000.)



The final savory course was escolar (white tuna), which was poached in extra virgin olive oil , served with sea b eans and potato crisps and topped with a light red wine béarnaise, and it was phenomenal. The tuna was silky smooth, its texture absolutly perfect. The meatiness of the fish held up very well to the béarnaise, which would have overwhelmed anything more delicate. The crunch of the potatoes and the pop of the sea beans played well against the supple fish. All of the elements played very well with each other and created another masterpiece. (Wine: Malbec - Mendel - Mendoza/Argentina 2007.)



For a palate cleanser before the dessert courses, we were brought a small dish of "La Faisselle," which is an artisan fromage blanc , which the website touts as being produced exclusively for Le Bernardin by the Vermont Butter and Cheese company), served with a few slices of strawberries and a strawberry coulis. The fromage blanc was fresh and mild, and not really much more. Though it didn't have to be, since it performed its required duties. (Wine: Torrontez Sparkling-Deseado Familia Schroeder, Patagonia Argentina.)



We were then treated to an extra course, "The Egg," a milk chocolate pot de crème with caramel foam, maple syrup and maldon sea salt is a Le Bernardin signature created by pastry chef Michael Laiskonis, and for good reason. While certainly sweet, the sea salt offsets it perfectly, and since it's only a couple of bites worth the sweetness doesn't have an opportunity to overwhelm you. Since it's served in an egg, you can only finagle so much out of it at a time, which means that the bites are small, and there's a limited amount of them. But careful maneuvering with the spoon ensures that you get all the elements at once, and when they all come together, it's really unbelievable. The flavors are simple and familiar, but the varying textures and the crunchy element of surprise from the sea salt make it really fabulous.



Our next dessert course was a hazelnut gianduja parfait with Oregon hazelnuts, honey, caramelized banana and brown butter ice cream. The parfait was lovely, the banana crunchy and awesome, but what really stole the show for me was the brown butter ice cream. Really, I would have been happy with a bowl of that (though I would certainly not have minded if that bowl were topped with a couple of slices of that caramelized banana. (Wine: Muskat Ottonel, Trockenbeerenauslese No. 5, Alois Kracher, Neusiedlersee/Austria 2004.)



Our final course was also an exta course, sent to us with complements from Drew's friend who is a sous-chef at the restaurant during their lunch services. It was a passion fruit mousse with mango sorbet and white chocolate . Drew loved this. I was a bit too full to really enjoy much more, but it was light, faintly sweet, pleasantly tart and quite good.

And so my dinner at Le Bernardin drew to a close. I rolled out of there incredibly full, and perhaps a bit more than tipsy, but with a very happy belly. Once again, thanks to Drew for making it happen, and for sharing a birthday meal with me.

Le Bernardin
155 W 51st St (between 6th and 7th)
New York, NY 10019
(212) 554-1515

Honey Cake

Tradition is an interesting thing. We perpetuate certain ideals, advocate certain processes, even propogate lies, all in the name of "tradition." It provides a basis for the continued existence of certain items, techniques or processes that might have otherwise fallen by the wayside as the underappreciated victims of social darwinism.

But we humans are emotional beings, a feature with which the rational actor model is still grappling. Certain traditions, yes, are rooted in fact or in religious circumstance, but some happenings take place time after time, year after year, just because that's the way it always was, or how it had always been done before.

Because of these emotional connections we often feel towards the traditional, we frequently tend to just accept tradition as is, and don't question at all the reasons why we do what we do or how we do it or why we've adopted a particular means of accomplishing the end result of whatever the tradition in question may be.

One such tradition is the consumption of honey around the Jewish New Year (yes, I HAVE waited that long to write this post - please forgive me). There is a definite reason why honey finds its way to the Rosh Hashanah table - it is meant as a symbol of the sweetness we hope to experience in the coming year. Honey makes its way to the table in various forms, though most typically in a shallow dish in which we dip slice after slice of apple, which is always delicious in its simplicity. The other most common vehicle for honey around the high holidays is the ubiquitous honey cake. Dense, deep...dense honey cake.



There are few redeeming features of a typical honey cake. Actually, I might take that back - there is one redeeming feature of most honey cakes - the very top crust. Soaked through and through with honey, the top layer is rich, sweet and oh so deliciously sticky. The rest of the cake, though, forget about it. Dry, dense, the rest of your standard rosh hashanah honey cake is a waste of time, really. But that top layer - the top layer of any honey cake around our house at the holidays is just ripe for the picking, my attempts at denial rendered futile by my sticky fingers. The rest of that cake, though, just sits there, and sits there, and sits there. The funny thing about honey cake is that it really takes forever to go stale - with all the honey and sugar and oil it stays just as moist as it was on day one (which is to say, not all that moist) for far longer than most other cakes. And so it can sit there, on the counter, no less, and taunt you, with it's deep, dark color, as if to say "I could be delicious, why don't you just grab another little bit," for upwards of a week.

Tradition dictates that we have honey cake on the table each and every year. We don't question it, don't second guess it. There has been honey cake on the table every year prior, why stop this year? But why can't we question the honey cake itself. If it has to be on the table, can't it at least be delicious? Anything based around something as sweet and pure an ingredient as honey should certainly have the potential to taste fabulous. So I set out on a search to find a delicious honey cake, one with certain ingredients that would add a depth of flavor and prevent the cake from being cloyingly sweet - one that would allow the honey to shine, rather than to overpower. And I found it, with a four-fork rating on epicurious. I figured, if any honey cake could be so universally approved, it had to be good. But there was still a part of me that thought legitimately good, or is it good for honey cake? The ingredient list looked like it would balance out the intense sweetness of the honey, with citrusy notes from the orange juice, aumtumnal spices and a deep richness from the coffee. And it did not disappoint.

This honey cake will change your mind about honey cake. A new tradition began at our house this high holiday season: a tradition of truly delicious honey cake, one that we will all look forward to on the dessert table at the holidays, and not just one that sits on the table because it should. A honey cake that is happily eaten, top to bottom.



Marcy Goldman's Majestic and Moist New Year's Honey Cake
from A Treasury of Jewish Holiday Baking, recipe also availabe here

Ingredients
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
1 cup vegetable oil
1 cup honey
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
3 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup warm coffee or strong tea
1/2 cup fresh orange juice
1/4 cup rye or whisky (I subbed orange juice, as my whiskey was dreadfully close to empty, and well, I wanted it)
1/2 cup slivered or sliced almonds (I went without)

Method

I like this cake best baked in a 9-inch angel food cake pan, but you can also make it in a 10-inch tube or bundt cake pan, a 9 by 13-inch sheetpan, or three 8 by 4 1/2-inch loaf pans.

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Lightly grease two loaf pan(s)*.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and spices. Make a well in the center and add the oil, honey, sugars, eggs, vanilla, coffee, orange juice, and rye or whisky.

Using a strong wire whisk or an electric mixer on slow speed, combine the ingredients well to make a thick batter, making sure that no ingredients are stuck to the bottom of the bowl.

Spoon the batter into the prepared pan(s) and sprinkle the top of the cake(s) evenly with the almonds. Place the cake pan(s) on 2 baking sheets stacked together and bake until the cake springs back when you touch it gently in the center. For angel and tube cake pans, bake for 60 to 70 minutes; loaf cakes, 45 to 55 minutes. For sheet-style cakes, the baking time is 40 to 45 minutes. This is a liquidy batter and, depending on your oven, it may need extra time. Cake should spring back when gently pressed.

Let the cake stand for 15 minutes before removing it from the pan. Then invert it onto a wire rack to cool completely.

* You can also use a tube or angel food pan for this cake.

NY Craft Beer Week

Need something to do this weekend (or this week, or next weekend)? Of course you do! Has the rain gotten you down? Why not spend some time drowning your sorrows and sampling some delicious beers?!?

For the second year, my friend Josh has amassed a wonderful schedule of events and roped in an impressive group of people to help pull them off. Josh is no joke, he really knows his stuff, and has impressed me with his seemingly-inexhaustible wealth of beer knowledge time and time again.

There are a variety of events taking place over the next ten days, from bar crawls in a number of different neighborhoods, to lectures on home brewing, to multi-course menus with beer pairings at some very well known restaurants. Josh is supremely dedicated to making this event a success, and has partnered with some great breweries, restaurants, companies and people in organizing NYC Craft Beer Week.

Information about tickets, events and anything else you might want to know about NYC Craft Beer week can be found on the event website. Beer Passports are available for $35, which gets you $2 pints at participating bars and reduced ticketing to certain events, as well as other benefits that last beyond September 20th.

NY Craft Beer Week 2009
September 11-20
Various Locations around Manhattan and Brooklyn
Map of Participating Bars