August 17, 2013... can you believe it? 11th wedding anniversary. 11 years. Just seems like such a large number doesn't it? Well, for our 40/10/40 party last year (Jenn's 40th/10th Anniversary/My 40th), i put together a composite of Jenn and i over the years, i think i've gotten fatter in the face and my haircuts are now more tight and neat thanks to Rich, but Jenn has not aged a day!
Well, August 17, 2013 found Jenn and i in New York City, staying in room 1017 (another significant set of digits) at the Andaz Hotel on Wall St. and Water St., enjoying the fading hours of our "East Coast Tour 2013" extravaganza (NYC - Philly - Boston - NYC... all in 11 days) while getting dressed to meet Jay and Kirsten at 11 Madison Park for our anniversary dinner.
Jay has been a champion of 11 Madison Park for years now, having been a patron before the restaurant earned its coveted third Michelin Star. He has often spoke of 11 Madison Park's attention to detail and fine balance of flavors, whimsy, and elegance. Well, we weren't disappointed, and Jay's judgement was spot on the money.
The location of the restaurant is in a former bank lobby. Because of this, the space is one of soaring ceilings, robust and masculine lines; sharp angles and hard materials dominate the shell of the space. Filling that stark masculine art deco influenced shell are the softer, finer things in life. Natural wood furniture stained a soft golden hue. Supple dark leather backings to the benches and chairs lends an air of comfort without too much of the "club or library" feel. Soft touches of paint in the shade of pink that picks out architectural flairs in the ceiling and walls adds the final balance and creates an inviting arena for one to relax and look forward to the night's gastronomical delights. Then again, an interior designer i am not and all those painfully strung together words is simply off target and does the impressive 11 Madison Park dining room a great disservice.
The dinner was kicked off with the customary conversation over choice of water and beverages, cocktail? iced tea? bottle(s) of wine? something bubbly? Then the inquisition of allergies and preferences was conducted followed by the request for the meat choice -- we had to choose between roasted local New York State duck or an aged (roughly 4 months) rib eye steak. Finally, with the water service and the iced teas brought to the table, a member of the jacketed wait staff announced that dinner shall begin, please relax and enjoy the experience. i know that some folks might be taken aback by the lack of menu, but, for me, it actually presents with a sense of excitement and proves to be a rather appetizing way to be invited to a prolonged meal. Photos of the dinner, courtesy of Jay Liang
The location of the restaurant is in a former bank lobby. Because of this, the space is one of soaring ceilings, robust and masculine lines; sharp angles and hard materials dominate the shell of the space. Filling that stark masculine art deco influenced shell are the softer, finer things in life. Natural wood furniture stained a soft golden hue. Supple dark leather backings to the benches and chairs lends an air of comfort without too much of the "club or library" feel. Soft touches of paint in the shade of pink that picks out architectural flairs in the ceiling and walls adds the final balance and creates an inviting arena for one to relax and look forward to the night's gastronomical delights. Then again, an interior designer i am not and all those painfully strung together words is simply off target and does the impressive 11 Madison Park dining room a great disservice.
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| Photos from foodie-call.com |
The First Bite was brought in a white rectangular cardboard box tied with blue and white coloured twisted butcher's twine. As the restaurant's focus of late has been the flavors and specialities of New York, this first course begins the visual and flavor variations that the 11 Madison Park kitchen can bring to the classics. Within the box rests four silver dollar sized Black and White Cookies. These cookies are New York classics, typically a short bread round cookie dipped half in chocolate fondant and half in vanilla fondant. In this case, we were presented with savory Black and White Cookies. The savory flavor is that of cheddar cheese, sandwich in between the two cookies, forming a revolutionary "Black and White Cookie" sandwich, is the flavor of apple, in a delicate filling. As first bites go, this was a nice easing in to the concept behind the meal. The cookies were delicate and rich -- the flavor of cheddar unmistakable and quite delicious. The apple flavor, unfortunately, was lost to my much abused and insensitive palate.
As we were munching through our cookies, a tall stout African American fellow in chef whites and a blue with white stripes apron approaches with a silver tray, upon which sat The First Course, a small bowl containing sea urchin snow with smoked cantaloupes and conch. The flavor of the sea urchin, rendered to snow, was much more subtle and, from the way that it was consumed by Jenn, much less offensive to those who are not great fans of this much misunderstood creature. The smoke flavor in the cantaloupe was subtle, but served to enhance the innate sweetness of the fruit beautifully. The conch was a nice surprise textural curveball. Conch itself does not contain much flavor. Well, a certain brininess is associated with it, but the smoking, again, tuned that down while adding notes of smoke and preserving the chewy and somewhat crunchy texture that a good conch brings. Though the dish was a delectable variety of flavor and taste, one thing that impressed me even more was the stoneware that everything was served on. The glaze put on it was Heath like but it handled beautifully in its delicate lightness. The texture of the unglazed outside felt wonderful to the touch, just so ever slightly gritty.
The Second Course was presented using the dish's own container. Surf clam served within its own shell. The surf clam has been cooked through, removed from its shell, cut into halves and served along with beans (forget what type) and buried under a wonderful foam of surf clam juices and magic. The entire entity is then dusted with tomato flakes and fine diced chives. Looking at the dish, it seemed heavy and overly rich. However, the key word here is foam, as opposed to sauce. The white "sauce" looking dollop quickly parts into fine and delicate foam upon the first spoon strike. The parting of the foam reveals the clam and beans within. The flavors are that of the sea, in its fine subtleties. Nothing is overly briney or clammy, but the flavors of the main ingredient carries through. The use of the bean adds, again, a textural twist and gives the mouth something to savor and contrast the clam halves with. Again, as we finish the second course, without as much as a disturbance in the Force, the service squad descended and the clearing commenced to be followed by a rather elaborate presentation.
The server spokesperson, as the dishes of The Third Course are being placed down, gently informed us that the kitchen invites us to sample their version of a Manhattan Clam Chowder. Before each of us was set a small bowl with a piece of golden coloured rectangular tomato chip (Manhattan Clam Chowder is, after all, tomato based) dotted with a creamy chowder reduction. In the center of the table is laid a long rectangular curved plate strewn with a monolayer of beach rocks and seaweed, upon which sits an assortment of clam halves. The razor clam halves contained razor clam meat, poached onions, and droplets of the chowder reduction. The littleneck clam halves held clam meat bathed in the chowder reduction topped with snow of forgotten composition. The welk halves held a dollop of reduction covered whelk meat, along with couscous, in the center and, in the elevated chamber, green coloured reduction which was slightly acidic but whose composition, again, has been lost to a foggy mind. Next to this long rectangular curved plate is set a clear glass tea pot, in which a an assortment of vegetables found commonly in a Manhattan Clam Chowder is placed. After the presentation was complete, the server spokesperson pours hot stock into the teapot and instructed us to enjoy the contents of our bowl and the bounty upon the rectangular curved plate whilst the "chowder" steeps in the hot fluid. This disassembled Manhattan Clam Chowder was a tour of distinct flavors that one sometimes find muddled in the classic dish. Taking each component on its own allowed each flavor to shine while the reduction of the chowder keeps unity through it all. When finally the bowl and the plate's contents were enjoyed, the server approached once more and poured into our bowls the contents of the teapot. The aroma of the steeped stock was amazing, a sweetness that echos the vegetable's flavors. The taste of the final product was at once invigorating and soothing. The slightly acidic notes within the stock freshens the palette and the deep dark full flavors of the stock washes the palette over with elegant pleasure.
The Fourth Course arrives with another complex setting. A plate bearing a confit tomato halve flanked by bonito foam was set before use while two containers of ice topped with beautifully red lobster claws were set in the middle of the table. Highlighting the summer tomato and the bountiful seafood of the Northeast, the lobster claws were stuffed with a lightly dressed lobster salad that is a temple to all the sweet succulence of lobster. The confit tomato bears a whole hidden lobster claw within. The acidic nature of the tomato, enhanced by the method of cooking, is juxtaposed with a slightly briny richness of the lobster meat. The bonito foam ties the whole thing together with subtle notes of the ocean and tempering the flavors of the tomato just so, allowing the dish to assemble harmoniously.
The Fifth Course arrives to the great delight of Jenn. As foie gras is currently a banned substance in California, this East Coast trip has been used by Jenn to consume as much foie gras as she can stand. On the plate, a found of foie gras with a brulee top, flanked by raspberry, blackberry, cherry tomato halves and discs of beets. Along with the plating, bread was also served, along with butter and duck fat standing in as butter. The bread itself is a spiral of flaky buttery richness that gave a satisfying crunch upon biting and dissolves into warm, light curtains of cabolicious goodness. The butter, well, how can one go wrong with the butter? But the duck fat was wonderful, salty, ducky goodness. When one tries the bread, the duck fat and the foie gras together, magic happens. The saltiness of the duck fat is a different dimension from the savoriness of the foie gras. Both are offset by the brulee sweetness and all is consumed by the buttery bread goodness. The berries i ate by themselves as, really, good fresh berries are a wonder onto itself.
The Sixth Course arrived in pieces. A wink and a smile and the application of a classic hand turned meat grinder announces the arrival of the dish. Four servers, each setting down an elaborate wooden tray with a cylindrical depression, two plastic squeeze bottles, and inset divots containing saucers of seasonings and condiments. The applicator of the meat grinder then returns with a sheet of butcher paper wrapped around a bunch of four beautiful cooked carrots, tops and all. He lays the paper down in front of the meat grinder as he talked through the dish. The kitchen is playing on the classic steak tartare. Instead of steak, carrots from an upstate NY farm renown for its dark mineral rich soil is used. As he grinds the carrots down into the butcher paper -- the ground carrot looking convincingly like orange lean ground beef -- he goes over the tray in front of us. The two squeeze bottles contained yellow mustard and hot carrot oil. From there, the top three saucers contained a plum mustard, sunflower seeds, and a quail egg. the second row of three contained bonito flakes, chives (diced fine), and mustard seeds. The next set of two saucers: fresh ground horse radish and pickled apricots. The last saucer, coarse ground sea salt. Finished grinding out the ground carrots, he then approaches each tray and spoons out a portion of the carrots into the cylindrical depression on the tray while telling us to play chef and to mix the condiments and seasonings in so we get the personalized "carrot tartare" that we will enjoy with the think crisp rye toast that was also set on the table. This dish was particularly fun, the most enjoyment coming from seeing how everyone at the table approached the task at hand. Some tasted as they went along, others dumped in everything figuring that the condiments and seasonings where placed there for a reason. i first had a taste of the unadulterated carrot. It was wonderfully sweet and earthy, i almost wanted to just eat the whole thing as it is. However, holding to the spirit of the dish, i mixed a healthy squeeze of the mustard and spiced carrot oil then everything on the saucers except for sunflower seeds and the plum mustard. i must say, what i concocted was quite delicious, though the unadulterated carrot tasted still the most enjoyable.
The Seventh Course was by far the most beautiful and intricate of the courses we had that night. This course was also served in probably my favourite stoneware container of the night, a shallow cylindrical container within which sat a piece of poached black bass with zucchini "fish scales" accompanied by a single stuffed squash blossom, a bouquet of herbs and all sitting near a splash of sauce. The visual effect of this dish brought silence to the table. Close examination of the "fish scales" were conducted with great care and, once we have convinced ourselves that it is okay to eat something so beautiful, the dish was tasted with enthusiasm. The "fish scales" lifted off to reveal, falling at the touch of the fork, a perfectly poached piece of black bass. The meat was tender and moist, the "fish scales" giving a delightful crunch and adding something herbaceous and fresh. The squash blossom was a pillow of flavour while the sauce served as a moderating note that smoothed over and gave cohesion to the entire dish.
The Eighth Course was the one that garnered the most varied opinion at the table. It is a play upon a "barigoule", which, as i later learned, is a classic Provencale preparation of braised stuffed artichokes (the artichoke with barigoule mushrooms, saffron milk caps). In this case, we had a presentation of every part of the sunflower flower (sans stem and leaves) served with sunchoke barigoule and black truffles. The center of the sunflower, in this case, has been fried. The petal served as is, the ring around the sunflower center braised, and sunflower seeds scattered throughout the dish. A patty of barigoule sunchoke and shavings of truffles completes the dish along with pan fried cubes of sunchoke. The sunflower parts were surprisingly delicious. The fried flower center was crisp and tasted of the sunflower seed shell, a certain pleasing flavor. The braised ring of the sunflower was slightly acidic but had no standout flavor that came across as unique. The textural note, that of a stewed potato, was a nice in light of the other components around the dish. The sunchoke patty and the pan fried sunchoke cubes was a lovely taste and flavor contrast the the sunflower, adding a depth of richness and creaminess to the overall assembly.
The Ninth Course was preceded by a parade of what we came to term the "stunt duck". The same tall stout african american fellow in chef whites came out with a cast iron roasting pan holding a beautiful Hudson Valley duck roasted to a perfect deep hued golden brown. The skin of the duck is studded with diced nuts and, for some reason, a large green plume of what looks like root vegetable top was protruding rather whimsically from the duck's rearward cavity. After the stunt duck was paraded about, our libations were refreshed and our courses of duck was brought out. On the plate is streaked duck jus. Upon this jus slick sat a wedge of our duck, cooked to a perfect medium rare center, carrying with it that same deep dark golden brown nut studded skin that just screams "crunch" just from us looking at it. On the side of the duck rested a portion of cooked fennel bulb and stem, a dried apricot and apricot puree. The duck, where do i start with the duck? As our beautiful knives (and they are beautiful Victorinox knives with natural wood handles) cuts into the skin, a chorus of angles intoned the most heavenly "crunch" that dominated the huge bank lobby/restaurant floor. That sound gets the saliva going. That sound invigorates the appetite. That sound... that sound... The duck was delicious, with full deep flavor. The flesh soft and yielding, a contrast to the crispy skin. The fennel scented the dish beautifully and tasted wonderfully with a subdued spice note that elevates the dish. The apricot provided a nice sweet finish that, when coated with the duck jus, became meaty sweet goodness. Talk about the idea of sweet meats!
The Tenth Course was yet another whimsical and elaborate presentation, though it only required one fellow to set the stage/table. A picnic basket, covered in a picnic blanket, was brought and set at table center. We the dinners were asked to participate in the course by unpacking the basket and setting out the components contained within before our server returns to tell us about the course, oh, and here is a bottle opener. i must admit, it was rather fun. It also rather ratchets up the anticipation for the course's offerings and indeed, in the final analysis, most certainly heightened the enjoyment of the foods within the basket. The contents of the basket is as follows: 4 sets of silverware, 4 small beer glasses like one would find in Asia, a pot of mustard, a pot of pickled green tomatoes, a wooden box held with elastic within which were two slices of delectable runny cheese, a parchment paper contained group of 4 pretzels in the form of a "pain d'epi", and finally, a bottle of wheat beer. With all the ingredients set out mindfully on the picnic blanket, the server returns and tells us of what sits before us. The entire basket is based around the bottle of beer, brewed special for the restaurant by the Connecticut Brewing Company. The beer is called Greensward and has been used to wash the rind of the cheese that is presented in the box in the basket. The beer itself has also been used to make the pretzel "pain d'epi" as well as in the preparation of the mustard. The pretzel itself was wonderfully prepared. A good chewy crust, soft innards. The cheese, a heavenly soft funny cow's milk cheese with just a touch of sharpness to please people like me (who love runny stinky cheeses) yet make it approachable enough for those who enjoy more American cheese sensibilities. The beer was the one component that bound and gave cohesion. Different parts of the beer flavor were accented in the different foods we encountered in the basket, but a single sip of the very good wheat beer clarifies the intention behind the dish completely.
The Palate Cleanser was the next presentation. This time, cart bound table side service of something one just does not see anymore. 11 Madison Park's re-invented New York Egg Cream Soda. Before this encounter, i had always thought that an Egg Cream contained both of its namesakes. How i was corrected and re-educated. That aside, 11 Madison Park's Egg Cream is made with vanilla instead of the traditional chocolate and proved to be a refreshing drink that was both fun to watch prepared (they use classic seltzer bottles and it was admitted to us that yes, sometimes the bottles simply didn't work and flow regulation is often a problem, especially whilst preparing the drink tableside).
The Eleventh Course brings us to the start of the sweet menu. A sassafras sorbet with banana cake, caramel and vanilla foam. Compared the the entire menu so far, this is rather a simple and straightforward approach at a dessert. The flavors were clean and well defined. The banana cake adds a rich feel and a sweet scent while the sassafras sorbet provided a hint of spice (did you know, sassafras contains safrole which has been shown to be carcinogenic -- liver -- in animals? This actually led the FDA to ban sassafras tea and oil in the 1960s).
The Twelfth Course arrived in an footed plate holding a highball glass containing a disassembled red pepper cheesecake with strawberry sorbet and ground cashews (to replace the graham cracker crust). While we were inspecting the presentation, our server returns and announces that he has a card trick he would like to share. First he shows us his deck of cards. It is a standard deck of cards, but each card has a flavor written and illustrated upon it. For example, if it was honey, a honey pot with buzzing bees and the word "honey". He informs us that each of the flavors on the card represents a flavor of chocolate the kitchen can make. After making sure that we understood his explanation thus far, he asked for the deck to be cut. With the top of the cut, he fans these out and runs through some of them to tell us that these are now the flavors that won't be in our chocolates (wait... what chocolates?). Then, he takes the top four cards of the bottom cut and places one in front of each of us. We were asked to flip them over and read the flavors on them. My card showed a peanut. We were then asked to lift our plates up. Behold, under the plate, ensconced within the foot of the plate, is a shallow cylindrical dish containing a single chocolate. Mine had a picture of a peanut upon it. The table laughs appreciably and this pleases our server tremendously. The disassemble cheese cake was good but not a stand out. The flavor profiles were wonderful and in top form, but what i miss is the thick richness of a New York Cheese Cake. A New York Cheese Cake should be substantial. It should put fear into your heart and doubt into your mind. You should look at it and immediately fear that you won't be able to finish it. Then, as you are spooning mouthfuls of it into your mouth, your better half should be saying "my, should you be eating that entire thing? Can you stand the richness?" and you hear yourself tell your better half to be damned and plow through the entire thing anyways. That is what this dish was missing.
The Meal's End arrives after much fun and enjoyment was had at 11 Madison Park. It arrives in the form of four chocolate covered, sea salt dusted pretzels hung on a four prong jewelry hanger. It was then followed by boxes of sweet Black and White Cookies. This time, the cookies were traditional vanilla and chocolate, but, again, it was in the form of a sandwich sandwiching a apricot middle. After a twelve plus course meal, these last two unassuming sweet bites were just what the doctors ordered. Simple, straightforward tasty goodness. A bottle of St. George's Distillery's (of Alameda, CA) New York Apple Brandy (done especially for 11 Madison Park) was also presented as an after dinner spirit. i love the guys at St. George, they do know their way around a still. The brandy was of a crisp apple flavor and of an octane high enough that it energizes the drinker immediately. A fire! A fire courses through one's core!!
Over all, i will have to say that 11 Madison Park is one of the finest restaurants i have eaten at. For creativity, it approached Alinea and WD50. For elegance and service, it was that of Per Se or French Laundry. It is a nice complete package of high food temple and elegance. It was a memorable 11th anniversary dinner.
The Second Course was presented using the dish's own container. Surf clam served within its own shell. The surf clam has been cooked through, removed from its shell, cut into halves and served along with beans (forget what type) and buried under a wonderful foam of surf clam juices and magic. The entire entity is then dusted with tomato flakes and fine diced chives. Looking at the dish, it seemed heavy and overly rich. However, the key word here is foam, as opposed to sauce. The white "sauce" looking dollop quickly parts into fine and delicate foam upon the first spoon strike. The parting of the foam reveals the clam and beans within. The flavors are that of the sea, in its fine subtleties. Nothing is overly briney or clammy, but the flavors of the main ingredient carries through. The use of the bean adds, again, a textural twist and gives the mouth something to savor and contrast the clam halves with. Again, as we finish the second course, without as much as a disturbance in the Force, the service squad descended and the clearing commenced to be followed by a rather elaborate presentation.
The server spokesperson, as the dishes of The Third Course are being placed down, gently informed us that the kitchen invites us to sample their version of a Manhattan Clam Chowder. Before each of us was set a small bowl with a piece of golden coloured rectangular tomato chip (Manhattan Clam Chowder is, after all, tomato based) dotted with a creamy chowder reduction. In the center of the table is laid a long rectangular curved plate strewn with a monolayer of beach rocks and seaweed, upon which sits an assortment of clam halves. The razor clam halves contained razor clam meat, poached onions, and droplets of the chowder reduction. The littleneck clam halves held clam meat bathed in the chowder reduction topped with snow of forgotten composition. The welk halves held a dollop of reduction covered whelk meat, along with couscous, in the center and, in the elevated chamber, green coloured reduction which was slightly acidic but whose composition, again, has been lost to a foggy mind. Next to this long rectangular curved plate is set a clear glass tea pot, in which a an assortment of vegetables found commonly in a Manhattan Clam Chowder is placed. After the presentation was complete, the server spokesperson pours hot stock into the teapot and instructed us to enjoy the contents of our bowl and the bounty upon the rectangular curved plate whilst the "chowder" steeps in the hot fluid. This disassembled Manhattan Clam Chowder was a tour of distinct flavors that one sometimes find muddled in the classic dish. Taking each component on its own allowed each flavor to shine while the reduction of the chowder keeps unity through it all. When finally the bowl and the plate's contents were enjoyed, the server approached once more and poured into our bowls the contents of the teapot. The aroma of the steeped stock was amazing, a sweetness that echos the vegetable's flavors. The taste of the final product was at once invigorating and soothing. The slightly acidic notes within the stock freshens the palette and the deep dark full flavors of the stock washes the palette over with elegant pleasure.
The Fourth Course arrives with another complex setting. A plate bearing a confit tomato halve flanked by bonito foam was set before use while two containers of ice topped with beautifully red lobster claws were set in the middle of the table. Highlighting the summer tomato and the bountiful seafood of the Northeast, the lobster claws were stuffed with a lightly dressed lobster salad that is a temple to all the sweet succulence of lobster. The confit tomato bears a whole hidden lobster claw within. The acidic nature of the tomato, enhanced by the method of cooking, is juxtaposed with a slightly briny richness of the lobster meat. The bonito foam ties the whole thing together with subtle notes of the ocean and tempering the flavors of the tomato just so, allowing the dish to assemble harmoniously.
The Fifth Course arrives to the great delight of Jenn. As foie gras is currently a banned substance in California, this East Coast trip has been used by Jenn to consume as much foie gras as she can stand. On the plate, a found of foie gras with a brulee top, flanked by raspberry, blackberry, cherry tomato halves and discs of beets. Along with the plating, bread was also served, along with butter and duck fat standing in as butter. The bread itself is a spiral of flaky buttery richness that gave a satisfying crunch upon biting and dissolves into warm, light curtains of cabolicious goodness. The butter, well, how can one go wrong with the butter? But the duck fat was wonderful, salty, ducky goodness. When one tries the bread, the duck fat and the foie gras together, magic happens. The saltiness of the duck fat is a different dimension from the savoriness of the foie gras. Both are offset by the brulee sweetness and all is consumed by the buttery bread goodness. The berries i ate by themselves as, really, good fresh berries are a wonder onto itself.
The Sixth Course arrived in pieces. A wink and a smile and the application of a classic hand turned meat grinder announces the arrival of the dish. Four servers, each setting down an elaborate wooden tray with a cylindrical depression, two plastic squeeze bottles, and inset divots containing saucers of seasonings and condiments. The applicator of the meat grinder then returns with a sheet of butcher paper wrapped around a bunch of four beautiful cooked carrots, tops and all. He lays the paper down in front of the meat grinder as he talked through the dish. The kitchen is playing on the classic steak tartare. Instead of steak, carrots from an upstate NY farm renown for its dark mineral rich soil is used. As he grinds the carrots down into the butcher paper -- the ground carrot looking convincingly like orange lean ground beef -- he goes over the tray in front of us. The two squeeze bottles contained yellow mustard and hot carrot oil. From there, the top three saucers contained a plum mustard, sunflower seeds, and a quail egg. the second row of three contained bonito flakes, chives (diced fine), and mustard seeds. The next set of two saucers: fresh ground horse radish and pickled apricots. The last saucer, coarse ground sea salt. Finished grinding out the ground carrots, he then approaches each tray and spoons out a portion of the carrots into the cylindrical depression on the tray while telling us to play chef and to mix the condiments and seasonings in so we get the personalized "carrot tartare" that we will enjoy with the think crisp rye toast that was also set on the table. This dish was particularly fun, the most enjoyment coming from seeing how everyone at the table approached the task at hand. Some tasted as they went along, others dumped in everything figuring that the condiments and seasonings where placed there for a reason. i first had a taste of the unadulterated carrot. It was wonderfully sweet and earthy, i almost wanted to just eat the whole thing as it is. However, holding to the spirit of the dish, i mixed a healthy squeeze of the mustard and spiced carrot oil then everything on the saucers except for sunflower seeds and the plum mustard. i must say, what i concocted was quite delicious, though the unadulterated carrot tasted still the most enjoyable.
The Seventh Course was by far the most beautiful and intricate of the courses we had that night. This course was also served in probably my favourite stoneware container of the night, a shallow cylindrical container within which sat a piece of poached black bass with zucchini "fish scales" accompanied by a single stuffed squash blossom, a bouquet of herbs and all sitting near a splash of sauce. The visual effect of this dish brought silence to the table. Close examination of the "fish scales" were conducted with great care and, once we have convinced ourselves that it is okay to eat something so beautiful, the dish was tasted with enthusiasm. The "fish scales" lifted off to reveal, falling at the touch of the fork, a perfectly poached piece of black bass. The meat was tender and moist, the "fish scales" giving a delightful crunch and adding something herbaceous and fresh. The squash blossom was a pillow of flavour while the sauce served as a moderating note that smoothed over and gave cohesion to the entire dish.
The Eighth Course was the one that garnered the most varied opinion at the table. It is a play upon a "barigoule", which, as i later learned, is a classic Provencale preparation of braised stuffed artichokes (the artichoke with barigoule mushrooms, saffron milk caps). In this case, we had a presentation of every part of the sunflower flower (sans stem and leaves) served with sunchoke barigoule and black truffles. The center of the sunflower, in this case, has been fried. The petal served as is, the ring around the sunflower center braised, and sunflower seeds scattered throughout the dish. A patty of barigoule sunchoke and shavings of truffles completes the dish along with pan fried cubes of sunchoke. The sunflower parts were surprisingly delicious. The fried flower center was crisp and tasted of the sunflower seed shell, a certain pleasing flavor. The braised ring of the sunflower was slightly acidic but had no standout flavor that came across as unique. The textural note, that of a stewed potato, was a nice in light of the other components around the dish. The sunchoke patty and the pan fried sunchoke cubes was a lovely taste and flavor contrast the the sunflower, adding a depth of richness and creaminess to the overall assembly.
The Ninth Course was preceded by a parade of what we came to term the "stunt duck". The same tall stout african american fellow in chef whites came out with a cast iron roasting pan holding a beautiful Hudson Valley duck roasted to a perfect deep hued golden brown. The skin of the duck is studded with diced nuts and, for some reason, a large green plume of what looks like root vegetable top was protruding rather whimsically from the duck's rearward cavity. After the stunt duck was paraded about, our libations were refreshed and our courses of duck was brought out. On the plate is streaked duck jus. Upon this jus slick sat a wedge of our duck, cooked to a perfect medium rare center, carrying with it that same deep dark golden brown nut studded skin that just screams "crunch" just from us looking at it. On the side of the duck rested a portion of cooked fennel bulb and stem, a dried apricot and apricot puree. The duck, where do i start with the duck? As our beautiful knives (and they are beautiful Victorinox knives with natural wood handles) cuts into the skin, a chorus of angles intoned the most heavenly "crunch" that dominated the huge bank lobby/restaurant floor. That sound gets the saliva going. That sound invigorates the appetite. That sound... that sound... The duck was delicious, with full deep flavor. The flesh soft and yielding, a contrast to the crispy skin. The fennel scented the dish beautifully and tasted wonderfully with a subdued spice note that elevates the dish. The apricot provided a nice sweet finish that, when coated with the duck jus, became meaty sweet goodness. Talk about the idea of sweet meats!
The Tenth Course was yet another whimsical and elaborate presentation, though it only required one fellow to set the stage/table. A picnic basket, covered in a picnic blanket, was brought and set at table center. We the dinners were asked to participate in the course by unpacking the basket and setting out the components contained within before our server returns to tell us about the course, oh, and here is a bottle opener. i must admit, it was rather fun. It also rather ratchets up the anticipation for the course's offerings and indeed, in the final analysis, most certainly heightened the enjoyment of the foods within the basket. The contents of the basket is as follows: 4 sets of silverware, 4 small beer glasses like one would find in Asia, a pot of mustard, a pot of pickled green tomatoes, a wooden box held with elastic within which were two slices of delectable runny cheese, a parchment paper contained group of 4 pretzels in the form of a "pain d'epi", and finally, a bottle of wheat beer. With all the ingredients set out mindfully on the picnic blanket, the server returns and tells us of what sits before us. The entire basket is based around the bottle of beer, brewed special for the restaurant by the Connecticut Brewing Company. The beer is called Greensward and has been used to wash the rind of the cheese that is presented in the box in the basket. The beer itself has also been used to make the pretzel "pain d'epi" as well as in the preparation of the mustard. The pretzel itself was wonderfully prepared. A good chewy crust, soft innards. The cheese, a heavenly soft funny cow's milk cheese with just a touch of sharpness to please people like me (who love runny stinky cheeses) yet make it approachable enough for those who enjoy more American cheese sensibilities. The beer was the one component that bound and gave cohesion. Different parts of the beer flavor were accented in the different foods we encountered in the basket, but a single sip of the very good wheat beer clarifies the intention behind the dish completely.
The Palate Cleanser was the next presentation. This time, cart bound table side service of something one just does not see anymore. 11 Madison Park's re-invented New York Egg Cream Soda. Before this encounter, i had always thought that an Egg Cream contained both of its namesakes. How i was corrected and re-educated. That aside, 11 Madison Park's Egg Cream is made with vanilla instead of the traditional chocolate and proved to be a refreshing drink that was both fun to watch prepared (they use classic seltzer bottles and it was admitted to us that yes, sometimes the bottles simply didn't work and flow regulation is often a problem, especially whilst preparing the drink tableside).
The Eleventh Course brings us to the start of the sweet menu. A sassafras sorbet with banana cake, caramel and vanilla foam. Compared the the entire menu so far, this is rather a simple and straightforward approach at a dessert. The flavors were clean and well defined. The banana cake adds a rich feel and a sweet scent while the sassafras sorbet provided a hint of spice (did you know, sassafras contains safrole which has been shown to be carcinogenic -- liver -- in animals? This actually led the FDA to ban sassafras tea and oil in the 1960s).
The Twelfth Course arrived in an footed plate holding a highball glass containing a disassembled red pepper cheesecake with strawberry sorbet and ground cashews (to replace the graham cracker crust). While we were inspecting the presentation, our server returns and announces that he has a card trick he would like to share. First he shows us his deck of cards. It is a standard deck of cards, but each card has a flavor written and illustrated upon it. For example, if it was honey, a honey pot with buzzing bees and the word "honey". He informs us that each of the flavors on the card represents a flavor of chocolate the kitchen can make. After making sure that we understood his explanation thus far, he asked for the deck to be cut. With the top of the cut, he fans these out and runs through some of them to tell us that these are now the flavors that won't be in our chocolates (wait... what chocolates?). Then, he takes the top four cards of the bottom cut and places one in front of each of us. We were asked to flip them over and read the flavors on them. My card showed a peanut. We were then asked to lift our plates up. Behold, under the plate, ensconced within the foot of the plate, is a shallow cylindrical dish containing a single chocolate. Mine had a picture of a peanut upon it. The table laughs appreciably and this pleases our server tremendously. The disassemble cheese cake was good but not a stand out. The flavor profiles were wonderful and in top form, but what i miss is the thick richness of a New York Cheese Cake. A New York Cheese Cake should be substantial. It should put fear into your heart and doubt into your mind. You should look at it and immediately fear that you won't be able to finish it. Then, as you are spooning mouthfuls of it into your mouth, your better half should be saying "my, should you be eating that entire thing? Can you stand the richness?" and you hear yourself tell your better half to be damned and plow through the entire thing anyways. That is what this dish was missing.
The Meal's End arrives after much fun and enjoyment was had at 11 Madison Park. It arrives in the form of four chocolate covered, sea salt dusted pretzels hung on a four prong jewelry hanger. It was then followed by boxes of sweet Black and White Cookies. This time, the cookies were traditional vanilla and chocolate, but, again, it was in the form of a sandwich sandwiching a apricot middle. After a twelve plus course meal, these last two unassuming sweet bites were just what the doctors ordered. Simple, straightforward tasty goodness. A bottle of St. George's Distillery's (of Alameda, CA) New York Apple Brandy (done especially for 11 Madison Park) was also presented as an after dinner spirit. i love the guys at St. George, they do know their way around a still. The brandy was of a crisp apple flavor and of an octane high enough that it energizes the drinker immediately. A fire! A fire courses through one's core!!
Over all, i will have to say that 11 Madison Park is one of the finest restaurants i have eaten at. For creativity, it approached Alinea and WD50. For elegance and service, it was that of Per Se or French Laundry. It is a nice complete package of high food temple and elegance. It was a memorable 11th anniversary dinner.
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