Category — chefs

Restaurants live and die by the personal ambitions of their chefs more than they care to admit. Some aim to be the best in the city, content with the reward of perpetually packed dining rooms, while others push on to compete on a national stage. Komi aims to occupy this space and Johnny Mannis’ obsession with perfect execution and purity of ingredients earns his restaurant the right to be mentioned in the same conversation with such names as Manresa and Vetri. While Komi is clearly a work in progress, few restaurants in today can make such claim.

Since opening in 2004, Mannis has halved the number of seats to 38 and doubled the prices. The cost isn’t extreme, you can easily spend twice the amount at Citronelle, but few can afford to make dinner here a regular affair. None of the changes, not even an economic recession or a new administration in the White House, has made a dent in the restaurants’ popularity - Komi is still booked solid weeks in advance.

Komi hopes to provide an elevated experience and the uneasy showmanship is perhaps the singular weakness at Komi. The candle lit dining room set in an old brownstone looks theatric (direct throwback to Vetri), but hides the visual dimension of the food. The wait staff warn that photos of the food are not allowed, lest they spoil the surprise for future diners. I find this trend of self-aggrandizing chefs dictating what I do with my food highly annoying. After sampling the food at the photophobic and photoloving restaurants alike, I’ll go out on the limb and say that the creations they are trying hardest to protect are not all that unique. Meanwhile, the unreasonable rules imposed by the restaurant leave more than a slight bitter taste in your mouth.

I stopped my whining as soon as the first few plates of mezzethakia, Komi-speak for a progression of small tastes before the main courses, began to arrive. I couldn’t figure out  why the two nearly identical sashimi ribbons of aji and kampachi seemed so familar at first. Turns out Mannis spent some time working for Michael Kraemer at McCrady’s, who uses the same preparation to this day at Voice.

Even if the intended arc of the mezzethakia doesn’t always come together, the individual parts can be outstanding. The two small quenelles of hanger steak tartar and black truffle ice cream are a nod to French Laundry and other European inflected, but decidedly American restaurants, in terms of flavor, form and flawless execution. The salmon tartare required a little editing to eliminate the overwhelming sweetness of the candied pine nuts, but the rest of the dish, finished with sea urchin vinaigrette and frozen shiso leaf sorbet, brought a remarkable dimension to one of the most overused fish varieties today. Similarly impressive were the sashimi of diver scallops served in two preparations, one with black truffles and the other suspended in gelee and finished with sea urchin, seamlessly blending the best tastes of the earth and the sea. The fried Caesar salad taken in one bite may not have delivered much of the anticipated anchovy or Parmesan flavor, but the steamed brioche with Meyer lemon mousse and trout roe was as ethereal as it was stunning.

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It’s odd to call someone with as much experience as Bryan Caswell a new chef, but that’s exactly what Food & Wine magazine did yesterday when they chose him as one of the 10 Best New Chefs of 2009.

I don’t take awards very seriously, but this one seems to be the real deal. The 10 Best New Chefs chosen annually by Food & Wine tend to have real talent and usually go on to have stellar careers for years to come. Most tellingly, Food & Wine editors somehow avoid the coastal trap James Beard Awards so predictably fall into every year (Caswell was bounced out from the list of final nominees to make room for chefs in Las Vegas who share the Southwestern region with Houston – WTF?) and go out of their way to find truly great food around the country.

Carnitas, cooling raita at Reef

In a lot of ways the “new” designation makes perfect sense. Caswell spent years working in the Jean-Georges Vongrichten empire, but Reef is where he really began to cook his own food. Reef channels Houston at it’s best – an effortless blend of Gulf Coast ingredients and cooking traditions inflected with international flavors found in all corners of this giant city.  Visitors may never truly get a feel for the real Houston the way the locals do, but restaurants like Reef, Catalan, Rainbow Lodge, Beaver’s and soon to be open Haven give them the best chance to get a taste. There are a handful of chefs defining Gulf Coast cuisine in Houston and Bryan Caswell is right in the thick of things.

Jalapeno mint jelly at Reef

Peel away the layers of national recognition and Reef’s critical acclaim and you find a guy who spends his free time in the Gulf Coast waters, obsessing about often overlooked local fish species. Or opening unassuming burger shacks that show an uncommon understanding of what really works in Houston.

Sweet potato and bacon ravioli, 
Oloroso sherry, green apple at Reef

Reef is a great place to eat, but few restaurants have become instant classics as quickly as Caswell’s latest venture – Little Big’s. The slider shack has only been open for a few short months, but on a recent night during March Madness a large crowd was gathered around a rear projection TV on the patio. It looked as if Little Big’s had been a fixture on Montrose for years. The night I picked up my very tired new puppy from the airport, Little Big’s seemed like the most natural place for a late night dinner.

Zoe’s first night at Little Big’s

The sliders at Little Big’s are a mirror image of the ones served at Reef. Given all the things to sample on the Reef menu, I never paid much attention to them until my company booked our holiday party at the 3rd Bar. I ended up eating four that night. I have always thought the concept of tiny burgers was a little silly, but for me the perfect burger comes down to good meat and the right beef to bread ratio. Little Big’s nails it on both of those counts with freshly ground beef and big yeasty rolls.

Little Big’s is almost universally loved – the only complaint you ever hear is that the beef sliders sometimes come out a little dry; most likely a side effect of the Big’s kitchen running at near capacity at all times. I found little to complain about on my first visit strategically timed at 6pm to avoid the rush. The fries are some of the best in town, walking a fine line between being crisp and hopelessly over fried. The chocolate milk shake was exemplary. The staff at Big’s were already overrun with orders that night,  but my sliders were  cooked to medium and still made a respectable mess.

Slider trio at Little Big’s

The beef was a bit more dry on the second visit, but even though I prefer burgers medium rare, the meat is of high enough quality that it tastes good even when cooked a bit beyond ideal temperature. I think at this point it comes down to figuring out just the right combination of toppings before these things are perfectly tailored my tastes. Jalapeno, Sriracha mayo and processed American cheese? If Big’s only served processed American cheese…

In any case. The Food & Wine blurb on Caswell mentions that his dream is to open to 2,000 sq foot oyster bar. Given his successful interpretation of Houston’s fast food with Little Big’s, I for one hope he takes on the taco truck next instead.

Today is the first anniversary for Feast. One year in business is rarely a special occasion for anyone but the owners, but Feast is a special restaurant.

Some months ago I was having a dinner at Moto in Chicago and got into a conversation with a couple from London who wanted to know if the food served at Moto was widely accepted in the US. I did my best to provide some context: Chicago may have the most progressive diners in the country, but even Alinea relies on a steady stream of visitors who specifically seek out a special occasion meal. Something they normally wouldn’t eat in their hometown.

The couple from UK was a good example. They were clearly knowledgeable about food and made it a point to arrange their travel itinerary around various restaurants. They were genuinely thrilled that Chicago had a whole street (!) full of Vietnamese restaurants and listened with a certain level of disbelief when I described Houston’s Chinatown. The food at Moto blew them away and they marveled at just how open minded US diners must be.

They were even more surprised to learn that I had been to a restaurant in their own neighborhood in London. Living in Smithfield they had passed by St John countless times, but never went in. I tried to convince them that British food is finally getting the respect it deserves, and while it may not be “new” it’s certainly new to most people, but they seemed to have their doubts. Fergus Henderson may have touched off  one of the most important cooking directions today, but even he can’t necessarily convince people in his own neighborhood that British food is worth eating.

This is what makes the first anniversary of Feast a special occasion. The restaurant isn’t merely surviving, they have a loyal and growing following in Houston -  a city with virtually no tourists. Good things are happening to the dining scene in Houston in the midst of a recession and Feast is just one example.

I have written about Feast many times  before and not going to wax even more poetic about their charms. I do want to show a couple of exemplary dishes I had at Feast last night that highlight why it’s such a great place to eat.

Rabbit Shoulders Confit

If you have had the duck neck at Feast before, you’ll recognize the the cooking method used here. This dish is easier to eat and works even better, because there is enough meat to develop a whole range of texture – from tender to fully caramelized – as it slowly poaches in oil.

Smoked Barracuda Tail

The smoked Barracuda tail is the first smoked fish to appear on the Feast menu, but its already one of my favorite items. The meat is firm, sort of like a cross between whitefish and swordfish, but the best part is that the tailbones are coated in a nice bit of gelatinous fish fat. If you see this on a menu, order it. It will be the best $3 you have spent in a very long time.

Eating the local cats

Several days ago Randy Rucker left this comment to my post about Manresa:

guess you just forgot about “us” local cats…

I am sure Randy is only half serious – two weeks ago I had dinner at Rainbow Lodge, not once but twice in one weekend. Still, I wanted to reply in some detail.

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I’ve given up on the goofy parody of Iron Chef  that appears today on the Food Network, but last week was an exception. David Kinch was battling Bobby Flay and I was a little more than interested in the outcome. Not that a win on Iron Chef means anything, but after visiting Manresa three times in the last 12 months I am convinced it’s the best restaurant in the land, or at least one of the few that could make that claim.  Add to that the horrendous lunch I had at Bobby Flay’s Bar Americain and you have yourself an epic battle between good and evil.

Skip to the end. Kinch didn’t as much win as he slaughtered Bobby Flay on national television. Aside from enjoying the public humiliation of someone as cocky as Flay, what really grabbed me were the dishes Kinch created for the competition. There were a few signature touches – use of subtly  seasoned raw geoduck Kinch has mastered and yet another installment in the “into the garden” series featuring edible dirt that elevates the dish from an ordinary salad to a sensory experience. But then there were the new dishes. Red cabbage borscht with pear sauerkraut and mustard cream. Cabbage napoleon. These are things I must eat. Coi and possibly Cyrus are on the agenda for my next Bay Area trip, but I fighting the urge to be at Manresa again.

This post is an amalgamation of the two of the best meals I had in at Manresa 2008 (third was a bit less successful and came in winter of 2009). The dinner in June was about as close to a perfect meal as you can get. Perfect meals are rare even at the best restaurants, so I feel fortunate to have hit Manresa at just the right moment to experience one.

Each meal begins and ends the same way – with savory (red peper and block olive) and sweet (strawberry and chocolate) petit fours that bookend each meal. Some of the amuses change from meal to meal, such as the expertly crafted golden purses filled with crab or oysters topped with Japanese sea urchin.

The lavender lemonade with a sprig of garden mint was one of the most simple and interesting first courses I have seen in a while, served with what looked like a soap bubble that covered the top of the glass. Pull the mint sprig and the bubble bursts. Interactive food au naturel, no iPod required.

Carrot "white satin" and foie gras royale

The foie gras royale is one of the Manresa signature dishes that makes an appearance at many meals. The royale has the texture of mousse and richness of a custard, with a subtle foie gras flavor that seems the build towards the bottom of the cup.

Arpege farm egg

Another signature amuse with vertical construction – eat it layer by layer and you may find yourself tasting jarring amounts of sherry and maple syrup. Drive the spoon all the way to the bottom of the shell and all the flavors magically combine with the soft coddled yolk to produce one of the finest dishes ever conceived. The original egg at L’Arpege in Paris is slightly better than the version served at Manresa, but it doesn’t make me love eating this dish any less every time I visit.

Sea bream with shellfish, bonito broth,
golden raspberries, green curry oil

Every time I taste the stunning crudo preparations at Manresa I am reminded just how wide the gap is between truly fresh seafood and what your find in your better than average sushi bar. The portions at Manresa may be small, but the fish is good enough to reset the idea of what “fresh” really tastes like. Geoduck, especially, tastes dramatically different here – tender, yet crisp texture with a slightly sweet finish. I’ve had geoduck in other places, but it just doesn’t taste the same.  

Horse mackerel, ginger, seaweed ice, lemony herbs

The incredible aji I had at at Sawa Sushi just weeks prior to this meal was of better quality than the mackerel at Manresa, but what really made this dish was composition of flavors. Kinch has a singular talent for creating conceptual dishes that allude to the environment of the main ingredients. This dish achieves that with a bit of seaweed flavored ice slushy. 

 Kindai tuna cheeks, roasted peppers,
sweet garlic, crispy potato

There is nothing remotely conceptual about the Kindai tuna cheeks at Manresa - just the the most intense tuna flavor I have ever encountered. Explanations of dishes at Manresa always seem to be muddled, so I completely tuned out when the server went into a long story about universities, fish farming and rare tuna varieties that are somehow going to save the wild tuna populations some day. *Yawn.*

After the first bite I wished I had listened to the whole story. The taste of Kindai tuna cheeks is difficult to describe – imagine the texture of barely cooked high grade wagyu (to be honest, the threads of the top end of BBQ brisket are a better proxy, but that makes me sound like such a Texan…) with the flavor of the some exceptionally expensive toro. You’re getting close.

Turns out Manresa is one of a handful of US restaurants to serve Kindai tuna - the first farm raised bluefin tuna in existence. You can read more about it here, but to the best of my knowledge all the available Kindai cheeks go to Manresa. And they are absolutely stunning. 

Into the vegetable garden…

Into the vegetable garden… is one of the most famous Kinch creations and for a good reason – it’s a remarkable dish for it’s simplicity, depth and conceptual design.

If you have a concrete mind with a pragmatic bend, this is going to be one of the best salads you have ever had. Manresa is famous for quality of its vegetables and the seasonal produce here is either barely poached or completely untouched, preserving as much of the natural flavor as possible. I am pretty certain the dish is seasoned with nothing more than the poaching jus. As with any garden, you are just as likely to find a perfect carrot that tastes as if it was pulled from the ground minutes before it hit your plate, as you are to stumble onto weeds or flowers many of us don’t associate with salads.

If you fancy yourself as an abstract thinker, this dish will really surprise you, because the composition actually creates the imagery of a vegetable garden. The edible dirt made from parsnip and roasted chicory root plays a sensory role by emulating the environment of the garden. Two of my Manresa meals were eaten alone, allowing my mind to wonder if this is the way garden bugs perceive their natural habitat – eating their way through vegetables, weeds flowers  with a little bit of grit in their teeth from the dirt. Sounds a little far fetched, but you have to amuse yourself somehow when you eat alone.

 
Abalone, garden basil, courgettes, slow egg

Abalone has appeared in each of my dinners are Manresa and has never disappointed; a rarity for this ingredient. I don’t have a photo of my favorite abalone dish (grrr poor lighting), but you can see a nice shot of it here. 

The Autumn “Tidal Pool”: Foie Gras, Abalone, Uni in Mushroom Dashi sounds like a total mess of flavors that do not belong together. In truth, eating it as a soup I thought the dish was offensively strong. I like food aggressively seasoned, but the amount of salt in the “pool” was high even for me, clobbering the foie gras, uni and anything in between. The dish tasted harsh.

Just as I gave up and tried to fish out the edible  bits, all the flavors came into focus. All it needed was careful calibration of amount of sea flavored dashi in each spoon. Another example of Kinch’s ability to weave the environment into a dish or a mistake in the kitchen?

Kokotxas, stewed smoky white beans, country ham

Where the tuna cheeks  cheeks are all about intensity of flavor, the standout element of kokotxas at Manresa is the ethereal texture of the cod cheeks. Country ham is used more like fat netting here, lending richness and depth to the cod.

Wood Pigeon

I get less and less enthusiastic as the most epic meals get closer to meat courses. More often than not, they don’t measure up to the rest of the dishes and Manresa was no exception. The meat courses at my first Manresa dinner were good, but unremarkable.

On my second visit, just as the meal was hitting what I thought was the absolute high point, David Kinch exceeded all expectations and delivered what I still consider to be the best meat courses I have ever had. It all started with the tableside presentation of the salt roasted wood pigeon, which then took a detour to the kitchen for carving.

 
Wood pigeon, apple puree, sorrel, ramps, morels

It’s difficult to describe the flavor and texture of this dish without resorting to banalities. The flesh was perfectly rare and cooked with remarkable consistency throughout both leg and breast cuts, but the flavor was close to what I imagine Lilliputian lambs would taste like if they have been fed of milk and honey most of their short lives. Which is to say, really fracking good.

If you visit Manresa, call ahead and beg them to prepare the wood pigeon for you. It’s worth the indignity.

Roast saddle of lamb with turnips

Just as I was trying to re-calibrate my new standard for perfectly roasted foul, another meat course appeared. The dish was giving off such intense aroma that I knew it was lamb long before it reached my table (this is a good thing). As perfectly as the wood pigeon was cooked, this lamb somehow matched it.

I had a similar lamb preparation on my third visit to Manresa and it didn’t have nearly as intense of an effect, so clearly things were firing on all cylinders in the kitchen on this particular night. Though another explanation is that we perceive food differently when we dine alone, versus meals we share with dining companions who compete with food for attention. This is a topic for another post, but for some reason my solitary meals often end up being the best meals.

 
Comte de garde exceptionnel 2003 (Bernard Antony)

Few cheeses I have sampled match this extraordinary cheese course. Deep bursts of flavor (and sound effects) from crystallized lactic acid.

 
Chocolate, blackberry napoleon,
cucumber sherbet, shiso leaf

Desserts are not a strong point at Manresa, but this combination of chocolate, cucumber slices and cucumber sherbet really grabbed me. I really didn’t think the combination would work, but the chocolate actually amplified and complemented the flavor of the cucumber. And as all the best dishes at Manresa, it showed that ingredients we often take for granted can be used in new and unexpected ways.

David Kinch may be the prototype for the new generation of great chefs. Spanish name aside, the flavors seamlessly span the globe without ill effects. The food incorporates touches of modern techniques, but they are used to carefully enhance natural flavors, rather than defy the laws of physics. Some of the best dishes have a conceptual arc, yet never cross the line between food and post-modern art.

Most important - produce at Manresa is unlike any I’ve ever had (that includes L’Arpege), except for a select few Tenacity dinners, making Kinch’s efforts in sourcing and growing his own produce an example of what we will all expect from the best chefs and  restaurants in the future. Quality of the ingredients makes all the difference at Manresa, elevating it far above any other restaurant I have come across.

1. Petit fours - red pepper and black olive
2. Lavender lemonade, garden mint
3. Golden purses
4. Sweet corn croquettes
5. Carrot "white satin" and foie gras royale
6. Arpege farm egg
7. Sea bream with shellfish, bonito broth, golden raspberries, green curry oil
8. Horse mackerel, ginger, seaweed ice, lemony herbs
9. Kindai tuna cheeks, roasted peppers, sweet garlic, crispy potato
10. Into the vegetable garden…
11. Abalone, garden basil, courgettes, slow egg
12. Kokotxas, stewed smoky white beans, country ham
13. Wood pigeon, apple puree, sorrel, ramps, morels
14. Roast saddle of lamb with turnips
15. Comte de garde exceptionnel 2003 (Bernard Antony)
16. Cherry sorbet with reine de pres, noyaux, almonds
17. Apricot, fig leaf
18. Chocolate, blackberry napoleon, cucumber sherbet, shiso leaf
19. Petit fours - strawberry and chocolate

I don’t travel to DC area very often. When I do, I am constantly reminded that I am within driving distance of minibar, the Jose Andres’ restaurant within a restaurant, which has been near the top of my list of places to visit for the past year.

Liquid olives

I have seen enough of the dishes created by Jose Andres to know he is a brilliant chef with an uncommon talent for using complex techniques to create simple dishes that build on natural flavors of the ingredients. The meal I cooked at home using the more traditional recipes from his Made in Spain shows on PBS was as simple to prepare as it was great; perfect for the home kitchen.

Jose Andres owns several traditional Spanish and Mexican restaurants in DC, but minibar is his personal playground where he tosses as many as 35 tiny, El Bulli inspired courses at a handful of diners each night. There are only six spots in each seating, making reservations somewhat elusive. Last time I was in the area minibar was closed for the hated "winter holiday" (damn French), making things even more difficult. The food is about as close as you can get to the progressive cuisine that makes Spain one of the most interesting food destinations on the planet.

Before Alison Cook  mentioned Bazaar, I had no idea Jose Andres ventured out beyond the DC area, much less as far as Los Angeles.  The menu read like a greatest hits collection from more traditional Jaleo and modern minibar,  which all but sealed the deal.

First surprise at Bazaar: the space is striking. I don’t really care how restaurants look and over the top interiors in LA  grate on my nerves, but the collection of spaces that make up the Bazaar designed by Phillip Starck takes hotel dining to another level.

Moss at SLS Hotel

Patisserie at SLS Hotel 

Bar seating at Bazaar, jamon iberico on display

Lighting at Bazaar is especially great. The restaurant is submerged in darkness that cleverly hides all the botched plastic surgeries in the room, while illuminating the chef areas and each place setting.

 
Open kitchen at Bazaar

Second surprise: Marcel, the near-miss Top Chef, fills the Executive Sous duties in the Bazaar kitchen. Marcel’s cooking style and,  more important, diva attitude is a perfect fit for a restaurant in Los Angeles. When he wasn’t manning the foam siphon, Marcel was taking photos with guests. LA may not care about food, but they sure do love their celebrities. 

Marcel, foaming and liquid nitrogenating his way to fame

Third surprise: the food is outstanding. None of the dishes felt “molecular”, nothing misfired, nothing seemed contrived. Even the dishes that weren’t as impressive as others were still fun to eat. The only dish I remotely disliked was the Butifara sausage from the traditional side of the menu and even it probably tastes exactly as it does in Catalonia. For a restaurant walking the not so fine line between modern and traditional cuisine, and a kitchen operating less than 6 months and 2,700 miles away from the chef who’s name anchors the menu that’s nothing short of remarkable.

  Olives “Ferran Adrià” old and new
liquid and traditional stuffed with piquillo and anchovies

I’ve had my share of liquid spheres, but this one was one of the best. I especially liked the traditional olives stuffed by the piquillo pepper and small strips of anchovy that tasted more buttery than brined. The only other fish I have come across with the similar texture was the needlefish at Urasawa and the herring fillets the Dutch eat on hot dog buns as street food. The liquid olive are meant to be eaten last exploding with clean, pure olive “essence” without a trace of solid texture.

“Philly cheese steak” - air bread, cheddar, wagyu

This one was featured on an amusing episode of No Reservations where Anthony Bourdain fawns all over Jose Andres and giddily devours a minibar meal despite his insistence that his street food eating sensibilities clash with such high concept food.

The “air bread” is a hollowed out torpedo roll filled with what tastes like goat cheese (what cheddar?) and topped with a few nice slices of wagyu. My friend and I agreed that the Jose Andres interpretation does not capture what makes the Philly cheesesteak great (its Cheeze Wheez, give it up), but it didn’t make much difference. It tasted great anyway.

Salty wrinkled potatoes , “mojo verde”

If you like aggressively seasoned starches, this dish is for you. Each potato was perfectly cooked, each had a healthy amount of salt cut by just the right amount of acidity from mojo verde. The potatoes were nice, but they didn’t really fit the modern dishes I ordered. The moral of this story is – be careful how you construct your meal.

Ajo blanco – white gazpacho, tomatoes, grapes, raisins

Very nice mild custard of firm panna cotta consistency that carried the flavor of whatever you happen to grab from the top. My favorite was the tomato “caviar” with a few petals of flowers.

Sea urchin, pipirrana, Andalusian vegetables

I ordered the sea urchin with steamed buns from the modern side of the menu, the canned urchin served from the traditional tapas set came out instead.  The dish was good, but the pico de gallo tasting pipirrana makes it a better fit for people who aren’t 100% sold on sea urchin.  I am not one of these people, so I asked for the right dish.

Sea urchin, avocado, steamed buns

The dish I actually ordered turned out to be spectacular – the steamed buns and thinly sliced avocado is a perfect complement to sea urchin. The only regret I have is that I didn’t order this last. It would have made a perfect dessert.

My friend dislikes sea urchin, but was determined to try it again he came across a specimen of superb quality (this was it) and loved it as well.  I have seen uni conversions at serious sushi bars before, but witnessing it at a Spanish restaurant was unexpected.

It didn’t occur to me until I saw the photo, but this is essentially an uni slider. Coming soon on the menu at Little Big’s?

American caviar cone

A perfect bite of waffle cone filled with creme freche and caviar. This would have been better had it been an unexpected amuse or if I had actually ordered the dish. I was hoping for caviar with steamed blini instead, but it never came.

To be honest, I don’t get the fascination with ice cream cone dishes. It was cute when Thomas Keller did it at TFL. Time to move on.

King crab, raspberry vinegar

Great dish from the canned tapas set that requires a little bit of care. Take a bite of the crab and raspberry together and all you taste is the berry. Eat them separately and the raspberry vinegar works quite nicely to accent the crab with acidity and slight notes of fruit.

Not your everyday Caprese 
cherry tomatoes, liquid mozzarella

Along with the olives and sea urchin this was one of my favorite dishes of the night.  The tomatoes are real – pristine cherry bombs that explode with tomato flavor under slightest bit of pressure. The mozzarella is a not – another liquid sphere that delivers the intense burst of cheese flavor without the texture. This one works best with all ingredients eaten in one bite.

I had a version of this staple last time I visited Alinea. The frozen mozzarella foam served over liquid tomatoes and basil spheres tasted like a bland V8 flavored snow cone. The dish was a disaster.

In contrast, this was one of the finest Caprese salads I have ever eaten, mainly because Jose Andres knows when to stop before science becomes weird science. Much respect.

Cotton candy foie gras

The famous minibar dish was everything it’s meant to be – silly, fun, delicious. Yes, the foie got lost in the candy, but there is still something really satisfying in biting into a childhood classic and finding a hunk of chilled liver.

Taking a slight detour, a few other foie dishes you should try – the pop rocks crusted foie lollypop at Graham Elliot in Chicago, foie gras club sandwich at Le Reve in San Antonio, foie bon bons at Catalan in Houston and my personal favorite (if you can convince him to make it) the cocoa dusted pave of foie and foie gras milkshake dessert from Randy Rucker, now at Rainbow Lodge in Houston.

Tortilla de patatas “new way”
Warm potato foam, egg 63, caramelized onions

The server failed to tell us how to eat this one, so the first few bites were a bit like eating salty potato porridge. Not good. Once we dug in deeper to broke through the yolk however, the salt balanced out and this turned out to be an excellent dish.

This is the Spanish version of the L’Arpege egg. Highly recommended. 

Paella-style pasta, monkfish, shrimp, seafood broth

Surprise hit from the traditional side of the menu. The taste was classic  paella, but the texture was that of light strands of pasta. Add a dollop of garlic aioli to each spoonful and this is a great, great dish.

“Butifarra” pork sausage
white beans, ceps Senator Moynihan

The only dish I didn’t care for. The white beans were nice, but I thought the sausage tasted like a run of the mill frankfurter. I think Texans are forever ruined by German influence to appreciate something like this.

Hot chocolate mousse, pears, salty hazelnut praline

My dessert was good, not great. Don’t think I’d order this again.

Nitro coconut floating island, passion fruit, vanilla

If you roll your eyes every time a restaurant goes overtly molecular, use of liquid nitrogen is more than a gimmick here. The dome acquires shape and texture - frozen at the top, perfectly soft and fluffy in the center – without giving it the vile gritty texture of hardened meringue.

Traditional floating islands are a sugary mess. The version served at Bazaar is a huge improvement – icy meringue, acidic passion fruit and bananas make turn this dish into throwback to ice cream sundaes, of sorts. I like.

Full set of photos from Bazaar. Well worth a repeat visit and then a few more after that.