The French Laundry (May 29, 2004)Yountville, CA As soon as we found out that a friend was getting married in Santa Rosa over Memorial Day weekend, my wife and I kept our eyes on the French Laundry website, awaiting an opening date (and the opening of the reservation lines). The timing worked out, and after close to two hours of dialing on three phones, we secured reservations for lunch on May 29. Having dined here before, we were curious to see what might have changed since our previous visits. Neither the ground floor dining room nor the upstairs dining room appear to have changed perceptibly; however, the kitchen has been broken up into multiple rooms, and the hallway leading to the pass now also leads to a small above-ground temperature-controlled wine cellar. The herb garden in the patio area is now a lawn, having moved across the street to a larger empty lot, and it appears Keller is taking advantage of the extra space to expand the garden. The kitchen is now connected by a walkway and a trellis to a new smaller building, which (if I remember correctly) houses office space and administrative functions. All of this renovation was done in the French Laundry style, so while you may notice a change in the external layout, the decor and style remains the same. Reassuring, but the main concern is this: what's happened to the food? Has the layoff affected the kitchen? Has the opening of Per Se stretched Keller too thin? We needn't have worried. Cornets: black sesame seed tuile with salmon tartare, red onion creme fraiche, chive The traditional French Laundry starter, although the presentation was slightly different. Instead of being asked to remove the cornets from a Lucite triangle, a silver conical base was placed on the table, and a rounded silver rectangular plate with three holes was centered on the cone, with a cornet in the holes at either end. We later noticed that there are custom variations of the cornet holder; if you're a party of five, for example, the plate will be circular, with five holes. The cornets themselves haven't changed, and if anything, the fish seemed fresher than I remembered, and the tuile slightly more buttery and crunchy. There is something about the combination of fresh fish, creme fraiche, and a buttery crunch, a textural interplay that really makes this work. French Laundry Cured Shad Roe "Porridge" with Persian Lime Salt and Shaved "Bonito" The first course is presented in a bowl with a porcelain dome. The domes are removed to reveal what at first glance looks like a deep orange-red soup; on closer glance, it's microscopically small eggs. A second server approaches with a wooden box, and opens it to reveal a block of dried tuna, allowing us to inspect it and get a good whiff. Shavings of this are then sprinkled on our shad roe, no more than a quarter teaspoon, just enough to provide the aroma. The roe itself defines salt, then ocean, instead of the other way around, with the occasional bonito smell to accentuate the dish. This was perhaps the most challenging dish of the tasting, in that liking the texture of roe and its fishy saltiness would be a prerequisite for full enjoyment of the dish. We both found it excellent. Moulard Duck "Foie Gras au Torchon" Served with Pickled Middleton Farms Strawberries Sauteed Moulard Duck "Foie Gras", Red Haven Peaches, Pickled Ramps and Peach "Coulis" When we ordered the nine-course tasting menu, which included the foie gras au torchon (with a supplement), our server asked if we both liked foie gras; if so, he offered to replace one of our torchons with the sauteed foie gras being offered on the five-course menu, so that we could experience both kinds. The sauteed foie was quite nice, with a crisp and almost smoky exterior, with a molten and creamy interior. The peaches provided complementary sweetness, but I was surprised at how well the ramps went with the foie; I wouldn't have guessed that a salty oniony flavor would necessarily be a good match. Nor would I have guessed that a sherry would work well, either; this pairing was suggested by our server, who was responsible for all of the other pairings throughout the meal with the exception of the red wine for the meat courses. The sherry had a sweet port-like aroma in the glass, but on the tongue, it was very dry, with a mineral and wood taste that cut through the richness of the foie and the sweetness of the peaches. The whole dish consisted of a remarkable set of contrasting flavors. The torchon, on the other hand, is pure richness and texture. I still haven't tasted a smoother foie than Keller's torchon, and on the warm slices of brioche (which appeared every few minutes at our table, like clockwork), it's heaven. The pickled strawberries were the essence of strawberry, and the riesling was sweet and syrupy. The Brittany sea salt and the balsamic vinegar dots on the opposite side of the plate are of course a nice touch, but really, a smear of torchon on the brioche is all that is needed. Somewhere around this point in the meal, bread service happened. Two kinds of butter, along with a few kinds of bread; slices of ciabatta, sourdough, and walnut/olive bread, along with crusty french sweet rolls. Crispy Skin Filet of Japanese "Suzuki", Roasted Big Island Hearts of Palm, "Edamame" Beans, Radish Salad and a "Wasabi-Yuzu" Emulsion If you're like me, when you read this item on the menu, you see "radish" and "wasabi" and think your sinuses may be in for a workout. In fact, this is a mild, mild dish. The fish is prepared perfectly, with a just-crispy skin and tender flesh, topped with a microscopically thin julienne of radish (which I didn't identify at first until I glanced at the menu again and put two and two together). I'd be willing to bet that the soybeans were blanched in a large pot of salty water, based on the green color, and the tender salty bite. The emulsion was so mild as to provide almost no flavor, just some creamy texture to offset the fish. I would have actually liked a bit more savory flavor, a bit more spice in the seasoning. This was probably the least interesting dish of the meal. The Condrieu had a pleasing floral and ever-so-slightly sweet aroma, and as with the sherry, the aroma in no way prepares you for the taste, which was mineral, crisp, and clean, and a perfect complement for fish. "Caesar Salad": Sweet Butter Poached Maine Lobster Tail with Roasted Hearts of Romaine Lettuce, "Confit" of Sweet Garlic, Parmesan "Croutons" and "Bottarga" Emulsion Of course, it's all about the lobster tail, a near-spherical chunk of meat topped with a paper-thin crisp of Parmigiano Reggiano. I find myself conflicted with this dish. The tail has the sweet taste of lobster that you want every lobster to have, the flavor is so, so good. But the texture is chewy, which is a disappointment when I recall the first lobster dish I had here a few years ago, which combined that perfect lobster flavor with meltingly tender flesh and a saffron vanilla sauce you never want to be without again. That was probably one of the best two or three dishes of my life, so by contrast, this otherwise excellent lobster seems somewhat average. The bottarga was grated over the plate at tableside, and the roasted romaine tasted surprisingly like fresh baby spinach. Breast of Wolfe Ranch White Quail "Farcie a la Mousse de Truffe" with Braised Heirloom Beets and Perigord Truffles The first of two standout meat courses, the quail skin is perfectly and evenly browned, and just crispy enough. Cutting through the skin, you reach tender quail meat, and a white stuffing flecked with truffles. Savory, delicious, and with the wine, very satisfying. The beets provide a little bit of fruity sweetness, but it's all about the bird and the stuffing. My credit card and I succumbed to the siren song of the cult wine. But it's a beauty, with berries, cinnamon, and clove in the nose, and a lingering finish to match. It was served in monstrous Riedel Burgundy glasses, nearly large enough to insert my head. Someday I need to splurge and get a couple of these, it's nice just to watch wine swirl around in one of these glasses, let alone drink it. As good as the quail was, the lamb is better. By French Laundry standards, the portion for this dish was quite large, with three nice slices of pink lamb draped over tiny asparagus stalks, flanked by meaty mushrooms in a pool of sauce that you can tell will be wonderful before ever swiping a bite through it. And it is. We linger over this dish a while, taking our time with the lamb and the sauce and the wine. In some ways, this dish is less composed than others in the sequence; no delicate assemblies of ingredients, no meticulous arrangements of garnishes. But perhaps that's simply because more composition is unnecessary here. "Pecorino Con Foglie De Noci" Green Asparagus Salad, Toasted Pine Nuts and Thirty-Year-Old Balsamic Vinegar Three triangular slices of pecorino romano rest on a bed of asparagus tips, pine nuts, and a few tiny dices of tomato. A server presents a bottle of 30-year old balsamic for our inspection, fills half of a tablespoon with it, and then gently tilts the spoon to dot the plate with the vinegar. I'm personally not a wild fan of cheese courses, but I thought this one was more balanced and thought out than previous ones we've had here. I'm thinking in particular of a goat cheese and heirloom beet course, where I thought I could have produced a similar course at home in short order that would have tasted essentially the same. Decidedly not what I want to be thinking during this kind of meal. Passion Fruit Sorbet, Coconut "Gelee" and Roasted Maui Pineapple I shudder when I recall this dish, it was that good. The sorbet was creamy and rich, and the passion fruit flavor was taken down just enough so that it didn't dominate the dish, and blended with the sugary pineapple bits and the pool of almost-foamy coconut cream at the bottom of the bowl. The flavors of the three components were integrated perfectly here; I can't see how the dessert could be improved. Tart of Valrhona Manjari Chocolate with Burnt Sugar Ice Cream and "Fleur de Sel" I suppose I'm not a true chocoholic; as much as I like it, I'm ultimately happier and more interested when the dessert menu has non-chocolate non-vanilla items on it. But this was a really nice dessert. The burnt sugar ice cream was dulce de leche, caramelized just a little further to bring out a hint of smokiness, and the salt/chocolate combination was an eye-opener. It makes sense in retrospect; you use salt to bring out flavors, so why not use it in a dessert to achieve the same effect? Still, it was a surprise. Our server recommended two different wine pairings for this dish, so we each tried one of the recommendations and shared the glasses. The Banyuls was tart and grapey, and the tartness paired well with what was not a wildly sweet dessert, but we both strongly preferred the muscat, which was syrupy, golden goodness, even though intellectually it may not have been as good a match. "Mignardises" From memory: two pates de fruit, one mango, one raspberry; a lemon tartlet; a caramel macaroon the size of a nickel; a chocolate "tiramisu" with a sprinkle of 24k gold leaf; two paper thin discs of Valrhona chocolate sprinkled with toasted almonds; and two apple/ginger shortbread wafers. From start to finish, the meal lasted almost five hours. My wife and I both thought that while we've had individual dishes here in the past that reached higher peaks (the aforementioned lobster with saffron-vanilla sauce, and a dessert study in pineapple), this was the most consistent meal in terms of quality from dish to dish, with no major letdowns, and solid wine pairings throughout. According to our server, the restaurant reopened on May 18. Even allowing for the obvious technical competence of the kitchen staff, I find it remarkable that it could resume producing meals at this level less than two weeks after opening. Time to start saving up for the next visit...
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