Tatami Room at L.20 - Laurent Gras

Mrs. Suburban and I recently had the pleasure of joining Gyspy Boy and his better half to celebrate their wedding anniversary in one of the Tatami Rooms at L.20. I thought the meal was very good -- at times outstanding -- but I'll admit that it didn't quite 'send me' the way my Opening Night experience at L.20 did.

The meal was a pre-set, chef's choice, Kaiseki-style menu that delivered on many fronts. L.20 is not a Japanese restaurant and even though I've never been to Japan, this seemed like a blending of East and West -- almost an homage to the traditional Tatami Room experience -- rather than the genuine article. Certain elements, like bread service and Western wine pairings made it fairly clear that 100% authenticity was not really the chef's goal.

The Tatami Room itself was very cool but again not entirely traditional, from what I could discern . . .



Rather than being seated directly on the floor or on pillows, seats are provided and the table is set in a recessed well. Once at the table, for all intents and purposes, the seating configuation is fairly similar to a Western-style table. The walls of the Tatami Room are made of wood. They are completely opaque and do not allow any light to come through. All the lighting in the room is provided by overhead zoned lights, which shine down directly on the tabletop. The tone of the room is hushed and intimate. The Tatami Room is accessed from the dining room, via a small stairway. Before entering, guests are asked to remove their shoes. Once inside, the sliding door leading to the dining room is closed. Guests come and go through that door should they need to exit during the meal but service is provided entirely through a sliding "back" door in the Tatami Room that leads to the kitchen. This allows for a great deal of privacy throughout the dining experience.

For our meal, the entire service was performed by a single person, Christina, who was nothing short of stellar. She was dressed in traditional Geisha attire. She served our food, wine, water, bread and cleared everything, too. We never saw another person from the restaurant in the Tatami Room during our entire meal and we never needed to, either. Christina was not only supremely friendly, remarkably helpful and ultra-competent but she was also extremely knowledgeable about both the food and the wine (and the sake) that we were served. It was notably impressive.

Going into the meal, I was a bit nervous about getting in and out of my seat at the table because I'm a big guy with arthritic hips but it proved to be a non-concern. Soon after we were seated, service began with water, beverage pairings and series of 5 amuses bouche, served all at once . . .


Fluke, Frozen Sake, Honshimeji (Amuse 1/5)



Earl Grey Smoked-Salmon (Amuse 2/5)



Tuna, Foie Gras (Amuse 3/5)



Escolar, Jamon Iberico, Espelette (Amuse 4/5)
That's a leaf of Crystal Ice lettuce in the dish -- a succulent variety of the green.



Oyster, Sake, Red Wine Vinegar (Amuse 5/5)

My favorites of these 5 were the Fluke and the Escolar but they were all delicous and immaculately fresh. The chef's hand was clear and a discernible tone for our meal had been struck.



Bread service, clockwise from bottom left: pain au lait, wheat roll, nicoise olive roll, rosemary croissant (sorry for the poor focus)
As mentioned above, a serious nod is given to tradition but it is not followed 100%. We were offered L.20's signature breads and house-made butter throughout the meal and I was very pleased by this.



Kinmedai, Caviar, Ohba
Fresh and bright; a great combination. I loved the way the fish and the caviar paired up here. Amazing.



Sashimi, Ginger, Wasabi
This sashimi was terrific (can't remember the individual fishes) and the fresh wasabi was a rare treat.



Nantucket Bay Scallop, Bergamot, Jalapeno
Again -- and this note was struck in every course -- remarkably fresh. I loved the combination here too, especially the focused zip of heat provided by the jalapeno.



Tofu, Itogaki, White Soy
Silky-smooth, house-made tofu with dried tuna flakes, accented by white soy.




Octopus, Coconut, Togarashi, Soy Salt, Olive Oil
This dish was an evolved variation of one I enjoyed on opening night and it was again one of my favorites of the meal. In a sense, it was a microcosm of the entire meal in its East meets West character. I loved the tender octopus, which paired up perfectly with the rich olive oil. The restrained use of aromatic coconut was a perfect accompaniment and the togarashi added a bit of punch to the dish.



Kampachi, Chrimenjako, Pomegranate
I really enjoyed this dish, my first experience with the tiny, salted fish known as chrimenjako. The kampachi was seared perfectly. The other accents on the plate, including the powdered toast and heart of palm, complemented the fish very well.



Tomato, Ebi, Parsley
This was a tasty little aquarium of flavors. I'm not sure what the medium was but the intensely-flavored little pearls of tomato and parsley -- along with the tiny blossoms (lavender, iirc) -- were great accents for the small pieces of tender, ebi shrimp. This was a delicious, provocative dish.



Hamachi, Black Truffle
This one, I just didn't get. I thought it was carefully-prepared -- moist, nicely seared fish -- but really bland. It was hard to argue with the top-notch ingredients but I couldn't really taste or smell the truffle "snow" at all. I don't think the hamachi was seasoned at all. I'll admit that I keep a small container of kosher salt in my camera bag and I ended up reaching for it and salting this one on my own. It wasn't enough to completely save it but it did help it a bit. Perhaps this was just too subtle for my inexperienced palate.



Lobster, Surume Ika, Foie Gras
Probably my favorite course of the night. The lobster was meaty and tender, and the delectable broth -- a combination of lobster and foie gras -- was silky-licious. The egg-yolk-looking item was actually a dumpling made from, among other ingredients, more lobster. The slices of squid were tender and flavorful and as I examined them, I noticed some its ribbed texture and joked with my companions that was ribbed for my pleasure. A stunningly delicious dish.



Pickled Honshimeji, Salmon Roe, Grapefruit
I ate this dish but not in its entirety because I'm supposed to avoid grapefruit. The pickled mushrooms and the roe were phenomenal, as was the delicious broth.



Toro, Green Apple, Olive, Sudashi (sic), Wasabi
This course, perhaps, went too far, IMO. The toro was fatty and amazing and the freshly grated wasabi was a perfect accent note. The plate was beautiful but I'm not sure the dish really needed those additional notes of apple, sudachi and squid ink. The dish wasn't plated in a way that obscured the fish but those additional components, when paired with individual bites of it, didn't do a lot for me. Again, there very well may have been more to this dish than I was able to perceive. Still, it was a great piece of fatty tuna and the wasabi countered its rich fattiness in textbook fashion.



Dashi
Savory courses ended with this delicious dashi, which was smokey and nicely balanced.



Chocolate, Caramel
A really great dessert that made the end of the savory courses a little less sad.



Chocolate, Caramel
The combination of chocolate and caramel was masterfully struck and the textures -- cold, crunchy and soft all at once -- really made this a great one.



Macaron
This macaron, flavored with yuzu and another component which I cannot recall, didn't ascend to the same heights that the pistachio version I enjoyed on opening night. I liked the flavors but not as much and the exterior was a bit too hard and shattered when I bit it. Texture is a huge part of the enjoyment factor with these French macarons and this one just missed the mark. Still really good but not up to the standard previously set here.

After our meal, we were given a tour of the spacious, bustling and immaculate kitchen. I'd also had a tour on opening night, so I more or less knew what to expect but we were shown one feature that I had not seen before: Chef Gras' amazing spice trove . . .



Chef Gras' Spice Closet
Yes, that is a floor to ceiling cabinet of spices, herbs and dry ingredients. What a sight!

So, all in all I really enjoyed this meal but as I mentioned at the top, I'm not sure I liked it as much as my previous L.20 meal. This was a meal that existed on a very high plane. It started there and it pretty much stayed up there. However, I am conditioned to expect more dramatic build, more ascendency. Here, while few of the later courses were absolutely superb, they weren't so fundamentally different from the amuses -- and that led to a slightly flatter experience than I would have liked. I would have traded in a few of the more moderate successes here for a couple of clunkers and 2 more dishes that just blew me away. When compared to other fine dining experiences I've had, this was relatively expensive ($725 all inclusive for 2 tasting menus and 1 wine/sake pairing and 1 coffee [Clover machine], which was not included) and it made me realize in a definitive way that fine dining has its own cost to value ratio, which cannot be measured without also considering the overall experience. So, I'm very glad to have had the experience -- and to have shared it with such great friends -- but in spite of the tremendous service and excellent food, I'm not sure I'd do it again. That said, I'd happily return to the dining room at L.20 for another meal. I like the idea of putting together my own menu (some of my favorite dishes at my first meal were non-sea-faring), even if it means choosing a few courses in a progression that might raise an eyebrow or two in the kitchen.

=R=

L.20
Belden Stratford Hotel
2300 Lincoln Park West
Chicago, IL 60614
773 868-0002

ronnie_suburban wrote: Perhaps this was just too subtle for my inexperienced palate.

My thoughts exactly, Ron.

Just kidding! Another steller report that let's me (sigh) live like a gourmet precariously a few more days...

Thank you for the hard work!

Ronnie, what is on top of the Earl Grey Smoked-Salmon? It looks like ice, but I'm guessig it's not.

Looks good. I am sure it tastes better.
Crazy combinations going on here.
What no beef? I thought this was a steak house.

stevez wrote:Ronnie, what is on top of the Earl Grey Smoked-Salmon? It looks like ice, but I'm guessig it's not.

Steve, you're right. Partly. Actually, a ginger "ice" with a gelatin-ish texture. Distinctly gingery and a very nice complement.

As will be seen very quickly, my take on the dinner differed in degree from Ron’s. I think, in the event, he and I were closer than it sounds, but I stand by what I say here.

From the L2O website: “Kaiseki honors Japan’s most revered culinary art where the finest of seasonal ingredients harmonize in taste, texture, appearance and color.” L2O goes to elaborate lengths to create (and market) an atmosphere and their website pays homage to honoring the Japanese tradition of kaiseki. They have created a “Tatami Room” (it’s close but not quite right and the difference affects the experience, as I’ll discuss). They have kimono-clad servers. The wine pairings include several sakes. The Japanese esthetic is proudly honored and, to a certain extent, flaunted or paraded.

The menu is, for the most part, a reasonable approximation, if not entirely authentic. The restaurant and staff work hard at maintaining the fiction and, for the most part they succeed. A point that I believe is important: they do not present the meal as Laurent Gras’s version of kaiseki or suggest that he is merely using kaiseki as inspiration. This is supposed to be a kaiseki. No ifs, ands, or buts. Fair enough.

So why are they serving bread? Either it’s a kaiseki or it’s not. Don’t misunderstand: we love their bread. It is absolutely excellent and among the best bread service in the city. But a hybrid kaiseki is a bit like being partly pregnant. Kaiseki does not include bread.

Neither does kaiseki include dashi as a course, stand-alone or otherwise. Dashi, for those less familiar with Japanese cuisine, is stock. Not soup. Stock. Toward the end of our meal, we were given bowls of dashi. Completely unadorned bowls of stock. To make certain that we weren’t being unfair, the Lovely Dining Companion consulted her mother who was born and raised in Japan. I think the best way to convey her reaction is...imagine the sound of laughter. Her mom asked what we were served with our courses. We told her bread. Imagine the sound of laughter.

Nothing in the website or elsewhere suggests that this is kaiseki “style” (whatever that might be). Nothing suggests that Gras has used kaiseki as an inspiration for his own riff. Everything suggests real, honest-to-God kaiseki. Why did the restaurant invest a fortune in a beautiful (if remarkably sterile) room, complete with solid (as opposed to translucent) shoji and an exquisite yellow cedar table? Why use kimono-clad servers? Why set the table with hashi (chopsticks) alone? Why, in brief, call it kaiseki if you’re only going to honor those aspects of kaiseki that you choose to? Kaiseki; not hemi-demi-semi-kaiseki.

Joined by ronnie_suburban and his charming wife, the Lovely Dining Companion and I reserved the Tatami Room last weekend to celebrate (albeit belatedly) our anniversary. We had eaten at L2O previously and very much enjoyed our meal. So we decided that the time had come to try out a Laurent Gras kaiseki. Some thoughts:

Room: should have added; instead, it subtracted. Because the shoji “screens” are almost all solid wood (for presumably practical reasons) and because the light is minimal (if functional), it felt very much like being packed into a box (albeit a box with comfortable leather seats). Since the room remained completely closed except when courses were delivered or cleared, the air soon became stagnant and the room too warm for comfort. Nor were there decorations of any kind, no matter how minimal. Four walls, four seats, a table, and a tatami mat floor. Japanese design might accurately be described as minimal to a Western eye. It would never be described as non-existent. Two lights recessed in the high (wooden) ceiling focused on the center of the table and, in so doing, sought to focus the evening on the food. Fair enough. But although these lights provided illumination for the food, the lighting seemed to be designed exclusively for that purpose. Ambient light was minimal. And because one wall was shared with the main dining room, outside sounds regularly intruded, eliminating any real sense of separation or peacefulness. The music was also intrusive at the outset. They quickly turned it down at our request but although it never really detracted, it never added anything to the experience, either. The room, all things considered, was vaguely claustrophobic, more than vaguely dark, not particularly relaxing and, as the evening progress, not even all that comfortable. While its design elements all contribute to the Japanese esthetic, it didn’t add up to a pleasing part of the experience. To the extent that the architect and/or the designers pleased the client, they did so at the expense of the customer.

Service: we were served and all our requests attended to by Christina. Unqualifiedly excellent is not overpraising her performance. Timing, presentation, explanations, assistance...all was all that could be sought or hoped for. She was particularly detailed in her introduction of each new wine and, unusually in my experience, had the wonderful combination of expertise and approachability. She was warm without being obsequious, efficient without hovering. In all, a genuine pleasure to have with us.

Opening: according to the website, “Freshly squeezed juices, Japanese macha and small amuse bouches begin the meal.” Um, no juice, no macha (green tea) [sic]. Drinks (as in alcohol) offered, but nothing else. Did we inquire? No. Sometimes you decide to let things take their own course and so we elected to see where our journey led.

The food: Some very nice courses. A couple of truly excellent courses. One complete puzzle. But nothing was hit out of the park. As high a level of quality and preparation as everything hit, there was, to me, ultimately something disappointing about the meal. I would have been happier to have a few misses in return for a few spectacular, knock-your-socks off, courses. Now this may be a philosophical thing: do you want a string of dishes that all come in at A- or would you prefer a couple of Cs or even Ds in return for a couple at A++. Me, I guess this meal proves to me that I fall into the latter camp. And over the course of nearly five hours, enjoyable as most dishes were, there was an almost disappointing sense of sameness. This was a case, as Ron said in another context during the dinner, of the whole adding up to less than the sum of the parts.

The quality of the fish or seafood was, in every case, superb. It’s hard to imagine fresher, higher quality items. The presentations themselves were exquisite. The attention to detail was astonishing. (I do want to make a special note of the Gras’s exceptional willingness to work with us on one highly awkward food issue: LDC cannot eat raw fish. I raised this at the time we made reservations and asked if the kitchen could accommodate that admittedly problematic issue. We understood the extraordinary nature of our request and were prepared for them to decline. They assured us they would take care of LDC and they did in wonderful fashion. Not all courses needed substitution and of those that did, the substitutions were clever and delicious. LDC was extremely pleased with her “version.”)

Herewith a listing of dishes with just a few notes (including a list of the pairings):

Szigeti, Gruner Veltliner, sekt (Austria, NV)--champagne-like, rounded, a lovely opener. I’d not known that they make this in a “sparkling” version. I think I prefer the “still” but this was a wonderful choice to go with the amuse.

(Note: the first five items were presented simultaneously and identified as the amuse.)

Oyster, sake, red wine vinegar


Fluke, frozen sake, honshimeji

The sake was, at least in my dish, more slushy-like than anything. Still, it retained a solid sake flavor and worked quite well in combination with the fluke and shimeji mushrooms. (That is a tiny, tiny rosebud on top.)

Smoked salmon coated with Earl Grey tea

Exceptionally mild salmon, very creamy texture. I didn’t find that the tea added much but, as Ron said above, probably too subtle for my palate. That’s a ginger “ice” that worked quite nicely.

Tuna, foie gras “snow”

As noted previously, a superb piece of fish. I don’t know that the snow added much of an accent. I guess I’d call it a pleasant accompaniment and leave it at that.

Escolar jamon, espelette pepper


Hakkaisan Honjozo sake (Niigata, Japan)--a dry or semi-dry sake, very slightly rich. There was very little sweetness and almost a harsh, “off” flavor that I couldn’t place. Neither of us who had it enjoyed it.

Kinmedai (“Golden Eye” snapper), caviar, ohba (a form of shiso leaf)

One of the dishes seen in Tony Bourdain’s “No Reservations” the other night. The fish was layered in discs and the ohba inserted between. The problem was eating the dish: as soon as you went for it with the chopsticks, the fish pulled apart. That’s not a terrible thing except that it made it fairly difficult to grab a portion that contained all of the elements of the composition. The dish didn’t transport me.

Moscatel seco, Botani (J. Ordonez, Spain)

Sashimi, ginger, wasabi

Beautiful stuff, beautifully presented. Very enjoyable.

Ichishima, Junmai (Niigata, Japan)—really, really nice. Exceptionally smooth and silky with just a hint of sweetness.

Scallop, bergamot

I didn’t get much zip from the jalapeno and the bergamot was so subtle as to add very little. Nice little scallop, though.

Gewurztraminer, G.C. Kessler, Dom. Schlumberger (2001)—surprisingly sweet but not as full or lush as some. The lightness probably served it well and the sugar may have been meant to serve as a foil to:

Tofu, itogaki, white soy

Gras makes his own tofu. It was excellent, though tofu might not be the best choice as the centerpiece of a course. Its texture was superb—silken without being rich, smooth without overwhelming, but tofu is not noted as an ingredient bursting with flavor and so it came topped with shavings of itogaki (salted, smoked bluefin tuna), a bit of scallion, and shiso blossoms, all resting in a pond of white soy.

Viognier, Georges Skouras (Nemea, Greece)

Octopus, coconut, togarashi, soy salt

Exquisite presentation: five buttons of superbly fresh octopus arranged in a star. The octopus was “chewy” in the best possible way, a difficult-to-describe sensation to those who have never had it. The meat resists slightly before almost melting in the mouth. Coconut was an inspired choice of complement as was the olive oil. I probably associate that latter combination with Greek or Italian cooking but proved a terrific match.

Kampachi, chrimenjako (tiny little whole salted fish), pomegranate

My pictures of this dish all came out a bit fuzzy—which is perhaps an unintentional reflection of how I reacted to the dish. I didn’t find that it all came together. This was another dish that was hard to eat. Though the presentation was beautiful, I got the distinct sense as I worked at this that the kitchen may be so focused on beauty that they forget the need the diner has to actually put the pieces together and eat it. (In lieu of a picture, imagine a hunk of fish in one spot and little piles/puddles/dots of various accompaniments scattered around the large plate.)

Tomato, ebi (shrimp), parsley


Clever, attractive, and a wonderful change-of-pace. Oh, it was delicious, too. The clean acid of the tomato and the peppery freshness of the parsley were a very welcome recharge for the palate.

Hamachi (amberjack), black truffle “snow”

Huh? Exceptionally fresh fish with virtually no flavor. I’m not speaking delicate, I’m speaking virtually without flavor at all. This course puzzled all of us. A lot of fish is described as having a “mild” flavor. The mild was missing here and we were simply befuddled; the hamachi served as little more than a vehicle for a small storm of truffle snow.

Lobster, surume ika (squid), foie gras

As the picture shows, a truly beautiful presentation of complementary items in a stunningly rich broth. More than we were served would have been too much. A winner in every possible way. Now here’s the “but”: as exquisite as this dish was, I can recall a similarly rich dish featuring lobster at both Charlie Trotter’s and at (I think, but am not certain) Alinea. This is not to diminish the L2O dish in any way. Only to show that, even the best course of the evening, was at a level I have had elsewhere. It reached but did not exceed the best of what I’ve had before. As one of the best courses in a five-hour evening, it just wasn’t enough, excellent though it may have been.

Verdejo, Naiades, Bodegas Naia (Rueda, Spain 2005)

Pickled honshimeji, salmon roe, grapefruit

My favorite. The spare beauty of the dish was exceeded by the absolutely pristine flavors and their unbelievable complementarity. The vinegary pickling broth and the grapefruit added astonishingly complementary acid and sour; they both added the perfect level of sweetness as well while the roe reminded us of the mineral salt of ocean. Each element was sufficiently strong to maintain its individuality while inexorably contributing to a perfect meld of flavors.

Pinot Noir, Lemelson (Willamette Valley, 2005)—I found this to be very unbalanced with alcohol taking center stage. Ron distinctly tasted fruit and liked it. It was the only wine I couldn’t finish.

Toro, green apple, olive, sudashi (lime-like citrus)

Didn’t do much for me. Perhaps I’m not a fan of the fish, or maybe I just didn’t get it. The various elements seemed a bit too eclectic and never came together for me.

Dashi

I’ve beat this topic to death. For what it’s worth, the dashi tasted homemade and was excellent.

Broadbent Madeira, Malmsey, 10 year—nice, light, sweet, almost raisiny. A very nice complement to:

Chocolate, caramel, chocolate snow


More snow. Eating all the snow at L2O was a bit like that old saw, “ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny.” Each time it appeared it reminded us of this particularly snowy Chicago winter. Intentional? But enough with the snow already. Particularly since I found this particular snow to be almost totally flavorless. The presentation was wonderful, though, and once you cracked open the golf ball-sized chocolate ball, the caramel “pudding” was delightful.

Mignardise
[no image]
I was underwhelmed. I happen to enjoy yuzu and while the flavor was present, I’m not sure that a macaroon is the right vehicle.

Wine pairings: Disappointing overall. Perhaps Chantal Pabros, L2O’s sommelier, and I approach the wine pairings from very different places. I do not expect every selection and every pair to be a winner. Indeed, I expect a couple to be flat-out disagreements. But I do not expect that not a single wine will wow me. I do not expect that not a single pairing will impress me. With the exception of the Ichishima sake, there were no real standouts. I liked the gruner veltliner quite a bit. The Malmsey was fine, though perhaps not my “style” of dessert wine. The rest were neither bad (except the Pinot) nor noteworthy.

Dessert: From their website: “...followed by sweet and savory dishes, raw and poached fruits and specialty desserts.” Their plural, not mine. As noted, excellent. But we got at least two desserts (plus two “courses” of mignardises when we ate in the dining room and spent half of what we spent this night.) More to the point, the only Japanese connection was the yuzu in the mignardise. No one is asking the staff to pound rice to make mochi daily. But Japanese cuisine offers a range of options and flavors and textures to draw from. We not only would have liked, but would have appreciated something more closely tied to Japan. Somehow chocolate (much as we love it) seemed a bow to American tastes and predilections, a turning of one’s back, as it were, to Japanese ingredients.

Confusion: The keepsake menu we were given to take home lists seventeen items, plus one dessert plus mignardise. Christina presented the first five dishes listed on that menu at the same time told us that they were, collectively, the amuse. I specifically remember thinking: “Wow! All of this is the amuse? How will I ever make it through fourteen courses?” (I say fourteen because the confirmation sheet I received from L2O specified fourteen courses.) Following the amuse, we received twelve courses plus one dessert plus one mignardise. All for $225 (plus $90 for the wine pairings). The twelve course tasting meal in the main dining room costs $165. So, did we pay $60 each for the privilege of sitting alone?

Perhaps, LDC suggested, our courses featured items that are not served in the main dining room. No, not really. Specific preparations or combinations might differ, some might be available singly, some as part of a tasting menu, but as near as I can tell, we didn’t receive anything that is not available in the main dining room. So I’m stuck here. The only conclusion I can draw is that we were charged an additional $240 for the room. Ouch! An extra charge is fine, given the semi-seclusion and special attention. But $240 strikes me as exorbitant and I’m feeling slightly cheated about now. It doesn’t help to note, too, that coffee after dinner is not included. That’s right: the bill added another $10.50 for one coffee and one double espresso. Apparently $225 isn’t quite enough to allow them to absorb the cost of the coffee as well.

I’m left feeling very conflicted. We had a wonderful time, but that was due as much to excellent company as to the food/experience. The food was mostly excellent, but with an off-putting room, unfortunate wine pairings, and an immense bill (over $1500 for four people including only two wine pairings), I just wasn’t real happy. Will we return to L2O? Probably. But we’ll be staying in the main dining room, that much is certain.

(Edited to add a [sic] and three pictures.)

Thanks for the excellent pictures and the thoughtful, objective critique. It's refreshing to read a post that is neither gushing with praise nor condemning with scorn.

After reading both party's experiences, I feel like I would know what to expect and that's really why I troll this forum. Not only the "whats" but the "hows" and "whys" of the restaurant, its dishes and overall experience. Thanks also for including the true prices/cost of your evening.

L20 has definitely been on my radar for a while and your reviews only heighten my anticipation. Thanks again.

Gypsy Boy wrote:Eating all the snow at L2O was a bit like that old saw, “ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny.”

I just used that old saw yesterday! (after reading the definition, I'm still not sure what it means. I tip my hat to you for such knowledge!)

Thank you for sharing your experience with us. And happy anniversary!

What an awesome and complete post- Thank you Ronnie and Gypsy!

I too attended L20 when it opened and have been thinking if I am ready to return. Reading your post I was reminded how beautiful and pristine the food was, but also brought me back to wishing that there was a bit more excitement in some of the courses.

As we all know L20 is a very pricey restaurant and it is great to have such an accurate presentation of what it delivers so we can make our own decisions when and if to indulge.

Thanks again,

chico

The GP wrote:I just used that old saw yesterday! (after reading the definition, I'm still not sure what it means. I tip my hat to you for such knowledge!)

I KNEW that would get me in trouble!

Think of it this way: ontogeny is simply the embryonic development (growth stages) of a particular organism; phylogeny is the evolutionary development (over eons) of a species.

So, the (quite incorrect) saying merely states that the stages of growth of an embryo follow the same "path" as the stages of growth of the species. Clever but wrong.

I wouldn't say it got you in trouble -- I'm just not used to searching for definitions so early in the morning!

Excellent and interesting report. We're going to L2O in a couple of weeks (to celebrate/bemoan the fact that the wife and I are both turning 30 over the next month) so it was nice to get a current report.

For me, what really makes L2O sing is the concept of restraint/subtlety. I love the raw presentations at L2O because I feel like they tend to be more restrained than the cooked, heavier "main courses". I preferred my second meal there where we ate in the bar and constructed our own 4 course menu to the first visit when we had the long tasting menu. I felt like the tasting menu just became too much to absorb by the end, whereas the shorter meal succeeded in its restraint. The whole concept of the tatami room, the kimono-clad server, the "kaiseki"...seems to be trying to go too far just for its own sake. Why don't they just do a no holds barred, all-raw tasting menu in those private rooms? Or (more interestingly) a truly authentic kaiseki meal. I mean, can you imagine how good a real kaiseki meal would be there given the quality of the ingredients being used?

jesteinf wrote:Or (more interestingly) a truly authentic kaiseki meal. I mean, can you imagine how good a real kaiseki meal would be there given the quality of the ingredients being used?

I'd like to...

Great pictures, GB. They almost make me feel like I was there

Seriously, though, I really appreciate your insights on this meal. Clearly, our expecations were different. One reason seems to be that you read (and took to heart) their web site's description of the experience beforehand and I did not. It's clear from what you wrote that your disappointment went well beyond that paralax but do you think that if you'd read nothing about the experience in advance (impossible to calculate now, I realize), you would have enjoyed it more? Sometimes I think that going in cold can be an advantage . . . not always but more often than not.

As for authenticity, I had no issue with the lapses because I just wasn't expecting it. Of course, if I'd read the description at their web site in advance of our meal, I may have felt differently about it. But -- and I mean no disrespect to chef Gras whatsoever -- I'm not sure I'd ever expect a truly authentic Japanese experience from him, even if he were laser-focused on providing one. That's especially true given the mission of L.20. I really appreciated the blending of East and West through Gras' vision and think that, for me, more of that would have actually made the meal even more enjoyable.

As I touched on above, with fine dining, value is very hard to gauge. Ultimately, it comes to me on a purely emotional level. Did I leave the restaurant with predominantly good feelings or bad ones? Was the food compelling? Was the service polished? Was the overall experience distinctive? How eager would I be to repeat the experience. In this case, I could check off most of the boxes but would still be hesitant to repeat the experience. I respected and appreciated this meal but I didn't fall in love with it. My first experience at L.20 set the bar at an extremely high level and this meal, for all its highlights, did not match it. I wonder if that's because a tasting menu comprised almost exclusively of fish and seafood is lost on me. Yes, I'm grateful to have had the experience and I definitely learned a lot from it but for me personally, to do it again, I believe, would result in diminished returns.

=R=

Ron,

You raise a number of intriguing—and very well-considered points.

I find your analysis of the pros and cons of going in cold particularly interesting. Indeed, in a different context, I received and took the exact same advice. If I may quote myself, here’s what I wrote about my first experience at Alinea:

Gypsy Boy wrote:

dddane wrote:Word of caution: a good amount of what Alinea is all about is surprise. Is too much press a bad thing? Possibly. If you’re planning to go, I wouldn’t spend a lot of time reading reviews, looking at pictures, reading press articles. It ruins some of the surprise and takes some of the fun away…. I feel as though I would have benefited slightly by knowing a little less prior to going.

That was the single best piece of advice I received before going and I’m especially glad I took it to heart. And for precisely the same reasons, I will invoke dddane’s closing words from the opening paragraph: “If you haven’t been but plan to go, you might skip over the next few paragraphs…—I’d hate to ruin any surprises you may experience. I feel as though I would have benefited slightly by knowing a little less prior to going.” Amen.

Based on that, I think you’re partly on to something. Had I not read the website (and believed it), it might have made a difference in my expectations. However—and this is the reason for the “partly” in the previous sentence—the comments I made about the experience reinforce the expectation:

Gypsy Boy wrote:Why did the restaurant invest a fortune in a beautiful (if remarkably sterile) room, complete with solid (as opposed to translucent) shoji and an exquisite yellow cedar table? Why use kimono-clad servers? Why set the table with hashi (chopsticks) alone? Why, in brief, call it kaiseki….[?]

As I said in my review, I have absolutely no problem with Gras doing his variation on a kaiseki. Fine, just don’t call it a kaiseki and go to such extraordinary lengths to make it appear to be authentically Japanese. When you go to the trouble and expense to dress people up in kimonos, you’re really working hard at creating an atmosphere and an expectation. (By the way, I made the same error. She was a server, she was not a geisha, which my wife informs me has a very special and precise meaning.)

So, I conclude that although going in “cold” might have helped, the restaurant itself does so much to emphasize the Japanese element, that I would still have been a bit disoriented (pun intended), if not perhaps quite so disappointed.

I’m even more intrigued with your point, “I wonder if that's because a tasting menu comprised almost exclusively of fish and seafood is lost on me.” If so, then it was lost on me too. In fact, I don’t think it was lost on you (or me). I think Gras has miscalculated. He has put together a kaiseki that relies far too heavily on raw courses. I count ten raw fish courses, a huge number over the course of the evening. The remainder included two cooked fish courses, two “seafood” (the octopus and the lobster/squid) courses plus the tofu course and the trout roe with grapefruit and mushrooms. I think that the heavy emphasis on raw fish is a large part of why we considered the evening “boring”—and I do not think that that’s too strong a word. So many raw courses—even when interspersed with other items—can get boring, no matter how exceptional the fish and how extraordinary the presentations. I don’t think I’m being naïve in suggesting that at a certain point, raw fish is raw fish is raw fish. In other words, there are limits to what you can do if you insist on keeping the fish intact. Which brings me back to the question: why so much raw fish?

At the risk of becoming even more pedantic than I have already been, L2O’s version bears little relation to an authentic kaiseki. Stay with me for just a moment, if you will. I think an extremely brief view of the “real thing” is very illuminating here. An authentic kaiseki balances textures, appearance, and colors, as well as taste, all while emphasizing seasonal ingredients and even local items. Kaiseki—and this is one of my points—includes a far wider range of cooking styles than Gras used. Traditional kaiseki includes broiled, simmered, grilled, and steamed courses, as well as a vegetable course. It includes soup (often, but not necessarily, miso). It includes pickled vegetables, and, of course, it includes rice. Did Gras have to adhere to Japanese tradition? Of course not. But he might have benefited from embracing a wider range of preparations.

Part of our problem, I think, is that we simply got bored eating so much raw fish, notwithstanding the skill used to prepare it. I don’t think there’s a chef around who could make that many raw fish courses interesting. It sets the bar too high. It’s why Gras chose to use foie gras snow on two separate raw fish courses (the tuna and the hamachi, not to mention that he included it in the lobster/squid broth): to redirect the flavors, to add a deep, earthy, richness that the fish he chose doesn’t have. That’s one reason why the Japanese kaiseki includes such a wide array. Look at our favorite dishes: neither of us picked a single fish dish, raw or cooked: we chose the octopus, we chose the lobster and squid, the trout roe and grapefruit. That alone speaks volumes, I think.

I’m still stuck with explaining the dashi. Laurent Gras is a brilliant man; he knows that dashi is stock. And I cannot conceive of his serving beef stock in the main dining room. So the question is, why did he serve it? The only answer I can come up with is because he wanted to change the pace, change the texture. He wanted to include a soup for the same reason that the authentic Japanese kaiseki includes soup. Why he used dashi instead of soup seems explainable, then, as his sense that the particular flavor of dashi—and no soup—would suffice. I find that odd and I disagree. But he’s Laurent Gras and I’m a nameless, faceless poster on a foodie board named after a Chinese restaurant in Chicago, Illinois.

I just wanted to append a quick question for those who have been to L2O--whether in the main dining room, the Tatami Room, or another private dining room. Phil Vettel's review in the Trib stated that everyone is routinely offered a tour of the kitchen. We were offered one, as Ron mentioned, following our dinner in the Tatami Room. However, no mention was ever made of such a thing the first time we ate there, in the main dining room. I was wondering what experience others have had: are tables of diners trooping through the kitchen a common thing or not? Thanks.

"Hey, that's Phil Vettel!"
"Maybe we should offer him a tour of the kitchen."
"But then he'll know we spotted him."
"Tell him everybody gets offered one."

Gypsy Boy wrote:I just wanted to append a quick question for those who have been to L2O--whether in the main dining room, the Tatami Room, or another private dining room. Phil Vettel's review in the Trib stated that everyone is routinely offered a tour of the kitchen. We were offered one, as Ron mentioned, following our dinner in the Tatami Room. However, no mention was ever made of such a thing the first time we ate there, in the main dining room. I was wondering what experience others have had: are tables of diners trooping through the kitchen a common thing or not? Thanks.

We got a kitchen tour the first time we ate there.

Though we were not offered a tour unprompted, we requested one at the end of our meal and the server did not seem surprised at all. One of the managers met us at the entrance on our way out and took us to the kitchen. He asked if we were in the restaurant industry (no), and seemed bemused at our interest in things that we'd seen on the blog.

This thread has been really interesting. We ate in the dining room last August for my birthday, and while I truly enjoyed it, I wasn't totally blown away. It was indeed a wonderful meal, from the service, the beautiful dining room, to, of course, the food. I particularly liked the breads, Medai shabu shabu, fluke/grapefruit sashimi, halibut and the souffle. but in the end I wondered if it was truly worth the $$ spent. Perhaps that is flawed thinking, trying to line up the monetary value with the value of the experience, but I guess that is just part of how I evaluate things. This was far and away the most we've ever spent on a meal, and after we left it just sort of nagged at me that I wasn't sure if it was worth the XX amount of money (not trying to be secretive, I just forget what it cost! We both did the 12-course tasting menu.) If I had the money to spend again, I'm not sure I would go back (as opposed to, say, having the equivalent in mealS to Cyrus*, for example). Which is NOT to say that I regret going, at all, I just don't know that I would do it again, unless someone else was paying

*As a point of comparison, one of our favorite meals was a couple of years ago at Cyrus in Healdsburg (Sonoma), CA, and the price was considerably less. (Of course, the fact that we had just gotten engaged might have had something to do with it, but the service was impeccable, and the food was sublime - BJY's alltime favorite dish so far was had there). Of course, the cuisine is different, but I am thinking in terms of the overall experience.

Gluttons for *punishment* that we are, we have a reservation at Alinea for BJY's birthday later this month. Like Gypsy Boy, I am purposely avoiding knowing too much about it before going in, hoping to be pleasantly surprised.

*edited twice because I don't know my own husband's LTH handle

mtyf wrote:*As a point of comparison, one of our favorite meals was a couple of years ago at Cyrus in Healdsburg (Sonoma), CA, and the price was considerably less. (Of course, the fact that we had just gotten engaged might have had something to do with it, but the service was impeccable, and the food was sublime - BY's alltime favorite dish so far was had there). Of course, the cuisine is different, but I am thinking in terms of the overall experience.

Funny. RAB and I dined at L.20 last summer and at Cyrus in November. After our L.20 meal, I posted on the main thread, concluding that the meal was solid, but that little was amazing and memorable. We made the same comparison and our conclusion was the same. We felt that Cyrus was a better value - - it was slightly less expensive and we enjoyed it more.

On our dime, I don't think we'll be returning to L.20, given the number of pricey Chicago restaurants we've yet to try. But, if we're ever in Healdsburg again, we'd sure be tempted to return to Cyrus (especially if we again fail to score a French Laundry res.).

I look forward to your views on Alinea. We've had to cancel reservations there twice because of family emergencies, but are hoping to dine there before too long.

Oh, and no, we were not offered a tour of L.20's kitchen. (and maybe it's for the best, for I fear I might have caused a scene trying to quietly escape with the evening's leftover bacon bread)

Ronna

Oddly enough, my main complaint about our meal at L2O (the 12-course tasting) was that there wasn't enough variety in the cooked fish dishes. Part of the problem was that the first hot course (halibut over jamon/clam chowder with the freeze-dried parsley-ginger "cracker") was spectacular, which made the subsequent fish dishes seem much more boring.

After reading Gras' blog for months, and considering the price, our expectations were obviously very high. Unfortunately, it's hard to judge the meal without considering the cost. At this price, this is obviously very hard to do (would I rather eat at L2O once or 10 different "regular" restaurants for the same price?). But I think it's fair to compare the different options at L2O. I think if we go again, there's no question I'll go with the four-course option, which is 2/3 the price of the 12-course and less than half the price of the tatami room. It's certainly possible to select 4 courses that will likely be stellar, and if you're willing to share a bit with your companions, you can get the variety as well.

When my wife and I ate there in late December, we were not offered a tour of the kitchen. Otoh, we were also one of the last 3 tables to finish that evening, and also weren't offered coffee or any other sort of after-dinner drinks. I think the staff just wanted to go home at that point. A little disappointing when paying that much money, but understandable.

ucjames wrote:When my wife and I ate there in late December, we were not offered a tour of the kitchen. Otoh, we were also one of the last 3 tables to finish that evening, and also weren't offered coffee or any other sort of after-dinner drinks. I think the staff just wanted to go home at that point. A little disappointing when paying that much money, but understandable.

I am a fan of L.20 but based on what the restaurant aspires to be, I don't believe that not offering coffee at the end of the meal is so understandable. You can't set your sights on being a 3 Michelin star-rated place and then do that to guests. It's completely incongruous, IMO.

=R=

ronnie_suburban wrote:

ucjames wrote:When my wife and I ate there in late December, we were not offered a tour of the kitchen. Otoh, we were also one of the last 3 tables to finish that evening, and also weren't offered coffee or any other sort of after-dinner drinks. I think the staff just wanted to go home at that point. A little disappointing when paying that much money, but understandable.

I am a fan of L.20 but based on what the restaurant aspires to be, I don't believe that not offering coffee at the end of the meal is so understandable. You can't set your sights on being a 3 Michelin star-rated place and then do that to guests. It's completely incongruous, IMO.

=R=

True. And I felt much the same way at the time. I suppose my feelings on the matter had just cooled a bit over time. It was December 22nd, and around 11:30 or so by the time we left. I find myself being more forgiving than I might otherwise because of the proximity to Christmas.

I just posted about a recent meal at Katsu and mentioned to a friend that the meal there was the antidote for the tatami room kaiseki dinner at L.20 about which I posted here. That sounded far harsher than I intended. Fact is, I really enjoyed the meal at L.20 and its quality was inarguable. Chef Gras had put out more than a dozen courses that celebrated and showcased the sea. But in the context of what Katsu did for us, I am now seeing that meal in a different light. Gypsy Boy, with whom I shared the meal at L.20, urged me to recap some of those thoughts here, for those who'd only read the Katsu post. For those who've already read that post, this will be mostly overlap.

As I posted above (even before the recent Katsu experience), I felt like the dinner at L.20 was somewhat lost on me. At the time I thought that, perhaps, it was the all-fish and seafood-based menu that didn't entirely click with me ("really, it's not you, it's me"). So, while my appreciation for the quality of the ingredients and the skill used in preparing them was high, the meal as a whole didn't entirely compel me. Eating at Katsu helped me understand why. On some levels, Katsu did with one plate -- the sushi plate -- what L.20 took 17 courses to do -- showed off the wonders of the sea. No sea-faring ingredient I enjoyed at L.20 was any higher in quality than what Katsu offered, yet Katsu served us so much more. He took us on a journey. Beyond showcasing the immaculate fish, he served us soup and tempura and beef and custard. The sensations his creations delivered were unified in theme, yet varied enough to create a distinct progression -- a drama of sorts.

Again, I'm not bashing the kaiseki at L.20 because it was exemplary on so many levels. But it just didn't speak to me in the way our meal at Katsu did. I initially thought that chef Gras had adhered to the all-sea theme in duty to authenticity or tradition but that doesn't seem to have been the case. The omakase meals I'd enjoyed at both Katsu and Sea Saw (in Scottsdale, AZ) -- both helmed by chefs of Japanese descent -- had contained non-sea-faring items. For that matter, so too did Gras' kaiseki -- bread, butter, chocolate, Western wines. So, the lack of variation at L.20 was not a necessary part of the experience. Instead, it was a function of the chef's choices, within the context of the restaurant's mission. But even L.20 serves wagyu beef and pork belly. And that's where this L.20 experience kind of unraveled a bit for me. But it took a phenomenal meal at Katsu to make me understand this. And my initial thought (posted above) about wanting to return to L.20 -- but not for the kaiseki experience -- now makes complete sense. To draw a weak metaphor, I appreciated the artistry of chef Gras' voice, I just didn't like the story he was telling.

The bottom line is that our meal at Katsu was not only amazing and thoroughly enjoyable but the experience was also so profound, that it helped me develop context and understanding about meals I'd had at other restaurants -- including the one detailed in this thread. Again, I will definitely return to L.20 but hopefully, that experience will mirror my first, spectacular experience at L.20, during which we enjoyed a mix of chef Gras' selections and several other items on the menu that looked great to us -- and ended up being even better than they looked.

=R=