Eleven Madison Park: New York Four Star

Fennel Fantasia New York City Entry #91 Eleven Madison Park

When a restaurant manages to scale the heights of its potential - to discover its G spot - critics must be of two minds. Gone is the opportunity to slip in those cutting bon mots that readers treasure. Great great great makes a tinny sound.

But when a restaurant that once was passable becomes within spitting distance of perfect, there is a story to tell. Eleven Madison Park was designed to be the high-end of the Danny Meyer portfolio. Yet, despite an art deco nod to extravagance, it never reached its promise. The food was critiqued as pedestrian, or at least not sufficiently startling as to capture the heart of high-concept diners. (I had not dined at Eleven previously.)

This is a sour back story of a glorious present. Danny Meyer, the George Steinbrenner of New York dining, bought himself the Barry Bonds of the Bay cuisine (Not the most apt metaphor these days, but much rare chemistry and raw power is involved.) The cross-continental hiring of Daniel Humm, the Swiss-born chef, formerly working wonders at San Francisco's Campton Place, was inspired. Campton was perhaps the finest of San Francisco restaurants (although I can't compare Campton to Restaurant Gary Danko). This deal is as inspired as the culinary sensibility that Humm brings. When such cookery is blended with the preternaturally gracious, cheerful, and (usually) attentive service at a Danny Meyer restaurant, the results are bound to astound. Eleven Madison had been the recipient of the 2004 James Beard Award for Service. At the time this honor may have felt like being named Miss Congeniality at the Playboy Club, but tonight our main server, Adam, was world-class in charm, not through Franco-haughty efficiency, but with all of the ingratiating jocular charms of New York wit. The service was as cheering as the food.

Of the over 100 meals, I have eaten this year, Eleven ranks second, just behind Per Se (is all great cuisine left coastal?), and when one realizes that the tasting menus are $75.00 (four course, plus at least four concealed courses), the ratio of joy/dollar ranks just behind Papaya King.

As a matter of culinary politics, Eleven Madison Park is probably not a candidate for a Michelin trifecta. The room, through striking with its distant, elegant ceiling, lacks the gravitas of a three-star temple and, judging by my dinner, Humm and Meyer might not need to tweak the dishes, but double the charges.

Chef Humm offers three four-course tasting menus: an aquatic, seasonal, and garden (vegetarian) menu - the latter relatively uncommon in Gotham, but de rigueur by the Bay. My companion and I both selected the first (this was not a circumstance in which I could demand half a plate).

Before we reached our amuse, we were amused by five appetizettes. I can't recall so many firecrackers on the same plate. The aspect of Chef Humm's cooking that is so impressive is that he seems throughly comfortable with ideas of molecular cuisine, but never does he pay obeisance to these post-modern demand. Twice we spied foam, but each time the foam made a case for its presence. In this Humm belongs in the same category as Thomas Keller. Perhaps because of the lower price point, the food was less fussy, if equally flavorful. Possibly some of the "touches" were missing, but the heart was beating as strongly.

First, we were treated to an airy foie gras pate. Having just learned that my Chicago City Council has decided to deny us foie gras (their "live and let liver" policy), I must consume as I can. But this was a more like the pates one used to eat when goose liver was the organ of choice, not heated bits of liver, but a smooth pate of infinite grace.

Next was what is likely the finest sweetbread that I have eaten. (Calories are not to be counted). This buttery, crispy sweetbread was surrounded with rich brick dough (a thin wheat dough) and a bit of chive. Even those who profess a distaste for sweetbreads could offer no complaint here. As satisfying a pair of bites as might be imagined, and a reminder that with crispy genius, food can sometimes be auditory as well as mastering the other four senses.

In the midst of the line up was raw Bigeye Tuna. Very nice, but that is not what made this dish worthy. It sat on a slice of raw fennel (with more fennel to come) with a dusting of fennel pollen and a little fennel confit. The slightly bitter edge of this petit four was a profound contrast to the foie gras and sweetbreads.

Fourth was a Hummdinger: a small piece of Swiss bunderfleish (dry, salted beef) blanketing a bit of pickled radish. This jewel (one bite this time) boldly combined salt and sour in a way that reminded a diner that, like the most creative molecular chef, Chef Humm is not afraid of big, bad, bold combinations - and he gets them right.

Finally a galette napped with a goat cheese mousse and a touch of Meyer lemon jam. Once again the flavors were brazen and heroic: the jam sliced through the sometimes unctuous creaminess of goat cheese.



We imagined that this quintet would constitute our amuse, but Chef Humm had other ideas. At Eleven things come in numerical sequences, and our amuse twinned tomato. I was stunned by a sherry tomato sorbet with a comb of potato gaufrette. Forget the gaufrette, the sorbet was essence of tomato: a perfect cooler by the Tomato Ice King of Madison Park. Ice cream for adults, just ready for a steamy afternoon.

My first taste of the sorbet's partner disappointed: a green gazpacho - green tomatoes, tomatillos, avocado, romaine, cucumber, and zucchini, blended into a light, bright green liquid. The soup tasted bland and thick until the sour, vinegary aftertaste hit. This radiant sourness emerged just as I was concluding that the gazpacho was nothing special. Few chefs are skilled enough trust aftertastes. I might propose a lighter version of the soup, but this was something special.



We still were not ready for the first dish on our tasting menu. Next was perhaps the highpoint of the meal: a fantasia in fennel - a sly salad of fennel raw, cured, shaved, pickled, pollinated, sprouted, and served in beignets, dressed with chive oil and lemon vinaigrette, coupled with small sections of blood orange. I admire a chef who is willing to play with tastes on the bitter register: bondage and discipline for the foodie set. (Sadly I lack an image of this beautifully presented dish).

After this, the menu. First listed was "Maine Diver Scallops ‘En Chaud-Froid' with Osetra Caviar." A pair of scallops one hot, one cold, each with crowned with osetra caviar. The hot scallop was napped with a rich lobster bouillabaisse; the cold was served with a cauliflower mousse on a pool of cream. I was amazed that a scallop could taste so different with smartly distinct preparations. Perhaps I preferred the warm scallop, but the cool preparation was delightful as well, and together the flavors revealed the force of thoughtful synthesis.



Our second aquatic course was centered on Blue Hawaiian Prawns, perhaps a tribute to The King, and one that truly honors Sir Elvis. This shrimp on steroids was served in a saffron consommé with tastes of green apple and ginger. This dish was pure in conception and in its execution. Another brave and splendid dish. With all of these flavors flowing about one might wonder about muddy flavors, but the flavors were clear and distinct, and even though it was served on a tasting menu, the plate was large enough to satisfy with all the tastes evident.



The centerpiece of our dinner was a Butter Poached Nova Scotia Lobster with Chantenay Carrots (Who knew of carrot varietals?), orange-soy sauce, and a touch of Gewürztraminer-sea urchin foam. This was another in a string of valiant and compelling plates. Chef Humm has a way with vegetables - the carrots were splendid. The mix of lobster, orange, Gewürztraminer and uni was entrancing - rich and slightly puckery. Humm's dishes are recognizably modern, but still hold to classic techniques of flavor and presentation.



Following was our third amuse (or was it our eighth), a palate cleanser in the form of a raspberry soup with almond meringue and clear vanilla ice cream. Perhaps one could dismiss this dish as only delicious, but it was a dessert that is suitable for daily consumption.

Finally appeared a triptych of Meyer Lemon: a meringue tart, a warm Chiboust (lemon custard) with ginger cookies, and a scoop of lemon-basil sorbet with kaffir lime. I found the tart less special than its companions, particularly the ethereal custard, but pastry chef Nicole Kaplan can match Chef Humm bite for bite. Perhaps these were not grand, glorious, and evocative desserts, startling with surprises, but they reflected a serious of purpose as evident at the end of the meal as at the start.



Eleven Madison Park is, today, a signature New York restaurant. If we place Per Se on a shelf in the heavens, Eleven Madison provides as much brilliance as any meal I have had, and at its price it is without any peer. Even if restaurants critics cannot slip in the nasty bon mot, Eleven Madison Park makes a writerly diner grin.

Eleven Madison Park
11 Madison Avenue (at 24th Street)
Manhattan (Flatiron)
212-889-0905

http://www.vealcheeks.blogspot.com

GAF,
Beautiful review. Frank Bruni should take notes (actually, I liked his review a lot, too) I searched for this after seeing TheNew York Times' stellar review of this place yesterday. Makes me want to hop on a plane to NY (though now there's probably a 6 month wait for reservations....)

thaiobsessed wrote:GAF,
Beautiful review. Frank Bruni should take notes (actually, I liked his review a lot, too) I searched for this after seeing TheNew York Times' stellar review of this place yesterday. Makes me want to hop on a plane to NY (though now there's probably a 6 month wait for reservations....)

Knew I waited too long. Crud.

I was very pleased to learn of Bruni's review. 11 Madison Park was always the top high-end bargain in New York. I hope that it stays that way.

(In the last four days I dined at French Laundry, Chez Panisse, and Gary Danko - I hope to have a review up before too long).

GAF wrote:(In the last four days I dined at French Laundry, Chez Panisse, and Gary Danko - I hope to have a review up before too long).

Gary,

Thanks for taking one for the team.

Yeah, my heart cries out for you.

We ate at EMP two years ago on our trip to NYC. It was fantastic. Well worth every penny. We had our then 15 yo daughter with us and she was quite welcome. We aren't high rollers so I felt slightly out of place, but I was expecting that. But the food was terrific. I'd go again in a heartbeat.

PRELUDE

The Lovely Dining Companion engineered a weekend in NYC for my birthday capped by dinner Sunday evening at Eleven Madison Park. She managed to snag not only this table but also, for our only other dinner there, a table at Kajitsu. These two spots rank as the #5 and #6 toughest tables to get in the city. And she did it on consecutive nights. She also shoehorned in Sullivan Street Bakery and Russ & Daughters in less than two days. But you’re probably here because you’re more interested in how our dinner at Daniel Humm’s establishment went. In a word, swimmingly. A great dinner. Not the best I've ever had but probably in the top five.

Where we’re going has been kept a secret and the cab drops us off at 23rd and Madison Avenue. We start to walk up Madison Avenue by Madison Square Park (the street was closed for some private event that had just ended) and I still have no idea where we’re going (largely because my New York IQ is limited to broad geographic notions). Then, the LDC stops after a block and says, “We’re here.” I look up and see nothing in front of us save a massive edifice with multiple Credit Suisse plaques. A bank? We’re eating dinner at a bank? This is the big surprise? Oy. I won’t tell you what kind of visions are racing through my head at this point. Of course, I am standing in the exact, perfect, wrong spot because, from where I am, it is impossible to see anything but signs for Credit Suisse. So I walk another step and, behold: the clouds part, the single shaft of light shines forth and the sign appears: a front door with a none-too-subtle large gold (okay, extremely highly polished brass) sign above the door: “ELEVEN MADISON PARK.”

Oh.

We walk in (it’s a trifle before 5:30 which is a good thing since we’ll be spending four hours there) and are met by Ramsey who, it turns out, dealt with LDC over the telephone. There are already about half a dozen tables hard at it, not to mention the children’s birthday party in the private room upstairs with a glass wall so we can spy on each other. We chat with Ramsey for about five minutes covering everything from Chef Achatz’s imminent arrival in NYC for the 21st Century Limited collaboration to our experiences at Alinea to what’s in store this evening. He’s warm and friendly and puts us in a welcoming mode for our experience.

We’re seated by a young woman who turns out to be the only robot of the evening: precise, correct, exact, and with all the warmth and friendliness of an ice bath. Oh well.

Still, we’re seated by the Madison Avenue wall under thirty-foot high windows and, as the sun hasn’t quite set, the light is spectacular. (Nice help for the pics, too; sadly, the sun did eventually set and the very subdued lighting began to take its toll….)


The grid

Tucked discreetly under the napkin is the introduction: a large square card with four lines of four items each. Each line represents a course and you choose from four items. The intention, which I find pleasing, is that over the course of the tasting menu, they think you ought to have some input into what you’ll receive. Needless to say, dinner is much more than four courses. Between the amuse(s) and other selections made by the kitchen, we end up with fourteen courses. But your choices are entirely yours and set the parameters, in some ways, for what follows.

As it happens, we were extremely fortunate to have a special choice for the entrée (the third line): Muscovy duck. Much as we were tempted by the other choices, the LDC had read—and it made eminent sense—that if duck was offered, you get the duck. So we did.

THE MEAL

The theme for this iteration of the menu is New York City and, as you will see, many of the courses tie directly to culinary classics identified with the city. (The change, which some New Yorkers have said isn’t all that significant, was part of a larger series of changes that took effect after Labor Day.)


Welcome to Eleven Madison Park!


Black and white cookies (savory version)

The amuse comes boxed and wrapped in string like the gift that it is: two tiny black and white cookies. So how could it hurt that we had started the morning at Russ & Daughters and bought, among other goodies, an oversized black and white cookie? But this version is savory: black truffles and parmesan cheese. Now that is an appetizer! Not much to say or need be said. The conceit is clever and succeeds easily. A positively wonderful introduction, whimsy and humor being integral to much of what will follow.


Tomato gelee with tarragon and gooseberries

Aspic/gelee far too often is a setting. Literally. But this gelee had an intensity of flavor that zapped your palate and awakened any taste buds drowsed into submission by the opener. It maintained a powerful tomato-ey flavor without compromising on the acid. The tarragon complemented as expected and the gooseberries added both a terrific snap, a burst of sweetness, and a great match for the rest of the dish. I loved this dish and while I completely understand placing where it came in the order, it would have been possibly even more welcome later on. A gem of a dish.


Cucumber snow with lapsang souchang-infused broth and grape

Truth be told, I did not eagerly anticipate this; not a great cucumber fan, was unhappy with the cucumber at Paris 1906, and the notion of cucumber snow just didn’t do anything for me. All that said, this was truly lovely. The smokiness of the lapsang souchang came through and complemented the cucumber far better than I might have expected. The sweetness of the grape, too, worked surprisingly (to me) well and the whole dish had a depth of flavor that any less-than-perfectly-created “snow” can have. Unless there’s enough intensity in the flavor, you risk having a mouthful of snow melt and water everything down, diminishing the flavor and weakening the dish. Not so here: the freshness, the crispness, the flavor of cucumber came through and a course I figured I’d just have to suffer through turned out to be positively energizing.


Swiss chard “cracker” with eel and foie gras

Fine in its way but there simply wasn’t so much there. The eel was surprisingly subtle (almost said “bland” there for a sec). The foie and dehydrated Swiss chard just didn’t add much to the bite and so, all in all, a disappointment, at least for us.


Smoked sturgeon sabayon with chive oil

Ethereal…impossibly rich…no, unctuous…with perfect brunoise of sturgeon on the bottom. Just how rich and heavy (in the best possible way) this was is evidenced by the fact that the chive oil sank to the bottom, along with the fish. Superb.

Reeling from this dish and wondering what could possibly top it we came to what might just have been the hit of the evening. The server comes to the table and sets down a bell jar so filled with smoke it’s impossible to see a thing inside. He walks away, cautioning only: “Don’t touch a thing.” Minutes pass. Whole universes are born and die. The smoke very slowly condenses revealing…


Your sturgeon is smoking, sir

…a grill topped with four slices of sturgeon atop smoking applewood chips. Hmmm…a little reminiscent of, oh, never mind. But the course is another homage to New York City, so you get


“Everything bagel” crumble over lettuce with quail egg


House-made pickles


Caviar and cream cheese

...a crumbled sand of all the seeds and things you’d find on an “everything” bagel strewn over a tiny head of lettuce accompanied by a halved quail egg. The tin of caviar has been emptied and refilled with cream cheese and a thin layer of caviar laid carefully atop it. Spread the cream cheese and caviar, top with the smoked sturgeon and accompaniments of your choice (though pickles do seem odd to my way of thinking). Divine.



Bread service

One of the best breads we can recall having in a very long while. Our joint recollection is that it was a multigrain bread made like a croissant…buttery, rich, flaky, and warm. Cow’s milk and goat’s milk butters; sea salt. Our only regret: no other fresh breads were on offer and the restaurant seemed ever so slightly reluctant to refill our plates after we inhaled the first offering. Eventually, we were asked if we’d like more bread. Note to Eleven Madison Park: if anyone ever says “no,” you call me. I’ll fly back to have their bread.


Langoustine with fennel, sour cherries, and clam

This course exemplified one of our final thoughts on Eleven Madison Park. And the difference between the LDC and me. Beautiful presentation, superb execution, but—in the end—not as…challenging (it’s the best word we can find) as, say, Alinea. For those who aren’t entirely comfortable with some of the challenges that a course at Alinea might present, Eleven Madison Park is exactly what you’re looking for. For that reason, I think LDC loves it a trifle more and I love Alinea a trifle more. To the course: absolutely nothing to complain about. Beautifully cooked, wonderful accompaniments, lovingly plated and delicious to eat.


Seared foie gras with water chestnuts, dates, and sunchokes

I was somewhat taken aback, having chosen the foie, to be asked whether I preferred it to be served cold (as a torchon) or seared. But I happily chose the latter and loved what came. As noted in the immediately preceding paragraph, I didn’t find it as…challenging…as I might have liked, but would probably also concede that it may be the single best foie course I’ve ever had.


Heirloom carrots go tartare


Carrot tartare with rye bread and condiments

First, the presentation. Those of you who remember James Ward may recall that he rated restaurants according to “bread” (how was the food?) and “circuses” (everything else). Well, this course began with what Mr. Ward would have described as “circuses.” As presentations go, it was a lot of fun and informative. A white-coated sous chef came to the table, clamped on an old-fashioned meat grinder and walked away. Shortly thereafter, a server brought two large wooden boards topped with two small squeeze bottles and nine tiny saucers each containing a different condiment of some sort and a toast caddy with two slices of very thinly sliced rye bread melba toasts.

Five minutes later the sous chef returned grasping some large poached carrots by the scruff of the neck. She talked to us about heirloom carrots, the provenance of our course, and what was about to happen to the soon-to-be ex-carrots. Fascinating and inventive; maybe the most flavorful carrot we’ve ever eaten. But, in the end, we both found it just didn’t work for either of us. It seemed a little bit too contrived and nine condiments and two little squeeze bottles to “dress” the concoction are simply too much. You lose your way when there are that many things. And there isn’t enough carrot—or, perhaps, more accurately, enough time and inclination to sit there and play with all the various combinations that might work. I can easily see spending a good little while experimenting with the various items but there aren’t enough of any of them, unless you mix each little saucer with the relatively tiny amount of carrot not to overwhelm the condiment. So, I did what I suspect some (many?) diners do: I divided my carrot tartare in half, dressed one half with the carrot emulsion and one half with mustard oil and then divided each condiment in half and dumped half of all of them in each carrot pile. And so didn’t end up with much. Flavorful as the carrots themselves were, the course just didn’t do much for us. We enjoyed the theater more than the dish itself. There’s potential here, but as it stands the presentation demands too much of a diner who’s already six courses in and well past the shallow end. At that point, I can’t decide which combination of two sauces and nine condiments will work best with the carrots….


Poached lobster with escarole and almond

As I noted about the langoustine, there is nothing to quibble with about this course: top quality, beautifully cooked, wonderful accompaniments, lovingly plated and delicious to eat. Our question—and it’s intentionally phrased as a question, not a criticism—is, how is this in any way groundbreaking? There are certainly other, possibly a number of other, places to get lobster poached in butter. As superb as it is, why?


Poached tilefish with turnip, radish, and dill

For better or worse, my reaction to this was pretty much the same as the LDC’s reaction to the langoustine and the lobster: top quality, beautifully cooked, wonderful accompaniments, lovingly plated and delicious to eat. And yet, nothing about this course was unusual—not unusually creative or groundbreaking or unexpected.


Whole Muscovy duck breast stuffed with lavender

Muscovy duck roasted with lavender and honey, apple, and quinoa

Adam Smith wheeled a cart over to our table and introduced himself as a dining room manager. Then he introduced us to our duck, sporting a large spray of lavender. Again, warm and friendly and chatty, and he gave us a careful yet thorough explanation of what, how, and why; though Pete Wells (who apparently ate one lunch there) whined in the New York Times about the restaurant overdoing such explanations, to our minds, this was well worth it. We appreciated the full explanation and the chance to ask questions of someone who was with us for a while and clearly passionate about what he was doing. Our only dismay with this course was at the relative amount of “waste” represented by the carcass that gets carted away. (He explained that they tried using the rather substantial leftovers for stock, etc., and why that didn’t work out.)

With that as prelude, what remained is close to ducky perfection. (I reserve absolute ducky perfection for Paris 1906 which, to my mind, anyway, is virtually impossible to conceive ever being bested.) Cracklingly crisp skin, just enough fat to ensure very moist duck and plenty of flavor, and meat cooked to precisely the right point.



Greensward (picnic) with pretzel, mustard, craft beer, and cheese

As noted above, this iteration of the menu focuses on New York City and now a picnic in the park comes to the table, complete with a bottle of Picnic Basket Ale a pale wheat ale created for Eleven Madison Park by the Ithaca Beer Company. The picnic basket has a little checked cloth, cutlery, the wonderful bottle of ale, some lovely cheese (a locally made washed-rind cheese—washed with this same ale, of course—whose name escapes me but is reminiscent of brie), a killer soft pretzel, very tangy plum mustard, and crisp, cool, sweet red grapes. Lovely idea lovingly executed.


Egg cream with vanilla and seltzer

What is more quintessentially New York than an egg cream, especially one made at the table with an old-fashioned heavy glass seltzer bottle? Yummy and a nice break from the relentless march of food. Indeed, were sweetness not a (conceivable) issue, it would have been even better received a few courses earlier.

By now we’ve been here well over three hours and the experience, the excitement, the food, everything is starting to take its toll. So it was a surprise and a treat when a young man walked up, introduced himself as a maitre d’ and asked if we’d like to stretch our legs and see the kitchen. We considered and debated his kind proposition and, after an appropriate delay of three seconds, accepted his offer. Again, a warm, interesting guy and we had a very interesting talk about the restaurant, what they are doing and where they hope to be going.

No sooner do we arrive in the spotless, gleaming kitchen than the chef de cuisine greets us heartily and asks how we like the food. We allow as how we’re managing and looking forward to what is still to come. (On the fwiw front: we never saw Humm, either in the dining room or during our five-ten minute visit to the kitchen.) The kitchen puts me in mind of the kitchens at both Alinea and Moto for the age of the staff—not to mention the framed art and the mottos posted on the walls. Before we can even settle in, we hear a chef read a new order and the entire kitchen staff respond in unison—much like a football team in a huddle—“OUI!” This team shout occurs a few more times until I finally ask what it is and what it’s about. Every time a new order comes in, it’s called out and the team responds as one. It’s all about not only teamwork but enthusiasm, about “making it nice” (the phrase is emblazoned on a very large plaque and hangs prominently in the kitchen).

Then there’s the very large framed photo of a smiling (!) Miles Davis. More than mere art on the walls, it’s there for a special reason. It seems that in 2006, Moira Hodgson reviewed the restaurant for the New York Observer. She lauded the place highly but ended by repeating her companion’s suggestion that “the place needed a bit of Miles Davis.” (In fact, her very last sentence was downright prophetic: “But when word gets around about Daniel Humm, the only thing needed here is going to be hard to get: a reservation.”)

Thanks to the internet, we found this reaction from Will Guidara, the general manager: “’We had no idea what that meant,’” Guidara says, laughing, ‘but we started to listen to a lot of Miles and read about him.’ They made a list of words to define Davis’ music – “cool,” “collaborative,” “fresh,” “vibrant,” “spontaneous” – and hung them, along with a photograph of the musician, in the restaurant’s kitchen.” I had noticed the photograph and was taken with it simply as art, the more so since, as I commented, it’s one of the very few pictures ever taken of him where he’s unmistakably smiling—a lovely thing.



In the kitchen

But we were here for a reason beyond the opportunity to see the kitchen and the staff at work. We were here for another little amuse, prepared in front of us with liquid nitrogen. Truthfully, I can’t report in much detail because we were a little distracted. We’re trying to look at and take in the entire kitchen (video link to come), listen to the maitre d’, watch and listen to the sous chef making the drink. I remember that it involved pomegranate syrup, alcohol (gin?), and, um, some other stuff. That the liquid nitrogen froze the alcohol solid (thanks, Das!), providing that little “scoop” of pomegranate-flavored "ice cream" on top, and that the drink was yummy. Don’t ask me any more.


Fig glazed with orange, sage, and tapioca


Pistachio ice cream with grape, golden raisin, and sauternes


Goat cheese cheesecake with huckleberry and lime

A general summary of the desserts would say something like we enjoyed them all quite a bit. The presentations, as is obvious, were attractive, the flavors intense and fresh, and the courses well-composed with careful thought as to complementary flavors and textures. By this point, truth to tell, there’s a little palate fatigue. Each truly was a lovely rendition though none were exceptional or something you couldn’t find at comparable place.

We also received a couple of large chocolate-covered pretzels. I’m not a big fan of chocolate-covered pretzels. But this put them on a whole other plane. These I could happily munch on until I explode. The perfect illustration of how/why salt can enhance sweet.

And now we came full circle because, in a penultimate bow to New York City, we received a box identical to the one that opened the dinner. This time the black and white cookies are the sweet version. I need only say that they can mail me cookies like this any day they wish. They were superb. Not quite “authentic” in that their version is a sandwich cookie with what appeared to be a very thin sheet of apricot paste in between. But oh so delicious.

Okay. The last item—which I will purposely not describe—was very small. It is also a nod to New York’s history, this time: three-card monte and card sharps. It (the food item) was my least favorite item of the evening, but who cares? Others have written at varying lengths about the card trick that precedes this last item. It’s clever, it’s fun, and I disagree with the naysayers: relax and enjoy it. If you like what follows, so much the better. But even if you don’t, you’ll have had so much fun with the prelude that it won’t matter.

THE PAIRINGS
Below is a list of a pairings. I appreciated the sommelier’s knowledge and willingness to chat but have two complaints. The first is not specific to him but a problem all sommeliers everywhere have, I guess. At the outset, the room is quiet and they can stand and chat. As the tables and room fill up, they spend less and less time until they’re there for ten seconds to fill the latest glass, describe it in ten words or less, and depart for the next table. Not sure what can be done, but I hate it every time. Second complaint is specific to him: even though we may know something about wine and appreciate good things, we’re not all wine geeks. Drop the jargon and speak to me in English, please. Otherwise, I enjoyed the service. For the first time in quite a while, I can honestly say there wasn’t a clinker in the group. I enjoyed most quite a bit, some more than others. Of special note for me were the
muscadet with the sturgeon, Clos Basté with the foie (I could have had d’Yquem for a $50 upcharge but was curious to see what he’d offer instead), the riesling with the carrots, and the Bordeaux (note the year).

Sturgeon: Domaine de l’Ecu, Granite, Muscadet Sevre et Maine, Loire Valley 2010

Foie Gras: Philippe Mur, Clos Basté, Pacherenc du Vic Bihl, Southwest 2010

Carrot: Hermann Wiemer Riesling, Magdalena, Seneca Lake NY 2010

Tilefish: Pichler-Krutzler Gruner Veltliner, Klostersatz, Wachau 2011

Duck: Chateau L’Avangile, Pomerol 1982

Picnic: Ithaca Beer Company, Picnic Basket Ale, Ithaca NY

Pistachio dessert: Kiralyudvar, Lapis, 6 Puttonyos, Tokaji 2003

SOME THOUGHTS

As I alluded to at the outset, the LDC brought me to NYC and to Eleven Madison Park to celebrate a birthday. The house knew that. And unlike many places (who limit their enthusiasm to a printed wish on the “souvenir” menu), they went out of their way to acknowledge that. Not only was the sentiment enshrined on the menu, but there was a handwritten welcome and Happy Birthday” card waiting on the table. A number of staff wished me a happy birthday as well. But that was only a part of it. We walked away with hands filled with parting gifts—a deck of their own specially customized cards, a mason jar filled with granola, a stunner of a chocolate bar in its very own customized carrying case. Talk about leaving with a sweet taste in your mouth!

A comment on the staff. Golly: downright Midwestern in their approachability, warmth, friendliness, and knowledge. In the course of our four hours and probably a dozen different staff people, I think there was one person who was a cold fish. Service was, by and large, absolutely impeccable.

A misstep: the LDC does not drink alcohol and the sommelier mentioned their non-alcoholic drink list. She ordered a ginger concoction that she loved. It was never refilled and no one ever bothered to ask whether she’d like another. It sat there, ice melting, over the course of multiple hours.

A complaint: I know what a turn is and have a reasonably good notion of the economics involved in running a restaurant. So I know why you need to turn a table. But don’t rush me, dammit! As long as dinner was, longer would have been enormously appreciated. Serving ware for the next course routinely appeared literally seconds after the previous course was cleared and the next course always followed immediately. The chance to digest—both literally and figuratively—was missing. Your economics are your problem and you can solve them however you wish, so long as the solution doesn’t affect our dinner experience. We don’t like being rushed and this ultimately detracted some from our enjoyment.

An observation: if the staff wants a drink, why don’t they take it in the kitchen? LDC saw a young man in a tie standing next to a serving station pull a glass from a drawer, pour himself some wine from an open bottle, and down it. In the dining room.

PHILOSOPHICAL-TYPE RUMINATIONS

We have discussed our meal frequently and at some length. And needless to say, we’re agreed that we loved it. Comparing it with Alinea (inevitable for many reasons), we agreed that Alinea is more challenging and Eleven Madison Park is more straightforward, if those descriptors can be accepted at face value and without any suggestion that one is better than the other. It’s no wonder that they’re collaborating on the 21st Century Limited.

Sometimes, both the LDC and I have encountered a course at Alinea (or at an event where Chef Achatz is present) where our reaction has been, “I don’t get it.” “I don’t know what he’s trying to tell us, show us, accomplish.” And for that reason, we feel uninformed, left out. Which, of course, no one likes to feel. Let me be clear: we understand completely that that’s not what Chef Achatz is trying to do. We know that. But sometimes it happens. And that, in part, is what we mean by Alinea being more “challenging.” It’s a little easier to sit back and relax and enjoy Eleven Madison Park. You don’t have to “work” quite as hard, in a sense, as you do at Alinea.

Let me try this another way: my Dad is a meat-and-potatoes guy who, every once in a while, will surprise me. He’d be a little baffled at either Eleven Madison Park or Alinea, but at the end of the day, I think he’d find Eleven Madison Park more comprehensible, more recognizable, and more comfortable. Even though the courses are occasionally deconstructed, they are a bit more likely to be recognizable to him at Eleven Madison Park. The ingredients at Alinea also tend to be more off the beaten path; Humm’s genius, in part, is his ability to do marvelous things with more mainstream ingredients. Achatz is more experimental, more…curious? I suspect he has more toys in his office and his kitchen. This is not a knock on Humm. Merely a somewhat frustrating effort (because of my inarticulateness) to describe what we see as the differences.

Achatz is only two years older than Humm but he trained under Thomas Keller, a pretty inventive guy. I don’t know too much about Humm’s mentor, Gerard Rabaey. (He used to run a three-star restaurant in Montreux and, at least judging from a recent piece in the New Yorker had some, uh, quirks: he “rooted through the garbage to check for discard food” and had his chefs “standing on ladders to swab the corners of the ceilings with Q-tips” until three in the morning.). Maybe the difference is simply one of personality; maybe it’s a difference in approach and philosophy. I don’t know. Without knowing either of them personally, all we can do it guess. But the differences are undeniable.

THE SUMMATION, AT LAST

Daniel Humm and Will Guidara are enormously ambitious. They took over Eleven Madison Park (buying it from Danny Meyer after he refused to allow them to run a competing operation six minutes’ walk away) and raised it from #50 on the San Pellegrino “World’s 50 Best” list to #24 to, most recently, #10. There’s only one place to go. Meyer himself has said, “The ranking is very, very important to them.” They have cut costs ruthlessly (a necessary evil) while at the same time taking some pretty chutzpahdik (brash) moves, such as eliminating the $125 tasting and leaving diners a single option: the $195 tasting.

But in order to move up the list, a restaurant has to be more than just excellent and entertaining—it has to aim toward reinvention or groundbreaking cuisine (the current #1 is Noma; it displaced El Bulli). Was our dinner groundbreaking or thought-provoking? We don’t think so (carrot tartare notwithstanding). Did they take creative chances, put together flavors that worked in ways that you would never dream possible? Again, we don’t think so. But was it excellent and fun and worth the hassle of getting reservations and the expense? Absolutely.

New York has been getting a taste of Alinea this past week; those who have snagged places when Eleven Madison Park comes to Chicago are in for a treat, too. Humm is enormously talented. At 36, he’s still a youngster. It will be fascinating to see how he and Eleven Madison Park evolve. I only hope that our next trip to New York isn’t too far off and that when we return, we can manage to visit again.

"Epic" is over-used, but that's the word that comes to mind, and it applies to both the meal and your documentation of it, Dave. Like an epic, kind of confusing and exhausting, but many times beautiful and worth the effort. Sincere thanks for taking the time to let us have dinner with you and LDC.

Interesting that the maitre d' came out so late in the meal. Traditionally, this would be the guy at the front door, guiding you to your seat (instead of ice maiden), making you feel at home from the get-go.

David,
Thank you for your kind words.

Actually, from all I've read, the timing is deliberate (and they seem to have multiple folks with the same title, we noticed). The idea is specifically to interrupt the flow and get you moving again. Not coincidentally, it is also intended to speed you up a bit and out the door by "refreshing" you (see above, re "turn the table"). Apparently, a previous approach was to take you over to the bar for some cognac. I guess they decided (for whatever undocumented reason) that that strategy was not cost- (or otherwise-) effective.

Still, despite our issues, we had a grand time. And were treated absolutely wonderfully.

For those who didn't see it, the NYT has an interesting article about a change in philosophy here. No 25 course tastings any longer. They present an interesting case for changing their approach and the article lays it out nicely. But an equally interesting issue is that they're raising the price from $225 per guest to $295 per guest. The $70 hike represents tip but not tax. This does not, however, represent the 31% tip it appears to. At least according to Humm and Guidara. They explained that they figure it to be only (!) a 25% tip because most tables order drinks and once the cost of those is figured in, the average tip will "only" be 25%. Why a 25% tip? Because they want to give the kitchen staff a raise. So rather than do it the old-fashioned (hard) way and find ways to cut costs, Guidara has decided it is easier to just pass along the costs entirely to his customers. Leaving entirely aside the question of paying $400-500 for one diner, this strikes me as lazy, if not downright foolish. There is a plenty of pushback in the comments online but I doubt that the highly ambitious duo really cares. There are enough people in NYC able and willing to pony up, no matter what the price.

Gypsy Boy wrote:For those who didn't see it, the NYT has an [url=http://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/06/dining/eleven-madison-park-menu.html?action=click&pgtype=Homepage&version=Moth-Visible&moduleDetail=inside-nyt-region-2&module=inside-nyt-region®ion=inside-nyt-region&WT.nav=inside-nyt-region]interesting article[/url] about a change in philosophy here. No 25 course tastings any longer. They present an interesting case for changing their approach and the article lays it out nicely. But an equally interesting issue is that they're raising the price from $225 per guest to $295 per guest. The $70 hike represents tip but not tax. This does not, however, represent the 31% tip it appears to. At least according to Humm and Guidara. They explained that they figure it to be only (!) a 25% tip because most tables order drinks and once the cost of those is figured in, the average tip will "only" be 25%. Why a 25% tip? Because they want to give the kitchen staff a raise. So rather than do it the old-fashioned (hard) way and find ways to cut costs, Guidara has decided it is easier to just pass along the costs entirely to his customers. Leaving entirely aside the question of paying $400-500 for one diner, this strikes me as lazy, if not downright foolish. There is a plenty of pushback in the comments online but I doubt that the highly ambitious duo really cares. There are enough people in NYC able and willing to pony up, no matter what the price.

In fairness, I'm not sure why an incredibly high end and successful restaurant should aim to cut some costs simply because they decide to increase the wages of the kitchen staff. If people don't want to spend the increased fare, they don't have to (I'm sure most will pay). Kitchen staffs are horrifically underpaid, and cutting other costs would likely eat into the quality of the food offered, the ambience, the service or other aspects of EMP that make it the destination restaurant it is. Some restaurants that have gone to a flat fee (no tipping) end up taking the money out of servers' pockets. EMP obviously came to the conclusion that it wanted both an elite service staff and elite kitchen staff and did not want to detract from any part of the experience. I say kudos to them for their success and finding a way to employ the best kitchen staff.

A business raises employee salaries if/when profits are up. That's the old fashioned way.

Roger Ramjet wrote:A business raises employee salaries if/when profits are up. That's the old fashioned way.

Or when the government tells them they must.