Per Se New York

Back Story New York City Entry #56

Critics often make their reputations by cruelly trashing a beloved restaurant, forcing their readers to attend to a snarling nitpicker all too pleased to demolish received wisdom. These are rabid eaters: their foam is not on the plate. If such is a reputational ploy, it is strategy on which I must pass in assessing Per Se. I march in lockstep with their clients, confessing that my taste buds lack the wisdom of venom.

My dinner at Per Se was the best meal that I have yet eaten in this culinary capital. I will go one step further, before taking a step back. This was my first meal where all complaints deserve to be in small print. My caution is that should some culinary accountant ask me to compose the half dozen best dishes of my New York months, I doubt if any single dish would quite make that list. (Pace Jimmy Frey, I am fond of that petit-déjeuner in the Yountville slammer). After so many dinners that don't quite measure up, I face a challenge: should I dine promiscuously, tickled by Daniel, Alain, Jean-Georges, and their peers, or should I choose Per Se tomorrow, Thursday, Easter, and forever. Am I in love or is this passing fancy?

I cannot claim to have eaten at the French Laundry (Hell, I can claim it, but not with thesmokinggun.com dogging my blog). When my wife and I had a dinner in Napa a decade ago, we had a sterling meal at Mustards Grill (who knew our options?). My dining companions had eaten with Tom Keller at the FL several times. For me, dinner at Per Se was a revelation: the back story of molecular cuisine. Keller is the missing link, the evolutionary connection, between Chez Panisse and Alinea (as infused by Ferran Adria). Others who have followed Keller's career can speak to his chain of innovation from the mandate of localism. The small courses, flavor clashes, and deconstructed dishes that now terrorize diners when in the wrong hands were all in evidence. (The meal was foam-free.) The difference was confidence. Chef Keller and his Per Se Chef de Cuisine Jonathan Benno are not experimenting on their diners; failures are in the disposal, not on the tasting menu. The fact that this was the Chef's Tasting Menu, reconceived each market day, made its gaffe-free quality astonishing. Further, these cooks know how to build a dinner. They are slightly too generous on their plates, but the meal demonstrated a harmonious progression. Chefs Keller and Benno have an agile ability to judge tastes and textures. Perhaps more surprising was that in almost every dish one ingredient, seemingly a side one, grabbed center stage, and proved to belong.

The molecular chefs of today are Keller's children (or at least his nephews). Having eaten at Charlie Trotter, I had given more weight to the Chicagoan in creating a Cuisine Agape, but Keller demands his share, a share that I shall no longer deny him. To understand Grant Achatz's triumphs at Alinea is to realize his inspired union of Trotter and Keller, adding his own fixation on aroma and emotion.

Surely Per Se is among the loveliest and calmest spaces in this bustling town. Every touch - the woods, stone, glass - was exquisitely chosen: Subtle, handsome, sumptuous, and restful. One might say that at this price it had better be, but Alain Ducasse, despite its pleasures, seems a bit dowdy in contrast. Per Se stands apart from restaurants that strive to push as many customers together: the Grateful Dead assumption that if we can no longer breathe, we must be having fun. Per Se is luxuriously filled with clean, still, quiet air.

The staff, who famously are no longer cadging for tips, were as congenial and professional as could be. Had the coat checker not grabbed my fedora by its crown, I would have had no complaints. These men and women actually seemed happy serving at Per Se, an attitude that might suggest to natives that they are overpaid, but probably only means that the despite the location in the Time-Warner Center, Ted Turner's management style has yet to infect the fourth floor.

We selected the Chef's Tasting Menu: Nine courses composed daily, plus a few extras. A reader is immediately snowed by an avalanche of quotation marks. All but one dish had something in quotation marks, in some cases as many as four. We were told that quotes were used around foreign ingredients ("tomme de brebis") and to indicate irony ("macaroni n' cheese" - and, since we are in Lynne Truss territory, isn't it "macaroni ‘n' cheese"?). Our menu novelist embraces the Condiment Theory of Punctuation: sprinkle marks liberally to bring out the flavor of the text. And while I have your attention, must every ingredient have a provenance? (This meal is sponsored by Cowart, Hallow, Four Story, and Hope Farms, each raising memories of Orwell's Manor Farm). I shiver that soon diners may be forced to watch a procession of marketing videos before the bread arrives. Just emblazon the napkins and be done with it.

Dinner begin with an amuse: a black sesame tuile filled with raw salmon perched on creme fraiche. Such an opening was surprising in not shocking. It was a subtle transformation of bagels and lox: not New York Sunday morning, but modified through a Napa dawn. The black pepper tuile, with its thin cookie crunch, made the amuse delightful. It was just different enough to emphasize that the chef was carefully calibrating tastes and textures.

Our opening course was the Per Se classic: "Oysters and Pearls": "Sabayon" of Pearl Tapioca with Island Creek Oysters and Russian Sevruga Caviar. With overfishing and Red Tide, we better scarf while we can. One imagines a taste profile when considering oysters and caviar: cool, slick, and just a bit fishy. But Chef Keller transformed this duo into a symphony of butter. I was startled at its grandeur, and that this richness did not seem cloying. The pearl tapioca provided an inspired echo of the sevruga, while soaking the butter, ready to explode. This dish not only deserves its repute, but deserves its quotation marks and deserves the Champagne that our sommelier suggested.



As a second course Per Se offers a choice: a foie gras terrine ($30 supplement to a $210 meal) or for those delicate of culinary politics a Vidalia onion salad (for truly delicate flowers a vegetable tasting menu is offered). I selected the Moulard Duck "Terrine de Foie Gras," with Quince "Jam," Marcona Almond "Crumble," Flowering Quince Relish and Frisée Lettuce with Toasted "Brioche." If truth be told my choice was a ballot for quince, a fruit whose presence in the United States is a side-benefit of immigration reform. The terrine was smooth, but no better than any competent spread (and rather a lot of it). But the quince transformed the somewhat unctuous organ with its bouncy acidity. The true hero of the plate was the "Brioche" - a slide of brioche, an idealized version of Paris, Texas Toast. I was grateful that, having consumed much of my first plate of toast, a server appeared with a second order (now briefly held in my larder). In the corner of the plate were a constellation of the tiniest droplets of a balsamic vinegar. The image was fetching, permitting a few bites with this divine Italian molasses.



By the third course we were getting serious: Sautéed Fillet of Red Mullet (Rouget, a small redfish) with Lima Beans, Piquillo and Serrano Ham with Seville Orange-Roasted Garlic Emulsion. Such a dish pays tribute to (or perhaps inspired) the faddish trend of combining pork and fish: the oink ‘n' gill school of cuisine. The rouget was perfectly cooked. Not a moment overcooked, and the ham added a spicy note that the sweet fish lacked. Again the centerpiece was unexpected: lima beans. Lima beans are the Rodney Dangerfield of legumes, and until now, I felt such treatment was well-deserved. Chefs Keller and Benno upended my beanism. Lima beans with a crunch? Yikes! They were delicious and mediated between the rouget and serrano ham. The kitchen might have been more generous with the orange-garlic emulsion but given the spotty treatment of fish at some of New York's finest restaurants, I was enchanted.



"Macaroni ‘n' Cheese" with Nova Scotia Lobster "Cuit Sous Vide," Parmesan "Crisp," Creamy Lobster Broth and Mascarpone-Enriched Orzo could not have been richer, even had there been a last-minute infusion of Devon cream and a dab of schmaltz. I offer myself as a medical subject to test whether flavor is enhanced through a sous vide technique (a boil in the bag without the boil): would a blind tasting reveal a difference with lobster plunged in a Down East stock pot? However cooked, the homard gave its life for this cuit cuisine. The orzo when consumed separately was rich for my taste, but in the mix, it did just fine. The star of the plate was the "crisp": a cheesy chip of which one truly could not just eat one, except one was all we were offered. Sigh.



Our pair of meat dishes were rabbit and veal, selections somewhat lighter than usual, a match for a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape. The rabbit was "Rillettes" of Hallow Farm's Rabbit with a "Ragoût of French Green Lentils, Celery Branch, Black Winter Truffles and Glazed Chestnuts. Of our dishes, I found this the least compelling. Served as a large brown marble, it had the taste of winter, somber, dusky, woodsy, nutty, and closed in. It was the dark heart of January cuisine. This dish was of the earth, not the heavens. I treasured the chestnuts and respected the soupy memories provoked by the green lentils, but I was soon ready for the veal.



The veal, in contrast, flew by, no matter the cage in which its wrecked body may have been incarcerated. The menu describes this as Rib-Eye of Four Story Hill Farm's Nature Fed Veal with Black Trumpet Mushrooms, Thumbelina Carrots, Wilted Arrowleaf Spinach, and Red Pearl Potatoes with Veal "Jus." What the politics of "nature fed" might be the menu did not explain. Could it mean that Story Hill farmers did not feed the calf, an inspired marriage of cost-cutting and moralizing? (Soon to be the GOP child welfare policy.) Whatever. The upshot is that ‘ittle veal never became big ol' moo cow. Despite my speculations on the lifeworld of calves, I chose not to imagine wilted spinach, although I did glance down to see if mold was advertised. Despite my menu deconstruction, I enjoyed the large portion of veal, so much lighter than the rabbit. However, it was the trumpet mushrooms (black Chanterelles) that made this a treat for a winter night. Sometimes Per Se's dishes skirt the edge of complexity, but this was a simple, elegant preparation. Ignoring the adjectival arms race, the pinnacle of this dinner was simple veal, cooked in its own juices, with accompanying carrots, potatoes, mushrooms, and spinach. This is a canonical caress of perfect ingredients.



Feeling that we might be a bit peckish at this point, cheese was on the agenda: Hope Farm's "Tomme de Brebis" with Corn Bread, "Julienne" of Granny Smith Apple and Bourbon-Maple Apple Butter. Tomme de Brebis is an Auvergne sheep milk cheese. One of my dining companions recalled it as a semi-soft cheese, but this was made of firmer stuff, a slightly sharp-sweet cheese, but one that was upstaged by the splendid apple butter, slightly liquored up and waiting for the sap to run. It was a lovely mix with the corn bread, the apple, and the cheese, permitting us to choose how to mix these options. Like the veal, this was a fundamentally simple dish, but one that deserved its placement on the menu.

Our first dessert was Hayden Mango Sorbet with Braised Pineapple, Black Sesame "Nougatine" and Passion Fruit Syrup. While my sorbet was pungent and intense, it had a few stray bits of ice. But what amazed more than the sorbet was the strip of braised pineapple, looking all the word like a strip of fruity hamachi. One edge must have been dipped in a syrup (perhaps the above named passion fruit syrup). It was opulent and lush, and captured our hearts. A third in a sequence of simple tributes to excellence.

Although the final dish on the Chef's Tasting Menu was a deconstructed version of "S'mores", I requested a chocolate-free closer: Sweet Garden Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Icing, Candied Walnut "Crust," Black Raisin "Coulis" and Indonesian Cinnamon Ice Cream. With all those quotations, one knows that this too was an exercise in literary theory. It was once said that in contrast to cooks, bakers were chemists, today they are English majors. My wife makes a Platonic carrot cake, filled with rough-cut carrots and nuts, and I remain loyal to her inspirations. These cake bites were carrot flour and air, not farmstead sweets. Still, if one didn't mind eating a bite of this and a bite of that, this was a canny and sensuous dessert. (Per Se's pastry chef is Sébastien Rouxel). It reminded me of Sam Mason's desserts, more of what the best young pastry chefs do in their sleep. I was breathless at the microscopic carrot off to the corner, a mini-micro carrot cooked in orange juice, a lilliputian lagniappe placed as if to announce that "we will do anything to amaze."

The final extra (before the mignardises) was a yogurt pot-de-creme with Quince Marmalade. I have admitted my partiality for quince, admitting it to our server, and I wondered whether the kitchen made this smooth treat for "me" (quotations intended).

Being a French Laundry virgin (and a virgin at Bouchon and Bouchon Las Vegas, TK's Nevada food-porn palace), I can't claim experience in affairs de Keller. However, every life must have its start. What amazed me was less the treatment of the main ingredient, but the preparation of those that surrounded it. When I recall this meal, it will be through visions of quince, chestnuts, lima beans, Parmesan crisps, pineapple, and toast and butter. At the great restaurants, it is not doing the big things right, but doing the tiniest things astonishingly: a carrot that belongs in the halls of Ripley's Believe it or Not.

Per Se
10 Columbus Circle (at 60th Street and 8th Avenue, 4th Floor)
Manhattan (Time-Warner Center)
212-823-9335

http://www.vealcheeks.blogspot.com

Per Se Redux New York City Entry #99

Perhaps the most sincere compliment I can pay Per Se is that I didn't much care for the "Ravigote" Dressing on the White Asparagus.

Earlier I decided not to re-review restaurants (WD-50 has been the sole exception), and did not bring a camera.

Lunch at Per Se is very much like - indeed, precisely like - dinner with the same menus at the same price (a three hour lollapalooza): it is the perfect dinner for those who recent arrivals afraid of the effects of a jetlagged evening.

My compliment is not a back-handed one - Jonathan Benno's other preparations were within hailing distance of perfection. But this sauce, supposedly Velouté with shallots, chives, and tarragon, tasted like an uptown version of a mayonnaise blanketing macaroni salad. The accompaniment, a sunny-side up quail egg in a toasted brioche ring ("Toad in the Hole"), was unpolluted by its partner, and was enchanting.

Given this was lunch, my companion and I selected the "Tasting of Vegetables" (although fruits and vegetables would have been more precise), believing that a lightness of spirit suited the noon hour. As I was forcibly reminded at my last meal at Trotter's, an inspired chef sees vegetables as an opportunity, not a constraint.

I shall contain my euphoric waxing, only noting that if my finest New York meal was at Per Se, my second finest New York meal was at Per Se as well. And I won't tolerate debate over which was which. The service left no cause for complaint.

A brief recap:

Amuse: Black pepper tuile with tomato confit over eggplant caviar. Each element blended superbly and each had a sparkling, noticeable herbal ingredient. Perhaps the first bite of the tuile suggested that the cookie might soon become moist, but beyond that bite the tuile was suitably crisp.

First: Chilled Yellow Pepper Soup with Roasted Sweet Peppers, Niçoise Olives and Rosemary-Infused Extra Virgin Olive Oil. A luminous golden soup with a scoop of peppers and olives as a mix-in. A transcendent soup that combined a sweetness with an herbal twang.

Second: "Dégustation" of Early Summer Melons with Tahitian Vanilla Bean-Scented Fennel Bulb, Sauternes "Gelée" and "Fines Herbes." (Note the quotation marks). The most beautiful dish in the galaxy! What produce and what subtle transformations! Watermelon, honeydew, and some melons whose names were unfamilar. What might Benno do to durian? Perhaps someday we shall learn the answer from a chef who treats aroma as a key to dining.

Third: "Toad in Hole" with Sunny-Side Up Quail Egg, Toasted "Brioche", Garden Mâche, Braised Holland White Asparaus and "Ravigote" Dressing. (Note, again, the quotation marks). As described.

Fourth: "Confit" of New Crop Potatoes with Pickled Pearl Onion Shoots, Garlic Scrapes, Ramps, and Red Onion "Gastrique." Chef, let's kill the "quotation marks." What might Lynne Truss say as we eat shoots and leaves? Yet, not a wasted punctuation mark was to be found on the plate, a display of root vegetables that harkened back to the melon artistry. Perhaps garlic "scrapes" are a bit "precious;" sure am good, though.

Fifth: "Risi e Bisi" with "Carnaroli Risotto Biologico", Sugar Snap Peas, Pea Tendrils and "Parmigiano Reggiano." I'm beaten into submission. (Note to TK: commas in the U.S. are placed inside quotation marks.) Sprinkle your menu with marks, just keep the rice and peas perfect. This sinuous, silky risotto was unworldly. Never stop.

Sixth: Forest Mushroom "Crêpe" with Herb Roasted Hen-of-the-Woods Mushroom and Field Mizuna with Madeira Cream Sauce. Actually a pair of crepes but who is counting? And why so casual with Hen-of-the-Woods, what about "Grifola frondosa" or at least Maitake? Another splendid dish. Which comes first the dense pasta or the crisp fungus? I give credit to the Madeira. This is a dish that is so robust that one believes that Maitake is the other white meat.

Seventh: "Crozier Blue" with Celery Branch, Kumquat "Confiture", (sigh), Tellicherry Pepper Shortbread, Cutting Celery and Balsamic Glaze. The cheese on its shortbread was as pungent and as fungal as the Hen-of-the-Woods, but what amazed was the array of celery and kumquat. A remarkable offering.

Eighth: "Vitre Glacée" with Napa Valley White Verjus "Ice", Red Verjus "Foam", Muscat Grapes and Raisin "Purée." This lovely dessert consisted of a slanting sheet of white verjus ice, just thin enough that it broke with the touch of spoon and melted on the tongue. Below was as spicy and luscious a pool of grape liquid as might be found this side of Napa.

Ninth: I chose to replace the "Black Forest" dessert (six quotation marks for those counting) with a Banana Pepper Tuile with Raspberries, Blackberries, and Berry Sorbet. This dish echoed the elegance of the melon and root vegetables. A tuile for all jobs.

Tenth (a lagniappe): Peach Panna Cotta and Vanilla Bean Creme Brulée, the former a stunning rendition of peaches and cream; the latter shaming the many pretenders whose sugar does not snap, crackle or pop.

What can one say to a restaurant whose greatest need is a proofreader? How about: try me.

Per Se
10 Columbus Circle (Time Warner Building)
Manhattan (Columbus Circle)
212-823-9335

http://www.vealcheeks.blogspot.com

Ah, through my inexpert searching, I placed my recollection of Per Se in this thread instead. Perhaps it ought to be moved?

http://lthforum.com/bb/viewtopic.php?t=1306&highlight=

FWIW, the Singapore-based blogger, Chubby Hubby, just posted a report on his recent dinner at Per Se, and it includes some absolutely stunning photography.

http://chubbyhubby.net/blog/per-se-new-york-city/

E.M.

If you're a food photographer of any ability, you'll love Per Se - each seating has a special spotlight to highlight the dishes. I suppose for those who go without a camera, it's really for appreciating the food.

Last week, after four years in New York, I finally visited Per Se. It has taken me several days to process the evening in a way that I coherently can express my impressions, and impressions are all I plan to share, as GAF, kiplog and others have done the heavy lifting in their excellent posts above.

There were some incredible highs-- the amuse bouche of salmon tartare and creme fraiche in a black sesame "ice cream cone." A simple salad with tiny tomatoes so intensely flavorful they evoked childhood memories of our summer garden. The butter-poached lobster-- words can't do justice to that deliciousness.

Oh, and the wine! "Pairing" doesn't begin to describe what Justin, the sommelier, put together for us. The genius of his suggestions repeatedly showed itself in the manner every glass, half bottle or bottle would play spectacularly off the different dishes, yet elevate each one in its own way.

And, there were some lows. Unfortunately, one pretty inexcusable one. Salt. Several dishes were remarkably salty. Little crisps, served with the aforementioned salad, were nearly inedible for their saltiness. The sauce on one of the later dishes (can't remember which) was unpleasantly oversalted. Otherwise delicious brioche, served with the foie gras course, were covered in large salt crystals. Both unsalted and salted butter were served; the salted version was much saltier than any butter I've ever tasted.

Also, other than the brioche and some lovely little Parker House rolls, the bread service was disappointing for a restaurant of this caliber. A selection of tough little rolls were served unwarmed.

Another inexplicable fail was the halibut. The square of fish was overcooked to dryness. When my companion and I pointed this out to our server, she shrugged us off with, "Well, that's how the chef intends it." I bet it is.

One other point. The two meat courses, squab and beef, were both prepared sous vide. That's French for "Seal-A-Meal." While this method produces a silky, tender product, it breaks down the native texture of the meat. I'll bet you that, blindfolded, you could not distinguish between the two dishes. Somehow, I can't believe the chef intended that, too.

And then, the dessert. Utterly forgettable. "Raspberries and Oats" was an ordinary cassis granite and some sweetened, rolled oats with Greek yogurt. Really? A nondescript layer cake was dry. We each took a bite and left the rest. Granted, we were pretty full, but there's always room for a delicious dessert. These? Not so much. It's almost as if they imported the desserts from another restaurant.

Last impressions. Other than the high points I mentioned, there was little warmth in the food or its presentation. That was supplied by the cordial and extremely capable staff. The food itself reminded us of an edible art project designed, not so much for the enjoyment of the diners as it is a tour de force of the chef's skill.

Almost anything can be made to taste good with that much butter, cream, salt and reduced sauces, but your body pays for it afterwards. The next day, I felt logy, hung over from the food. Oh, and you pay at the time you eat it, too. The bill was just a little over $1100. I walked away (clutching a gift bag of delicious candies and truffles) feeling like we had just eaten a $600 dinner plus a $500 surcharge for the rent at that gilded location.

All in all, Per Se is an unforgettable dining experience-- overwhelming to the senses, mostly quite delicious, and one to which I probably won't return, unless someone else is buying, or until I've first visited Daniel and Le Bernardin, which are next on my list.

Strange story about the halibut. At a Danny Meyer restaurant that would never have happened. Even if it were how the chef intended, the staff would have made it right. Indeed, I was served a piece of fish at Trotter's that was slightly overcooked; after a server asked how the dish was, they were all over themselves to make it right. I imagine that if Tom Keller, who is a perfectionist himself, learns of the "halibut incident," there will be a stern staff meeting.

We were surprised to be able to even get a table at Per Se…the more so since we did it via Open Table. Our choice—though we were, of course, happy to get it—was 5:30 pm. Or 5:30 pm. Which is when the restaurant opens. So there we were at 5:30 pm last Thursday evening.

More than most places, the interplay of service and food made this a fascinating experience. In a nutshell, the food was excellent—if ultimately a little disappointing, as I’ll explain—and the service started off cold and distant, warmed to friendly and chatty, and suddenly turned cold and distant again. All in all, an extraordinary evening, but we’re not particularly eager to return.

The restaurant is on the fourth floor of the Time Warner building at Columbus Circle, a mall, albeit a high-end one. The fourth floor is devoted exclusively to restaurants including Masa, among others. There is a Bouchon Bakery on the third floor. Per Se occupies one side of the fourth floor and, as the first photo suggests, the world changes after you enter.


Entrance

There is a very small “lounge” with a handful of tables and chairs outside the formal entrance and, since ours was the first seating, we (and others) were asked to wait in the lounge until the restaurant opened at precisely 5:30 pm. You enter past a line of uniformed, polished staff all smiles and greetings, traverse the length of the bar, and enter the restaurant proper. The front wall of the restaurant is floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Columbus Circle and the southwest corner of Central Park.


View of Columbus Circle and Central Park

Altogether a lovely view. In the main room, which is not especially large, there is a stepped-up level, where we were seated, and the main level proper. Designing it this way allows for more people to enjoy the wonderful views. (A couple notes on the photos that follow. In each case, I have presented the photo from LDC’s course first, following by the photo for my course. In a few instances that I believe will be self-evident, some courses had accompaniments. The descriptions in caps and the words immediately following them are taken word-for-word from the menus.)


Gougere (amuse #1)


Cornet with Salmon tartare (amuse #2)

The LDC received a raspberry cornet since hers was the vegetarian tasting. No pic.


MATSUTAKE MUSHROOM BOUILLON
Dashi “noodles,” Sunchoke Custard and Split Chives


OYSTERS AND PEARLS
“Sabayon” of Pearl Tapioca with Peter’s Point Oysters
and Sterling White Sturgeon Caviar

Through the course of the evening, most of our courses were presented or described by the same two individuals. Although I don’t think that the Lovely Dining Companion and I are a particularly chatty pair of diners, we do like to have some conversation with the people who will be serving us and we prefer conversation to being served by silent, detached, individuals. As a result, we were a little concerned at first by the demeanor of the woman who “welcomed” us and gave us menus to help us choose between the Chef’s Tasting and the Tasting of Vegetables. At this point and for the first course or two as well, she was perfectly, almost robotically, “correct.” There was no warmth, no friendliness, no real humanity at all. We certainly did not feel welcome or that she even cared whether we existed. The other woman who most frequently served or introduced the various courses was likewise distant and correct, not particularly friendly at first.

(Speaking of service, this is probably where I should note that I asked to speak to the sommelier. Pairings were not offered, so far as I could tell, but that was fine since I would have declined them anyway. Too much wine for me. Instead, I chose an approach that has worked well for me many times: two carefully chosen glasses for the dinner. I got Michel Couvreux, the head sommelier. I can't recall the last time a sommelier was so little help. At that hour, the restaurant wasn't even half full and I can't imagine what was so critical that he couldn't be bothered spend more than a minute or two—tops—at the table or offer any useful advice. I wanted to discuss my preferences and the courses and he couldn't have been less interested. He pointed out a couple of whites and a couple of reds that would work and basically left me to my own devices. He offered no advice whatsoever, no guidance, and contented himself with merely pointing out a couple possibilities. For what little it may be worth, the wines I had were a Domaine Alain Chavy, Puligny-Montrachet 2013 to start followed by Château Bélair, Saint-Émilion Grand Cru 2005. Both very good but I'm not convinced I couldn't have found better pairings, especially for the red, given this menu. A serious disappointment.)


ZA’ATAR CRUSTED CELERY BRANCH
Compressed Cucumbers, Medjool Dates
and Buttermilk Whey “Nuage”


HUDSON VALLEY MOULARD DUCK FOIE GRAS
Ruby Beets, Pearson Farm’s Pecans, Fuji Apples,
Heirloom Sorrel and Balsamic Vinegar

Accompaniments for the foie gras:

Salts: Jurassic (from copper mines in Montana); Maldon; two from Brittany; two from Hawaii (starting from about 11 o’clock)


Brioche

I understand that there may be diners who prefer this approach but I’m a bit disappointed when I have to make the effort to pierce the shell, to discover the human beneath the formal exterior. Both LDC and I worked at it, though, and by the third course or so, found the two women to be both willing to be friendly, warm, and chatty. It made for a much more relaxed and enjoyable dinner to feel like we were somewhere we were welcome instead of a place where we were faceless diners to be beautifully treated then led out the door before our coach turned to a pumpkin.

The food: the LDC chose the vegetarian tasting and I had the Chef’s Tasting. We both had the same general reaction, though I enjoyed my courses more than the LDC. It would be hard to fault the food: execution, presentation, taste were all wonderful…exemplary even. Except for this: nothing was remarkable, nothing was so stellar, hit so high a note that we’d consider it memorable. Likewise, nothing was such a miss, so ill-conceived or ill-done as to remember it with a shudder, either. Part of our disappointment related to the fact that few courses on either menu struck us as unusually creative or inventive. And we recognize that maybe our expectations were too high. It’s hard to read the menu, the list of ingredients, see the result, taste the food, and kvetch. And yet. There can be no complaints whatsoever about the quality of ingredients. Or about portion size. Or about taste. Our dismay falls more under the heading of that terribly un-useful heading: creativity. Take the LDC’s pasta course. Or my lamb course. Delicious, both. Beautifully done but nothing “outside the box.” At the end of the night, a basic pasta course and a lamb course.

I fear I am not doing a particularly good job of conveying precisely why we were both disappointed but I think the disappointment is coming through.

(FWIW: if you insist, I will pick two things that were the best of the evening for me. The salmon tartare amuse and the foie gras course. LDC selects the gougere and the squash blossom “tamale.” I can’t help but wonder when each of us selects an amuse as one of the favorite courses of the evening. And, endorsing what someone once said in a thread I can no longer remember, I’d be thrilled if someone would remove the quotes key from every restaurant’s keyboard.)


“YORKSHIRE PUDDING”
Melted Savoy Cabbage, Oregon Huckleberries
Ruby Beets and Horseradish Crème Fraiche


“CONFIT” FILLET OF TASMANIAN SEA TROUT
Tuscan Kale, Whole Grain Mustard,
Petite Radishes and Hen Egg Puree


“POMMES DAUPHINE”
Sunny Side Up Hen Egg, Romaine Lettuce Ribs
and “Sauce Lyonnaise”


CHARCOAL GRILLED PACIFIC ABALONE
Porcini Mushroom “Pierogi,” Romaine Lettuce, Celery Branch
Horseradish Root and “Vin Jaune” Emulsion


SQUASH BLOSSOM “TAMALE”
Porcini Mushrooms, Corn Kernels, Spanish Capers
and Pine Nut Chutney


WOLFE RANCH BOBWHITE QUAIL BREAST
Baked Cranberry Beans, Heirloom Tomatoes, Crispy Shallots
Whipped “Ranch” and Blackstrap Molasses Jus


Cassoulet with “ranch” dressing
(which included all of the ingredients listed above)

We have discussed our evening at length since that evening and are unable to come an explanation we’re both happy with. Maybe it boils down to what kind of experience you prefer. What I mean by that is that some people prefer a dinner like this with every course beautifully done and the entire experience striking a uniformly high note. Others, like the LDC and I, prefer more swinging for the fences, realizing that that means that there will be some misses, but also that the home runs will be extraordinary. They’re both perfectly valid approaches, of course; neither is “better” or even preferable—unless you’re of one style and your dinner is of the other.

But perhaps that helps explain why it was so disappointing for the LDC to be served a course in which the matsutake bouillon was the centerpiece of the course. A simple matsutake bouillon. It had little nuance or depth, and worst of all, was served lukewarm. Needless to say, there was nothing about the course that sang. (Reminds me of a course at the late L2O where we had what Laurent Gras called kaiseki in one of the tatami rooms. One of the courses was dashi. No adornments at all. Dashi. As I wrote at the time—here, starting in the fourth paragraph—dashi is an ingredient, not a course. I’m not suggesting the situation is the same since bouillon is, indeed, served as a “course” many places, but we certainly didn’t expect bouillon, no matter how gussied up it was, at Per Se.)


Bread service
From left: baguette, sourdough, whole grain, pretzel bread.

We thought that the bread service was a sadly missed opportunity; the bread was as beautiful as it was disappointing. As you can see from the picture, someone came out with large-ish tray of four kinds of bread. All freshly baked. And all room temperature at best. What an absolute pity. Good as the breads were—we both tried a bit of all of them—every single one of them would have been enhanced, and would have enhanced the meal, had they been warm or better still, fresh from the oven. And that leads me to ask: why did they come once and then effectively disappear for the rest of the night? One visit over the course of a three-plus hour dinner? We finally gave up and asked for a second visit. Finally, speaking of bread service, early on in the meal we were brought the house version of Parker House rolls (and, in fact, they were specifically identified as “Parker House” rolls). Fresh? Without a doubt. Sad, inexpert versions of the real thing? Also without a doubt. If you’re going to recreate a classic and use the name of the classic, you’d better succeed beyond a doubt. These simply weren’t any better than okay (though these, in fact, were warmish).


CRANBERRY BEAN & BASIL ANOLINI
Romano Beans, Sweet Carrots, Gold Bar Squash,
“Minestrone” Sauce and “Olio Verde”


ELYSIAN FIELDS FARM’S LAMB SADDLE
Garnet Yam “Dauphine,” Chanterelle Mushrooms
Sicilian Pistachios and Oregon Huckleberries


“PB&J”
“Bleu d’Auvergne”
Virginia Peanuts, Thompson Grapes
and Black Truffle Puree


VON TRAPP BROTHERS’ “OMA”
Hobbs Shore’s Bacon, Ale Braised Savoy Cabbage
Brussels Sprouts and Pickled Sweet Carrots

Which leaves the service. As I said above, our servers started out perfectly correct and completely detached. No humanity, no warmth, and o we made a concerted effort to engage our servers, to ask questions, to talk about related and unrelated things, to chat. It worked. Both our servers warmed up and we had a lovely time for most of the meal. They laughed and conversed, joked and became real people, not automatons. Indeed, we had several longish chats that offered some fascinating insights into the experience of working at Per Se, a behind-the-scenes take on things. They knew their ingredients and preparations inside out. Their attentiveness could be extraordinary: I had taken but a single bite of my brioche, which I was rationing out to accompany my foie. I hadn’t even had the chance to take a second bite when the first brioche was whisked away, replaced by a fresh, new brioche. (If you take that much care with the brioche, why are your other breads not deserving of that treatment?) Or the following, in our experience remarkable, example of thoughtfulness. LDC didn’t particularly care for her dessert. It happens. It was disappointing but it’s no one’s fault and we didn’t think much of it. But our primary server saw that the LDC had quickly abandoned her dessert and inquired. She was very mildly insistent, wanting to know if it was a matter of LDC being too full or simply not liking what was on her plate. Finally, LDC acknowledged that it wasn’t to her taste. The server insisted that the kitchen be allowed to present something else. She went back to the kitchen and returned with a dish of sorbet and fresh fruit. Not exciting, perhaps, but what a remarkably thoughtful gesture.

---pause---


Startin’ young!

We were quite apprehensive when he walked in with his parents. Truth be told he behaved impeccably. We heard not a peep out of him for about two hours. Then, time and boredom must have finally gotten to him (no blame to him; who could have expected he'd be so perfectly behaved for so long!) and he yelped loudly several times. We expected one parent to take him out for a little but, to our surprise, both parents scooped him up and left the restaurant. We felt bad for them (we heard them say they were celebrating an anniversary) but the kid was an absolute trouper.

---/pause---

Then, as if someone flipped a switch, at the very end of the meal we were back to square one. We had finished our desserts and espresso. It was almost as if someone looked at a clock, realized that the table was needed, and so dropped off the check and the mignardises almost without a word, mechanically. Without the least indication that the prior few hours had even happened. We weren’t asked how our evening was, whether we enjoyed the meal, or anything else. After a couple hours of warmth and friendly conversation, we felt as if we were being pushed out the door—gently, to be sure, but pushed nonetheless. The only comments we heard about the evening came from the front desk as we were handed our coats and our “parting gifts”—two small tins of cookies and a fancy 50-page printed brochure describing many of their "Purveyors." (Yes, I am well aware that it is often the practice to drop off the check quietly and without intruding on the table’s conversation. I guess you’ll just have to accept the fact in this case that both the LDC and I, who often differ on our impressions of things like this, received the identical impression that something was “wrong,” that something had happened to shut down the previously highly interactive nature of the evening.)


Compressed apple with yuzu glaze


Ginger beer granite


LDC’s dessert 1 (sorry, no notes and no listing on the menu)


My dessert 1 (ditto)


Box of chocolates

Each one made in house; each one unique. The poor server who brought this has to memorize each individual chocolate and explain what’s inside—in detail. Fascinating presentation and superb chocolates.


Mignardises

We’re left with a fairly confused sense of the evening: excellent, if not stellar or particularly creative, food. A staff capable of superb service but whose behavior was largely inexplicable to us. A sommelier who couldn't be bothered to do his job. Wonderful bread served without being showcased as it deserved. A very pricey experience. (For those who are interested: $310 each plus a $40 upcharge for the foie plus $69 for two glasses of wine plus tax came to just shy of $800 for the evening.) All in all, especially—but not only—considering price, I don’t think we’d return. And perhaps, in a more useful indication of our overall impression: if we had friends in New York who insisted on taking there next time we visit (we should be so lucky!), we’d almost certainly ask if they were interested in treating us to dinner somewhere else.

Gypsy Boy,

Did this meal feel connected through the courses? While I ooh and ahhh over the pics and titles of the courses they feel disjointed in my mind's eye.

A very good question, actually. I've thought about it a bit and I think the answer for me is "not particularly." (LDC answered immediately: no.) Or perhaps more accurately, no more so than anywhere else on that level. I don't tend to find a lot of connection, generally, and so I guess I don't really tend to look for it and so therefore don't tend to miss it, either. But a good, thoughtful question. Thanks.

I love a little bit of everything but with this many courses I would like some "flow"/connectedness. Even when hosting I sometimes struggle to achieve that connectedness although I suspect "good/great" food is always a way to connect.

Understood and, I think, a great thing to strive for. My experience is that finding it when dining out these days is pretty rare. I can't think of many instances when we've run into that kind of approach. Instead, it seems like the focus is on each dish; there can't be any question that the attention paid to creation, composition, execution, presentation is at a pretty high level uniformly. But it seems more a focus on the trees, not the forest. I'd be curious to know where you've found places in Chicago that you think take that kind of approach.

Gypsy Boy wrote:Understood and, I think, a great thing to strive for. My experience is that finding it when dining out these days is pretty rare. I can't think of many instances when we've run into that kind of approach. Instead, it seems like the focus is on each dish; there can't be any question that the attention paid to creation, composition, execution, presentation is at a pretty high level uniformly. But it seems more a focus on the trees, not the forest. I'd be curious to know where you've found places in Chicago that you think take that kind of approach.

I am not certain that I have. DH isn't big on fine dining but in viewing your pics it just struck me. Perhaps I just didn't notice the lack of connectivity before, although I suspect I may notice it going forward.--LLAP

Guess we aren't the only ones less than enthralled with things at Per Se. While it's always nice to find confirmation of one's opinions and overall feeling about a place, I can't help be anything but sad about this. For those who don't follow the link, Pete Wells just re-reviewed Per Se and found enough problems to drop them from four stars to two.

Hey, Gypsy Boy, did it really taste like bong water?

[Long inhale] Well, man, it was like, so... [long pause] ...so, um... [longer pause] [long exhale] ... so ... so totally... [long pause]

Like ... what was the question?