I had dinner at Moto last night, and it was a splendid experience. I will note, for those who haven’t been there before, that its Fulton Market location is a bit of a surprise the first time you see it: loading docks, trucks, warehouses, and then a restaurant pops into view—though the restaurant one sees is probably just past Moto, which keeps a lower profile. But the valet shared by the two restaurants has clearly become used to this, and will approach, flagging you, to find out where you want to go. After he takes your car, you approach the glass doors at 945 and enter the chic, narrow, cleanly designed space that is Moto.
Having worried about traffic (I was coming from the suburbs and have gotten trapped before), I actually arrived 50 minutes early, so I sat at the minimalist bar, with its hidden liquor, and ordered a delightfully refreshing white peach sangria. Sure, it’s a girly drink, but I’m a girl, so it’s okay. The sangria was mighty tasty and garnished with wine-soaked chunks of donut peaches (or Saturn peaches, if you prefer), which are just about my favorite fruit in the universe, so I was quite happy. Things were a bit slow, so I was able to chat with the charming staff, including bartender Mike Ryan, who had invented the drink I was enjoying. (Another staff member quickly mentioned that Mike had appeared in a
NYTimes article about the resatuarant, which I checked out when I got home.) I did learn that Mike is not a permanent bartender, but that everyone is a cook and they just cycle through the jobs, to keep everyone thinking. He added that working at Moto was the best job he’d ever had. Though he was the only one to speak these words to me, I had the feeling by the end of the evening that everyone else felt pretty much the same.
When my friends arrived, we were shown to our seats and were presented with the menu, which doubled as an amuse bouche. I’ve heard much talk about the edible menu, and I’m guessing Chef Cantu has worked on it, because ours was quite tasty, though it was particularly nice paired with the intensely flavored, garam-masala spiced lentils that came with it. This was paired with a cucumber consommé with pepper and a touch of yogurt. I hadn’t even started the meal, and I was already delighted. The mind games had begun.
The first course of our ten-course meal (you can choose 5, 10, or the Grand Tasting, which ranges from 16 to 20 courses) was Vietnamese hot and sour soup. This was tasty, with a nice bite, a back-note of fish sauce, and flavorful micro-greens, but here, it was the gee-whiz factor that was the star. The hot base broth is brought out in white porcelain bowls, then the greens and “egg drops” are introduced, a ladleful at a time, from a small copper pot. These additional ingredients have been treated with liquid nitrogen, and when they hit the hot broth, there is an explosion of cold fog that boils out of the bowls and over the table. When you touch your bowl, you find it is still warm, despite the cold air pouring out of it. It’s just plain fun.
The next course was a crispy diver scallop with vanilla-scented sunchoke purée and carbonated fruit. I’d read about the carbonated fruit, but it really is carbonated, and it made us all laugh with delight. The tempura around the scallop was perhaps a tad too crispy, and the scallop was rather mashed by the time I forced my way through the crust—but that’s probably what I get for using the side of my fork instead of a knife. But it was perfectly cooked, and the combination of flavors was pleasing.
Then came one of my “highlight” dishes—the handful of dishes I can still taste and will probably smile about for quite some time. It was butter-poached Russian king crab (and how can anything poached in butter be really bad), which was served with (artfully arranged) coconut powder, passionfruit noodle, buttered-popcorn purée, and shizu. Wow. The crab was perfect, the popcorn purée tasted exactly like really buttery popcorn, the coconut powder was cool and sweet, and while everything was tasty separately, together, they were sensational.
Peas and carrots were the surprising palate cleanser. Sweet peas and gingered carrots were puréed, rolled into tiny balls slightly smaller than peas, and frozen in liquid nitrogen, to create a not-too-sweet, flavorful, very cold veggie sorbet. Huge fun, sort of a magic trick for the eyes and palate.
Next was surf and turf with M.C.Escher. To be more accurate, it should have been sky and sea, as that is both what the plate held and the subject of the Escher painting reproduced on edible, seaweed-flavored paper. Ducks changed to fish, and vice versa, in the Escher image, and on the plate, swordfish, a smoked mussel, and chanterelles shared space with duck confit and powdered duck fat. The two duck items were the evening’s next big WOW for me. The swordfish was delicious, but was overshadowed, for me, by the gigantic flavor of the duck confit and the delightful, melty, rich, smoky, very ducky flavor of the powdered fat. I told the waiter I wanted a bag to take home to put on popcorn. (And later, when the woman at the table next to us actually left her duck confit virtually untouched, I actually blurted out, “she can’t send the duck back,” which fortunately made the people at the table laugh.)
The next Wow was the next dish—a dish so big on fragrance that I could tell exactly when everyone else in the restaurant was served this course. It was a few slices of exquisitely rare, perfectly seared rib eye on a small mound of mustard-braised cabbage, all surrounded by a broad swirl of kielbasa purée (BIG kielbasa taste—even the German friend in my party was mightily impressed). Oh my, but this was good. Each component was a wow on its own, but the three things combined were unbelievable. I’d like two more servings to go, please.
The chef’s version of mac and cheese was another of the more playful dishes. This was the beginning of the transition into the dessert courses. Ranged along the long, thin plate were a small stack of penne-like lychee noodles (the “mac”); a “fruit salad” of red and white beets, raspberries, and Tibetan goji berries; and a flower-like explosion of rice paper flavored with huckleberry seated in a pool of white chocolate and French cheese. It was sweet, surprising, and simply great, especially when you scooped a bit of the cheese up with the “mac.”
Because I am a massive fan of truffles (black or white), I had hoped that the “truffle” item on the menu would bring me a sampling of my favorite fungus, but it turned out they were speaking of candy truffles. However, the playfulness made my disappointment short lived. There was a picture of cotton candy on another edible sheet, this one the flavor, not too surprisingly, of cotton candy. On top of it was a white chocolate truffle with a center of liquid cotton candy (definitely eat it in one bite). Fun and sweet. I prefer “real” chocolate to white chocolate, but I was still entertained.
Graham cracker foam with parsnip ice cream was fun. I wasn’t too surprised to find parsnip in a sweet role, as I’d had parsnip cake in Newfoundland a few months back, but it was a nice complement to the sweet, intensely graham-flavored, almost pudding-like foam.
The final dessert was another playful deception. It was explained that pastry chef Ben Roche loves nachos, so he had created what truly looked like nachos, but was in fact a pleasant, amusing, not-too-sweet confection. The base was candied tortillas. This was topped with a “guacamole” made of kiwi fruit, a dab of crème fraiche, and shredded mango ice cream, which really looked like a pile of shredded cheddar.
The wine list was nice, and while my friend who had taken a cab opted for the 7-wine pairings, I had only three wines, having already gotten a head start with the sangria. Unfortunately, even this was to prove enough to have dulled my senses, leading to the night’s big disappointment. Because our enthusiasm had been so over-the-top, because I was writing down everything that was said or served to me, and because I had mentioned LTH Forum as the place I’d heard of Moto, our charming and delightful waitress, Amy, said that we had been invited to tour the kitchen. Yahoo. The kitchen is in the basement so, we made our way past the vat of nitrogen and down the steep, red-painted, metal stairs to the bustling kitchen. I was scanning the room intently, looking for the tell-tale bit of embroidery on the chef’s jacket that would indicate whether or not Chef Cantu was still in the room. They were in the process of breaking down for the night, so the room was very noisy, and it was hard to hear what our guide, Trevor, was saying. A couple of young men approached us, and I heard the introduction of “This (bang, clatter) Omar (clang) and Ben.” My heart sank. I had no idea what Chef Cantu looked like, but there was no indication that this was him—no embroidered name, as I have seen on virtually every other executive chef I’ve ever met. Now, if I hadn’t had so much wine, I might have actually thought to ask Trevor to repeat the barely audible introduction, but I was working at hiding my disappointment, and smiled and shook hands with the two men, and asked Ben if he was the Ben they had mentioned as the pastry chef, and he said “yes.” I complimented him on the dessert nachos. The other young man said something about, “saying hello to LTH,” and then he vanished. As we turned to leave, one of my friends said, “I couldn’t hear a thing Trevor said, but I’ve seen a photo of the chef before, and that looked like him.” I was stunned. Why hadn’t I asked Trevor to repeat himself. (Of course, it’s probably showing my age that I would have expected an executive chef to be introduced by his last name —Chef Cantu—because this just isn’t that kind of place.) I turned around, but the chef was gone, probably wondering why he’d bothered inviting us to come downstairs.
Here, I’d planned all sorts of wonderful, gushy things to say about my favorite dishes, and about his brilliance—and the fact that, since I’d seen him writing backwards on the LTHForum site, I was certain he was qualified for Mensa, as only terribly bright people even think about writing backwards, and I completely missed my chance. I hope that, if anyone in the forum knows Chef Cantu, he or she will pass along my high opinion of him—and my apologies for not recognizing him. (In all fairness, there is no photo on the Moto web site, which I had checked before going.) I will be back. And I will also be writing an article (due in a few hours, so I need to sign off from here and get to work), in which I hope to at least let others know of my regard for Moto, even though I missed my chance to tell the chef.
Last edited by
Cynthia on July 26th, 2006, 5:50 pm, edited 3 times in total.