Post 58: Be Happy... Chatting over Tartare (LA: Beverly Hills)

Back when I still had full use and employment of my teeth, a long lost friend and I decided to throw on our bourgeois attitude and roll up to Chaya for a five-course chef's tasting.  I had B.H. tattooed on my aura for that meal.  And if the letters B and H didn't mean Beverly Hills at that time, it meant be happy for the two of us.  And we were as happy as two long, lost friends could possibly be... we watched beautiful people sit and just be as beautiful as their food... and we chatted as puffy, white clouds rolled away in the big, blue sky... and we chatted as the big, orange star we call the sun lowered itself to cast a shady gloom over my risotto... and we chatted until the last dollop of vanilla caramel ice cream camouflaged itself against the ceramic dish it came in.  These are the three dishes from Chaya Brasserie that made us the most happy.

Melon y jamon
compressed melon, burrata cheese, salame, arugula, aged balsamic vinegar reduction

The first time I had melon and cured Italian meat in combination, I was a recent high school graduate vacationing with family in Canada of all places.  It was the Fairmont resort somewhere in the wilderness of Alberta that introduced me to my first combination of sweet melon and salty Italian prosciutto.  I hadn't had a serious relationship at the time, but I knew I was in love.

There's something about the contrasting sweet and salty flavors and the rough and smooth textures that makes complete sense... like when smooth slices of salty ham is placed on top of fibrous triangles of pineapple on pizza... when sprinkles of course sea salt is introduced to smooth, sweet caramel anything.  I love that I can take the salami or prosciutto and fold it over a freshly cut piece of melon.  I breathe a sigh of happiness when I do it... as if burdens have been lifted from my shoulders and pressures from life tip toe away from my heart.  I feel the same comfort when I wrap myself in blankets at bedtime.  It's not the same blanket wrap that I do when I'm freezing in the middle of winter or the blanket wrap that I do at the end of a tough day.  It's a light, delicate wrap.  A peaceful one that produces a sigh of happiness.  The kind you do on vacation.  Yes, that one.  And each bite is like having your head hit the fluffiest of down pillows... again and again... happiness.

Salmon tartare and mi-cuit
tartare: wasabi tobiko, cilantro blossom, pickled daikon radish squares
cucumber raita, wild arugula, ahi amarillo aioli, seaweed jelly
mi-cuit: sovid, wasabi creme fraiche

It's not quite tuna tartare yet not quite salmon sashimi... it's a profound dish in its own right.  The seemingly simple dish of salmon tartare actually produced a couple of wows.  The tenderness of the salmon protein became even more supple as the light layer of olive oil marinated with the salmon's own natural lipids.  Is anyone thinking about bikini mud wrestling besides me? Not so much? Hey, the analogy works.

What else works are the uniquely shaped but uniformly sized pieces of salmon.  They fit together like a chaotically constructed Jenga set teetering on the edge of collapse, yet they remain as stable as the Bird's Nest in Beijing.  So rather than being distracted by which piece of salmon is bigger or smaller than the other, the tongue can simply relax and focus on how fresh the salmon is... and the brain can say, "wow, this is good... wow, wow, wow."  The brain will be so pleasured by the bliss of deliciousness that it won't know it's fish at all.

Spring pea risotto
Japanese green risotto, sugar snaps, English peas
Parmesan, mascarpone, curry, basil, confetti flowers

Normally I wouldn't find rice and vegetables to be very exciting, but the spring pea risotto invoked a sense of happy relaxation in me.  It was as beautiful tasting as it was beautiful looking, albeit the image was marred by both the lack of natural lighting and my lack of savvy with photo editing.  But no matter... what's good is still good.

The feeling of intense absence of tension in my body was brought by the sudden surprise of curry in the waves of creamy rice.  I had a feeling that it was Japanese curry powder, which unlike Thai or Indian curries, is a bit more subtle and slightly sweet.  The taste is not as prickly on the tongue as a Thai green curry or an Indian masala.  Other surprises came in the form of a pea here and a pea there, just the right amount of healthy vileness and just the right amount of pleasant, non-shocking discovery.  This was the kind of dish that I could eat by the pool.  I wouldn't mind replacing the obligatory poolside cocktail with this risotto dish either.  Swirling a big, metal spoon around in creamy, not firm, not mushy, perfectly spiced rice is so much more gratifying that twirling a swizzle stick in a martini glass.  It's just not the same.

The final dish was a beef duo of short rib and tenderloin with porcini puree and daube sauce.  It was... alright.  And the dessert tasting was a chocolate croissant bread pudding with vanilla caramel ice cream.  I was already too happy to be bothered with a sugar high.  But no matter... good food and a good friend to jumpstart a Friday evening creates a casual, lingering happiness that carries over into the start of Saturday.  To the start of a happy weekend, everyone... let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Esther of e*star LA posted on her off-menu tastings at Chaya Brasserie here.

ML - 20110610

Post 57: Wisdom Teeth Food

Not everyone remembers when their first tooth fell out, but everyone remembers when they had their wisdom teeth pulled out.  I was fortunate enough to experience this extraction of dental knowledge this past week.  After being completely scared by all the wisdom teeth horror stories from friends and family, I was hell bent on making sure I had all the culinary concoctions to make my discomfort bearable.  The last few days I have been able to consume the following items... most of which are not the least bit glorious, but I guess that depends on who you ask.

Lucky me... Kimmy dropped by with a dozen mini Beard Papa's cream puffs and two regulation sized puffs.  I started off by scooping out the insides of one mini cream puff... but by the end of day, I managed to devour seven mini cream puffs (the puff portion and all) and one regular sized cream puff.  Yes, I did that in just one afternoon.

I also managed to spoon in two cups of my favorite Japanese flan from Mitsuwa Marketplace... along with a number (four to date) of Korean honeydew melon flavored jumbo popsicles.

Since my face was throbbing with crimson fury, and the Maytag-produced hemispheres of ice weren't sufficient, I thought that the best way to calm the swollen rage down was with some Taiwanese shaved ice.  I dragged my mom with me to a local joint called Tasty To Go for their acclaimed mango shaved snow.  Being the obedient son that every Asian parent hopes to call their own (even I make myself sick sometimes), I ate all the cold, frigid, brain freezing ice... and left the nutritious, fiber-filled, vitamin-rich mango for my mom.  Heh, heh, heh...

After I thought that I would hit the roof with an uncontrollable sugar high, I decided to counter all the sugar with some protein... eggs.  I employed a very sumptuous recipe for Japanese style chawanmushi (茶碗蒸 or steamed eggs), which is a soft and simple way (and probably the most glorious of the aforementioned food choices) to endure the discomforts of wisdom teeth extraction.

Ingredients:
2 eggs, beaten
1 can of chicken broth
1 package of ikura and/or uni (optional)

To set up a makeshift steamer, pour four or five cups of water into a large soup pot.  Fill a rice bowl one-third of the way up with water, and place the rice bowl into the large soup pot.  Fire up the stove.

Combine the two eggs and just half a can of chicken broth into a ceramic bowl.  Whisk until smooth.  Carefully place and balance the ceramic bowl carefully on top of the rice bowl into the large soup pot.  This is now your makeshift steamer.  Place the cap of the pot on top, and let the eggs steam away for no longer than five minutes.  a chopstick into the middle to see if the eggs are still runny; the eggs are ready when the center has solidified.  The texture should be similar to a soft custard or a delicate flan.

Here's the glorious part.  After the chawanmushi has cooled off, spoon some ikura or uni onto the surface of the egg.  All of the ingredients should be easily conquered by even those who under the effects of Vicodin or Tylenol No. 3.  Here's my disclaimer: if your medication says you should not operate heavy machinery, please do not attempt to build a makeshift steamer no matter how simple it is.  Let your mom and dad, spouse, significant other or indentured sibling do this for you.

I hope these eggs distract you from your dental debacle.  Oh, and if the steamed eggs work, fire up the stove again... as long as there are more eggs, you still have half a can of chicken broth left! Until solid food invigorates my diet, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20110728-31

Post 38.2: Continue the Birthday with a Michelin-star Meal (LA: Hollywood)

So after the candy corn truffle pig helped Connie find all the tasty truffle treats, it was time to eat the truffles in prepared form.  Connie suggested Providence, which to me, was previously just a city in Rhode Island.  But I soon found out on Yelp that Providence was (and still is) a fine dining establishment awarded with two Michelin stars in 2009.  It was where we were about to get our birthday dinner.

On the tour earlier that morning, a few of the guests on my tour had visited Providence and suggested ordering either the 9-course full tasting or the four hour, 16-course chef's menu.  Hearing about the four hour, 16-course chef's menu delighted my heart but sunk my stomach.  I was just recovering from a stomach bug, and I was pretty sure that multiple courses of raw seafood (although my absolute favorite) paired with many glasses of wine (also a heart's delight) was not a good idea.

We didn't end up choosing any tasting menus, but we still had a splendid (I think that's the right word) dinner, welcomed by a very warm and charming captain Matt who accommodated us in every way possible.

Not everything is pictured, but here are the highlights:


Amuse bouche
gougere
salt cured trout
lemon gelee, bubu arare, creme fraiche, trout roe, 24K gold leaf

Dinner began with one bite into a savory bread smaller than a ping pong ball.  The gougere reminded me of a cream puff sans the filling.  It's traditionally made with Gruyere, and I'm sure there was a hint of a salty cheese in the light and airy bread, but I don't quite remember what it tasted like since my appetite trumped my memory at that point.

My second bite was also light but at a more profound depth of taste.  The cubes of salt cured trout provoked a comparison to sashimi and smoked salmon... it's less raw tasting than sashimi but more firm and lighter than lox.  The coolness of the creme fraiche cast a refreshing feel on the tongue and helped blend together the crunchy little rice crisps (bubu arare) and bursting trout roe, which was surprisingly not as salty as salmon roe (ikura).  Having a petite soup helped truly acknowledge the individual tastes of the shotglass-sized dish.  And it's an effective tool for pushing away the 24K gold flakes in order to save them for the final bite...


Wild bigeye tuna tartare
fresh wasabi, American caviar, quail egg, creme fraiche

crispy nori rice crackers

I couldn't decide which appealed to me more... the fresh, perfectly circular round of deep, red tuna... or the intricate design of a... twig? a flower stem? a tree branch?... artistically painted onto the plate with an expanding sprawl of creme faiche.  Black on black in automobiles is elegant, but white on white in the culinary world is, as I just discovered, quite exquisite.

The popped quail egg yolk was just enough liquid bind to hold the tartare together on the coral-like fan of cheese crisp and the seaweed crackers made from rice (not pictured).  By the time I was through with the tartare, the plate looked as if it had never been touched.  Every bead of black caviar had been consumed... the edible purple flowers digested... and even the beautiful radish thins hidden away.

Santa Barbara sea urchin
Champagne beurre blanc, fines herbs
cremant de bourgogne blanc de blancs, domaine parigot & richard

I wish I could tell just what exactly what was in this eggshell of delight, but I can't.  On the menu I could only recognize champagne and fines herbs.  My French extends to croissant and stops at Bourdeaux.  The Santa Barbara sea urchin is an exciting way to experience uni hidden under a dense fog of egg yolk, but I think I still prefer my uni cold and as raw as possible.

Italian white truffles
pasta alla chitarra

I noticed that the menu lists the truffle as the main attraction with the pasta as the accompaniment.  At first, I thought the logic was a tad strange, but when the dish arrived it was clear to me why the truffle is the main attraction.  Matt hand-shaved the Italian white truffle over the creamy, al dente updo of noodles and made the truffle fall like snow on Christmas in New York.  I had one eye on the weather and one eye on Connie who was about to die from seeing her love for this rare fungus fall from the heavens just inches from her face.

"Just throw the whole thing in there!"

A surprising outcry came from Connie's direction.  Shock.  Blushing.  Laughter.  As Matt gingerly placed the white truffle back into the mobile safe deposit box, he explained to us that the piece of truffle he had just shaved onto our plates was more than eight hundred dollars... remember to breathe, Connie... Matt was not about to throw that whole chunk of gold in the form of fungus in there.  No way.


Spaghetti alla chitarra
Santa Barbara sea urchin, Maine lobster, pea tendrils, jus de crustac

Bites of lobster as al dente as the pasta itself folded into a delicately sweet and sour subtlety helped ease me into a drunken stupor.  Did I mention the teardrops of fresh sea urchin resting on the sides of the pasta hill? Those could have been my own teardrops of happiness...

By this point in the meal, I had become satiated with culinary happiness.  There was nothing else I could put into my body that would elevate the level of enthusiasm that my drunken taste buds were experiencing.  But still I continued to twirl the wavy pasta noodles onto my spoon, lethargically scooping up the noodles with my fork ever so carefully.  Letting a strand of spaghetti fall off my fork was parallel to the scene in The Dark Knight when the Joker is dangling off the side of the building with his life literally in Batman's hands.  

I wanted to let go because there was no point in pulling it back to safety... but it was so precious that letting go would be... for the lack of a better word... unfortunate.

Melon soup
vanilla ice cream, strawberries, lime granite

Good.  Refreshing.  Sweet.  The description reflects how much I cared for the melon soup by now.  The melon soup was awesome.  Really, it was.  But food coma was setting in at dinner, and my tongue, taste buds, and stomach were tired... and apathy is taking over as my body succumbs to the exhaustion from typing an epic length blog entry at the end of a day at the office.

Chocolate and rooibus ice cream
brandied cherries, eggless creme brulee, chocolate and cherry powder

Rooibus.  Another ingredient I'm not sure of.  (It's an herb native to Africa usually made into tea... thanks Matt.)  I still don't know what rooibus tastes like on its own, but chocolate and rooibus ice cream is delicious.  The brandied cherries were tart but sweet, and Matt ensured that the alcohol was burned off... but I secretly wish that it wasn't.  I could have done without the eggless creme brulee though.  It had a texture more similar to tofu or the soy version of creamy, dairy products.  Better yet... put the egg back into the brulee, and the dessert would be perfect.  We pressed on to finish the dessert... chocolate powder and all.

Petit fours
yuzu caramels; chocolate macarons; vanilla gelee

I liked the creativity of combining the spice and citrus of yuzu with the sweet and creamy caramel.  Connie didn't.  She liked the bite-sized chocolate macarons.  Eh, they were alright.  And neither of us liked the vanilla gelee.  It was dense, gelatinous, and encrusted with sugar like a gumdrop.

But it didn't matter anymore.  The good parts of the meal were great, and it more than tilted the balance in favor of deliciousness.  I'm disappointed that my stomach wasn't ready for some raw oysters and a 16-course epic adventure, but that just means one thing... I'll be back! An awesome start to the birthday season... Connie, thank you... I wish you 25 more years of happy eating! Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20101019/20101016