UNTITLED at The Whitney

Just the name Michael Anthony sets its own bar very high- a good thing for a restaurant that kind of doesn't have a name of its own.   In collaboration with iconic restaurateur Danny Meyer and situated in the renowned Whitney Museum, though, I could hardly keep my expectations from soaring.  The early word, however, had been hit and miss- most confoundingly, as it were, for the service.   But if those premature critiques had any merit to them at all, they would be attributed solely to opening jitters.  The service was as adept as the restaurant is lovely, and the food worthy in both taste and appearance of the masterpieces displayed in the museum adjacent.

The walls are glass, creating only nominal divide between indoor and outdoor seating (of which there is both).  By the time prime dining hour rolled around, not a table was empty in or out.  The waitstaff, flitting about briskly between the open kitchen and numerous tables, are smartly clad in black aprons and crisp white shirts: just like Chef Anthony himself, who was intent on quality control of everything coming out of the kitchen, and simultaneously keeping a watchful eye on diners and staff alike.

It's hard not to be distracted by the glory of the room itself, however, befitting of a restaurant in an art museum.  It is a lofty space, open and airy, beautiful in its simple lines.  As the sun sets, still at a rather late hour on this particular mid-summer evening, the mood changes significantly, adopting a magical effervescence that twinkling lights and dimmed lighting always does.

Pickly wonders.

Peas, please.

The food follows that same aesthetic, merging a whimsical artistry with Chef Anthony's signature seasonal focus and masterful technique.  Even a simple bowl of peas seemed special; toothsome orbs of brilliant green just kissed with fresh mint atop a thin swath of creamy, dense yogurt.  This was all about the peas, no bells and whistles, because they sang by themselves.  A small dish of lightly cured vegetables varied with each

litle bit, jicama with a sweet-sour bite, carrots with a pickly snap, and (the best) pale yellow beans with a zippy kick.  Another snack of zesty chickpea puree was served with crispy flatbread planks and  halved heirloom cherry tomatoes that leaked their luscious juices into the mix, creating rich and umami-laden mouthfuls that most hummus only dreams of.

The one dish I tried that night that didn't thrill me was a beet melange with verbena and yogurt, with  a surfeit of lush summer berries tipping the scales from salad to sweet .  It would work marvelously as a palate-cleanser, however, or a pre-dessert course. Keeping on the light and refreshing side, a slightly more substantial dish of cucumber, smashed and ribboned, lolled in an verdant,  oniony broth delicately elevated with a murmur a soy and sesame to enliven earthy buckwheat soba noodles tangled furtively

 underneath.    Fluke with radish, sorrel and lime was inarguably gorgeous enough to merit consideration for the Whitney's collection were it not so delightful going down: a study in the ethereal lightness of an ocean breeze.





As our entrees arrived, the sun bowed out, that magical ambiance filtered through the room.   The cupped overhead lights take on a lunar glow, and the spots refract off the steely glass creating a discernibly different feel.  It will be interested to see how winter temperatures will be handled: one wonders if that thick plate glass will be able to hold out the cold.  But on this balmy summer evening, that was the least of our concerns.  The focus now was on our main plates, my favorite
 being the tilefish served in a buttery corn puree and topped with diaphanous coins of summer squash- balancing
indulgently rich with the purity of summertime.  I wondered out loud where tilefish-such a wonderful fish (also recently sampled at Benoit) - had been all my life, and our waiter quickly interjected "In the Long Island Sound", verifying the local/sustainable aesthetic by which their seafood is procured.  On a meatier note, four big spare ribs were hearty and juicy, smoked in a peppery rub and kissed with the sweetness of an apricot glaze.  Alongside the entrees, we tried the pole beans with calamari and hazelnuts.  The beans, yellow and green, were cartoonishly long and fun to eat, a long, flat bean you have to cut into pieces to attain manageable bites.  They achieved a blistered char from an ephemeral pass on a ripping hot grill along with tiny, tender calamari, scorched until the tasted like bacon of the sea, all beach smoke and gently ocean salinity.
   And just when I thought things couldn't get any better, there were the turnips with green beans, pecorino and guanciale: a salty vegetable carbonara that countered the hearty decadence of that sauce with mild summer produce, taking it from much-too-much to lick-the-bowl clean.





Our dessert shared that characteristic, a simple sounding strawberry-poundcake ensemble, but the cake had been toasted so it's buttery edges crisped to golden, the berries so magnificently flavorful they shoudn't have been real, and all of this slathered in smooth ricotta puree bedecked with tiny pansies.  There are other similarly tempting dessert items, all of which tended away from the meticulous precision of the entree plating and focused on pure pleasure: a thick wedge of peanut butter cake drizzled with syrupy blueberries, or a crowd-pleasing megalith of a chocolate chip cookies served with its own little jar of gently sweet vanilla milk.   I mean, even in an art museum, pretty can only go so far... fortunately here, they've nailed both.   Untitled won't need to worry about finding a name- it has already mastered everything that counts.

 99 Gansevoort Street
New York, NY 10014
212-570-3670
info@untitledatthewhitney.com

FANCY FOOD SHOW Summer 2015

Here's my very un-thorough, wholy un-comprehesive, biased and superficial favorites list  of what I saw and loved at this year's Fancy Food Show at the Javits Center.  To be clear, the show is just overwhelming.  It would take a full team of judges to be able to even come close to soundly ranking the infinite array of products here, so this is just a smattering of things I enjoyed.  And by purveyors that were pretty cool standing behind their products, as well.

1.   Stahlbush Island Farms is three years in a row my favorite concept and product, especially given the overwhelming snacky unhealthiness of the majority of products at the show.  Stahlbush features flash-frozen, super fresh, sustainable produce from the lush Willamette valley in Oregon, that is more than eatable just thawed straight from the freezer, nothing done to.  Well, depending on the plant:  the fruits are all scrumptious (marionberry is a favorite) and the asparagus and cauliflower purees are enjoyable sans seasoning (would be even better, perhaps, warmed with a smudge of truffle butter, but I'm just saying).  Others definitely need something done with them, but that is the point.      http://www.stahlbush.com/

 2.    I only tried their pickles, but I see on their website they also offer a Bloody Mary mix and a ketchup, all of which I would enthusiastically sample.  'Cause they are richly savory, pungent in flavor and then.... wait for it..... pow!  The pickles, at least, are appropriately named.  They get you right in the back of the throat, long after you've enjoyed their crisp garlicky, pickly splendor.  I actually think I tried a different flavor (a beer pickle was what I recalled), but this is the only one on their website, so maybe there are more wonders left to come.  http://suckerpunchgourmet.com/

 3.  This was a real novelty.  I've had aloe juice (love it... sort of like a naturally occurring bubble tea), but this is just the chunks of aloe, sweetened lightly with honey.   I'd be REALLY curious to taste it unsweetened, but catering to the majority of palates, this will probably be an easier sell.  I'd love to look out for a plain version (or at least a sugar-free or less sweet option) at FFS 2016, however (just sayin').  It's super healthy, full of minerals and antioxidants, as well as purportedly helping as an anti-inflammatory and detoxification.  http://vinkandberi.com/products.php










4.   Here we go with my marionberries ago, but like they say, you can take the girl out of Oregon, but you can't take the Oregon out of the girl.  I loved this jam:  lumpy and supple, intensely flavored and a perfect spreadable-spoonable consistency.   Just a lovely product.  http://www.oregongrowers.com/

5.  As I was leaving (having consumed my ninth or tenth sprig of devastating yummy curried cauliflower pickle), the sales rep mentioned they had run out of the brussels sprouts..... BRUSSELS SPROUTS!!!   So while I didn't try that, the cauliflower still earns a top spot on this list.  It really barely qualifies as a pickle, so gently vinegared that it tasted purely of a sweet, curry-flecked floret, but it was really, really, good.  Like, restaurant-good.  Had I been served that all of anywhere, I would've been impressed.
Let alone just opening a can.
http://foodmatch.com/

  6.  The intensely pineapply Azores pineapple puree squeeze tube earned this company its entry.  They offer a huge array of fruits, featuring most prominently those from Portugal, and combination fruit-vegetable purees, herb-infused fruits and honeys.  But it is the Azores pineapple that tastes like no other pineapple you've ever had... except maybe the pineapple flavored LifeSaver candy.  But this, my friends, is the real deal.  Their unique metal packaging reduces oxidation and preserves the vibrant colors and flavors of the fruit, making them an exceptional option for a home cook or catering company alike.
http://www.meiaduzia.pt/eng/meia-duzia

7.  I like kraut in its place, but on its own.. well, I prefer my cabbage braised or slawed.  But this garlic kraut could eat like a salad.  It's organic (bonus!) and raw (who'd've thunk?), so naturally full of probiotics and probably insanely good for you.  But this stuff has some serious spunk along with its virtue... something I was super hesitant to try but am SO glad that I did.  http://shop.goldminenaturalfoods.com/Sauerkraut-Kimchi/products/61/

8.  On my restaurant reviews, I would never condone a pre-fab cooking sauce, but Saucy Sauce's Spicy Garlic is delicious.  It's punchy and zesty, with a legitimate garlic kick and umami allure, with just a hint of fishy funk (it is an elevated nuoc mam).  For a real punch of flavor in a pinch, this stuff is sublime.
(Plus, I totally love the name.)
http://getsauceynow.com/

9.  Meat jerky is nothing new, for sure, but Epic is offering chicken, bison, turkey, bacon, and more.  The Sesame-Currant Chicken Meat is extraordinary: sweet-savory bites of responsibly sourced chicken blended with nuts, seeds and fruits.  No sugar, honey or syrups sweeten the product, although it definitely has that appeal.  They created the bars and bites to counter the tsunami of hyper-sugary pseudo-candy protein bars on the market.  If people want easy-to-eat protein, supplementary why not just go back  to the source?  (Vegetarians not allowed.)
https://epicbar.com/




10.  These things are off the charts.  Cheese Cake Cones from Aunt Butchie's Desserts in keepin'-it-local Brooklyn.  Take a traditional almond lace cookie and roll it into a cone, pipe in a fluffy, moussy cheesecake filling and voila.  A most unexpectedly delicious and decadent portable dessert.  The shell is delicate and buttery, the filling dense and rich and totally drool-worthy.  I've always been a fan of the graham cracker crust on cheesecake, but Aunt Butchie just converted me.
http://auntbutchies.com/

11.  I'm neurotic about my milk.  I only want grass-fed organic, and seriously, I'm not always that conscientious about everything else I consume.  But milk's one of those things that seems like it... compounds any badness if it isn't annihilated at the get-go.  So I'm surprised I never thought about the whey protein added to a few things I actually DO consume: one of those is protein drinks.  So here's Kura from New Zealand, with a pretty delicious, Omega-3 boosted, probiotic protein powder to the rescue.  I'd go with vanilla: although I haven't tried the berry or chocolate, they're made with flavors and not the real thing, vanilla flavoring is one thing I find acceptable.  http://kuranutrition.com/





12. Spice blends are a dime a dozen, but this one is totally novel and completely addictive.  They've powdered blue cheese and blended it with blackening spices to create an umami bomb of flavor.  The cheesiness tamps the heat, but they both exhibit a powerful contribution.  Immaculate on popcorn, brussels sprouts, catfish or steak.  My mouth just starting watering.  Again.
http://spiceologist.com/









And that's it!  Hope to see you next year!

BENOIT

I should've known this was going to be a good one, deemed the only French restaurant my very French friend will dine at here in New York.  Granted, he is Lyonnaise, and Benoit is tres Parisienne, but it turned out to be all I had hoped for and more.  But it's been around awhile and no one really talks about it...  but then again, it's been around awhile, which definitely in this fickle real estate and economic climate says something.  It is nestled into an unassuming stretch of west 55th street, right next to Bar Milano- which is always packed on such clear, breezy summer nights as was this one.  It doesn't have the luxury of outdoor seating for such occasions, but a whimsically painted sky on the ceiling offers a touch of levity indoors.  Chef Phillipe Bertineau holds reign over Alain Ducasse's New York iteration of his mini-chain of Benoits.  It has all the pomp and nostalgia of classic French cuisine paired with a lighter touch and glimmers of modernity that maintain the restaurant's illustrious appeal.

Red velvet banquettes and etched glass, sparkly chandeliers and low, glowy lighting prevail.  Waiters are handsomely suited, warm  and welcoming.  The wine list is no tome, but it is one thoughtfully curated list.  They have a well-rounded variety both by the glass and bottle, and more importantly, a selection of "by the ounce" option made possible by a state-of-the-art dispensing system, allowing for the sampling of some otherwise out-of-budget treasures.  I splurged on a few ounces of a white Latour, which at $9/oz. was the cheapest options, whereas a full glass (which is rare to find) would then have been easily over fifty dollars, and some of
 the offerings were almost  that costly for even just one ounce (such
 as the '91 Y'quem) .  I was happy for just a daub, as this one was a profound wine, intense and mature, whereas my normal preferences tend more fresh and floral.   All the same, I was impressed by the experience.

A small silver bowl of fragrant gougeres are bequeathed to each table, melting clouds of pungent cheese, their tantalizing aroma a compelling appetite-provoker alone.  In fact, all the perfumes of the kitchen were enticing, and plentiful, which made deciding what to order somewhat more difficult, but also pretty much guaranteeing satisfaction.  Even as appealing as were the rainbow beets with goat cheese and my adored mache, I couldn't pass up that ephemeral opportunity for morels, from Oregon, to boot!

 Deemed a "cookpot", a generous crock of spelt stewed with gloriously meaty morels and enormous favas were anointed
tableside with verdant spring pea coulis and topped with a leafy tuft of fresh greens, featuring notably flavorful, tangy and pleasantly bitter leaves amongst others sweet or frilly.  Easily shareable, although I hardly wanted to.  I mean, at ALL.  Morels are spelled with "more" for a reason, after all.  (Ha.)




The entrees have a lot of variety while still adhering to traditional bistro offerings.  There were several fishes, a few poultry renditions, and meat options from tartare to T-Bone.  I chose an exceptional golden tilefish, and while I was not even really familiar with the fish,  as it was described by our waiter it sounded ideal- and lived up.  The thick filet, similar to cod, was assertively smoked which  enhanced its firm texture and elevated the sweet flaky flesh.  Its sliver of silvery skin attained the Platonic ideal of crispness atop.   Plated atop a raft of delicate white asparagus and a gently smooth lemon mousseline (I opted out of the urchin- I know... I need to become more adventurous), novelly and more seasonally garnished with sprigs of purslane rather than predictable parsley.  Hangar steak with

excellent  frites aside couldn't have been more expertly done, even if we did suffer waiting for the medium-cooked steak we received to be replaced with the medium-rare one requested.  But aside from the delay, the steak was lusciously rich and flavorful, the bordelaise accompanying multiplying those qualities exponentially.  Seriously, I even put it on my fish.  That sauce I could've mainlined.  Nary a daub of ketchup or mayonnaise provided was needed to  augment the impeccable fries, but they too found a fine  bedfellow in that sauce.
A simple side of broccoli was a lovely sautee, brilliant green and assertively garlicked, but I even couldn't restrain myself from dipping a few of the florets in the bordelaise as well... was really that wondrous.

The only thing that wouldn't have benefited from a drizzle of that sauce were the next courses to arrive, as we moved on to a sweet finale.  My tablemate had had his eye set on the profiteroles from reservation time, so his order took no contemplation.  And mine was nearly as automatic, as I jumped upon my first rhubarb of the season.   For that, the batons of piefruit retained enough firmness to be arranged into a bed for the a luscious mascarpone sorbet, studded with juicy morsels of strawberry and a few crisp, freeze-dried ones with a delightfully crunchy texture that melted on the tongue.  I loved this dessert as much as I have any in recent history, the rhubarb sweetened just enough to tamp its alluring, pucker-worthy tang.   The profiteroles, too, were honorable, although for my own taste, I prefer bigger ones with greater filling

 potential than these single-bites nuggets.   But the were golden and toasty orbs, bursting a gush of luxurious cream with the bittersweet chocolate sauce, that boasted the heady, cocoa-heavy richness typical of Valrhona.  The profiteroles, in fact, are for two, but my tablemate polished off the entire plate himself but for the one I stole... in his assessment, the best examples of this iconic sweet in  New York.  As we left, I was gifted a mystery treat in a small, folded paper bag.  Assuming it was a breakfast morsel, I opened it the next morning with my coffee, only to discover a plain, featherweight meringue.  I wasn't quite sure what to do with it... I don't eat such sweets for breakfast, and for as dessert it certainly wanted for some fresh strawberry compote or even a dollop of jam.  Ideally, I would've replicated the rhubarb, but that was probably beyond my capabilities.  I guess it should've come with a little recipe of what-to-do with this puffy-sweet cloud, but luckily I had some wild hibiscus flowers in syrup that had also been wondering what to do with.  So it ended well, actually a pleasant surprise quite in keeping with the prior evening's repast at Benoit.

60 West 55th Street - New York 

tel.  646.943.7373

RED STIXS

Surprisingly, the Phillipe Chow disclosure was not printed on the porcelain.

"*Red Stixs has no affiliation with Philippe Chow or any Philippe Chow Restaurant."  This disclosure
is posted anywhere it can be, apparently at the bequest of the Chow group, with which some of the Red Stixs personnel used to be in cahoots.  The Chows required this stipulation, and Red Stixs's owner conceded saying he would have to keep it visible as such for a couple of years... but if this restaurant lasts that long I will be astounded.  But the one thing that the two restaurants DO share, despite their refusal to play nice with one another in the sandbox, is an overwhelming mediocrity.

To be fair, had I microwaved this food as a a prepackaged frozen entree, I may have been pretty impressed.   Across the board, flavors are monotone, predictable: rarely more than a sum of their parts.  This is the un-Chinese-iest of Chinese foods, mollified for a moneyed, pedestrian palate, who
 don't mind paying too much just to be fed, conveniently and a somewhat chi-chi atmosphere.  There was no punch or vim in anything we tried.  The only advantage this place has is its location:  right in the heart of the Murray Hill food desert, there
really aren't a lot of other options, either.   But for a "Chinese" restaurant to start us off which a tossed salad was just one of the many red flags, all the while accompanied with the signature red stix (sic) with which to eat it.  Not a bad salad, lightly dressed greens fresh as could be, but nothing grander than that, and nothing Asiany at all,
but for a touch of sesame and soy in the vinaigrette.  Fried spring rolls were slightly more successful, but hardly outclassing something you could bake up yourself from Trader Joe's.  They had a bounty of filling, though, tasty mushrooms and cabbage etal., and the wrapper wasn't too greasy, and quite exquisitely crispy.  We selected the vegetarian version of the lettuce wraps, the best part of which was the pale, crisp leaves of iceberg, thick and turgid, and so fun to indulge in after so many servings of mesclun and spring greens.  The filling was wildly less entertaining,

primarily composed of coarsely chopped nuts with cubes of flavorless zucchini and a thick,
 sugary plum sauce to glue things into place.








Chicken satay were strangely tender- soft, even- and even more strangely hued, aside from the fact that satay aren't even Chinese.  Coated in a vivid orange, they imparted a good chicken flavor if you could get past the salt, and were served with a cloying peanut sauce that could be a delicious ice cream topping.  Dumplings arrived in traditional woven baskets, steaming and fragrant.  They were thin-skinned and toothsome, probably one of the safer bets on the menu.

Mixed veg s you've had all of everywhere.

Mixed vegetables... well, you've had them before.  In a cornstarch-thickened white sauce, again too
salty, but the melange of vegs themselves retained a nice al dente freshness- and it's always a joy to eat bamboo shoots.    Chicken and broccoli achieved that same appealing tenderness of chicken, broccoli bright, but again, salt was the prevailing flavor component.    Beijing Chicken's poultry chunks lost the advantage of that tenderness, hardened by overcooking in its dark, bacony gravy, sweet and heady, becoming just about as firm and chewy as the  big toasted walnuts that accompanied it.  Fried rice gained points for presentation, served
 from attractive tall metal vessels, but was more appealing in situ than on the plate.  The weird squiggles of (alas, more) chicken added an almost comical component, and the taste didn't go leaps and bounds to override the cloche of mediocrity prevailing over the restaurant as a whole.

Actually, in addition to the iceberg lettuce, the only really noteworthy thing I ate that night was a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream from an assortment of gelatos and sorbets (mango, coconut, raspberry, etc.)  that came out to finish things off.  Red Stixs pretty much fails on all counts, but that one white orb, one that has no exclusivity to the restaurant, and nothing at all to do with Chinese food, ended the meal quite pleasantly.

216 E. 49th St. between 2nd & 3rd Avenues 
tel 1-646-964-5878

COSME

Cosme would be one of those see-and-be-seen kind of joints, were it not so dark and cavernous that it's hard to see where you're going, let alone who else might be there when you are.  And being there isn't the easiest feat to accomplish in the first place; reasonable dining times are next to impossible to come by, even now that it's been open over eight months.  Enrique Olvera caused quite a stir opening up his first New York venture, and the buzz is still fairly audible, if not as deafening as it was in October.  Thankfully, though, some of the best dishes that I had heard about then were still on the menu for my visit, elevating the experience past some of its more obvious missteps.

The darkness of the room was exacerbated by a rather lackluster greeting by two bored  hostesses- young girls casually clad that contradicted the pedigree of the restaurant.   Our server was more adept, describing the layout of the menu and making some recommendations upon our request, although somehow he managed to dribble red wine all over the tabletop each time he poured from the bottle.  And made no attempt to swab it up, nor apologize for the drips, although it's possible he may not have even noticed what was happening in the dimness of the light.  The walls and floors are
 cement grey, concentrated spotlights cast circumspect orbs of light on the walls and tables creating a moody, mysterious ambiance that I wish had conveyed more strongly onto the menu.  Freshness and lightness prevails, which is novel to typical American renditions of Mexican food. too often glopped with cheese or sauce over greasy starches.  Not at all here at Cosme, where in fact, if anything, it could use a little more depth and substance.  The menu is divided into three sections, although they don't vary greatly in price, but apparently separate the heartier flavored dishes from the lighter ones.  It would seem more that the it goes from seafood to vegetables to what might feasibly constitute entrees.  True to that description, however, our initial dishes selected from the first section, were all freshness and light, razor clams which slipped neatly off their elongated shells, brightened with citrus and a zip of crystal hot sauce.  I wasn't expecting a raw clam on this one, but most of the dishes from this first menu section qualify under the guise of crudo.  

Scallop aguachile touted poached jicama, which I was excited try having only ever eaten jicama in its crudite state, but instead, both the scallops and the jicama seemed untouched by heat, only gently cured by the zesty wasabi-cucumber-lime brine in which they floated.  The crisp jicama discs contrasted playfully with such delicate tender scallops, so deceptively similar to the eye but starkly contrary in texture.  My favorite dish arrived next, however: big hunks of king crab leg nestled into a zesty Mexican gribiche studded with salty capers and a flourish of chervil.  The flavors were bright and sharp while rich and luxurious as the same time, served with a crunchy , meta-tortilla chip to render it scoopable.  So far, this would be the only dish I would've returned for, and return for it I happily would.



From the second section (all varying degrees of vegetarian) we chose a purple asparagus, mysteriously bereft of any white eggplant, but lavishly doused in a picante green salsa, which may have been a little overpowering for the vegetal stalks.  They did, however, retain their signature purple tips, ingeniously steamed just long enough to tenderize the sturdy stalks but without sacrificing their regally-hued crowns.
Surprisingly, this dish was better than a much-anticipated mushroom and squash barbacoa, astronomically priced at $26 for an embarrassingly measly portion of steamed mushrooms and a few chunks of grilled zucchini piled over a ruddy pool of romesco-tasting sauce.  There were some dense little blue cornmeal orbs that had potential, but didn't pan out to be much more than gritty balls of compacted polenta... albeit in a fetching shade of greyish-blue.  It would've gotten a little more had it clocked in around $10, but for the price of an entree, neither the size nor the flavor presented any justification whatsoever.  Here, I might've solicited a little cheese, just for the heartiness I inferred from barbeque.  Instead, it was all pleasant and light, but begged for depth and complexity... and an approximate 50% price decrease.  

All the dishes we tried were plated meticulously, in precise compositions that achieved beautiful visual balance.  But the ingredients were so disparate and segregated that it was hard to make the flavors meld in some of them.  The fluke with pork belly was a perfect example of this, whereas combining a morsel of pork with a pickly bit of charred onion,
 a sprig of purslane and a daub of creamy black bean puree created a delicious bite, but that balance so exquisitely achieved in the plating was less easily achieved on a d.i.y. basis.  Too, there could have been quite a bit more of the black bean in order to make the components coalesce.    At $29, it was a medium-size entree- certainly not generous, but adequate.  The duck carnitas, on the other hand, was ample.  Priced at $59, it easily serves two (the table next to us didn't order much else and even took leftovers).  It arrives in a steaming iron skillet, flaunting its crispy-charred skin over a hefty leg and breast- a full half-duck per diner.   Mild shredded fennel and radishes surround the bird, and a stack of earthy, pliant house-made corn tortillas accompany to wrap
up the juicy meat, which apparently takes four days to prepare from a custom blend of blue, purple, yellow and white Mexican corn .  If the quantity of this dish wasn't enough to warrant the price in your mind alone, the effort invested in its creation might tip the scales as further justification.

And then the much-anticipated climax- that dessert I had been reading so very much about (drum roll, please).  And yes, it was that good, really.  A study in white upon arrival, the feathery-light, melt-in-your-mouth meringue broke into a creamy, corny whipped cream mousse to reveal the earthy humility of charred, pulverized husk it was made from.  The unique grey-blue color contrasted gently with the pale yellow mousse, and the subtle perfume of summer corn whispered of a summer which still hasn't quite arrived.  But this dessert transcends the season: my only wish (and I'm not much on dots and squiggles) was that it might have included a tart component to offset the creamy sweetness.  We attempted to outsource this with a scoop of dragon fruit-mezcal sorbet, forgetting that the fruity, supermarket renditions of this flavor are even remotely indicative of the true essence of dragon fruit.  Instead, its muted, almost creamy flavor offered more of the same, with a slight boozy touch (which was not unappreciated).  I suppose I was envisioning the kick of raspberry... a simple raspberry sorbet would've added a nice tangy kick.  Cosme isn't a flawless as I might have hoped, and at these price points I feel like it might have a couple of points to rethink.  But it seems the Chef is probably back at Pujol, having garnered a solid three stars from the Times, and a following frantic enough to require ample forethought to procure a reservation.  But if you have the wherewithal, Cosme is most definitely a memorable experience, although I'm not sure whether it more for the bragging rights than of the dinner itself.

   
        35 E 21st Street    
 tel. 212.913.9659