Meb Byrne

Archive for the ‘french’ Category

Le Fooding d’Amour

In event, France, french, nyc, recommended on September 29, 2009 at 5:58 pm

On September 25 and 26, Le Fooding d’Amour made its American debut at the P.S. 1 Contemporary Arts Center in Queens. From what I can discern, Le Fooding is a collaboration between Parisian and New York chefs, with the goal of bringing haute cuisine to the masses. Practically speaking, this means throwing big parties. If this is Le Fooding’s only goal, it is certainly succeeding.

Starting at six p.m., a murmuring crowd of friends and new acquaintances entered the inner courtyard of P.S. 1, a green expanse covered by a giant Dr.-Seussian chocolate-colored mohair tent and dotted with small circles of lawn chairs. The crowd was a melange of fashions, ages, races, and nationalities: everything from Upper East Side foodies to well-dressed French tourists. The DJ spun an adorable mix of old school French and American favorites, favoring artists like Arletty and Sinatra.

Each evening of Le Fooding featured six chefs from famous, high-end restaurants, each presenting a small dish in white tents around the perimeter of the P.S. 1 courtyard. The dishes were prepared by teams of cooks working as assembly lines, often creating dozens of uniform plates at a time. The chefs remained artistic and almost impetuous at their work, and were utter gentlemen with their customers. Veuve Clicquot flowed freely throughout the evening, and mixologists prepared cocktails like the Wild Cherry Mojito, a rich, icy drink with Belvedere vodka, intense marascino flavor and lashings of mint.

Before guests reached the main culinary attractions, they were greeted by the bread and cheese tent, provided by Cheeses of France and Balthazar Bakery. Of all the tasty choices, Saturday’s Bleu really shone: wonderfully bright and creamy, tangy but not too acidic. Munching on Brie and Livarot, guests could explore the intimate nooks and hiding places inside the giant mohair tent, or the smaller concrete alcoves along the museum walls, with yellow lighting and low plastic stools.

As renowned as the chefs were, a few of the dishes failed to excite. Friday’s mini Henry IV casserole by Yves Camdeborde was a basic broth of meat and clear, gooey balls of gelatin; Wylie Dufresne‘s grilled chicken neck had little meat and less flavor. On Saturday, Daniel Boulud & Olivier Muller‘s couscous included many components and three types of meat, but failed to take flight. Alberto Herraiz‘s chicken skewer in a bowl of thick chilled cilantro sauce benefited from the oily crunch of its chopped peanut garnish, but grew old after a few bites.

But never mind these disappointments; the rest of the cuisine more than compensated. On Friday, David Chang‘s innovative take on Bo Ssam, a traditional Korean dish, featured shredded pork topped with a savory red sauce to add kick. The buttery lettuce leaf sheath meant the dish could be eaten daintily with a fork or rolled up and devoured. In another tent, William Ledeuil doused a pork rib in sweet sauce and served it with a pool of baba ghanouj-style puree that was stuck through with lemon. Elsewhere, Sean Rembold‘s fried corn was faintly crisp on the outside and doused in a wonderful creamy pepper sauce, sprinkled with crunchy leaves and slivers of green pepper. Friday’s star was Christophe Pele‘s barbecued sirloin steak, two cubes of medium rare beef in a zingy jus. Topped with spring greens and flecks of onion, the steak was tiny, delectable and left you wanting more.

Saturday’s dishes were larger and required more prep time, resulting in longer lines at the tents. Interestingly, five of the six featured some type of steak. Julie Farias‘s beef head taco might sound intimidating, but the light, pleasingly grainy corn tortilla was full of tangy vegetables, leaving the savory meat almost as an afterthought. Like the bo ssam, the tortilla was the size of a compact disk, great for munching while walking. Also great for walking was the adorable, delectable burger by Lee Hanson, Pat La Frieda, and Riad Nasr, no larger than a baseball when topped with its tiny dark-golden bun. Served with two crunchy shamrock-shaped pickles and a handful of crisp pommes frites, the plump burger was juicy and topped exquisitely with caramelized onions.

As delightful as all the preceding dishes were, they did not hold a candle to the last two. Inaki Aizpitarte‘s steak with charred aubergine was almost indescribable. More art than food, the dish featured swabs of black beans and sour cream on the edge of the plate, with purple-stained vegetables in the center, concealing the delicately-sliced steak beneath. I barely remember the taste; I just know I’ve never tasted anything like it before. In the same category was Stephane Jego‘s simmered beef and chilled camembert meringue. The dish tasted like a deconstructed pizza: the beef was intense, dark and juicy, and garnished by a triangle of oily crust. The camembert meringue, a dollop of sea green foam, played comic to the beef’s straight man with its citrus bite. Tastier and more inventive than anything else at Le Fooding, these two dishes were the ones to stay for.

Both evenings were topped off with (what else?) ice cream. Nicholas Morgenstern‘s unobtrusive cart had the power to bring out the kid in sophisticated foodies, who were lining up for frozen treats half an hour before the stand opened. The flavors were icy and inventive: vanilla bourbon, salted hazelnut gianduja, and Dirty Breakfast, a light banana ice cream with muesli and granola spooned over the top. Guests grabbed a cone (or two) and ended their well-fed night on a sweet note.




In brunch, dc, french, restaurant on June 30, 2009 at 3:58 pm
If you couldn’t guess by now, I’m a big fan of outdoor markets. I’m also a big fan of brunch. (What other meal is designed specifically for lazy rich people?) So I was excited to combine my two interests in an outing to Montmartre, located a block away from the Eastern Market in DC.

I will say one thing in defense of Montmartre: the quiche-of-the-day is superb. The crust is thick yet light and flaky, the eggs moist, the fillings (on this day, bacon and various cheeses) flavor-packed with a slightly sweet aftertaste. Get the quiche.

My praise ends there.

This is not to say that Montmartre is a bad restaurant. It is not. The servers are friendly. The space is nice. The mimosas are tasty. The buckwheat crepe is hearty, crispy, and chock full of meat and vegetables. It does, however, need salt. The quiche’s side of greens is fresh, but unfortunately paired with a weird mayonnaise; a better choice would have been a light vinaigrette.

The clincher for me was the desserts: five flat, despondent-looking tarts, sugar glazed beyond hope. In a strange move, the fruit of the blueberry tart is covered by a top crust, masking the flavor and making the dessert more high fructose corn syrup than berries. The kitchen presents these sad tarts beautifully, surrounding them with a pool of vanilla sauce and a drizzle of raspberry. The gigantic mint leaves as garnish, however, are overkill.

In the end, Montmartre’s wait is too long, its decibels too high, its service too harried and its portions too large to be a faithful representation of French cuisine.