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wu-tang

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Brooks Robinson

Brooks Robinson (6/123)

  1. My sister and I had the three course tasting at the bar a couple weeks ago. Despite the bartender warning us that ordering an appetizer in addition to our three courses was a little much, I couldn't resist the opportunity to order the shoat rillete. It came in a sizeable portion, enough for up to 4 people to share. We should have just stopped there, the rillete having just enough salt, sweetness and creaminess from the fat. Every now and then we'd find a small morsel of meat, and when more toasted brioche showed up, unsolicited, we really couldn't justify having it go unused. This is how we got ourselves into trouble. Already we were sated, and we hadn't even begun the actual tasting. Several dishes have already been described, but I just wanted to highlight the shoat pot au feu that I had for my main course. Yes, I had shoat twice in the same sitting. Yes, it was intentional, and there was not a moment of regret. Where the shoat rillete was hard, the pot au feu was soft. Where the rillete was salty, the pot au feu was sweet. As long as my liver can handle all the fat, it was not overkill. So the pot au feu. It was shoat tail, tongue and ear, by far the least sexiest parts of the pig, but let me tell you. This dish is excellent. It arrives with a puff pastry on top, which is taken off and placed in the bottom of your dish. The contents are spooned on top, and then butter is mixed into the broth to make the sauce and poured on top. I think this process is done to create food envy in your companions. The heady smell alone tells you that you have chosen better than them. Shoat tail: Firm, forgiving, and unassuming, but full of flavor. Shoat tongue: soft, creamy and sweet. Shoat ear: sweet, sticky, coats your mouth and then dissolves. I think most people here are pretty open to eating things like pork belly, kidneys, livers, and other offal. This dish has made such 'undesirable' parts into something so elegant while staying equally rustic. The butter enrichment to the broth at the end of serving the dish is kind of involved, but I think it's just playing up one of the great things about pot au feu is that all the gelatin in the meat has dissolved into the broth, making it savory, just a little thick and sticky, and so deeply flavored. I had one quick absent-minded bite of my sister's duck dish (sorry, I don't recall anything about it) and just felt annoyed that I had been disturbed from my dish. It was like someone's cell phone going off during a symphony. I stopped talking to her completely. No converstation topic could engage me more than what I was eating. And after having written all this, I realize that words just fail. I just feel strongly enough about it to say that I want other people to try it before it disappears. Everything after that was nonessential. This dish is now essential to my taste repertoire. Pork will never. ever. be tasted in the same light. I'm doomed.
  2. I don't know if it's still on the menu, but a couple weeks ago I had their crabcakes and they were simply perfect: lump crab and avocado battered and deep fried with yuzu emulsion and green tea salt. They loosely resemble quenelles upon presentation, and are just a little bigger than a mouthful, making them the perfect size for a little dipping, a little sprinkling of the fragrant green tea salt, an a splash of lemon juice. There are quite a number of them, so you'd think you'd get bored, but not a chance. Classic crab and avocado are carried on a crisp raft of entirely greaseless golden batter, and the yuzu mayonnaise with green tea salt make this dish sublime.
  3. After finishing up my last exam for a grueling semester, I was seized by a surprising craving for red meat. As a poor working student, my usual sustenance falls into the bottom of the food pyramid, with only rare outings to have real food. As I had just managed, to me, quite a feat by surviving these past few months, I decided to treat myself to dinner at one of the best restaurants within walking distance, muddled as I was in a post-exam haze. I dropped into a stool at the Circle Bistro bar and immediately noted the comfortable shades of orange, the trim design of the menu placards, and the sophisticated bartender who just looked like someone I could trust. With a glass of Kermit Lynch Grenache-Syrah, I decided on the charcuterie plate. I was presented with a clean array of paper-thin jamon serrano, saucisson de paris, salami toscana with olive oil and olives, a triangular slice of terrine (of what meats, I don't know; didn't ask) with purple mustard, and a small dish of the creamiest pate I've ever had. Not a trace of grittiness anywhere. There was also a small salad of perfect mache and frisee and plenty of thinly sliced bread. See, I'm a detail person. This was perfect. The chef or garde manger or prep cook who assembled the plate probably doesn't think a charcuterie plate is that big of a deal, but the presentation was so clean, and the cured meats, because they were so good, made me crave more. The bartender told me of a special they had that night, venison with brussel sprouts and celery root. After studying the full menu (which they also offer at the bar), I decided to get it, having never had venison but reading much about its qualities. Everything they say is true. Cut into quarter inch slices, cooked a perfect mid-rare, the venison was plated down the left side of the plate, overlapping a savory sauce. On the other side were a few braised brussel sprouts and huge pieces of celery root with very little adulteration. A couple glazed chestnuts here and there. Overall I didn't pay much attention to the vegetables as the venison was so good: tender, not too gamey (though I wouldn't have minded) and, well, woodsy. I can't come up with better terms. My brain is shot. Red meat craving satisfied and redefined. Will return as soon as I'm able.
  4. Speaking as someone who has eaten at Komi many times: It's getting cold out. Tis the season to dine at Komi. In my opinion, Monis shines the most during the fall and winter when his dishes can carry the full weight of his ambition. If you see goat or lamb on the menu, don't fuss. Just get it. That goes for anything in the 'macaronia' section of the menu too. (Read: sea. urchin. risotto. ) One dish stands out to me from last year: baby goat moussaka. Braised baby goat and tender eggplant on a bed of creamy soft polenta and mascarpone, garnished with phyllo. Sex on a plate. I'm hoping it makes a new reincarnation this season.
  5. Hear hear. Having worked both front and back of the house, I can say that all restaurant staff strive for guests to enjoy their experience, and would always prefer righting a wrong than letting a guest leave the restaurant unhappy, unsatiated, or worst of all, misguided. Is it outside the scope of a server's job to inform a guest of his/her erroneous views on food? For instance, when a guest complains that softshell crabs taste 'metallic', is it appropriate to inform her that the metallic taste, or brinyness, or fresh taste of the ocean, is in fact the hallmark of fresh seafood? She was offered her choice of any entree on the menu as replacement, free of charge. She ordered another seafood dish, and was pleased after all. Diners, please speak up if you have issues with the food, service, or any aspect of your experience in any restaurant. Give restaurant staff a chance to change or improve your judgement. We'd all get along a lot better that way.
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