Trouble With Toast

During my jaunt to Athens, Georgia, last week, I decided to treat myself to one nice solo dinner. Being a college town, the Classic City isn’t exactly chock-full of haute cuisine options. However, 5 & 10–a restaurant that I had visited once before, right after it opened, about eight years ago–garnered the Atlanta Journal-Constitution’s “Restaurant of the Year” title in 2007. What better reason to give it another taste?

I decided to take my chances at the bar instead of securing a reservation, so I got there early (about 5:30) to make sure I could snag a stool. There were about 4-5 older folks at the bar already, and they looked to be regulars, so I immediately thought I’d be neglected by the bartender (bad to assume, I know, but past precedent weighs heavily, especially when you dine alone as much as I do). Not so–he was very attentive and knowledgeable. I asked for a glass of something white and dry, and he came up with a chenin blanc that was on the wine specials list for the day. Hit the spot.

I had a hard time deciding how to proceed food-wise. Nearly all of the entrees looked delicious, but I wanted to try as many varied things as possible. So, in the end, I had three appetizers and a dessert. First, I chose the cauliflower soup with butter poached Maine lobster and chive cream ($9). It was creamier and a little thinner than the version I recently had at Proof (which I loved), but the flavor was really good. The lobster didn’t really add or subtract from the dish, which causes me to conclude that chefs should just leave their cauliflower soups alone and stop adding seafood (Proof’s version had cornmeal-crusted fried oysters, and I thought they were superfluous as well).

Next, I ordered a half dozen oysters on the half-shell. Now, you may not think that’s the best dish by which to test a chef’s mettle, but as an oyster-lover, I pay great attention to the care that is taken in selecting and presenting raw bar items. In this case, the oysters (which were Kumamotos–small, but briny and somewhat sweet, and absolutely fantastic) were served with a homemade cocktail sauce and a mignonette, and it was a wonderful middle course (especially when paired with an insanely reasonably priced $6 glass of cava).

Earlier in the evening, the bartender had raved about the ahi tuna tartare with cornichons, shallots, lemon, parsley, ponzu, citrus salad, and haricots vert ($14). It sounded fabulous, so I decided to end my appetizer tour with the dish, and the presentation was certainly gorgeous (and the quality of the fish was top-notch). However, it seemed to me that the chef was rather heavy-handed with the ponzu, as the sauce often overpowered the flavor of the tuna (especially near the bottom of the mold, where the fish was sitting in a puddle of the liquid). I’ve had a lot of tuna tartare, and this one was certainly good, but I didn’t think it deserved all of the praise it received.

For dessert, I noticed a bourbon pecan pie on the specials menu, and I had to go for it–after all, I make a mean bourbon pecan pie myself, and I wanted to see how 5 & 10 would stack up against my baking prowess (intense sarcasm intended). Shockingly enough, I really and truly thought that my pecan pie was the superior dessert–this version was rather uninspiring. The Coca-Cola ice cream that came with the pie, however, was one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth. Amazing. And I don’t even like ice cream all that much.

Three appetizers, a dessert, two glasses of wine, a beer (a Victory Prima Pils that was on special), tax, and tip added up to $82. The service was very good, and the atmosphere was energetic and casual (except for the primped up sorority girls who got busted for having fake IDs–ah, college). But I walked out of the restaurant with a furrowed brow–was that REALLY the best restaurant in Atlanta?

I applaud the AJC’s food editors for realizing that there exist great culinary possibilities outside of the perimeter (or OTP, as we ATLiens would say–haha). However, it is hard for me to believe that there isn’t a single restaurant in the metro Atlanta area that can beat 5 & 10 in terms of a total dining experience. To say that the best restaurant in Atlanta resides in Athens (which is a good hour and a half outside the city) is, in my mind, to severely denigrate the many great dining options that one can find right downtown.

Wow, how is it possible that I’ve lived in DC for 3 years and yet NEVER set foot in Corduroy until last night? Based on Tuesday’s spectacular meal, I am kicking myself for not eating there sooner and more frequently.

I will definitely look forward to seeing the new digs–the current space is pretty bland. However, that is where my complaints end. The service was wonderful, and it was obvious that our waiter respects Chef Power and enjoys working for/with him. Our server even said that Restaurant Week had been great, which elicited a surprised reaction from my dining companion (she’s been to far too many restaurants whose staffs openly despise the promotion, I suppose).

For starters, I opted for the oysters on the half shell (a $3 upcharge). The apple-shallot mignonette sauce added just the right amount of acidity and flavor, and it still let the great briny taste of the oysters (which happened to be of the Island Creek variety) shine through. My gal pal had the parsnip soup, which had some chervil oil and a wonderful creamy texture. I believe she used the crusty bread to sop up every last morsel!

The main courses were truly outstanding, and probably our favorite part of the meal. I had the boneless lamb, cooked rare, with garlic creamed spinach. I am not usually a lamb fan, but the server highly recommended it, and I wasn’t disappointed at all. The meat was tender and flavorful and prepared absolutely perfectly. The creamed spinach was probably the best I’ve ever had–in most versions, all you can taste is the cream and/or the cheese, but Chef Power’s rendition had a wonderful spinach flavor and a lovely garlic punch. When I commented to the server about how tasty it was, he said, “The chef really knows how to use seasonings and make different flavors come through.” To say the least! My friend ordered the beef cheeks “osso bucco” style, and oh my gosh, it was delicious. To say that it was tender and flavorful would be the grossest of understatements. The meat was served atop a bed of white beans (can’t remember what variety) and with a small pile of thin string beans. Needless to say, the bread was once again required to soak up all of the wonderful sauces from our quickly-emptied plates.

My girlfriend wanted to skip dessert, but I convinced her to order one anyway so that I could sample two. We opted for the hazelnut bars and the chocolate tart with caramelized bananas. The former was obviously a riff on Michel Richard’s “kit kat” bar, and my friend really enjoyed it–though, to be honest, I liked the version I had at Central better (Corduroy’s version seemed much more dense). The latter was a tart of white chocolate that actually reminded me of a custard; it was served with chocolate ice cream and the bananas, and it was really really good. Once again, plates cleaned.

I can’t believe that, after splitting the check down the middle (I had a glass of sauvignon blanc and my friend had a pilsner) and adding a large tip, my tab was still only $50. Corduroy is an incredible Restaurant Week value, and I can’t wait to sample more of Chef Power’s creations once he settles into his new location. Bravo!

Over the past month or so, I’ve had a TON of interesting dining experiences.  Rather than format individual posts, I figured I’d slap my thoughts down right here.  For your reading pleasure, of course!

Proof (Friday 1/4)–Ah, I love this place!  The atmosphere is hip, the bar is hoppin’ (no wonder, with all of the great wine selections), and the food seems to get better every time I visit.  The boyfriend and I shared the charcuterie board (which was HUGE, and a great value at $28)–I’ve never had so much cured meat in one sitting!  Everything was really delicious, especially the house-made pate.  Next we shared the cauliflower soup with crispy oysters–the former was AMAZING, and it actually didn’t need the latter (which had a cornmeal batter that wasn’t to my liking).  The scallop entree was lovely and perfectly cooked, but the desserts really left us with smiles–the sticky toffee pudding cake was delectably sweet without being cloying, and the goat’s cheesecake was divine in both texture and flavor.  Combine all that with some very well-recommended wines, and you’ve got a wonderful evening!  I’m returning to Proof tonight, and I can’t wait–it’s such a great addition to the DC restaurant scene.

2 Amy’s (Tuesday 1/8)–My first visit, and it was tasty–my margherita extra pizza (tomato, buffalo mozzarella, cherry tomatoes, and basil) was the table favorite–but the experience just didn’t live up to the fanaticism that surrounds the place.  Our server was excellent, and the wine and beer selections were really nice, but the pizzas (of which we ordered four) fell somewhat short of expectations.  The crust was alright–certainly not raw or significantly underdone, but definitely not as firm and crisp as I usually prefer.  The toppings were obviously of high quality, but their proportions seemed to be off–too much cheese on some, too little on others.  Sister had a special mushroom pizza, sister’s boyfriend had the calabrese pizza (tomato, onions, anchovy, mozzarella, parsley, and olives), and my boyfriend had the ripieno extra stuffed pizza (ricotta, grana, salami, prosciutto, pancetta, and tomato).  We all tasted everything, and the response was pretty consistent–good, but not mind-blowing.

Bistro 7 (Saturday, 1/12)–This is one of Philly’s famed BYOB restaurants, and my girlfriends and I really enjoyed ourselves.  The space was smaller than I anticipated, but that gave it a really homey, comfortable feel (though I have no idea how the chefs worked their magic in the teeny tiny kitchen).  Highlights of the meal were the duck mousse from the charcuterie plate (smooth and incredibly delicious), the gnocchi (light and pillowy, just the way they should be), and the duck legs (crispy, flavorful skin, and moist, tender meat).  The lentils that accompanied the duck were significantly undercooked, and the dessert was a total miss (it was a pear tart with savory, pepper-infused creme fraiche, and it just didn’t work for me), but the service was good and the fresh bread was wonderful.  Mostly, though, I enjoyed drinking a lovely bottle of Grgich Hills chardonnay without paying the ridiculous restaurant markup.

Creperie Beau Monde (Sunday 1/13)–Also in Philly, this place was recommended to me by my sister and her boyfriend.  All I can say is–YUM!  They had a zillion varieties of crepes, both savory and sweet, and I definitely would have tried more if my stomach had stretched a little farther.  I started with French onion soup, which was really well done–the perfect amount of cheese, and a hearty onion flavor.  Then, I had a mushroom crepe, which was done with buckwheat.  Very tasty.  The star of my breakfast, however, was the Nutella and banana dessert crepe.  Oh. My. GAWD.  I’ll go back just for that.

Bourbon (Wednesday 1/16)–I’ve had drinks at this Adams Morgan bar before, but I’ve never ordered food.  I opted for the ostrich burger, served rare, and a side of tater tots.  It was probably the best “bar food” I’ve ever had.  I’ve heard that Bourbon does a really good brunch–that’s definitely on my to-do list!

Vidalia (Saturday 1/19, Restaurant Week)–For appetizers, I opted for the veal tongue and my boyfriend got the bison carpaccio/tartare. The former was out of this world–incredibly tender and flavorful, it almost reminded me of a really good pupusa (due to the flatbread on which it was served and the cabbage “slaw”). The bison was also a winner, though I didn’t get much of it because it was wolfed down too fast! For entrees, I went for the rabbit saddle and boyfriend got the cassoulet. I’ve had rabbit before at Vidalia, and this version just didn’t wow me–it was tasty, and the carrot-ginger puree was a wonderful touch, but the meat was cooked more than I would have preferred (my sister got the same thing and asked for it to be cooked rare, and the server indicated that it couldn’t be done that way) and the spaetzle didn’t really contribute anything to the dish. The cassoulet was great–we couldn’t decide which part of the pork was our favorite (I think mine was the shoulder, but the sausage was also nice). The beans were hailed table-wide as the best part of the dish–yummy! For dessert, we returned to our favorites–the pecan tart for me (fabulous, as always) and the peanut-butter crunch for my man. Service was good, if a bit frazzled (hey, it was Saturday night of Restaurant Week, that’s to be expected). Wine recommendations, from both the server and the bartender, were spot-on and reasonably priced. As I left, I was even invited back for one of the wine tastings (in a way that didn’t feel like I was being sold something)–what a wonderful strategy to get people back in the door! I will certainly return to Vidalia as many times as possible before I leave DC–it remains one of my faves in the city.

I also visited Corduroy recently, but that meal deserves a post of its own (especially since it was my first experience there).  So, there you have it!  After tonight’s return trip to Proof (hooray!), I plan on eating out less and cooking MUCH more.  Stay tuned!

My boyfriend and I dined at Central for the first time last night, before a trip to the National Theater (to see “Avenue Q,” which I highly recommend). Our reservation was at 5:30, so I was a little worried about being rushed. However, our server read us very well and paced our meal impeccably; we walked out at 7:30, which was exactly what I was hoping for.

We ordered a bottle of Malbec, which was perfectly acceptable and reasonably priced (translation: the markup wasn’t as ridiculous as it is at other establishments) at $38. For starters, I opted for the mussel chowder–delicious, and I am not even the biggest mussel fan! The broth was creamy without being heavy, and the mussels were plump and flavorful. Yum. Boyfriend had the onion soup, which was decadent to say the least. They certainly don’t skimp on the cheese!

For the main course, I chose the braised rabbit, largely because it came with spaetzle. The meat was very well-cooked, though it was nothing out-of-this-world. The spaetzle, however, and the “glazed” carrots that accompanied the meal? Fan-frickin’-tastic. If we hadn’t been off to the theater, I would have asked for a doggie bag–the food was incredibly delicious, but it was too rich for me to finish. Boyfriend got the fish and chips, and he said that the fish was really good. He was NOT a fan of the frites, though, despite the fact that many DC foodies have been raving about them since the restaurant opened its doors. He also ordered a side of the mac and cheese, which he said was the best he’s ever had. I only tasted a bit, but I agree that it was top-notch.

We split the kit kat bar for dessert, and it lived up to its hype–how can you go wrong with chocolate and hazelnut (in the form of both mousse and ganache) atop a delicious wafery base? The malted vanilla ice cream that accompanied it was also a pleasant surprise. In the end, we left only $155 lighter in the wallet (after two appetizers, two entrees, a side dish, a dessert, a bottle of wine, a glass of some sort of Port-like drink, tax, and tip). For that price, Central offers some of the best food in town without the pretentious price tag. We’ll definitely be back!

Many nights of the week, I leave work and go directly to the Georgetown University Law Center (at 600 New Jersey Avenue NW) for rehearsal. I usually try to be frugal and either bring my dinner in a sack or opt for the cheaper Chinatown fare. However, on Wednesday evening, I decided to splurge a little and try Penn Quarter’s newest hot spot, Proof.

Described as a “wine-centric restaurant featuring modern American cuisine,” Proof combines the considerable talents of Chef Haidar Karoum (formerly of Asia Nora) and Sommelier Sebastian Zutant (formerly of Komi and Rasika). From the moment I stepped in the door, I understood why the early buzz about the place had been so resoundingly positive.

The space is gorgeous, with a sleek combination of glass and rich woods. I dipped into the ladies room before lighting at the bar, and I was instantly amused (though I won’t spoil the surprise by explaining why). There are many clever tie-ins to the National Portrait Gallery, which sits across G Street from Proof. In sum, the design of the restaurant seems to have been given as much thought as the wine and the food—which is saying a lot.

The by-the-glass list is varied and fairly priced, and I thoroughly enjoyed the Albarinho that the bartender selected for me. The wine was made even more enjoyable due to its being served at the proper temperature—thanks to a very cool-looking machine that is also programmed to distribute in precise amounts (I believe the glasses are available in 2-3 ounce “tastes,” 6 ounce pours, and 8 ounce pours). My Portuguese white was $9 for a 6 ounce pour, which I found quite reasonable.

For noshing, I opted for two “Firsts” (smaller plates). The “Yukon Gold Potato Gnocchi chanterelle mushrooms, roasted sweet corn” was absolutely divine—perfectly textured pillows of potato surrounded by intensely flavorful chanterelles. The dish was complex yet comforting, and it was not the least bit heavy (as lesser gnocchi can be). Next time, I’ll be ordering the large portion (entrée-priced at $21). The small was $14.

The $13 “Sautéed Veal Sweetbreads, medjool dates, bacon, spinach, caramel jus” was not quite as impressive. It was too sweet for my liking, with only the occasional heavily-salted bite of bacon. I should have known that the dates and the caramel would cause this dish to lean away from the savory side of things, but I went for it anyway—it wasn’t a complete miss (the sweetbreads were cooked very nicely, and the spinach was delicious), but I’ll probably opt for something else on subsequent visits.

Service at the bar was attentive without being cloying. Nothing about the place gives off a pretentious or exclusive vibe, though the crowd was well-dressed and attractive (and fairly diverse, especially age-wise). My tab, with two glasses of wine, two small plates, and a generous tip, was $65. So, while I won’t be able to dine at Proof every week, I will certainly return when I’m in the mood for serious food and wine in a refined-yet-accessible atmosphere. Well done!

My dad’s new job takes him to Houston on occasion, and he asked me for recommendations in terms of where to eat. Culinarily speaking, I don’t yet have a lot to say about that part of Texas. However, on my one and only voyage there, I was searching for a notable noshing experience and my boyfriend (who spent some time in the Lone Star State as a lad) said, “You HAVE to go to the House of Pies.” I was intrigued.

The House of Pies is an unassuming, almost Waffle House-esque diner whose tagline is, “A slice of heaven on Earth.” I couldn’t agree more. With reliable munchies (I had a Monte Christo sandwich and a heap of fabulously crunchy tater tots) and 24-hour service (with breakfast available anytime), it would already be a great place to add to the rotation. But there’s more! On the daily menu, there are about 8 fruit pies, 11 cream pies, 3 meringue pies, and 8 specialty pies from which to choose. You can buy them by the slice or by the pie, but one thing is for sure—you will never forget your first bite. When I went with some work colleagues while on a business trip, we tried the Dutch apple (yummy), the Bavarian chocolate banana (even yummier), and the strawberry rhubarb (the yummiest). We all decided that we should have skipped dinner and just eaten pie all night. If only they shipped…

The first time my dad went to Houston, he ignored my wholehearted endorsement and skipped the House of Pies. The second time, however, I wasn’t taking no for an answer and I told him I’d disown him if he didn’t give it a try. Then we had the following telephone exchange:

Dad: Guess where I am.
Betty: I don’t know, where?
Dad: The House of Pies.
Betty: * Delighted and jealous squeal * Do you love love love it? Are you eating tater tots? What kind of pie are you having?!?!
Dad: Yes, yes, Bavarian chocolate banana, and oh my god it is so $%#&*@! good.
Betty: * Stomach rumbling, wondering if her agency’s Houston office needs any help *

If you’re anywhere near Houston, you MUST visit this fine establishment. For those of us who are far far away from the magic, we can still talk about pie, which is probably the greatest fall dessert. What’s your favorite variety? Do you make your crust from scratch (and if so, what’s your secret)? Are there any local establishments that can compare to the House of Pies?

I used to write individual reviews for each establishment I visited during Restaurant Week. However, now that I’ve finished my fifth go-round of the popular dining promotion, I realize that I don’t have enough novel things to say to merit three separate write-ups. Instead, I’ll share the highlights of Summer Restaurant Week 2007, during which I ate two discounted dinners (at Vidalia and PS 7’s) and one reduced-price lunch (at DC Coast).

Best value: DC Coast. To determine this, I added up the regular prices of the food I ordered (or the closest item to it) at each restaurant and then performed various complicated mathematical operations to determine which savings was the greatest. I would have normally paid about $36.00 for my lunch at DC Coast, so the $20.07 Restaurant Week price tag represented a 44.25% discount. Vidalia was a close second, coming in at 43.7%. PS 7’s savings were about 37.4%.

Best service: Vidalia. Our server was knowledgeable and friendly, and he was honest in his recommendations (instead of steering us toward things that would pad his tip). He was there when we needed him, but he allowed us to enjoy our meal in relative peace. Bravo.

Worst service: PS 7’s. Our server was painfully slow and awkward. We certainly didn’t want to be rushed, since we were having a lovely conversation and enjoying the food, but he often disappeared for 20-30 minutes at a time. He left to tend to another table in the middle of taking our appetizer orders, and then he did the same after picking up our credit cards. Worst of all, he was almost completely unresponsive to our friendly comments and questions.

Most upcharges: Vidalia. I counted six there. DC Coast only had one (for the crab cakes), and PS 7’s had none.

Most impressive appetizer: The tuna sliders that my friend ordered at PS 7’s, which consisted of tuna tartare (with lots of cilantro—yum) on Parker House rolls with a spicy miso-based sauce. Lovely on the plate, but even better in my mouth.

Least impressive appetizer: DC Coast’s soup of the day, a chilled cucumber-melon soup with shrimp. Tasty, but way too watery, and the shrimp were a bit tough.

Most impressive entrée: Shockingly, they were all pretty darn good. If I had to choose a favorite, I’d probably pick the pan-roasted rainbow trout from PS 7’s. It was VERY rich, but cooked perfectly (skin on, hooray!) and incredibly flavorful. Then again, the roasted poussin at Vidalia was nothing to sneeze at (the skin was crispy and the meat was tender), and my seared tuna at DC Coast was light and delicious. Well done on all three counts!

Least impressive entrée: My boyfriend’s veal Oscar at Vidalia, though he certainly cleaned his plate. The accompanying gnocchi was, quite possibly, the best I’ve ever had. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I’m not a huge veal fan to begin with.

Most impressive dessert: Vidalia’s pecan pie, hands down. So. Good. The peach crisp at PS 7’s was also delicious.

Least impressive dessert: Crème brulee at DC Coast. It was tasty, but it wasn’t mind-blowing, and it was a bit heavier than I’d prefer.

Other notable touches: the peach-chardonnay dressing on my frisee salad at Vidalia (I’d buy it by the gallon, it was so good); the perfectly cooked scallops at PS 7’s; and the lovely caprese salad that accompanied my tuna at DC Coast.

Best overall experience: Vidalia, which should come as no particular shock. The food was beautiful and satisfying, the service was attentive but not cloying, and the inclusion of a special, affordable wine list was an excellent extra (of which I definitely took advantage).

There you have it—DC Coast is consistently good (but not spectacular), I’d absolutely go back to PS 7’s (though I’d request a different waiter), and Vidalia is still my favorite restaurant in the city.

Now, back to my regularly scheduled diet…

Last weekend, my boyfriend and I ventured to Vapiano, the new “fresh casual” restaurant at 18th and M Streets. A German chain (started, I believe, by a former McDonald’s franchise owner), the restaurant strives to combine hipness and affordability in a way that only those crazy Europeans can.

Here’s the hook: when you enter, you’re given a “chip,” which looks like a credit card and tracks your orders throughout the restaurant. Then, you are free to meander around the space, ordering food and drink from various stations. At the end of your journey, you bring your chip to the cashier to settle your tab.

When we visited, we started in the bar, where the happy hour specials were pretty enticing–$2.50 for draft beers (Pilsner Urquell or Peroni) and $2.50 for the house wines (both of which were pretty good, especially given the price). From there, we ordered pasta (pomodoro with spinach over linguine) and a pizza (prosciutto) and dug in. Was it the greatest meal of my life? Certainly not—but the pasta (which is made in-house) was fresh and the sauce/toppings were tasty, and the pizza crust was thin but not soggy. Not to mention we got out for less than $45, which included 6 drinks, the aforementioned food, and a large tip (there are no servers to speak of, but the employees pool all gratuities). On a Saturday night in DC, that’s nothing short of a miracle.

Quite pleased with the experience, I couldn’t wait to share the find with other DC food fans. Much to my surprise, however, there was already a lot of buzz about Vapiano in the blogosphere and on the message boards—and it was largely negative. Even worse, people who had never visited the restaurant were knocking it based solely on its cafeteria concept and price-point. In other words, the food snobs were on the attack.

Reading the naysayers’ comments got me thinking—is there a point at which your palate becomes so refined that you cannot eat “regular” food? Do true gourmands become so accustomed to all things haute cuisine that they cannot regress and appreciate the simplicity of a hearty, bargain-oriented meal? Or, does the lambasting of chains like Vapiano have less to do with taste buds and more to do with prestige and appearances and puffery?

I enjoy any opportunity to experience fine dining. I have been lucky enough to taste some truly incredible ingredients and to witness the genius of many of the country’s best chefs. But I have a pretty paltry paycheck, so I am constantly on the lookout for more modestly priced establishments at which to eat. Does eating at Vapiano mean that I don’t know food as well as someone who dines at The French Laundry or Le Bernardin every other month? Does enjoying my $7.75 pasta dish mean that I cannot also enjoy foie gras and Kobe beef?

I don’t know what makes a true epicure. All I know is that, while the world of gourmet cuisine and the world of fresh casual are vastly different, I’m sure glad that both worlds exist in Washington, DC.

When planning my weekend in San Francisco—my first time in the city—there were some things that were obvious. I wanted to get a burrito in the Mission District. I wanted to eat at my sister’s neighborhood sushi joint. I wanted to have pasta and chianti in North Beach. What wasn’t obvious, however, was that my finest dining experience in Northern California wouldn’t be in the City by the Bay. Rather, I traveled to Healdsburg with sis and Mr. Barzelay and enjoyed dinner at Cyrus.

Located in a quaint little town square, Cyrus almost seems out of place. It is opulently decorated, almost to the point of unnecessary pretension. The air of affectation continues when, shortly after napkins are placed on laps, a tuxedoed gentleman visits the table with a cart full of caviar and champagne options. It’s enough to make a usually bargain-oriented diner downright nervous.

Luckily, the haughtiness pretty much ended there. Our server was warm and friendly, and she explained how things worked: we could order the Chef’s seven-course tasting menu for $110, or we could custom-build a three course ($68), four course ($80), or five course ($92) meal. There was plenty that intrigued me about the regular menu, and I had recently treated myself to two phenomenal tasting menus, so I opted to create a unique five-course experience. Jeanette and David did the same (and I hope they will share their experiences, as I can only really remember my own).

A few canapés came out first, and they were delicious and delicate. One was a bit of asparagus puree on a small spoon, another was a homemade falafel, and another was some sort of fritter with a wonderful saffron flavor. Next, an amuse bouche of smoked salmon (sadly, I don’t remember the exact presentation). The flavors were very clean, and it was a treat to have another unexpected bite.

Just when we thought our first courses were arriving, we were presented with another amuse (at least, that’s how the servers described it). It was less like an amuse, though, and more like an appetizer—in fact, the “Roasted Asparagus with Fennel and Licorice Coulis” was on the dinner menu in the section marked “Vegetables.” No matter—it was fantastic. The asparagus was perfectly cooked, and the fennel was pickled beneath it and added a great tang. I don’t like licorice at all, but the coulis was a perfect match.

Course number one was “Black Cod with Uni, Zucchini and Green Papaya, Ginger Basil Broth.” Uni is sea urchin “roe,” and it is definitely an acquired taste—it has a very strong flavor, and the texture is akin to runny custard. On top of the sweet, firm cod, it was phenomenal. And even though I didn’t want to stuff myself with bread, I had to break off some crusty goodness and dip it in the wonderful ginger basil broth. Yum.

Next came “Truffled Red Wine Risotto, Parmesan Broth.” I am a risotto fanatic, and I make it at home quite frequently, so I relish any opportunity to taste how the chefs interpret the dish. The Parmesan broth was actually more like a foam, and there was a bit too much of it on the plate. The flavor of the dish was exquisite—very earthy and rich. However, the texture was disappointing; I like my risotto to be creamy, with just a little bite to the Arborio rice, but this version was far too al dente. It almost felt crunchy in my mouth, which I did not enjoy. I was very torn about this particular course, though my companions seemed to love it.

Course number three was “Hoisin Squab with Black Bean Rice Cake and Candied Kumquats.” This dish was absolutely delicious—the bird was perfectly cooked, and the skin was almost caramelized in the hoisin sauce. I enjoyed eating it by itself, but the squab was enhanced even further with a bit of candied kumquat on the fork. The black bean cake was just a touch overdone, but it added a great crunch. If all poultry could be prepared like this, I’d eat it a lot more often.

My final savory course was “Bacon Wrapped Pork Loin with Green Garlic Potato Puree and Chard.” Sadly, the best was not saved for last—this course was pretty disappointing. Part of why I ordered it was to see if (and how) the chef could make pork loin—a fairly lean, bland cut—unique and mouth-watering. The bacon in which the pork loin was wrapped was delicious, and the loin itself was cooked perfectly (which, for me, means slightly underdone), but the dish, as a whole, was lackluster.

Dessert for me was “Three Custards: Mousse of Crème Brulee, Blackberry Almond Pot de Crème, Tarragon Cheesecake.” The crème brulee mousse was out of this world—sweet and creamy, but with a very uncharacteristic lightness that I thoroughly enjoyed. The top layer of sugar wasn’t torched like in traditional crème brulee, but its crunchiness was a welcome finish. The blackberry pot de crème was my least favorite of the three (it was more liquidy than I would have liked), though its color was lovely. The cheesecake by itself was just the slightest bit dry, but it was remedied by dipping it in the accompanying tarragon sauce (which was quite good).

All in all, Cyrus was a lovely experience. Not everything scored a perfect ten, but the full-fledged disappointments were fairly few. I love the flexibility that the menu offers, and I appreciate the nod to individual taste with the ability to dress a meal up or keep it more casual. I’m not sure that a meal at Cyrus on its own merits the drive from San Francisco (like, say, The French Laundry does), but if you’re in the Sonoma area and want to experience fine dining, I would recommend making reservations.

Wylie Dufresne is a polarizing figure, to be sure. His critics lambaste him for being too intellectual, too scientific, too “out there.” His loyal fans defend his madcap kitchen antics, claiming that his avant-garde food is both challenging and tasty. When I visited wd~50 the first Saturday in June, I wasn’t sure on which side of the fence I would land. I was familiar with Chef Dufresne’s biography (he attended the French Culinary Institute in New York, and he worked his way up the food chain—pun intended—in Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s restaurant empire), and I was infinitely curious about his devotion to molecular gastronomy. With that knowledge, and with my girlfriend Erica and my love of food in tow, I arrived at 50 Clinton Street in Manhattan’s Lower East Side.

The maitre’d escorted us to our table, which was quite close to the kitchen. I immediately began craning my head to see if “the mad scientist” was back there. Those famous sideburns would be visible soon enough—as I learned later, Chef Dufresne is almost always in the kitchen, experimenting, collaborating, and perfecting his craft. Erica and I ordered cocktails and opted for the tasting menu. I took a sip of my vodka concoction and prepared for an interesting evening.

The amuse bouche was described as “Fluke, nigella-raisin, asparagus, arugula blossoms.” I was immediately hesitant, as raisins are one of my least-favorite foods. However, the addition of nigella (which is akin to cumin, from what I could taste) to the puree made it complex, spicy-sweet, and delicious. The clean-tasting fish and crisp asparagus were tasty, and the dish certainly woke up my mouth (and my brain).

The second course: “Shrimp and tarragon macaroons.” When I think about macaroons, my mind usually jumps to the dense, coconut-laden Passover dessert. These? Nothing like that. The consistency actually reminded me of meringue—they practically melted on my tongue. Even better, they tasted like shrimp (which I definitely prefer over coconut)! The tarragon was a little too heavy on two of the three macaroons, but it’s not my favorite herb, so I may just be a tad sensitive.

Next up: “Foie gras in the round.” I was totally blown away by the presentation of this dish. It looked like some kind of kids’ breakfast cereal, with little pellets of foie, a green herb (maybe watercress?), and crisp rice covered in dark chocolate. While the visual was interesting, I didn’t fall head over heels for the taste—the chocolate definitely overpowered the foie. The texture, however, mixed soft and crunchy and liquid and solid quite ingeniously, and I enjoyed that aspect of the course.

For the fourth course, we were served “Sweetbreads, cabbage-kaffir, water chestnuts.” This was probably my favorite course of the evening. The sweetbreads were perfectly cooked, braised before being coated in chamomile flour and deep fried. I was initially concerned that the cabbage-kaffir puree would overpower the dish, but it brought a tart, slightly pickled flavor to the sweetbreads, and it worked very well. The water chestnuts were crunchy and tangy (I believe there was some balsamic vinegar involved in their preparation)—I could have eaten many more of them.

Course number five: “Beef tongue, fried mayo, tomato molasses.” I tried this one both separately (each ingredient on its own) and put together like a high-class sandwich. The verdict? It was fantastic either way. The tongue tasted gently pickled, and I really enjoyed the thinness of the slices—it made the meat seem even more tender. The tomato molasses was smoky and strong. The star of the plate, however, was the fried mayo. When I initially heard about this dish, I balked at the concept, finding it almost revolting (mostly because I’m a “light on the mayonnaise” kind of gal). In actuality, it was rich and creamy on the inside, with just the right amount of crunch in the coating. All I had to do was press the cube lightly against the roof of my mouth, and warm, luscious deliciousness exploded across my taste buds. Who knew a condiment could be so erotic?

Next: “Miso soup, sesame ‘noodles.’” I wish my local Japanese joint served miso like this. I usually find it too salty, but this version had great flavor without too much salinity. The mushrooms added a woody richness, and the sesame tofu paste (which came in a plastic tube and had to be squeezed into the bowl of hot liquid) turned into delicious noodles, far better than the usual squares of limp bean curd that float lifelessly in most renditions. This dish proved that soup isn’t just for cold winter nights—despite the heat outside, I relished every drop of the comforting broth.

For the seventh course, we had “Langoustine, popcorn, hibiscus, endive.” This was probably the low point of the tasting menu for me. The endive was very good, but the rest of the components just didn’t work well together—the langoustine was practically flavorless, the popcorn was incredibly overwhelming (and unappetizing in look and mouth-feel), and the hibiscus was gorgeous but way too sugary. I appreciated the presentation effort, but the flavors were incongruous at best.

Course number eight was “Squab breast, beets, sorrel, coconut pebbles.” Yum! My dining companion, who is not a fan of beets, really disliked this dish. I thought it was great. The squab was tender and full-bodied, and the beets—both on the crust of the meat and as an accompaniment—were out of this world. I didn’t think I would enjoy the coconut pebbles, but they brought a milky lightness to the otherwise dark, lush ingredients. I’ll never look at a pigeon quite the same way again.

Whew, we made it to dessert! The first sweet treat on the tasting menu was “Peach puree, peanut, pandan,” but I was presented with “Yuzu curd, shortbread, spruce yogurt, pistachio” due to my peanut allergy. I don’t know how the peach dessert tasted (it must have been good, since Erica cleaned her plate), but the yuzu was amazing—clean and lemony, the curd was impeccably textured. The shortbread was wonderfully buttery, and the pistachio added a great nutty finish.

The next dessert: “Fried butterscotch pudding, mango, taro, smoked macadamia.” After the pleasant surprise of the fried mayo, I expected to delight in this dessert—and, for the most part, pastry chef Alex Stupak did not disappoint. Aside from the taro ice cream (which I didn’t care for at all), the flavors of this course were unique and harmonious. In this course and the previous, the use of nuts was really spectacular—they really accentuated the overall effect of the desserts.

Finally: “Soft chocolate, avocado, licorice, lime.” I almost didn’t want to eat this course, since it was so breathtaking on the plate—but, it was chocolate, so that thought didn’t stick around too long. Because it was twirled so perfectly, I expected the “ribbon” of chocolate to be harder or more rigid than the menu described (like candy, I suppose). To the contrary, it was soft and smooth and utterly decadent. The lime ice cream (which I saved for last) was cool and refreshing, and the avocado puree added some vibrant color and cut the sweetness of the chocolate a bit.

The service was excellent, and folks seemed to be enjoying their respective jobs. While waiting for the check and chewing on “‘Cool’ black currant jelly,” I tried to ask each member of the staff (we received assistance from a number of individuals) what drew them to wd~50. Some were in culinary school and had done intern stints in the kitchen. Some were attracted to the team-oriented atmosphere. All seemed excited by Chef Dufresne’s gastronomic vision and the customers’ varied reactions to it.

Before departing, I approached the maitre’d and told him what a great time we’d had. He seemed confused. “You’re not leaving yet, are you?” he asked. “We’d love to show you the kitchen and give you an opportunity to meet the chef.” I don’t know if they offer this treat to everyone, or if the fact that I mentioned (when asking permission to take pictures of the food) that I write for a DC food blog played some sort of role, but he didn’t have to ask me twice! We entered the kitchen and stood to the side, hearing about how the space was designed to allow for optimum communication, mobility, and performance. I saw a shelf full of emulsifiers and crazy chemicals that the crew uses to create its delicacies. I even saw a flyer advertising Chef Dufresne’s birthday bash–if we were going to be in town the next day, I probably would have invited myself. Chefs Dufresne and Stupak (among others) were hard at work, but the former was incredibly gracious and friendly (which is not to imply that the latter was unfriendly—he was just on the other side of the kitchen). He thanked us for coming, asked if we enjoyed our meal, and chatted briefly with us about the DC and Manhattan dining scenes. To my great delight, he even posed for a quick photo.

I left wd~50 absolutely elated. Sure, there were a few misses on the menu, but the hits were far more numerous (and quite grand in scope). The experience as a whole was like nothing I’ve ever seen, smelled, tasted, heard, or felt before. It challenged everything I thought I knew about food and its interaction with the senses. It certainly made me think, and it often made me laugh.

Every genius will have haters—talent, drive, and creativity are simultaneously blessings and curses. However, until you experience wd~50 firsthand, you have no idea how fresh, exciting, and innovative a meal can be. Bravo, Chef Dufresne—you can now count me among your many admirers.