I have long and often said that my greatest asset is my friends. I often get credit for events and experiences that would not be possible were it not for the generosity and outgoing qualities of people who let me hang around. This past week I had another of those wonderful moments.
I have a friend who is a member of what I call the Escoffier Society (but what is technically Les Amis d'Escoffier Society of New York, Inc.) and who invited me to join him one night for dinner. Now let me apologize right up front since I was NOT taking notes and after eating and drinking, some of the technical points may be a little fuzzy or may have disappeared altogether. But what I do remember - I herewith share.
The event was held at the Intercontinental Barclay, one of the oldest and more elegant hotels in NY. The Director of Catering and the Executive Chef were in charge of preparing and coordinating the evening. We were perhaps 50, certainly no more. (A few tried to sneak in and were politely but firmly escorted elsewhere. They certainly did not eat with us. Come to think of it, there were a few coats lef tin the checkroom... ah well, whatever.)
In the interval between arriving and formally beginning, there were wines and drink available at the bar and passed hors'd'oeuvres. There was duck breat, with chipotle and a blueberry sauce served on an edible spoon, a wild mushroom mixture on a slice of toasted bread (or was that a cracker?), scallops, salmon tartare served in a cone made with squid ink, and a piquant tomato in a glass with a dollop of creme fraiche. Well, talk about diversity of flavor and texture. Most of the people in the room are in the food industry and almost everyone knows everyone, so I met a lot of people who came to introduce themselves because they KNEW they didn't know me. I did know a couple of people besides the folks I came with but not many.
WINES - the wines were carefully selected to balance and complement the meal moments and they were wonderful. The Moscato was breath-taking. You read Moscato and think sweet - well, this wine (A Gallo Twin Valley offering) had about five different flavors going on and hitting the tongue in several different places. Some thought it too strong for the dessert but I thought it provided a counterpoint rather than an accompaniment. But that was my favorite.
Although the Malbec was a delight all by itself. I am only a moderate wine drinker (outside of church., of course - and altar wine is usually awful. (I once was saying to a group of people that I was surprised how few people took advantage of receiving Holy Communion under both species, and one woman spoke up, "Well, Father, if you had better wine...") So when I drink wine, I want it to be really good. This was. Really good.
The opening wine was very nice, but the appetizer was so extraordinary that nothing could have shone with that taste event going on.
FOOD
Ah yes - the food. Why we were all there, after all. The chef is apparently very well-known for his risotto. If this was an example, I can well see why. The risotto was firm and the texture consistent. Presentation was simple, a generous serving in the center of a potage bowl with the sauce around and a small lobster clas resting on the center portion. Lots of lobster bits within the dish itself and a rich flavor throughout. The stock had been well rendered down,the shells braised or baked (?) but the result was magnificent.
But at an event like this one keeps raising the bar and the entree was way up there. The veal was a large serving, and the zest was between the bresaola and the meet, with some other spices or elements that were not identified on the menu. The general feeling at my table ran to a Chinese pepper of similar spice since there was a tang more than the zest would provide. Turned out to be a chipotle - which surprised pretty much everyone. A good reminder that there is a range of chipotle - flavor, texture and certainly strength. It took a serious effort not to suck on the bone.
The potatoes were simple and elegant, decorating the fava bean and fontina puree, which added another texture and a surprising taste to the mix. The cheese was felt on the tongue before the flavor snuck through. A nice balance to the veal.
I confess by the end of the entree I was starting to slow down. The conversation was fascinating, since we had several food people at our table, including the head of the Escoffier Society. As dessert was being served, the chef came out from the kitchen, pulled up a chair and sat at our table. (That's how I know about the chipotle.) The baked apple was a small apple, firm and sliced for easy handling. The gelato was wonderful - perhaps a little strong for the plate but a wonderful back and forth between the two. There was also a curled chocolate swirl (of white and milk chocolate) that I left alone. With the other flavors going on - and the wine (!) - I couldn't really find a place for it. But what do I know?I'm an old dinner theatre manager.
Now the ticket for this soiree is not at McDonald levels. But I have to say, I think we received far more value than was paid. (Note the clever cpmstruction which makes clear to the observant reader than I did not actually pay for this.)
Service, of course, was spot on, efficient without being annoying. Wines were poured, glasses and plates cleared, and if one needed anything, pretty much an indication of the head and there it was, whatever "it" was.
All in all the sort of evening that delights the taste buds and confounds the waistline.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Monday, February 09, 2009
EATING, DRINKING, SHOOTING AND SINGING
If you are in New York, and someone offers to take you to dinner at Tira a Segno (which roughly translated means "target practice", say yes. And hold them to it.
I went on Friday with a bunch of folks, and the place is delightful. Old school, very charming, WONDERFUL FOOD - if you like Italian cooking, and if you don't, well, there's no hope for you anyway - and after dinner, they asked me to sing. (Which, of course, I don't mind a bit.) I did O Sole Mio, Libiamo and Questa e quella. (It IS an Italian club.) And then went down into the basement for some work on the range. Yes, it is a shooting club and they do have a shooting range in the basement. Drinks not allowed, which I think is a rather sensible house rule to enforce. It's somewhat downtown - McDougall between Bleeker and Houston - but well worth the trek. I don't think I'm allowed to join - something about your name ending in a vowel, and I suspect I couldn't afford it anyway. There are a couple of priests on the membership list (so the chaplain thing is probably covered - any club with guns really needs a chaplain) and the Cardinal and several Bishops are Honorary Members. Terrific place.
And then on Sunday I went to the Harvard Club. Never been to the Harvard Club. Most of the furniture is older than I am. (Say it with me - And better looking. Right.)
The Blue Hill Troupe (of which I am a member) was singing an afternoon concert in a large room, with floor lamps with turtles as the base and elegant large old painting on the wall, high (high!) ceiling and woodwork pretty much everywhere. A nice crowd, and an age range that went from about six to somewhere pretty close to dead. Almost everyone stayed awake, and the applause was loud and sustained. It was a short concert - only about an hour, all Gilbert & Sullivan stuff, but stitched together in a mish-mosh with something loosely passing for a script. The music was pretty good - one of the things I do enjoy is that these folks can sing. The script? Well, one can't have everything. It verges on embarrassing but doesn't quite get there. But on a spring-like Sunday afternoon (the temperature crossed into the high 50's - might even have made the 60's while I wasn't looking) it is rather fun to get dressed up in the tuxedo with the plaid bowtie and the red vest and sally forth to sing. Especially when one is only singing in the chorus - no solo work, no apprehension, no sweat.
We have two more concerts this week - Wednesday at the Tennis & Racquet Club (Or is it the Racquet & Tennis Club? I'm so unschooled in these things) and then next Sunday at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The Wednesday gig has an afterglow following the concert - that's the society way of saying "drinks" I gather. I've sung longer for less, so that should be fun too.
Onwards. If you're in town on February 15th,come by the Metropolitan Museum and listen to us do our stuff. (Hey it's worth the admission price to see me in the plaid bow tie!)
I went on Friday with a bunch of folks, and the place is delightful. Old school, very charming, WONDERFUL FOOD - if you like Italian cooking, and if you don't, well, there's no hope for you anyway - and after dinner, they asked me to sing. (Which, of course, I don't mind a bit.) I did O Sole Mio, Libiamo and Questa e quella. (It IS an Italian club.) And then went down into the basement for some work on the range. Yes, it is a shooting club and they do have a shooting range in the basement. Drinks not allowed, which I think is a rather sensible house rule to enforce. It's somewhat downtown - McDougall between Bleeker and Houston - but well worth the trek. I don't think I'm allowed to join - something about your name ending in a vowel, and I suspect I couldn't afford it anyway. There are a couple of priests on the membership list (so the chaplain thing is probably covered - any club with guns really needs a chaplain) and the Cardinal and several Bishops are Honorary Members. Terrific place.
And then on Sunday I went to the Harvard Club. Never been to the Harvard Club. Most of the furniture is older than I am. (Say it with me - And better looking. Right.)
The Blue Hill Troupe (of which I am a member) was singing an afternoon concert in a large room, with floor lamps with turtles as the base and elegant large old painting on the wall, high (high!) ceiling and woodwork pretty much everywhere. A nice crowd, and an age range that went from about six to somewhere pretty close to dead. Almost everyone stayed awake, and the applause was loud and sustained. It was a short concert - only about an hour, all Gilbert & Sullivan stuff, but stitched together in a mish-mosh with something loosely passing for a script. The music was pretty good - one of the things I do enjoy is that these folks can sing. The script? Well, one can't have everything. It verges on embarrassing but doesn't quite get there. But on a spring-like Sunday afternoon (the temperature crossed into the high 50's - might even have made the 60's while I wasn't looking) it is rather fun to get dressed up in the tuxedo with the plaid bowtie and the red vest and sally forth to sing. Especially when one is only singing in the chorus - no solo work, no apprehension, no sweat.
We have two more concerts this week - Wednesday at the Tennis & Racquet Club (Or is it the Racquet & Tennis Club? I'm so unschooled in these things) and then next Sunday at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The Wednesday gig has an afterglow following the concert - that's the society way of saying "drinks" I gather. I've sung longer for less, so that should be fun too.
Onwards. If you're in town on February 15th,come by the Metropolitan Museum and listen to us do our stuff. (Hey it's worth the admission price to see me in the plaid bow tie!)
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