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I keep calling Tocqueville my maybe-favourite restaurant in NYC. And then I keep giving it four and a half donuts. But thanks to a purchase on one of those deal-a-day websites, I had my best meal at Tocqueville to date and also one of the best meals I’ve had in NYC period.
The stage was set with a specially-printed menu on thick, shimmery silver paper and an offer by the sommelier to pair the meal for us. First up were warm cheese puffs, or gougéres, that tasted so strongly of cheddar:
cheddar gougéres
They were a little crispy on the outside but bready on the inside. They were certainly more beautiful than the ones we had at Per Se, but my boyfriend liked the liquid center of the Per Se ones more.
amuse bouche: sunchoke soup
Our sunchoke soup, a staple on the Tocqueville menu in our experience, was earthy in a way only a root soup can be. We thought we tasted mushroom, as well. And I have no idea how they expect me to believe this stuff is creamless, because it’s so smooth and thick you could caulk a bathtub with it.
amuse bouche: shrimp with asparagus
The shrimp and asparagus was a perfect little bite that included freshness from the lettuce puree and crunch from the crouton.
yellofin tuna tartare and sashimi, green apple, crystalized English mustard, basil
Everything about this dish screamed, “I am too complex to make sense!”, and yet all of the elements complimented the others so perfectly. The apple puree had just the right amount of spice, and the darker sauce–which tasted like beef jus–gave just a touch of meatiness to an otherwise bright dish.
The roe on the tartare was WILD; it was flavored with what tasted like ginger to me. Now, I’ve come to appreciate roe in recent months because of the brine and texture it adds to a dish, but this roe was legitimately DELICIOUS. It was the first time I’ve eaten roe without consciously reminding myself of the fact that it’s kind of gross in theory.
But what I loved most about the dish was this crystalized mustard. It was like roe for people who don’t actually want to eat it, because while it added the crunchy texture, it didn’t fill my mouth with fish babies.
truffled creamy parmesan grits, sunny side up country egg, house cured veal bacon
This was the one my boyfriend couldn’t stop talking about for days, and for good reason. TRUFFLES! And lots of them. We’ve never had a more truffley dish, in fact. It wasn’t just those two slivers you see on top but truffle shavings penetrating the entire bowl of grits. The contrast in texture between the nutty truffles, the creamy cheesy grits, and the gummy egg was just perfect. The bacon wasn’t crispy, the way I imagine most people like it, but it actually worked perfectly because it wasn’t at all fatty. It was all so rich and earthy that I couldn’t even finish the whole thing.
Plus, our wine pairing was so perfect that I couldn’t tell where the food ended and where the drink began. I wish I had gotten the sommelier’s name, because not only did he wow us with the taste everything, but he was full of information and seemed to love sharing it.
seared diver sea scallops, foie gras, chanterelles, braised artichokes, cider vinegar gastrique
Slightly Asian-inspired, this was the best of scallop and the best of foie gras. The foie took away all of the fishy flavor from the scallop, and the scallop took away all of the bitter flavor from the foie. The rich broth was a wonderful contrast to the crisp vegetables that made a bed for the scallop. I’m really starting to understand why everyone’s into scallops: you get the sear of a steak, the texture of flan, and the slightest taste of ocean.
sixty second seared dry aged sirloin, frisee salad, toasted brioche, Squire Farm Aracana egg, mushroom jus
This was definitely one of the most interesting steak preparations I’ve had. Since it was only seared on one side, all of the flavors from blackened to rare were present.
That the restaurant cures its own meat is evident in the flavor. It wasn’t the most tender steak I’ve had, but I actually loved the toothiness of it. Obviously, I could’ve gone without the salad (and I did, for the most part), but LET ME TELL YOU WHAT. The egg and brioche on the other side of the plate was THE. BEST.
I kept telling my boyfriend, “This is the best thing I ever ate! You know that Food Network show ‘The Best Thing I Ever Ate’? I should be on that show! And I would say that this is the best thing I ever ate!!”
The brioche was just so crunchy on the outside and so buttery and sweet on the inside. And when the egg yolk burst and soaked into the bread–it was breakfast and dessert and everything that’s great in the world.
Costa Rican gold pineapple soup, coconut sorbet
This was another Tocqueville dessert that didn’t make me miss chocolate. It was just a nice, refreshing, not-too-sweet treat, and I especially loved the slightly grainy texture of the sorbet. If this hadn’t been a tasting menu, I probably would’ve wanted a heavier dessert, but the lightness of it was welcome after such a filling meal.
Finally, we got a plate of petit fours that included a crisped rice one, a pure chocolate one, and one that reminded me of Fruity Pebbles.
And then, just as we finished, our sommelier whisked us off to the kitchen for a tour. Now, we’ve seen a handful of kitchens at this point, and to be honest, we’ve sort of just smiled through them and then later felt bad about how drunk and awkward we were with the chef.
Thanks to Chef Greg Vernick, though, we had the most non-awkward time. He showed us every square inch of the basement kitchen, from the walk-in cooler with its dry-aging beef to the dry storage with his favourite brand of olive oil to the cheese fridge, which he made us smell. He explained what equipment was available at each station and showed us the starters for their house-made breads and sauces. We got to see souffles right out of the oven and got to talk about his time at Jean-Georges, where we were going for lunch the next day. He was so knowledgeable, passionate, and willing to take time for us that it’s clear why the food has so much soul.
Then, we unexpectedly got a moment with owner Marco Moreira, who had caught me intently scrawling notes and taking photos while my hungry boyfriend tried to take discreet bites when I wasn’t paying attention. Again, he was humble and gracious and talked to us about the Hunter’s Menu we’d had a couple of weeks earlier and what we could expect to see on the upcoming spring menu.
All in all, it was one of the finest experiences we’ve had in all of our culinary ventures.
New York, NY 10003 (map)
Whole Suckling Pig at The Breslin Bar & Dining Room – Gastropub/American – Midtown West
As a fairly new food blogger originally from three states away, I sometimes feel out of the food-blogging loop. And as a pig farmer’s daughter, I really love me a good pork roast. So it was a delight to be invited to eat a whole suckling pig at The Breslin Bar & Dining Room with one of my favourite food bloggers, Chubby Chinese Girl, and her pals Henry from Ramblings and Gamblings, Tia from Bionic Bites, Addie from Gypsy-Addie’s Food Diary, and other friends who actually eat things without blogging about them.
The first thing you notice about The Breslin is just how gastropubby it is. It’s a bar, but it’s the kind of bar where the bartender’s serving more burgers than beers. Every inch of wall space is covered in something farm-related–mostly ceramic animals in all shapes and sizes–and all of the fixtures are old-timey. The place is dark but for the bright light coming from the sparkling white open kitchen in the back. And we especially loved the use of what appears to be the original ceiling, which was cracked and peeling and beautiful.
herbed Caesar salad, anchovies, croutons
I’m really not an appreciator of salad. I get that some people like light, fresh foods, but I’m going to chase my oysters with a big buttered steak every time. Our first course was a salad even I could’ve eaten as a meal, though. The Caesar dressing was just so flavorful, the dried herbs so crunchy. The anchovies weren’t fishy at all, really, but just added some salty depth. I would order this again in a second.
And then the pig arrived as the entire restaurant spontaneously broke into applause.
Its little piggy face was right in front of me, its eyeless sockets staring at me and its puffed ears floating alongside its head, begging to be popped like balloons at a county fair dart game. It was much smaller than I’d expected, but I guess we were feeding a table of nine and not a whole neighborhood of smalltown Ohio hillbillies.
Our pig-carver deftly removed the legs from each side and then tonged shoulder, belly, loin, and butt onto our plates.
My plate of crispy skin and shoulder was heavenly. The forkfuls alternated between completely falling apart and so crunchy I couldn’t cut them. It was all of the best things about pork with the benefit that I could sample all of the cuts in one dish.
My boyfriend’s experience wasn’t quite as good as mine, because the skin he got was floppy rather than crispy. I had to give him a piece of my skin before he understood why everyone was salivating over it. I guess that’s one of the side effects of EATING A WHOLE PIG.
duck fat roasted potatoes
It was served with sides of potatoes roasted in duck fat, roasted fennel, broccoli rabe, green sauce, and red sauce. The potatoes were the star with their extra crispy/extra fatty exteriors and soft insides, but really, all of the accoutrements held their own. The garlicky broccoli rabe and tender fennel were both spicy to accent the sweetness of the pork, while the chunky red sauce of peppers and tomatoes only added to its sweetness by tasting wildly of apple pie.
The apple that had been roasted in the pig’s mouth, on the other hand, was funky. My first bite was just nice, mushy apple, but my second bite was freaky, pig-saliva-flavored mushy apple. Lesson learned.
We spent an hour or so really ravaging that carcass, peeling back the cheeks and breaking off the ears, making excessive mentions of the butt meat and trying the doubly-flavoured neck meat.
Even my boyfriend, the salad-lover, found himself ravenous.
In the end, only this
and this remained.
And that’s when they brought the chocolate tarts
and ice cream.
The tart was very good, especially the parts with course salt sprinkled on top, but the ice cream was the really delicious part. I don’t want to pretend like I have any idea what to compare the flavor to, but the ice cream was extra sweet and just had a really wonderful smooth texture. I wondered if there was Marshmallow Fluff or something mixed in.
see larger (still impresses even me)
This was a difficult rating for me. On one hand, I really appreciate the novelty of being able to eat an entire pig in a fairly small NYC restaurant. I appreciate the work and care that had to go into preparing it. The side dishes were all better than expected and were flavorful enough not to become just afterthoughts next to the pig. I’m still thinking about that ice cream. But at the end of the day, if I’m going to spend $85 for a plate of food, I’d rather have it be an uncommon preparation made with ingredients I have to Google before I leave for the restaurant. Had this been anything but a whole pig, it would have been much less expensive, and there wouldn’t have been any floppy skin to deal with.
But my boyfriend said, “I mean, I just ask myself how much better they could have done with that, and it seems like, for what it was, that’s about as good as you could expect,” and I think that’s reasonable. It was a really neat experience, and I’m very glad I got to be a part of it. I found out that for me, eating an animal that still looks like itself isn’t weird at all! And I met some great people in the process.
New York, NY 10001 (map)
What You’ve Read About The Wright is Wrong – American (New) – Upper East Side
I was secretly concerned about going to The Wright inside the Guggenheim Museum for my birthday this weekend. The menu looked classically delicious, and photos of the decor made it seem like a hip 1970s spaceship (it won the 2010 James Beard Foundation Award for Outstanding Restaurant Design), but the reviews were a little too so-so, and we’d been totally unimpressed by a similar museum restaurant a few weeks earlier. But, you know, I’m always happy to find out for myself how a restaurant rates.
Dr. Boyfriend and I decided to do the chef’s tasting with wine pairings, and right away The Wright scored points with me when our server asked if there was anything in particular on the menu that we wanted to make sure was in our tasting. Then she poured us each a glass of champagne, gave us a selection of breads with salted butter, and let us feast:
blood orange gelee, cucumber, shrimp, marcona almond foam
As soon as our server put this down in front of me, I said, “Dessert!” Even now when I imagine these ingredients, I don’t think they should go together, and I certainly don’t think they should go together in an amuse bouche, but this was perfectly balanced. The gelatin and foam layers were sweet and smooth, while the middle layer of shrimp was more savory and segmented. The cucumber was the high note for me and was just the right addition to the dish, as it straddles the line between sweet and savory.
Spanish octopus mosaic, potato, olive, tomato, lemon oil, basil pesto
If you know anything about me, you understand how funny it is that I was served this on my birthday. The only two things in the world I absolutely don’t eat are tomatoes and olives, and the thing I’m only just now learning to eat in my quest toward becoming an adult is seafood. So to see them all on one plate was horrifying/hilarious. And yet.
I was surprised at how tender and not-chewy the octopus was, but Kamran said, “That’s how it is when they do it right.” The acid from the lemon made all of the flavors so bright, but it also “cooked” the tomatoes so that they tasted more like a nice sauce than a fruity raw tomato. The earthy potato neutralized the bite of the olives so that they became a subtle background saltiness. Not a single component of the dish stuck out more than any other, and somehow, that made me actually enjoy eating them all.
seared diver scallop, gently-cooked shrimp in chili oil, artichoke two ways, zucchini-wrapped goat cheese, red peppers
I’ve had scallops twice before, but this was the first time I understood why everyone’s always making them on every cooking show known to man. This intensely-seared scallop was salty, a little bit crispy on top and bottom, and so tender it was almost falling apart in the middle. I think I might actually be developing a thing for that specific scallop flavor that’s oceany without being fishy.
The sweet shrimp was equally as pleasing in its red chili sauce, the artichoke puree was so flavorful the drab color didn’t seem to fit it, and the coolness of the zucchini really contrasted with the sourness of the goat cheese. I probably don’t know enough about cooking to understand any fluidity between all of the items on the plate, but I get real joy from being presented with an array of flavors like this and making them work how I want them to.
Maine lobster, matsutake mushrooms, arugula cloud
As soon as we saw the menu, I said, “I want that cloud,” and I got it. What was funny was that before this was presented, our server poured our wine and said, “I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but the next dish is very earthy.” And I was of course like, “TRUFFLES!” But it was freakin’ mushrooms. “Way to build up to nothing, lady,” I thought.
But actually, I really loved the puree with the lobster. Kamran called it “heavy-handed” and thought the amount of puree made it a borderline soup, but I’ll never mind having an abundance of sauce. The arugula foam was everything I like about arugula and none of the bitterness, so I didn’t think the actual greens were necessary, but maybe that’s the veggie-hatin’ kid in me coming out.
As for the lobster, I was totally scared at first by the way the claw meat looks like a claw, but dude, claw meat is way more delicious than tail meat. I understand that’s not how I’m supposed to feel, though. What gives?
Kamran on fire
It was at this point that our first glass of champagne hit Kamran hard in the chest and gave him heartburn somethin’ awful. Apparently this happens to him with champagne all of the time, and the fact that I didn’t know it clearly means we’re not drinking nearly enough champagne together.
I said, “Ask our server if they have any antacid in the back,” and he did, and she said, “That would be a smart thing for a restaurant to have, huh?” and then disappeared for a while. We figured she was just pretending like she’d forgotten he’d asked, but a couple of minutes later, she emerged from the kitchen to tell him someone was running to get him some.
antacid course
And then she presented us with an antacid course! We were so impressed by the restaurant going so far above and beyond for us so I could enjoy my birthday dinner. I’m tearing up a little now just thinking of it.
roasted suckling pig, glazed quince, quince puree, mustard pig jus
This is the course I told our server I specifically wanted, and boooooooooy, was it the must-have dish of the night. The layer of skin on top was so caramelized-crunchy, the pork was so cooked-for-hours that it fell apart under my fork, and the quince was such a nice twist on the classic applesauce. It was like a sweet pig pie. Sweet. Pig. Pie.
blood orange supremes, Greek yogurt sorbet
Our palate cleanser was good enough to be dessert course all its own thanks to the Greek yogurt. I’ve been eating Greek yogurt for dessert just about every night for the past many weeks, so it was neat to see what someone with actual cooking skills could do with it. This was like the sour frozen yogurt that got super-popular a couple of years back thanks to Pinkberry (and my favourite, 16 Handles), except more natural-tasting.
Valrhona dark chocolate mousse, walnut caramel, concord grape ice cream
Ellie and I were just talking last week about how great concord-grape-flavored anything is, and then bam!, I get this dessert that used the grapes so well without automatically pairing them with peanut butter. The chocolate mousse was so decadent, and the chocolate glaze on top was in some sort of perma-melt state that left it shiny and gooey. There were tiny chunks of walnut brittle in the mousse to give it contrasting textures, and the bar of caramel might have been better than the ones the little old lady next door made for us every year for Halloween in Ohio. I just love the way a candied nut falls apart in your mouth.
caramelized Bosc pears, puff pastry, Tahitian vanilla ice cream
I described this ice cream to Kamran as “why I say I love vanilla ice cream”. It was immensely vanilla-y and defied anyone who might use vanilla to mean boring. The pastry was architecturally tough and didn’t crumble under my spoon as I stole chunks of it off of Kamran’s plate, and the pears practically melted in my mouth.
assorted birthday cookies just for me, because I am really special
I guess I’m not known for my subtlety, but I was still surprised to have this plate brought to me and remember that I mentioned it was my birthday in my reservation. Oops. But also yes! I loved that the kitchen put this together for me, and to finish the night by scooping up my own name in chocolate with a mango macaron was incredible.
The Wright is just right for people who consider themselves foodies, but I also think it’s a great fit for anyone who wants to get into fine dining but is intimidated by the formal decor and freaky ingredients. The bright, colorful room feels casual, and the service is friendly to match. The ingredients used by the chef are all high-end but not ostentatious, so there’s nothing to make new foodies squeamish, and the inventive combinations and expert preparations elevate each individual component beyond its humble beginnings.
The only complaint we had was that there was no wine with the dessert course, and that’s the wine we most look forward to. Still, this is the most affordable tasting we’ve had at $68, and I’ll assume most of the extra $42 for the wine pairings went into that champagne.
New York, NY 10128 (map)