Blurring the line between Food and Art

Barely twenty days after my sublime experience at the famed Fat Duck restaurant I returned to the rarefied climes of Michelin 3-star dining with my skating coach and team manager to one of only two 3-star-rated restaurants in all of the Netherlands – De Librije. De Librije is located in a building that used to house a monastery in Zwolle, which is fortunately quite close to Heerenveen (where I currently live). One of us had never dined in a restaurant which had received any Michelin stars, let alone three, while another had dined here once before. I was in the interesting position of having dined at six 3-star restaurants in the past, making De Librije my seventh. With the memory of the Fat Duck still firmly in my mind, as well as the knowledge of its formidable reputation as one of the very best even among Michelin 3-stars, I was almost afraid that this experience would somehow “let me down”. It didn’t, not at all in fact.

It certainly wasn’t experimental on the level that the Fat Duck was. Each dish was not a chemistry experiment, and there was no liquid nitrogen. (there was dry ice though). In many ways, this restaurant was much more “old-school” and in that sense was more similar an experience to Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant. Diners are greeted with a barrage of “appetizing” courses on being seated, and after a few of these, they are finally greeted with the menu. The menu basically gives the choice between four, six, and eight “main” courses depending on one’s hunger level. Naturally, since I was part of the group, and since the others were taking a very “we’re here, we might as well try everything” attitude, we went for the maximum, and I was well-pleased.

Dry ice and Eel

Zwolle, despite its current inland location, actually used to be a coastal city (everything to the north and west of the city is reclaimed from the sea). I’m not sure if it was the chef’s intention of reminding us of this fact, but there was a lot of seafood on the menu. In the picture above, was an interesting dish consisting of eel, and… eel. One was a cold preparation while the other was hot. In addition, the hot version was served in a bowl with vents for steamy, dry-ice assisted, liquorice-infused smoke to add to the sensual experience of consuming this food. Throughout the meal, our minds’ expectations of the aesthetic of what food *should* look like was continually tested. It was remarked once “it doesn’t look particularly appetizing, but so far everything has tasted incredible, so I’m going to try it”.

Looks can be deceiving

At the end of the day, it isn’t about looks, but is about how the food tastes. This food tasted good. “Good” doesn’t really do it justice actually. The execution of all the dishes was perfect, and the tools of the trade were mostly the same – creams, consommés, foams, extracts, mousses, and so on. An interesting addition which I had not seen previously, was the use of flowers. As can be seen in the title image, flower petals were used extensively in some of the dishes. Perhaps it was a way of signing the dishes as “Dutch” and distinguishing them somehow. I must say that the flowers actually tasted quite nice, and I’ll think twice before I call another dutchie a “tulip muncher”. Still, despite the old-school methodology, the dishes themselves were still innovative and unique. The dish from the title image was one of my favourites being built around the very simple concept of small Dutch shrimps and shrimp sauce, and adding other stuff… like flower petals. Underneath the dish, there was another dish which was made up mostly of garden vegetables (mostly grown in their own garden) which was a refreshing way to end a dish which was made up of very strong savoury tastes and textures. (stacking the dishes on top of one another was also a clever way to control the order in which you consumed the food)

The Lobster Dish

All in all, it was another exceptional food experience. It was so exceptional, in fact, that it made all three of us late for our next scheduled appointments. It was so exceptional, in fact, that none of us really cared. Curiously, it is almost impossible to get a booking here for dinner, yet the lunch service is surprisingly empty on most weekdays (those crazy Dutch). The meal is identical. This is very much like Tetsuya’s was in Sydney, except that I still needed almost a full month’s advance notice to even book lunch there. What I’m basically trying to say is that this may be the most accessible 3-star Michelin experience in the world. I know of no other Michelin 3-star where you can walk-in and expect to be seated. The service is also quite exceptional, which, while expected of 3-star establishments, is slightly unusual for the Dutch, who are almost famous for slowness of their restaurant service. As for the standard of the food, I would rate it very highly. How highly? I would rate it just above Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant (but that is probably because I have a thing for seafood, if you’re not as crazy about seafood as I am, then it might fall just behind Gordo’s in the ranking), but below Per Se and the Fat Duck… placing it very near the top of a very short list – Highly recommended, and I’m definitely storing the number in my phonebook.

A feast for all the senses...

Heston Blumenthal is a chef well known amongst those who are into fine dining. His restaurant “The Fat Duck” has won numerous awards including three Michelin Stars, and Restaurant of the Year. When I say “Restaurant of the Year”, I don’t just mean restaurant of the year in Bray, Berkshire, or even all of the UK. This is a ranking that rates the most highly-regarded restaurants in the world. In this list, it has consistently placed highly, often coming second, and this year slipping to third with the remarkable rise of København restaurant “Noma“. Also often placing highly on this list are Per Se, Tetsuya’s, and Jean Georges, all restaurants that have been mentioned somewhere on this site.

I made the journey with the same two friends who I visited Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant with about nine months ago, and while they spent the intervening time getting engaged, I was getting hungry. In the context of timing, the visit was well-placed. I had recently returned from New York (a foodie’s wonder-city) to Heerenveen where I had very nearly cried when presented with the “provided dinner” (a.k.a. boarding house slop) that our building insists on serving to us. Unsurprisingly, I am taking every opportunity possible to escape and the Fat Duck came to the rescue in a timely manner.

mist from dry ice

To describe Heston Blumenthal’s creation as a “restaurant” and the dinner service as “food” is to sell it quite short. The restaurant is a theater, and the meal is an experience, an adventure even. Someone recently asked me what constitutes “good food”. I responded that truly good food must be an experience which encompasses as many of the senses as possible in a cohesive and immersive (and presumably pleasurable) way. Each scene in Blumenthal’s play on food was distinct, and beautiful in its own way, with many different and varied characters making an appearance, and almost (but not quite) to the point of distracting it from the primary objective – the food.

The Fat Duck is one of two restaurants in the world (the other being El Bulli in Spain) that practices what is known as “molecular gastronomy”. All this means is that the process of “cooking” a meal is taken to another level. The ingredients are treated more as parts of an intricate chemistry set. Our appetizing palette cleanser was a case in point. Green tea, lime, and a bit of vodka. Normal so far? Now make it into a foam. Weirded out yet? Now take that foam, and dunk it into a tub of liquid nitrogen to create a frozen foam ball. When brought into contact with a human mouth, after a split second of my-tongue-is-stuck-to-the-freezer sensation, this frozen ball explodes in an icy inferno of refreshing limey green tea goodness. Only the outer shell is really frozen, everything inside is mostly gassy allowing it to travel up to your nose and enhance the flavor sensations experienced by your tongue, with subtle smells experienced by your nose. As an amusing side effect, I also puffed smoke through my nose during my initial bite, indicating a tendency for me to bring my sense of smell to bear when sampling new food.

Roast foie gras - staple food for the gourmand

You know a dish is interesting if it has truffles in it and they’re NOT the main thing that stands out about the dish. The truffle toast was merely there to keep the “Jelly of Quail, Crayfish Cream” company. A piece of chicken liver parfait cunningly disguised as ice cream (I’m not kidding) rested upon a carefully layered concoction consisting of crayfish cream on the surface, jelly of quail in the middle, and pea puree at the bottom. The combination was an interesting one, and quite overpowering. The preparation of the jelly caused it to dissolve in your mouth and “sneak” up towards your nostrils in a manner similar to wasabi, except instead of a mustardy kick, this one came with a cool, refreshing assault on my sense of smell.

Alice in Wonderland was written by Lewis Carroll, a pot-smoking mathematician from Cambridge. Even he would never have dreamed of Blumenthal’s take on “turtle soup”. We were presented with what looked like pocket watches (actually, they looked more like chocolate coins with a chain attached) which we were instructed to dip into some hot water and stir. Rather like dipping a watch in a cup of tea – OOOOOOOooooohhhhhhh!!!! The watch promptly dissolved and turned our hot water into turtle soup with gold leaf, which we then poured into our bowls filled with jiggly stuff. Taste-wise, this was less spectacular than the other courses, but it gets full marks for artistic impression.

Food as Art

The sense of theatre never waned. Our next dish, presumably a fish dish (we were able to guess from the cutlery provided to us) first came to us in the form of a large shell from one side of which protruded ipod headphones. The “Sound of the Sea” dish adds sound to the palette of senses touched with what is ostensibly simply a plate of food. Well first of all, it wasn’t really on a plate, it was served on a pane of glass suspended above a box of sand. The chefs had gone to great pains to make the whole experience reminiscent of a day at the beach – something that struck us, as Australians, at the heart of our psyches. There was “sand”, and bits of seaweed, and fish. Of course, this was unlike any beach I had ever been to (even in Australia), because I could eat the sand, and it tasted good. Of course it did, it was made of dried, powdered baby eel…

Even the foam tasted good

Though I was sad to finish that course, and its complex yet strongly themed combination of tastes, smells (and sounds), our next course was also (mostly) seafood. I wouldn’t have picked it just by looking at the dish, but it was salmon, one of my favorite fish. Keeping it company on the plate were bits of grapefruit mixed with olive oil (no, really, it worked!) with asparagus, vanilla mayonnaise, and fish eggs. Strange a combination as this was, it was beautiful. The liquorice that the salmon was poached in was, thankfully, not overpowering. In fact, I wouldn’t even call it an aftertaste… more like, an afterthought.

would you believe... salmon poached in liquorice?

Something that struck me, was that the dishes were all stunningly well executed. Of course, you expect that at a restaurant of this caliber, but it is often too easy to get distracted by the exotic ingredients and preparation methods (liquid nitrogen? really?) and forget about the simple things. The salmon is a case in point, it was perfectly cooked and just a little rare on the inside allowing it to be juicy and the bring out the very best of the salmon flavor.

Black Forest Gateau

Throughout the meal, whenever each new dish was presented, there always seemed a bit of a danger that it would be too gimmicky, and that there wasn’t enough emphasis placed on how it actually would taste. Every time, I would cautiously bite into whatever it was, and be relieved. Some of the dishes are a little bit intense, or overwhelming with regards to the taste. In fact, it was the simpler dishes (like the snail porridge) that were regarded as the best. The desserts especially were awe-inspiring in that they were simple, or that their complexity was not overt but much more subtle. The black forest gateau for example was topped with a cherry… except that it wasn’t a cherry, but was simply made to look like one and tasted like one, except stronger (I must sound insane right about now). The telltale sign was that the stem was not a real cherry stem in that it did not attach to the cherry in the way that a stem should.

Whiskey Gums

Anyone who has ever accompanied me on a long train trip will know that I’m a big fan of wine gums. The Fat Duck takes this concept a step further with Whiskey Gums. Then they take it a step even further by making whiskey gums that are distinctive to different scotch-producing regions. Tasting these different flavor sensations and the way that some of them were smoky, while others tickled your tongue was a nice way to wind down.

Bray, Berkshire is a short drive from Maidenhead train station which is a non-trivial (about ten pound) train trip from Paddington train station in London. Apparently “small villages are big” in England… according to Joan, who I think meant to say that putting things like this in small villages instead of more obvious and convenient places (like central London) is fashionable these days. Nearly an hour of traveling each way almost demands a good reason for the trip (nevermind the 200 euro 8-hour train transit from Heerenveen, the Netherlands to London St Pancras station). Was it worth it? Yes.

Wax-sealed envelope containing our menus

The verdict? Heston is a name I have only ever encountered as a last name, as in Charlton Heston. Mr Blumenthal uses it as a first name. His name however is not the first and last name you need to know in the restauranting business. Although the circumstances of my trip to Per Se by Thomas Keller were not typical, thereby making the comparison slightly unfair, the New York Restaurant retains its place at the top of my own restaurant ranking, despite every other professional published restaurant ranking list disagreeing with me. The approaches are very different, and in a paradoxical way reflect different American and British approaches to food. Per Se is situated on the 4th floor of the Time Warner building overlooking Columbus Circle and Central Park, while Fat Duck is in Bray, Berkshire… a town that I would struggle to find on a map (and we struggled to find the restaurant for a few minutes, despite being dropped off within 10 meters of it!).

But in the end, it is about the food, and both… in fact all of my Michelin 3-star experiences are extraordinarily exemplary examples of fine dining, and the very best food that I have ever eaten (and I’ve eaten a LOT of food). I would rank it above Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant, although that was not a unanimous assessment of my dining group. I rate innovation and strong tastes delivered to the palette in varied ways very highly. I can definitely see what all the fuss is about regarding the molecular gastronomy, and the copious use of unusual techniques and ingredient combinations definitely adds to the experience more than it detracts. But when you’ve stripped all of that away, gotten rid of all the distraction, and focus on the food, you’ve still got one of the very best restaurants in the world. Not my top pick, but very close to it.

Just desserts

He is the angry chef on TV. He, like many top chefs, has a reputation for his temper and perhaps that kind of perfectionism is part of the reason why his reputation for his temper is equaled by his reputation for food. Recently, while in London, I had the pleasure of joining some old friends to sample his signature restaurant on Royal Hospital Road. It is difficult to describe the anticipation that preceded this particular food adventure, especially since I had about a month to let it really sink in – it is difficult to book any Michelin 3-star less than a month in advance.

Aside from the obvious allure of being able to spend a few hours eating some excellent food with some comparably excellent company, I was also eager to sample a 3-star from the east side of the Atlantic Ocean. Curiously, my first “proper” 3-star experience was in Per Se, New York on the 27th of March 2007 (I know because the date was printed on the menu that they gave me after the meal). Since that time, I’ve eaten at all (two) of the other 3-star restaurants in New York – Jean Georges, and Le Bernardin. When the red guide came to New York there was great controversy because they gave four restaurants 3-star ratings in the first year (ordinarily, it is policy not to give any restaurant 3 stars in their first year of being rated), and many food writers believed that this lax in standards meant that a 3-star rating in Europe carried more weight than one in North America. Until a few days ago, I had never eaten at a 3-star restaurant outside of New York and, since I rated Per Se as my best dining experience ever, you can imagine my anticipation at eating at my first 3-star in Europe.

Food is an exceptional luxury. It is not like nice cufflinks or expensive cars, because when you’re done, you have nothing to show for it. You get it, you eat it, and it’s gone. It is difficult to explain to those who don’t understand, and the more you analyze it, the less it makes sense. Many will retort with arguments along the lines of “but it’s food”. Those who take the attitude that we eat for the sole purpose of sustenance may never understand, but for others – like myself – suggesting such a thing is like suggesting that the value in the act of making love does not extend beyond the purpose of procreation.

A good meal is like a journey – an adventure if you like. Like all good adventures, as many of the senses are engaged as possible, the more the merrier. Taste and smell are the obvious primary benefactors here but sight and touch also have roles on this stage. The practice of modern “tasting menus” – meals where small-portioned courses are brought out in a specific sequence as determined by the chef is said to have begun in the imperial Russian court. Prior to this, large portions of food were brought out on large plates and set in the center of the table for all to share. This new approach allowed chefs to tailor the gastronomical experience in a very precise way. It also allowed for greater involvement of the front of house aspect – the waiters, in the meals as they had to explain the dishes and ensure that everyone at a table was served at the same time.

Though the setting was understated in the typical English way, the first thing I noticed was the level of service. It was very good. The attention to detail was apparent from the setting of the tables, right down to the small details, like our waiter’s Dolce and Gabbana cufflinks. Presentation alone can’t and won’t earn you three Michelin stars however, and in the most important aspect of the restaurant – the food, head chef Clare Smyth (who actually takes care of the day-to-day running of the kitchen) excelled.

I visited with two other friends, which gave us the opportunity to sample a wider variety of dishes than we would normally have been able to. For starters, we shared thirds of a dish of foie gras, a terrine of trotters and pork belly, and a curious mixture of veal and seared tuna. It often surprised the palette that items that were seemingly secondary to the dish stood out, like the salad that came with the tuna, and some of the sauces that accompanied the foie gras.

Some dishes we all shared, like the lobster ravioli. When I think of ravioli, I normally think of large postage stamps of pasta filled with some indeterminate meat product inside (and in cheaper establishments, some kind of plastic product that may contain traces of meat). This was different, the dish of lobster ravioli consisted of a single ravioli (raviolus? raviolii?) which was slightly smaller than a clenched fist in size, and possibly a little less thick. The taste, however, was overwhelmingly that of the lobster rather than the ravioli (if you’ve ever lived on tinned ravioli, you will understand the importance of this distinction). But it’s not just like eating a lobster, oh no. Imagine taking two or three lobsters and somehow compressing not only the taste, but the entire sensation of consuming… inhaling, even… lobster meat, and you will have a close approximation of the experience of this fine lobster ravioli.

Cheese

The mains, like the entrées, were similarly interesting and varied. Lamb, pigeon, and rabbit were sampled, and while neither was particularly exotic (at least not by my standards) the dishes were extremely well-executed. The ingredients were obviously of the very highest quality, but the care in their preparation allowed the experience of consumption to do justice to the quality. And I may well have eaten some of the smoothest, most delicately textured meat I’ve ever had in the rabbit kidneys that accompanied my terrine.

A fine and impressively wide variety of cheeses presented themselves to be chosen from the trolley, and even the “lightest” cheeses came with strong and complex taste (and often aftertaste) sensations. The most common surprise in this case being that the smell of the cheese often contrasted strongly with the taste that resulted from the reaction of the cheese with one’s taste buds. The selection of desserts, which included a most delightful and unusually light rendition of Turkish delight (foreground in the title image) was an appropriate and fitting end to an exceptional dining experience, which I capped off the way I always do – with a nice cup of Earl Grey Tea.

Not a cup of Earl Grey

The big question that remains of course, is how does it rate next to some of the other fine dining establishments that I’ve sampled over the years. Only time will tell. I don’t mean to say that just to be cryptic (although it does make me sound very mysterious for a food reviewer). It is often the case that immediately after a good dining experience one exclaims that it is the “best ever”. It is often only quite some time after the act, that the real value of the meal in the context of all the other meals I’ve eaten begins to sink in. For example, in Hong Kong once, I ate at “Amigo”, “Spoon, by Alain Ducasse”, and “Gaddi’s” on consecutive nights and honestly believed at the time that each night was slightly better than the last. However, looking back, the experience at Spoon has shown itself to stand fast near the top of my rankings while the other two have fallen away somewhat.

The first impression is thus: it is good, very good, but not as good as Per Se. One of my dining companions commented that it was not as good as Vue de Monde in Melbourne. I am more hesitant about that assessment because, having been to Vue many times, the time I went with this companion was an exceptionally good experience – definitely more highly rated than this one – but was not typical of Vue, which I would rank slightly lower than Gordo’s. The restaurant which I would rank this closest to is Tetsuya’s in Sydney, which was an exceptionally good experience although difficult to compare because the cuisine is significantly different.

As far as the question of the deservedness of Michelin stars is concerned, Per Se definitely deserves three stars, (as does Tetsuya’s). As I would rank Per Se significantly above both Jean Georges and Le Bernardin, I would say this – if the other two New York restaurants truly deserve three stars, then so does Vue de Monde, but if not (and my suspicion is “not”), then it is impossible to say (yes, this is a logic puzzle).

As far as the much more important questions are concerned, the answers are as follows: Yes, the food is amazing; yes, the food is totally worth it; yes, I would definitely recommend Restaurant Gordon Ramsay.

News assignments are kinda cool, sports assignments aren’t bad either… but food… mmm…. Those who know me well know that I like food. I am capable of consuming copious amounts of it and, when married with a well-traveled and somewhat refined palette, this makes for an expensive combination. When the opportunity to go along to an interview with a pasty chef came along, I wasted no time in putting my hand up. I was a little afraid that there was the possibility that I might get to photograph wonderful food, but not consume any of it… luckily, that didn’t happen. If you enjoy these photos half as much as I enjoyed the food, I should be up for a Pulitzer.