Frankly it wasn’t until more recently that I began to appreciate the tremendous skill involved with extracting espresso.  I began pulling espresso daily using my Rancilio Sylvia modified with an Auber Instruments PID kit to help maintain proper brewing temperature.  I started pulling some incredible shots, intermixed with some not-so-great ones.  The hardest part, I quickly learned, was consistency.  There are so many variables (like temperature, pressure, temping pressure, grind size, ambient humidity, and bean age) that turned this into a real science.  What makes Ninth Street so impressive is its consistency: rarely have I had a poorly extracted espresso.  Their baristi too, are obsessed.

Ninth Street Espresso deserves the credit of introducing New York City to a new wave of coffee brewers.  Ones that took an eye to quality and taste, rather than quantity and dollars.  Having opened nearly ten years ago in 2001 by Ken Nye, Ninth Street has brewed the coffee of every major American roaster: Stumptown, Counter Culture, and currently Intelligentsia, which roasts their own Alphabet City blend.  And as such the attitude of the baristi is one of understated confidence: not pretentious; but they sure know what they are doing.

My favorite way to drink espresso is a triple macchiato.  It’s what I make at home every morning.  A 21-gram puck tamped with around thirty pounds of pressure, extracted for just over 25-seconds and “stained” with a dollop of whole milk.  The ability to create art (a “rosetta”) while pouring the milk indicates the perfect texture and temperature of the silky smooth micro-foam: too thin and and the milk will just blend, too thick and it will sit on top of the espresso with large bubbles.  While I do enjoy this drink by itself, a pinch of Sugar in the Raw brings out the caramel and chocolate flavors even more.

When I’m in the mood to linger for a longer conversation, I order a triple cappuccino.  It uses the same twenty-one gram shot of espresso, only significantly more milk.  The wider cup and added milk gives the barista more flexibility to make artwork on the top, usually in the form of a heart or olive leaf.  The sweet whole milk needs no additional sugar.

All of Ninth Street’s espresso drinks use triple shots.  But don’t get scared, this is not the same as a triple espresso.  It’s actually a triple ristretto (Italian for “restricted”), meaning three times the beans but for the same extraction time yielding the same quantity of a single shot.  (A traditional double espresso has double the quantity, and a triple espresso, triple the quantity.)  So here, the result is a more luxurious shot (extra wasted beans) with more natural oils.  The caffeine content is something in-between a single and double espresso.  By contrast, Joe the Art of Coffee does something similar but with double-ristrettos (14g) instead of triples (21g).

So make a morning out of it.  Being located in Alphabet City means the original Ninth Street is not so easy to get to.  But this can be a good thing: there is always ample seating and a laid back atmosphere filtering out all but the most dedicated coffee cognoscenti.  Don’t be afraid to strike up a conversation with the baristi.  Even if they appear a bit quiet or even austere at first, they enjoy educating customers about their coffee and technique.  It’s a learning experience that won’t be forgotten.  And what better way to learn something new, than with a rich chocolatey macchiato?

On the other side of the East River lies a small village known as Williamsburg, rife with flannel shirts, thick-rimmed glasses, beards, attitudes, and now, pretty good pizza.

Being located in Williamsburg affords Motorino a fair amount of space for a restaurant — even outdoor courtyard space.  The wood-burning pizza oven in the back is cleverly incased by thick glass to lock in the heat, keeping the dining room cool even in the summertime.  The simple yet cosy interior keeps the focus on the pies.  I was impressed with how my sun-drenched window table turned into a romantic corner alcove as night fell.

The menu reads pretty simply, with two types of Pizza Margherita one with D.O.C. Buffalo Mozzarella and the other of a lesser quality of mozzarella for a few dollars less.  Most of the appetizers are decent and feature seasonal ingredients.  I particularly liked my beet salad with acidic red onions and creamy ricotta.  But let’s face it, I wasn’t here for the salads.

Pizza Margherita D.O.C. – An 18-inch flat pie decorated with creamy mozzarella, tomato sauce, and basil leaves.  This pie was very crispy all around, a fork and knife were not necessary.  The cheese and sauce magically bound to the crispy crust: even when I held a slice vertically, nothing slid off.  It did seem a bit like the pizza was forcefully catered to my expectations: a little extra cornmeal underneath to make the pie more rustic with, at times, excessive charring to make the crust more real.  However, I did buy into Motorino’s authenticity game and enjoyed the pizza.  Maybe the crust was a bit too crunchy and lacked elasticity at times; but that’s a personal preference, I suppose.

Pizza Marinara – One look at this pie says it all.  It’s a violent display of charred explosions and molten tomato sauce, tempered with a drizzle of olive oil and slices of fresh garlic.  It’s outstanding.  Just gently painted with fresh tomatoes, the Pizza Marinara is both light and savory with a hint of sweetness coming through from the tomatoes.  A fork and knife is not necessary here.

I’ve brought home slices of this pizza several times, and I will say that it keeps exceptionally well for several days.  After the first day it’s really more like bread than pizza.  It tastes good hot or cold, for breakfast or for dinner, and still maintains its crispy texture despite being refrigerated.  The light saucing means this crust will never get soggy.

Special Pizza – Mozzarella, Olive, Anchovy, and Capers – I ordered this pizza to try something completely different and outside my comfort zone.  I’m not an anchovy guy.  I was surprised at how well the olive’s acidity complimented the salty anchovies all supported by a base of creamy mozzarella.  In this situation, the crispy crust was fantastic as it gave significant structure to all the toppings.  A fork and knife was still not necessary.

During my visits I’ve rarely laid eyes on Chef Mathieu Palombino behind the counter; but that doesn’t seem to matter.  The pizzas are consistent, a testament to his ability to train the staff effectively (I only wish that such pizzaioli actually existed in Mexico — the pizza down there is awful).  However while consistent, they lack much of the love and soul found at Kesté.

Is it an authentic Pizza Napoleatana?  Sometimes; depends who’s making it.  On some visits I’ve had hints of elasticity in the crust; other times, it was more crispy with extra garlic and charring.  So while the pizzas are consistently good overall; there is a range of variability in textures and flavors: sometimes it’s more New York-style, other times more Naples-style, and occasionally somewhere in-between.  But they sure are consistently gorgeous.

As with any pizza, no two are completely alike.  You’ll just have to go see for yourself.  And what better way to test this edible chaos theory than with a pizza?

Roberto Caporuscio, chef and co-owner of Kesté Pizza & Vino, is a pizza master.  Chef Caporuscio comes from Pontinia, Italy just over an hour north of Naples, the putative birthplace of pizza.  After several years of training in Napoli he ventured to the United States to share this traditional style of pizza without compromise.  New York-style pizza wasn’t for him.  Despite being the president of the Associazione Pizzaiuoli Napoletani, he is rarely found outside of the kitchen.  And if he is, his hands are always covered in white dust.  Roberto’s enthusiasm for making the perfect pie can be seen almost immediately by watching  his slow precise hands working the dough, his eyes almost never straying from the pie.

The dining room is modest, a long narrow corridor with simple wooden tables and chairs lining both sides.  On a Saturday night (actually any night, for that matter) the brick walls echo the groans and sighs of a jam-packed room full of ecstatic diners. Kesté does not take reservations, and since the word got out that “this is it” (the rough translation of “Kesté” from Neapolitan dialect) be sure to arrive early.

The menu features authentic items such as the pizza margherita and pizza marinara, as well as more original creations involving squash, mushrooms, truffle oil, and other unique assortments of seasonal ingredients.  I’ve heard purists cite the variety of Kesté’s menu as a weakness, saying Naples doesn’t have “salad pizzas.”  While that’s probably true, this isn’t Naples and the clientele isn’t from Naples; unless you’re David Chang, having a restaurant in New York without light and vegetarian options is operational suicide.  Good luck.  Fortunately, Chef Caporuscio uses this to his advantage: the creative pies are still baked in the Neapolitan way, just with toppings to please the diner.  However if you’re a member of the cultural police, stick to the first few items on the menu.

Pizza Margherita – A soft and pliable dough, just over a foot in diameter, with crispy charred black spots decorating the rim. The pie was adorned with molten globs of fresh mozzarella, tomato sauce, and crispy basil leaves. In a wood-burning oven this hot, pizzas cook in under a minute. While I tried to use my hands at first, the soft eye of the pizza quickly told me a fork and knife would be easier. Each crack with the knife sent a puff of black dust onto the table. This pizza was just as much fun to cut, as it was to eat. The flavor was extremely fresh and subtle, reminiscent of the first time I made marinara sauce with canned tomatoes. The high quality mozzarella cheese nearly made me reach for the salt shaker, until the subtle sweetness of the tomatoes shone through. This pie was in perfect balance.

It’s always a battle with pizza: eating too quickly will result in a burnt tongue; but wait too long, and the cheese hardens.  As tempting as it is to take an immediate bite, I usually try as hard as possible to wait a minute for the molten tomato sauce to cool to a safe temperature.  However Kesté’s pies are no bread bowl: sauce is applied sparingly so the cooling time is much quicker.  I find thirty seconds to be ideal.  At least, that’s the extent of my restraint.

Pizza Marinara – The lightweight cousin to the Pizza Margherita, this pie has no cheese.  The same elastic crust is garnished with bright red tomato sauce, slices of roasted garlic, thin crispy basil, and a drizzle of olive oil.  There are few things in the world as satisfying as this.

There was a bit of a line on my first trip to the sole bathroom, which afforded me the opportunity to watch Chef Caporuscio in action.  He could tell that I was curious, and without taking his eyes off the pizza, managed to keep a conversation.  He was genuinely interested in talking about pizza, the places that do it right while omitting the places that did not do it so right.  He explained his passion for finding the right ingredients and for methodically assembling and baking them in just a few minutes.  I watched as he pulled a pie right from the oven into the trash, “a little too charred on the edges,” he replied.  He was a perfectionist.

Mast’nicola – A pie from such an ancient recipe that it doesn’t include tomato sauce.  Thin and translucent slices of lardo and basil are spread over the dough and crisped in the oven with a dusting of Pecorino romano.  I feared this pie would be dry.  It wasn’t.  It was this pie that awakened me to Kesté’s true secret: the crust.  Part elastic, part crispy, part chewy, part dusty, this crust expanded the entire gamut of texture.  It formed a perfect foundation for a variety of topings; but frankly, could easily be enjoyed by itself.

Ripieno (Calzone) - Tomatoes, ricotta, fresh mozzarella, salame, extra virgin olive oil.  A pizza folded in half, overflowing and oozing with warm mozzarella and ricotta.  Hidden strips of spicy salame were buried under the crust, adding a meaty salt to the overall flavor.  I’ve tried on various occasions to get Chef Caporuscio to make a calzone of just ricotta and mozzarella with no tomato sauce and no salame; but every time I got the same dish with a note from the waiter, “Roberto says it doesn’t taste so good like that.”  I just wanted to compare this calzone eye-to-eye with my favorite from DiFara; because frankly, this might be my new favorite.

Salsiccia e Friarielli – Chunks of sausage and a vegetable similar to broccoli rabe.  The crust was outstanding; but I don’t care much for smoked mozzarella.  This was the special pizza of the day, often spontaneous and impromptu creations by the chef.  While I did enjoy this; I’m not too sure I would order it again.

Tiramisù and Tiramisù alla fragola – Regular and strawberry tiramisu, moist and wet with a clearly defined shape.  The taste of coffee was very light, which I appreciated.

Panna Cotta – Firm and rich, with a delicate hint of vanilla.

Torta Caprese – A dark chocolate and walnut cake spiked with limoncello.  This was very heavy and I would only recommend it for those with a rather large appetite.  Delicious, nonetheless.

Regina Margherita – like a Pizza margherita only with grape tomatoes and buffalo mozzarella.  The added acidity of the tomato skins cuts through much of the cheesy mouth-feel from the traditional margherita.  A similar pie, only with burrata instead of mozzarella, is available sometimes as a special.  I highly recommend trying the later if it’s available; but only with a large appetite.  The squeaky mozzarella spills off the pie onto the plate.  It’s almost like drinking cream.

Prosciutto e Rucola – Large layers of prosciutto layered over raw arugula.  An obvious choice for salumi lovers looking for something light.

Pizza alla Nutella -Kesté’s signature crust sliced horizontally and layered with nutella.  The whole pie is then dusted with sugar.  Really now, try to think of a more appealing dessert to share.  It’s exceptional (and apparently authentic, says the Chef, too).

Kesté is the best thing to happen to New York’s pizza in a long time, and I find myself constantly returning for another exceptional pie.  It’s just always the right decision, for lunch, for dinner, with family, or with friends.  And the staff is kind and accommodating, the service prompt and responsive.  I highly recommend that everyone visit, and am counting the days until I return to New York.

This is where Marea comes in.  As sister restaurant of New York’s other Northern Italian gem, Alto, Marea’s menu is rife with raw seafood.  Over half of the menu, in fact.  At times some of the plates look Japanese in simplicity and presentation, that is until the golden dab of olive oil shines through.

Marea occupies the former space of San Domenico, which other than perhaps Del Posto, was the most expensive Italian restaurant in the city.  In this respect, Chef Michael White’s cuisine is similar: it’s expensive.  But the restaurant space has been completely renovated and no longer feels like a scene from CSI Miami.  Its reflective hard lacquer surfaces and focused halogen lighting put the food on a well-lit pedestal.

The first glance of the menu brought a huge smile to my face: raw scallops, prawns, sea urchin.  This menu read like happiness on a page.  Dishes appeared fresh, clean, crisp, and simple: almost as if an Italian and Japanese chef had shared their mutual cultural secrets.  I was literally ready to book a second reservation, as getting a table can be difficult, before any of the dishes came to the table.  But that sentiment quickly changed.

AMUSE BOUCHE – A white fish soup, olive oil, with a fried crisp of bread.  The texture was salty and grainy, much like watered down mashed potatoes.  Still, the textures were nicely balanced, and I was starving.

RICCI – sea urchin, lard, sea salt.  This was a room temperature slice of sea urchin served atop a slice of toasted baguette and encased in a thin film of lard.  The warm urchin was shrink-wrapped by the clear layer of lard, preventing it from dripping off the toast.  This was an interesting combination, particularly the salty cured flavor of the lard mixing with the sweetness of the urchin.  I like sea urchin for its clean sweet flavor; I did not like how the lard’s saltiness made it taste a few days old.  The lard masked the freshness of the fish.  This was an interesting combination of two ingredients I like separately; but together, they felt forced.  Quite simply, this just didn’t taste good.

SEPPIA – cuttlefish tagliatelle, soffrito crudo, bottarga di muggine.  Another dish that sounded great on the menu.  Extremely fresh cuttlefish develops an addicting chewy crunch with a hint of elasticity.  The texture of this fish definitely had that.  But there was so much bottarga on the plate that everything tasted like sour salt.  I could not figure out why someone would pair a very fishy tasting bottarga to a sweet and fresh tasting fish.  The bottarga seemed out of place and overwhelming; by flavor alone, it was impossible to connect with the freshness of the fish.  The fish could have been 2 hours or 2 days old, and would have still tasted a week old.  Bottarga has its place by itself and in small quantities; but in this case, completely dominated the subtle flavor of the cuttlefish.

SPARNOCCHI – sweet maine prawns, lemon, black lava salt.  This dish sounded fantastic on the menu.  Large sweet prawns lifted by a little lemon and salt.  In reality the prawns were bitter in taste and the sweetness never came through.  I wasn’t sure why the dish was layered with slices of flavorless cucumber.  Since the ingredient was not listed in the menu, it was likely more a thoughtless garnish.  But why slice them thinly in edible slices if not to be eaten?  This seemed too academic without any thought that the watery cucumber offered nothing to the dish, except for the color green.  The cucumber skin made the shrimp taste terrible and the overall dish appear lazy.

FUSILLI – red wine braised octopus, bone marrow.  This was another dish that just sounded incredible. I’m pretty much always in the mood for L’Os a Moelle, the smell of which immediately brings me back to my two years living in Paris.  Its combination with fresh octopus also sounded intriguing.  But the red wine sauce was just too sweet and too sour.  Each bite of the fusilli left an aspartame-like chemical tingle on my tongue.  And the strong sour smell, similar to orange juice, really put me off.  The sauce was so thick and abundant that at times this seemed more like a stew as the pasta became pasty.  This dish has so much potential; but the night I went, it was the most disappointing of the evening.

TARALLI – nantucket bay scallops, mussels, tomato sauce
This was the highlight dish of the night.  While I did find this sauce too sweet as well, the texture of the pasta combined with the briny scallops and mussels kept me distracted.  But frankly this dish stood out merely because it was the least offensive of the other dishes.  This dish has no offensive ingredient combinations.

UOVO – slow poached egg, black truffle, marsala ragu, polenta cream.  A rich and creamy poached egg buried in a bed of polenta cream touched with black truffle.  A weightless polenta cream that held together the black truffle and egg, contributing an earthy touch of silky-smooth cornmeal, which tied everything together.  This part of the dish was exceptional.  However, layered in there was also a marsala “ragu”.  The ragu was both sour and sweet, like a red wine sauce that had been sitting on the stove too long.  Like the bone marrow fusilli, it smelled like orange juice.  The texture of this sauce was thick, clear, and starchy.  It was too similar to gooey Americanized Cantonese sauces, and completely offensive to the rest of the dish.

Our waiter brought us a small dish of chocolate petit fours, which were delicious — paper thin layers of chocolate encasing a full spectrum of fruits.  We chose to skip dessert.

Aside from the occasionally distracting across the room chant of “ándale güey” (Mexican slang for “Go ahead, man”), the service was excellent.  The restaurant was packed and at no point did we feel rushed, particularly with the extended amount of food we ordered.  That’s no easy task.

But at the end of the day, the dishes felt forced and unnatural, and did not taste good.  Creativity should never be at the expense of flavor, and every chef must at some point step back, look at his dishes, and do a taste test to make sure that they actually work.  Nearly every dish we ordered had an offensive ingredient or flavor that tasted like it didn’t belong.  But the menu still reads really well, so perhaps the restaurant just needs some more time to settle.  I’ll probably re-visit; but not anytime too soon.

But at the same time, an ingredient’s source should never supersede flavor. Just because hand-picked moss comes from the high hills of northern Hokkaido, or if tomatoes come picked this morning from a farm nearby, doesn’t mean they will necessarily taste good.

Unfortunately, there are few restaurants that combine an ingredient’s unique naturalness with an inventive cuisine that doesn’t take the spotlight away from nature. It’s usually a tradeoff. Noma has both. The unique flora and fauna found in Scandinavia provides a full spectrum of ingredients with which René Redzepi, chef of Noma Copenhagen, can paint into sophisticated flavor.

Noma, a play on the words “nordic” and “food” in Danish, is located seaside in a 250 year old industrial complex now converted into lofts and large open spaces.  The decor is minimalist nordic warmed by exposed wooden beams.  Though open and uncluttered, the small windows can at times make the lighting dim if not seated directly next to a window.

Service was exceptional from the very beginning, when I was greeted by name as being the last member of a party of four to arrive.  It could be because I was eating with a well-known Parisian restaurateur and two established food bloggers; though, glancing around the room revealed the restaurant’s unique ability to feel as if each table is the only table in the restaurant.  The staff in general was extremely proud of the food it served and genuinely wanted guests to feel at home and to enjoy the experience.  This was one of the warmest and most genuine lunch services I’ve ever experienced.  I felt at home throughout the entire meal.

Amuse bouche – savoury cookie; speck, blackcurrant.  These were crispy and salty with a hint of sweetness.  It was a nice accompiament to a glass of champagne.  These bite-sized portions served in a tin can.

Amuse bouche – rye bread, fava beans, chicken skin and smoked cheese.  This was also salty with hints of chicken stock and no detectable fat whatsoever.  Beans were added texture to the paste, like potato skin in pommes purées.  Smoked cheese gave depth and emphasized the saltiness.

Amuse bouche – smoked quail egg. For me this was more about the texture than flavor.  It was a lot of fun to eat.  The warm egg bursted in my mouth like a little explosion.  There was a stark contrast from white to yolk, this was cooked just enough to solidify the shell while keeping the inside fluid.  The flavor was rich and creamy, like an intensified egg yolk.

Amuse bouche – radish and turnip, soil and herbs. Cool concept.  A radish was buried in a ceramic pot full of edible “dirt.”  It literally felt like I was literally eating dirt as some parts of the soil were even hard to chew, like they contained little pebbles.  The imagery of this dish was very powerful, like stopping for a quick snack in a friend’s greenhouse.  The flavor was light and clean with a hint of burn as found in very fresh radishes.

Amuse bouche – toast, herbs, beurre noisette and vinegar. Gorgeous presentation; a lot like fresh snow fallen on a pile of greens.  There was a slight acidity on the vegetables from the vinegar as frequently seen in Nordic cuisine.  For me this was prettier than it tasted, but it did feel like talking a hungry walk through an herb garden.

Squid and white currant; cream and dill. This was absolutely breathtaking both in flavor and presentation.  The highlight of the meal.  The squid was chewy but nothing like the pencil eraser texture some varieties of squid can develop.  This was a different type, translucent and snippy.  I’ve had similar squid before in Kozue (こずえ） and Sukiyabashi Jiro (すきやばしじろ) where it was referred to as Monga-ika (もんがいか).  I’m not sure what that’s called outside of Japan; but I’d like to hunt it down and buy some.  The chewy squid complemented very nicely with the pristine white currant.

Apple, walnut, walnut milk, marjoram.  This had a very subtle flavor and the thin slices of walnut and apple did not help in tasting the ingredients.  This dish was more about the texture than the taste, which was crispy and cold.

Shrimp and seaweed; rhubarb and herbs.  The pickled rhubarb was astringent and gave a tannic-sensation when combined with the raw shrimp, highlighting its sweetness and milky texture.  The fresh sea lettuce added a hint of bitterness resulting in an overall balanced and fresh dish.  I really liked this as it felt clean yet unconventional.

Sea urchin and grilled cucumber; Dill and cream.  To say that I enjoyed this dish is an understatement.  Big chunks of firm and cold sea urchin jumping out of of a frozen grilled cucumber granité.  The granité not only amplified the urchin’s sweet taste of the sea; but served functionally to keep the texture solid and dense.  The dill brought the whole dish closer to shore by adding a hint of the garden.

Tartar and wood sorrel; rromatic juniper and tarragon.  When I first saw this plate, I was immediately struck by the ordered chaos throughout the dish.  While the wood sorrel was disordered and densely packed, like a wild meadow,  it still remained confined to a rigid square.  The sorrel leaves sat atop a coarsely ground square of Danish beef tartar.  The clover-shaped leaves were large enough to serve as utensils for bite-sized portions of beef, so forks and knives were neither necessary nor given.  The sensation of eating this simple and pure dish with your fingers added another sense to the dish: touch.  This immersive experience powerfully evoked imagery of cows grazing on an open field.  The flavors of the dish were simple and unalloyed.  I wouldn’t call this  the best tasting dish of the meal; but I would certainly call it the most interesting.

Langoustine and seawater; parsley and rye.  A plump langoustine sat atop a warm basalt stone taken from a local field, not unlike a cold-blooded reptile basking in the sun.  The texture of the langoustine was firm and stringy, the flavors unaided by spicing.  This dish was also eaten without a fork and knife.  I liked the langoustine; but, would have preferred it to be slightly undercooked.

Steamed spinach and tea; swedish cheese, elderberries and pickled rose hip.  This dish was prettier than it was flavorful.  The melange of ingredients didn’t seem to have much coherency and the flavors were unfocused.  Most distracting was the strong taste of earl grey.    The tea foam made the greens a bit soggy, like a salad that had been sitting around for awhile.

Local, wild mushroom (pied de boeuf/amador); skate sauce, nasturtium, elderberry capers.  Our waiter brought this dish out from the kitchen to get a glance at the sheer size of the mushroom before being plated.  One of the biggest I’d seen.  He brought this out in part to prevent the mushroom from dying out, but also for a small show, as the mushroom was continuously sauced in front of us.  The mushroom was full of water which diluted the flavor, leaving behind the strong sour and acidic taste of the elderberry capers.

Onions from Læsø; chick weed and onion bouillon.  This was a beautifully presented dish with a well thought out mix of playful textures.  Contrasting against the crispy sweet onions were gummy beads of tapioca.  The flavor was dominated by the light onion broth; but remained overall soft on the palate.  The pearl beads were really entertaining to chew, and broke up the monotony of what would be a normally crispy salad.

Salsify and milk skin; truffle from Gotland.  Another beautifully presented dish containing black truffles from northern Sweden.  The truffles were mild and really required my nose to get close to the plate to smell them.  The flowers were pretty; but didn’t taste very good.  I brushed them to the side of the plate.  The milk skin had a texture and flavor identical to yuba which was creamy and pliable but dull.  The truffles in theory should have carried this dish; but since they were not the most fragrant, the overall effect was of warm milk.  Not my favorite dish of the afternoon.

Pickled vegetables and bone marrow; herbs and bouillon.  Very attractive presentation; a collection of greens and marrow sprouting out of the plate.  The pickled vegetables, however, were to strong and overpowering, adding an overall sour taste to the dish.  I also did not like eating lukewarm marrow with colder vegetables as there was too much of a contrast.  However, this light salad did manage to make the fatty marrow taste clean and delicate.

Sweetbread and bleek roe; Söl and sea salt.  This was outstanding.  Milky and sweet sweetbread resting in a briny and salty bleek roe broth.  The oceanic taste cut through the fattiness of the sweetbread which, aside from the texture, made it taste like something in-between meat and fish.  The roe, and what seemed like a hint of lemon, added a touch of acidity to an otherwise flat dish.

Lamb and horseradish; fresh salad and pickled ramson onion.  Another exceptional presentation screaming garden fresh.  The lamb however was quite firm surrounded by a very thick shell of fat which I separated from the meat before eating.

Carrots; buttermilk and anis.  This might have been the first time I’ve seen carrots used as the dominant flavor in a dessert.  It worked nicely, with the exception of the frozen buttermilk in the middle which was very cold without an easily detectible flavor.  I think that was the point as to let the carrots dominate; but something a bit stronger and more complimentary would have carried this dish further.

The snowman from Jukkasjärvi; cloudberries and wild thyme.  I didn’t particularly like this dessert.  It tasted like a snow cone of powder, just without the syrup.  The dish had the strong scent of thyme which was too intensely vegetal at this point in the meal.

Walnut powder and ice cream; Dried cream and dried berries.  This dessert was outstanding.  So much so, in fact, that the table unanimously asked for a second serving.  Our waiter laughed; then realized we were serious, happily returning with a repeat round.  Conceptually unique, this dessert had a mix of textures that gave me chills: crunchy, squeaky, slimy, creamy, and brittle.  The dried berries added a touch of astringency which complimented the walnut powder and ice cream.  Wow.

I left this lunch with a deep and sincere appreciation for the sheer number of new vegetables and mushrooms I’d tried, as well as how chef Redzepi took a step back to let their natural flavors come through.  Most of the ingredients just aren’t accessible anywhere else.  The staff was full of smiles the entire meal, proud and extremely knowledgable of every ingredient on every plate. A handful of dishes were phenomenal, the rest require a bit more refinment to compete with the all-stars.  I would definitely go back, in fact I can’t wait to return; but, I think the restaurant needs a little more time to experiment and polish its massive ingredients list to better identify what works and what does not.

Noma humbly accedes to the need to continue research and experimentation.  After the meal, Chef Redzepi was kind enough to give us a tour of the research facility next door, the Nordic Food Lab, whose purpose is to document and catalog the flavors found in new Nordic ingredients they encounter for which there is not much information.  The food lab floats on a converted house boat with a full kitchen and a hotel-like setup designed to host foreign chefs so they can share their culinary experiences with Noma.

Noma is incredibly innovative and brave enough to experiment and take risks.  With time and patience, I have no doubt Noma can only perfect itself.

Chef Jiro Ono has been recognized by the Japanese government as a national treasure and “modern master” for his contributions to Japanese cuisine. He has received three Michelin stars. The awards an accolades for this masterful chef are endless. And to believe he is over 80 years old.

Chef Ono’s dishes are simple and straight forward: the freshest fish imaginable, warm carefully selected and cooked rice, deft knife work, and a collection of wise and sarcastic jokes.  He is very serious.  But unlike Masa, he was faster to crack a smile.  He couldn’t stop smirking at how I took a picture of each piece of sushi and even offered to pose; though, his sharp sushi knife was a forceful deterrent.  He has a funny sense of humor and is full of clever quips; my limited Japanese only understood the surface.  He asked if we had any allergies or restrictions.  We made it very clear that we eat absolutely everything.

To me, an omakase meal is like perusing the colors of the rainbow: when everything is exquisitely fresh, it’s impossible for me to pick favorites or to dislike any of the fresh fish.  It’s like asking me to chose if I like the color red or blue better; I like them both.  Everything I ate here was unbelievable.

Full course list:
- Hirame　(ひらめ)
- Sumi-ika　(すみいか)
- Shima-aji　(しまあじ)
- Akami　(あかみ)
- Chu-toro　(ちゅうとろ)
- Oo-toro　(おおとろ)
- Kohada　(こはだ)
- Hamaguri　(はまぐり)
- Aji　(あじ)
- Kuruma-ebi　(くるまえび)
- Sayori　(さより)
- Tako　(たこ)
- Saba　(さば)
- Akagai　(あかがい)
- Uni　(うに)
- Kobashira　(こばしら)
- kura　(いくら)
- Anago　(あなご)
- Tamago　(たまご)

We started the meal with cuts of Hirame, Sumi-ika, and Shima-aji.  Each piece was lightly brushed with soy sauce and freshly grated wasabi already applied.  The only accoutrement given was a healthy handful of ginger.  The hirame (fluke) left a trail of sweetness lingering in my mouth.  The sumi-ika (squid) had a texture that I’ve only experienced at Kozue: not at all squeaky; but chewy and translucent.  The shima-aji (amber jack) snipped as I bit through it.

Three slices of tuna came next, akami, chu-toro, and oo-toro increasing from lean, to medium fatty, to extremely fatty cuts.  The akami (lean toro) was the most tender slice of tuna I’ve ever tasted that did not contain noticeable marbelization.  The tuna was marinated in soy sauce for several minutes before service, perhaps contributing to this unique texture.  The medium fatty tuna had an interesting mix of crunch and fat, while the fatty tuna just completely melted in my mouth.  My friend with whom I shared this meal began to tear (I kid you not).

Making the transition from milder to more intensely flavored fishes came kohada, hamaguri, and aji.  The shiny skin was left on the kohada (something inbetween herring and mackerel) amplifying the already fishy flavor.  This fish literally smells like the ocean.  The texture of the hamaguri (a type of Japanese clam) was crunchy yet not dry.  The aji (horse mackerel) was soft and smooth with thin stripes of fat stringing together layers of lean meat.

The kuruma-ebi was simply gorgeous.  Killed minutes before and immediately flash boiled, the gigantic tiger prawn with beautiful bands of white and red made its way to our plate.  The texture of the shrimp was almost indistinguishable from langoustine: firm with a hint of pastiness.  I briefly wondered what happened to the head, my favorite part; but I was quickly distracted by the next course.  Chef Ono explained that the tiger prawn is sliced in such a way that the flavor and juices of the head are incorporated with the meat, and so the head itself is not necessary.

The sayori had a texture inbetween mackerel and squid: slightly crunchy yet clearly not a shellfish.

The tako, or octopus, was sliced very thinly and left lightly uncooked to preserve its soft texture and to prevent it from getting dry.  The edges of the fish seemed less cooked than the center, giving this slice of octopus a wide range of textures both chewy and crunchy.

Saba, a skin-less slice of mackerel that lacked the strong fishy flavor that I was used to.  This was the freshest saba I’ve ever tasted.

Akagai, or arc-shell clam, was a newly discovered favorite food.  I am literally tasting again this as I type this sentence.  A brittle and crispy yet moist clam with a strong briny flavor.  Chef Ono lightly scored the surface with his knife enhancing the crispy texture.

Uni.  Light and sweet with a slightly briny flavor and no iodine taste whatsoever.  The roe remained firm even while sitting atop the warm rice.  As my friend Lizzie said during our meal at Urasawa, “you can just inject this stuff directly into my veins.”  I couldn’t agree with her more.

Kobashira, round clam abductor muscles wrapped in seaweed.  This had a stiff and crispy texture much like the akagai.

Ikura, salmon roe.  One of the few pieces of Ikura sushi I’ve had with almost no salting.  Chef Ono, in the most humble way possible, let us know that this was the best in the world.  It was certainly some of the best I’ve ever had, right alongside the Ikura at Urasawa.

Anago, saltwater eel.  This was much leaner and less oily than usual.  It was very lightly glazed with kabayaki to add sweetness.

And now, time for dessert.  This is how I would like to end all meals.  If the quality of a restaurant’s Tamago can be used as a barometer for the skill of a sushi chef, this is as good as it gets.  The sweet egg sushi had a fluffiness like a dense pound cake.  It was addictively sweet and marked a perfect ending to an incredible meal.

The bill came, and I was told that no credit cards were accepted.  Uh oh.  Struggling in a panic to put together my thoughts in Japanese, I explained that I would leave my sister at the restaurant as hostage while I went to an ATM.  With his slippers and in full chef attire, Chef Ono’s assistant kindly walked me into the connecting subway station to the nearest machine.  The machine was on the other side of the subway turnstyle; but a quick conversation with the toll guard and he let me through to the machine.  I returned cash in hand to see my sister smiling with several autographed books that Chef Ono had signed for her … she must have left quite an impression.  This example of kindness is not something I’m used to living in Paris.

This was undoubtably one of the best sushi meals of my life.  The combination of chef Ono’s skill and access to the best ingredients makes this a must visit.  Each fish was served at its ideal temperature.  His timing was impeccable: not a single piece of fish rested for a second longer than necessary.

I would recommend going with someone who speaks conversational Japanese as the staff speaks absolutely no English and, for me, much of the fun came from the chef’s witty humour.  It was an all around excellent experience, and I can’t wait to go back.

The restaurant is located on a small side street in Roppongi.  The area used to be a bit seedy but after the construction of Roppongi Hills (六本木ヒルズ) completed in 2003, the neighborhood perked up.  Now it is known for its sophisticated nightlife including a handful burgeoning restaurants eager to collect their stars.  Yet despite being in such a lively neighborhood, RyuGin remains humble and quiet having just under twenty seats.

The service at RyuGin, like the service at nearly every other fine dining establishment in the city, was flawless and graceful.  The staff spoke with tremendous knowledge about the menu yet remained impressively humble.  The stage was set for a fantastic meal. Everything was ready, that is, except the food.

I was the only one at the table who enjoyed the first course, Atelier RyuGin’s home made bottarga served with daikon radish in yuzu flavor.  A thin slice of cured tuna roe served atop two smoked logs.  The dried roe was salty and firm, with a texture not unlike leather.  The flavor was intensely salty and of intense dried fish.  I thought this was a nice accompaniment to a glass of champagne.

Special oyster from Akkeshi, Hokkaido served with smoked oyster purée and ponzu vinegar with céleri-rave.  This was the first disappointing course.  The oyster was very salty and its only flavor that of unpleasant fish.  The ponzu vinegar was too assertive distracting from any sweet components the oyster may have contributed.  The portioning was purportedly for one bite; but that was impossible unless your mouth looks like Shrek’s.

Ankimo, monkfish liver, served with ark shell clam, winter vegetable in apple vinegar, miso, and mustard.  Another disappointment.  The liver was completely covered with a cold, flavorless paste that prevented any flavor from the monkfish from surfacing.  This did not taste like miso pastes that I was used to; this had no character.  The miso paste was also unnecessarily jelly-like.  Unfortunate, as I love monkfish liver.

Hot soup of matsuba brand Tanner crab from Port Shibayama in season’s greetings style.  The title of this dish made me chuckle inside a little.  This was delicious and perfect for a freezing cold winter day.  The subtle clear and lightly salted broth extracted and enhanced the sweetness of the crab.  The quality of the shellfish was immediately apparent as despite sitting in a hot broth for several minutes the stringy texture remained in tact to the end.  The crab added a subtle shellfish flavor and scent to the pristine broth, just enough to make it interesting and different from most Japanese clear broth soups.

Assorted sashimi “RyuGin style,” feel free to serve this to me anytime of day or night.  There is nothing but praise that I have for this course.  The freshest fish in the world were prepared in a way that allowed 100% of their natural flavor to come through.  A lightly seared scallop topped with osetra caviar, red snapper from nearby Osaka, lean tuna, and homard bleu.  An assortment of flavors and textures from crunchy to smooth, lean snapper to rich scallop.

Deep fried shark fin in cone,  a surprisingly enjoyable mix of crunchy fried breading and stringy shark fin.  I’m used to eating shark fin in soup; this was the first time I tasted it dry.  I loved this cone … textures were all over the place.  The salty batter somehow made the shark fin taste sweeter.

Crispy chargrilled “Akamutsu” with vinegar flavor on egg pudding, smooth taro potatoes.  As good as an egg pudding can taste, I suppose.  I have Japanese friends who go crazy for egg puddings like chawanmushi, as this is a very traditional dish.  Being a New yorker, I don’t have the same nostalgic connection.  (I can, however, enjoy mustard on my hot dog.)  The smooth taro potatoes made this entire dish have a texture of smooth pudding.  The textural monotony required that the flavor and temperatures be perfect: this dish was served just under room temperature and the flavor uneventful.

Venison with wasabi mashed potatoes and matsuke mushrooms. A thick cut of lean venison exquisitely cooked.  There was no cooking gradation from surface to center, all uniform.  The beautiful pink color glistened in the light.  But the real highlight of the plate was the wasabi mashed potatoes crowned with shaved black truffle.  The truffle was some of the most fragrant black truffle I have ever seen, easily detectable from across the room.  The squeaky matsuke mushroom was grilled just enough to remove the water and intensify the flavor without overcooking.  This was the highlight course of the night.

Steamed rice with cherry blossom tea topped with aromatic sakura shrimp from Shizuoka.  Another incredible course.  These tiny shrimp were eaten whole and had a very subtle flavor of shrimp.  Since they were so small, most of the flavor and texture came from the crispy shells.  The heads were the most flavorful part, I really wanted more.  These were served on top of rice cooked so perfectly that each grain developed a springy texture.  The rice stuck together without sacrificing its shape, a clear sign of perfect cooking.

The rice was also served with a bowl of miso soup and pickled vegetables.  There’s something really satisfying about pickled vegetables and rice at the end of a meal.  I haven’t figured it out yet.  It has the same closing effect that a sweet dessert has; except without the sweetness.  It leaves me with a very clean mouthfeel.

Fresh pear compote in Gewürtztraminer aroma and three citrus in maple syrup.  I got a little worried when I saw a ball of grapefruit pulp.  After the first bite I waited for the bitter acidity to attack, much like waiting for the pain after stubbing your toe.  Except it never came.  The bitterness was completely neutralized; perhaps the pulp was soaked in some kind of sugar water before. The dish was very refreshingly bright and sweet.

Fifth year anniversary special, ice cream of chocolate truffles, accompanied with fresh orange jam.  I don’t like chocolate ice cream and this was no different.  The flavor was infinitely stronger than any of the previous courses, completely erasing them from my palate.  This entire course, I believe, should have been skipped.  But my friend seemed to enjoy it.

Ultimately light Warabimochi cake in coconuts, genmai tea, and kinako powder.  Light cakes to close off the meal.  These went nicely with hojicha.

My meal at RyuGin was lackluster; though, it did certainly have its highlights: the assorted sashimi, shark fin, and venison were my favorite courses.  It was immediately clear that this was a very talented chef.  But the rest of the meal was a blur; nothing really jumped out as memorable.  And frankly, of the three courses I did enjoy, once was enough.  When I returned home I saw the meals of my friends Chuck and Cathy, both of whom seem to have had very different experiences.  Their strongly positive opinions aside, just from looking at the photos, it’s clear that they had a different experience.  Could it be that RyuGin is not what it used to be ?  Or simply that I had a single forgettable meal ?  I’d like to return at some point; but, I’m in no rush.

Wine pairings for the night:
- Arbois, Grand Elevage Vieilles Vignes 2006
- Mersault Vieilles Vignes 2006
- Pinot Blanc Vin d’Alsace Domaine Weinbach 1999
- Maison Louis Jadot & Domaine Ladoix 1999
- Clos Windsbuhl Gewurtztraminer 2005

The interactivity that makes molecular gastronomy so much fun is heightened by the restaurant’s sushi counter seating which holds at most seven guests at a time.  The entire evening is filled with conversation between not only dining companions, but with the chefs as well.  It is interactive in every respect.

Japan is known for its mix of tradition and technology.  I can’t tell you how many pictures I’ve seen of a bullet train passing Mount Fuji with cherry blossoms blooming in the background.  This mix of new and old is, what I believe, made the molecular bar so appealing.

I’ve been to the bar several times now and each meal has been a similarly fun experience.  Most of the dishes have been more entertaining, creative, and clever, rather than delicious.  I’ve just accepted that as a caveat for molecular gastronomy: edible art.  However, several of the courses were downright spectacular, one of them possibly being the most memorable single dish I’ve ever tasted.

My most recent menu read:

Opening Aperitif
Cabrales Cuttlefish
Crispy Beets
Scallop with Pumpkin Sorbet
Red
Tommy Thai
Strawberry and Pesto Spaghetti
Warm Sizzling Beef
Carrot Caviar
Secreto de Cerdo
Unagi, Pineapple, Miso
Lemon Nitro
Manchego and Apple
Juicy Lamb
Monkfish, Cocoa Butter, Parsnip
Miso Soup
Blue Hawaii
Blueberries and Laurel
Fruit Course

Our opening apéritif (食前酒) came first to the table: japanese beer topped with yakult, a milk product made from fermented skimmed milk.  The faux-foam had a sweet texture like an airy yogurt which made the beer taste even sweeter.  This was served ice cold.

Accompanying the beer was a little plastic bag of dried cabrales cuttlefish (カブラレスとさきいか) chips whose combination touched nearly every flavor receptor on my tongue: sweet, salty, sour, bitter.  The bite-sized portion made this a nice way to start the meal.  A big oriental fan reminded us that we were indeed eating inside a Mandarin Oriental.

Last of the amuses bouches were crispy beets (カリカリビーツ), a ball of entangled strips of deep-fried and salted beet.  I didn’t particularly like this by itself; but I thought its saltiness paired really nicely with champagne.  And it looked pretty.

If I had to trust an entire country to cook shellfish perfectly, it would be Japan.  I’m convinced their penchant for raw fish has swayed their palattes to preferring fish on the raw side.  This was the case with the next course, scallop with pumpkin sorbet (帆立貝).  A lightly seared scallop served with pumpkin sorbet, asparagus, and pistachio crumbs.  This was fantastic.

Red (赤), a giant leg of deep fried king crab with uni.  The crab tasted dull; however, was very moist.  The uni was firm and sweet.  I didn’t understand the grouping of ingredients in this dish, other than everything being red, except it wasn’t.

Tommy Thai (トミくん), a de-constructed version of the thai soup.  This was fun to eat and quite creative; but its flavors muted.

Mojito (味噌汁), our waitress came around the sushi counter and began to pour, convincingly, an invisible mojito into seven highball glasses.  The mojito was suspended inside the straw held in place by a thin layer of gelatin. One sip on the straw and I tasted the mojito’s strong flavors of mint and rum.

Strawberry and pesto spaghetti (いちごのスパゲッティ), sounds crazy until you taste it.  These over-ripe strawberries were lightly stewed with salt to taste like really sweet tomatoes.  The similarity was remarkable.  This was also very tasty.  I just didn’t like how the dish got cold so quickly; I can’t think of anything so unappetizing as a bowl of cold spaghetti with tomato sauce.

Sizzling Beef (熱いビーフ), medallions of tender filet that had been sitting in a compression canister of nitrous oxide for twelve hours.  Air was still coming out of the beef as it sat on the plate, creating the sounds and visuals of beef sizzling on a grill.  The meat was extremely moist.

Carrot Caviar (にんじんのキャビア), spherified balls of carrot juice.  These were spherified in front of us with a matrix of syringes filled with a mix of carrot juice and the seaweed derivative alginate forming droplets into calcium chloride.  Immediately upon impact with the alginate solution the carrot juice hardened into bright orange balls of what convincingly like ikura.

Secreto de cerdo (イベリコの秘密), or “pork secret,”smoked iberico pork hidden in a cloud of smoke.  The clear cup is used to contain the smoke, as well as conceal its contents, until lifted.  Smelled wonderful, like freshly smoked ham.  The texture of the meat was dry, unfortunately.

Unagi and Pineapple Miso (うなぎ、パイナップル), thick slices of grilled freshwater eel and a pineapple miso sauce.  This was incredible.  Each slice was crispy and sweet.  The pineapple miso’s light acidity highlighted the natural sweetness of the unagi.

About halfway through the main courses, we took a break from savory and had two small bite-sized dishes of what could have been served for dessert.  The idea was to completely reset the palate before continuing.

Lemon Nitro (レモンシャーベット), a yellow balloon is filled with lemonade and soaked in liquid nitrogen.  The balloon is then peeled off, and a light sorbet made with shochu injected inside.  The flavor is bright, sweet, and cold.

Manchego and Apple (マンチェゴとりんご), an apple tuile wrapped with manchego cheese.  Had a flavor profile similar to mixing cream cheese and preserves, a mixture of sweet and salty.  I really liked this.

By this point in the meal, given everything prior had been relatively light and my senses reset, I was feeling surprisingly good and ready to continue.  Next came Juicy Lamb (ジューシーラム), a faux lamb chop filled with a demiglace.  The lamb completely encased the demiglace so, when sliced, it leaked out all over the plate completely saucing the lamb.  This was a really creative idea that made the meat extremely appetizing.

Monkfish (アンコウ), a cocoa butter battered filet of monkfish accompanied with a parsnip pureé.  I didn’t dislike anything about this dish; but I can’t say I’d rush to order it again.  This was the least creative dish of the night and seemed out of place with the other plates.

Miso Soup (味噌スープ), deconstructed miso soup on a spoon.  The miso soup was spherified to about the size of a large egg yolk.  This was served with small white balls of tofu jelly and dashed with powdered wakame.  The “soup” exploded in my mouth making the texture playful.  It actually tasted like miso soup.  I didn’t like that the dish was served room temperature; because I’m used to eating miso soup hot.  Other than that minor gripe, the flavor was identical.

Blue Hawaii (くうき氷), a mixture of rum, pineapple juice, blue Curaçao, and sweet and sour mix was flash frozen in liquid nitrogen brining the temperature to −321 °F.  The chef warned us to eat this within 15 seconds before it began to warm, so naturally I photographed this as fast as humanly possible.  He also warned us to be careful not to burn our tongues; except he didn’t exactly say how.  This is an example of “fun” aspect of molecular gastronomy that can make it exciting and adventurous.  As soon as the frozen snow touched my mouth it instantly sublimed into a puff of smoke.  The volume also increased with the phase change, a lot, so the smoke puffed out my nose.  In the process changing the flavor from being perceived on my tongue to in my nose.  It was a really cool experience.

Last of the desserts was Blueberries and Laurel (ブルーベリーとローリエ), a blueberry spongecake topped with laurel ice cream.  The spongecake was dry and the flavors muted.

Fruit Plate (フルーツの版), a small plate holding wedges of citrus fruits and berries.  This seemed normal until another small plate with a red berry was brought out.  We tasted the sour lemon; frankly, I was confused why I was brought a plate of sour fruits.  Without any explanation, we were told to suck on the red fruit for thirty seconds, then to continue with the sour and acidic citrus fruits.  It’s hard to explain the shock that followed; as if everything I had known was wrong.  The lemon and grapefruit wedges were now as sweet as the most delicious orange I have ever tasted.  There was no sourness or bitterness whatsoever.  The strawberry no longer tasted so astringent as before; it was like pure sugar.  We were stunned, and could not stop laughing.

The chef explained what the red berry was: miracle fruit, a small berry from Africa that binds to the sour receptors on the tongue, preventing their flavor from being detected.  The sensation lasts up to two hours.

The chefs reached under the counter and pulled out guns.  Still confused from the miracle fruit, we didn’t budge.  Our bills were shot at us.

The menu reads about twenty courses and only changes minimally between seasons. It seems that about 75% of the menu has stayed the same with each visit. Before I share my most recent experience, I want to share my absolute favorite dish from this restaurant. It’s one of the most delicious things I have ever tasted.

Foie Gras Chaud Froid (熱く、冷たいフォアグラ), a small cup of warm fois gras soup topped with a chilled foie gras and corn mousse and garnished with dehydrated corn and chive. The magic of this dish is how the swirls of warm and cool foie gras of thin and airy texture mix together at exactly the point that they hit your mouth. This allows you to simultaneously taste both hot and cold at the same time. Aside from being fun to drink, this was incredibly delicious. The small crisps of corn added texture to an otherwise smooth dish. The mouse was also notiably sweeter than the salty soup, showcasing two different angles of flavor for the same ingredient. Wow. (I’ve been told that this dish is similar, if not identical, to one at Minibar; I hope one day to be able to try the original version.)

Three of my other favorite dishes from previous experiences are below.

Langoustine and Mushroom (エビおよびきのこ), a large langoustine cooked for just an instant leaving it mostly raw.  This was topped with small chanterelles and served with a rich butter sauce.  While this dish is not particularly molecular in nature, it was delicious.  The langoustine developed a flavor of sweet butter and a slightly pasty texture from having been only slightly cooked.

Soba Noodles (蕎麦のヌードル), a syringe filled with noodle paste was to be injected into a hot dashi broth, instantly solidifying the noodles.  I had this same dish at WD-50 in New York, so I will take this as a tribute to chef Wiley Dufresne.  This dish was a lot of fun to make, and tasted identical to the real thing.  The noodles were not pasty in the least.

Bacon and Eggs (ベーコンとエッグ), ironically this is a dessert.  Looks can be deceiving.  The sunny side up “egg” was actually white yogurt topped with a mango purée.  The crispy bacon strips, sweet ham flavored tuiles with a light hit of smoke.  The bacon actually tasted like bacon, and it was delicious; I’d never tasted ham sweet before.  The flavors of this dish were just as interesting as its creativity.

Marking the end of the meal was a small plate of petits fours (サフランとチョコレートのカプセル – カプチーノのわたあめ) presented in circular contraption with lots of little compartments.

I’ve read several reports of a lack of originality for chef Ramsey’s dishes, the most significant being on eGullet.  I think it is important to mention this as being a common criticism.   In my case, creativity did not affect my experience or tasting of the dishes so I am less concerned about these claims.  I have also never been to Minibar Washington D.C., or El Bullí in Roses, so I cannot comment directly.

As such, I would recommend a visit to the Tapas Molecular Bar.  My experiences there have been fun and exciting.  I think one visit is probably enough, as the menu does not change frequently.  Though one visit can quickly turn into many more.

The name Agapé itself is one of three Greek words roughly translated into English as love.  This title is well-suited as the energetic and enthusiastic passion of the entire staff comes through immediately.  I’d never seen a maître’d more genuinely excited to put together a tasting menu.  He was proud of the restaurant’s creations.  And it showed.

The meal started with an amuse bouche  of mousseline de potimarron avec orange, graine de tournesol, a thick soup of winter squash brightened by orange zest and sunflower seeds.  The soup had a strong flavor of pumpkin with a slightly grainy and creamy texture.  The raw sunflower seeds seemed a little misplaced at first; but then I began to enjoy the textural contrast it provided to keep each spoonful interesting.  I really liked this.

My favorite course of the night came next: crevettes de Nouvelle Calédonie crue et marinée avec navets, yuzu, et cacahuète.  These raw grey shrimp from New Caledonia were sweet and extremely fresh but not as sweet as the red varieties of sweet shrimp.  The bitterness of these grey shrimp made the pairing with the yuzu fantastic.  The addition of peanuts and beets provided textural contrast.  The ice-cold temperature of everything heightened the dish’s overall sweetness.

Keeping with the light and fresh theme came carpaccio de betterave  avec parmesan, noisette, et vinaigre balsamique, or thin slices of beet root with salty parmesan, crispy hazelnuts, and acidic aged balsamic vinegar.  The beets had a distinctly earthy taste, which was further accentuated by the parmesan.  I really liked the mix of textures in this dish.

To me, when very tender, veal carpaccio develops a texture similar to raw lean tuna.  Such was the case with the noix de veau cru d’Hugo Desnoyer, espuma au concombre, coriandre, citron, vanille.   This was heightened by the fresh taste of the cucumber for which I already associate with the flavor of tuna from American sushi rolls.  Vanilla, lemon, and coriander gave the meat a sweet fragrance making the dish smell almost like a dessert.  And not to mention that Hugo Desnoyer’s small shop in the 14e is known for the finest cuts of meat in the city.

L’Agapé has close ties with L’Arpège with both staffing and philosophy.  Laurent, the current maître’d at Agapé was the former maître’d at l’Arpège.  Both restaurants insist on farm-fresh seasonal vegetables and choose to prepare them in ways that enhance their natural flavors rather than to obscure them.  Agapé’s potager aux poireaus et huîtres was a tribute to the famous dish by Alain Passard.  It was incredible how the sharp brine from the oysters actually made the leeks taste sweeter.

Next came rutabega, espuma au poireau, céléri-rave, jus de poire, long cuts of Swedish turnip with a leek foam, celeriac and a sweet pear reduction.  This dish was tasty, but certainly not a favorite of the night.  I thought the leek foam was more like an aioli in terms of fattiness and texture.  I didn’t care much for this dish.

My face lit up when I smelled the next course, foie gras grillé de Charolais, katsuobushi, radis vert et rouge, ciboulette et basilic thaï.  The generous slab of grilled foie gras was tempered with a very clean clear broth, which allowed the fattiness of the liver to come through without feeling overwhelming.  The salty strips of katsuobushi, or dried and fermented tuna, combined with the thai basil made this meat taste both sweet and savory at once.  The thin broth kept the liver moist until the very end.

When cooking scallops, it’s always best to err on the side of raw.  These scallops — noix de saint-jacques rôties avec chou-fleur, lardo di colonata, purée de cresson – were pan seared for what seemed like just a few seconds, which allowed them to maintain their sweetness.  I didn’t particularly like the lardo di colonata here and pushed it to the side: it was too fatty for me and I thought it lacked salt.  The watercress puree had a fairly strong flavor for watercress, so I limited its addition to my fork, basically only eating the scallops.  Honestly, the highlight of this dish was the perfectly seared scallops; everything else served as  decoration.

Next came mallard de Landes avec chou-rouge, purée de coing, jus cuisson parfumé avec vinaigre fumé.  I would have liked the skin of this duck to be a bit crispier because I thought it was a tad soggy.   I saved the dish by separating the skin from the meat and eating only the lean part.  Loved the combination of the astringent quince and the smoked vinagre.  These modifications really helped to cut down on the fatty mouth-feel.  The meat itself was very juicy, and its flavor was emphasized by the slight vegetal bitterness of the red cabbage.

I prefer my meats lean, so I’m predisposed to enjoying fattier cuts of wagyu beef.  Titled Boeuf ‘wagyu’ d’Argentine, oignon en robe de champ, béarnaise de la moutarde d’Orléans, this rare cut of Argentine beef was cooked impeccably.  As you can see from the picture below, the beef’s color is astounding : it appears to be beet red.  The meat was served with Agapé’s version of chimichurri, keeping in line with the Argentine theme.  I loved the onion that accompanied the meat and how the skin was left on to preserve a crispy texture.  FoodSnob, with whom I shared this meal, loved the fatty marbling.

I followed with a light assortiment of cheeses, comté de Bernard Anthony (Juin 2005), Chèvre Drôme Gramat, Chèvre-Crabotin, and Munster Nord Vache.  Most memorable was the 4-year-aged comté, also a favorite of Alain Passard.

Our first dessert was a poire William pochée au sirop, sablé à la farine de sarrasin, crème de yuzu, et sorbet à la poire William.  While known simply as a common pear in the US, in France they distinguish between types.  This one happened to be poire William. The grainy texture of the pear mixed well with the flour sable and produced a grainy texture that felt like the pear skin itself.  It was strangely addictive.  The bright citrus flavor of the yuzu was tempered as a crème.  I thought this dessert was outstanding.

I was disappointed to see a piece of chocolate tart brought as the final dessert.  I very rarely enjoy a chocolate dessert; I find its flavor completely takes over anything I’d tasted previously due to its strength.  This one broke the mold.   I tasted it and immediately  wanted more.  This “Samana” chocolate from the Dominican Republic was sweet and rich with a strong taste of salted cocoa butter.  I couldn’t get enough of it.  It was served with a Tahitian vanilla sorbet and a drop of salted caramel.  The portioning of this dish also ensured that I would finish it and want more.

Petits fours were truffe à la fève tonka, crème caramel au fruit de la passion de Jacques Genin, small and to the point.  I didn’t particularly like the tonka bean chocolates, nor did I like their inclusion immediately after a chocolate dessert.  But the passion fruit crème caramel was an enjoyable bite.

My meal at Agapé was a very positive experience, calling on culinary influences from both Japan and France and melding them into a relatively light meal.  I did prefer the first half of meal to the second, mostly because I’m crazy about raw shrimp and veal.  But overall this was a really enjoyable meal filled with energy and creativity that made it really fun.  I’m looking forward to my next visit.

My tasting methods were efficient: there were no left overs. (I don’t want to talk about the health sacrifice I gave to complete this delicious study.) I tried to keep things as consistent as possible by visiting all the bakeries before 10am; nearly 50 of them, in fact. If it was raining, I returned when it was sunny. I visited each bakery at least twice.

So, listed below are the five bakeries I believe to have the best croissants in Paris. They are in no particular order.

Laurent Duchêne, 2, Rue Wurtz, 13e

These croissants are big and bulky; yet, light and airy.  Thick, dark caramel bands wrap this pastry with blisters of tan revealing just how thin each layer is.  A side view immediately shows that despite the croissant’s bulk, it was still composed of thousands of paper thin layers.  The croissant was sturdy; though, squeezing the exterior would have broken the shell rather than spring back.  There was a very strong scent of toasted butter.  This croissant was very messy, and tearing off segments resulted in a distinct crackling sound.  Despite the shell’s dryness, however, the inside was cavernous and moist with spiral-shaped webs revealing the inverse of the piece I’d torn out.  The flavor was salty with a hint of sweet towards the end, followed by toasted butter.

This is one of the best croissants I’ve ever tasted.  Almost hard to tell whether it was salty or sweet since the two flavors were in perfect balance.  The shell had structure and protected the croissant’s shape despite my 30-minute journey home through the Paris subway system.  My guess is the firm shell locked in moisture allowing the croissant to stay fresh throughout the entire morning.  The inside was a nice mix between a hollow cave and a honeycomb, ensuring that the crust’s texture was crispy and pronounced; but not dominant.  The ends of this croissant were blunt, making each bite texturally equal: there was no bad bite.

Thierry Renard, 131 bis Boulevard de l’Hôpital, 4e

Thierry Renard won the Concours du Meilleur Croissant, Ville de Paris 2008, for having the best croissant in Paris.  It’s easy to see the elements that make this croissant so impressionable: it’s ultra-light with thin flaking layers, has an airy soft interior with a rich flavor of butter, and smells lightly toasted.  The exterior is diamond-shaped with one side slightly more pronounced as a boomerang.  The color is a light brown with random strips of shiny dark brown showing where the pastry was glazed with butter.  The consistency is fluffy and the pastry looks more like it was rolled than folded: it’s very round.  The thin and crispy shell holds together pretty well as flakes do not brush off easily.  When broken, however, make sure you have a napkin underneath to catch the thin small pieces that come off.  Inside is sort of like a collection of flower petals: the glutunous webs stretch across the ringed interior, each waiting to be pulled out and enjoyed.  The texture was chewy, and the inside tasted of buttered dough with a slightly sweet, rich butter aftertaste.

These croissants were very enjoyable; but they could have been even more enjoyable had they been cooked just a bit longer to eliminate the doughy interior.  This croissant’s outer shell is a very good balance between ultra-thin and slightly thicker, bringing the best of both worlds into a single pastry: thin enough to flake yet thick enough to absorb maximal butter.  The interior was beautiful, and the thin mesh of butter scented rings gave the croissant substance, while still keeping it feathery and texturally interesting.

Frédéric Comyn, 27 rue Friant, 14e

I read about Frédéric Comyn from Chez Pim, who says this is the best croissant in Paris.  It also happened to win the Concours du Meilleur Croissant, Ville de Paris 2007. Pretty strong recommendations.  Strong enough that despite the terrible weather I trecked out to the last stop on the 4, Porte d’Orléans, to taste for myself.  Sure was worth it.  This croissant has a very distinct spherical appearance; it is nearly as tall as it is wide.  Its center arcs upwards like a crescent instead of sideways, lifting off of the table.  It is quite tall, and perfectly symmetrical.  The surface is shiny with copper and bronze tones.  A view from the side reveals a spiral with hundreds of fine layers.  The outer shell is slightly thicker than paper which gives it a crispiness that is almost moist, since there is more volume to absorb butter.  Dispite the thicker shell, this croissant is not greasy.  When it fractures, it leaves behind large pieces with thick flakes.  This was not a delicate croissant; rather, it was substantive and strong.  The interior is cavernous with large webs of pastry stretching between sides of the outer shell.  The flavor is of salt and toasted butter.  The outside surface tastes sweet in some parts, as if it was lightly brushed with butter containing a hint of sugar.

This croissant was wonderfully different: hundreds of light layers thick enough to absorb butter without feeling greasy.  The salting was significant making this pastry perfectly straddle the line between savory and sweet.  The inside was hollow with pronounced layering.  This bold croissant needs absolutely nothing else to be enjoyed, no confiture, no coffee … nothing; it can stand completely on its own.  Maybe it’s a good thing Frédéric Comyn is a bit out of the way.  Otherwise, I’d be 500 lbs.

Le Quartier du Pain, 74 rue Saint-Charles, 15e

I learned about Le Quartier du Pain from my bible Paris est à Nous – Paris Gourmandises guidebook which says that Le Quartier du Pain has the best croissants in the city.  It’s certainly possible.  The diamond-shaped croissants here have an inflated appearance, and are slightly larger than average.  However while large, they are still essentially weightless since these croissants are light and airy.  The first thing I noticed were the hundreds of layers clearly visible on the surface, some were shiny and brown, others were matte and bronze colored.  The croissant had a very strong smell of toasted butter, the 30 minute subway back to my apartment holding this bag was torture.  It’s hard to call the shell of this croissant crispy since it’s ultra thin, I think flakey is a better word — much like the brown skin that surrounds an onion.  Because of the ultra thin shell, this croissant did not shatter but flaked all over the place: it was very messy.  One edge of the croissant was minimally frayed; but since the croissant was uniformly thin it didn’t add any additional textural element to the exterior.  The inside is chewy and fluffy, and pulling a piece does not uncoil the croissant rather tugs at the surface from the inside — that’s how thin this is.  The flavor is of butter, but not overly toasted or salted.  This would be excellent company with a coffee.

I very much liked this croissant for its texture, weight, and smell.  It has significant body on the inside, so for those who seek something crispy this is not going to fit the bill.  I found the flavor gentle, which would be perfect if eating this pastry with a hot beverage or confiture.  The only thing to be aware of is that it is greasy: eating with several napkins is obligatory, unless you are next to a sink to constantly wash your hands.  But this croissant may be the single most masterful pastry I’ve seen in terms of skill — there is no other croissant whose layers are so cleary detectable and thin.  It is truly a work of art.

Au Levain du Marais, 28, Blvd Beaumarchais

I first read about the croissants at Au Levain du Marais from David Lebowitz, who says that this is the best croissant in Paris.  Frankly, it might very well be.  The croissants from Au Levain du Marais are not so crescent shaped as they are diamond shaped.  With the exception of fanned out frills on one end, these croissants are nearly perfectly symmetrical.  The croissants have beautiful broad stripes of pretzel brown and amber that alternate the surface.  Each tip has a beautiful fanning of layers making it clear just how much work actually went into this edible art.  The width gently tapers off at each side, without any striking changes in size.

When I first tried to pull out a piece, I had trouble grabbing hold !  My hands crinkled through the soft and delicately crispy shell, much like crumbling tissue paper used to package gifts.  I realized more care would be necessary, and I began to tear off a piece with as little force as possible, so as not to destroy the texture.  The fanned end was light and crispy but not dry, more like a butter wafer.  This was the first bite of the croissant I took, and my favorite — each part of this croissant has a different texture, and since none of these parts are dry, each is absolutely rife with the flavor of toasted butter with a hint of sugar and salt.  The inside of the middle is very soft with clearly visible layers of rings.  Stretched across these rings were thin webs of soft dough, full of moisture.  This was a very messy croissant to eat, since it shattered all over the plate.  Some parts of the outer shell tasted sweet — hard to tell if they were sitting next to some other sweet pastries or if the shell was lightly brushed with some kind of sugar.  Regardless, absolutely delicious.

It was a bit of a travel for me to get to this bakery; but shortly after finishing this croissant I hopped right back on the subway to get a couple more.  These croissants were wonderful.