A Life Worth Eating

The Metropolitan Opera. The Julliard School. The New York Philharmonic. The Beacon Theatre. The American Museum of Natural History. The Upper West Side is known for many of the fine arts, but culinary is not among them. Hey, you might say, what about Telepan? Just try eating “locally” and “seasonally” in December in New York City. It ain’t pretty. But wait, you might argue, there’s always Ouest. Certainly a reliably good meal, but so far uptown it might as well be in Harlem as far as most New Yorkers are concerned. And though it had held three stars from the New York Times for 10 years already, Picholine wasn’t exactly packing in the pre-theater crowds, either.

And how could it? A demure crowd of octogenarians was about all the excitement that one could expect at this restaurant prior to its renovation last year. And while the renovations that extended all the way down to the very concept of the restaurant didn’t render the atmosphere any less stuffy, there is certainly an air of renewed excitement in Chef Terrance Brennan’s completely re-worked menu. Some of his old classics — the mushroom and duck risotto, the sea urchin panna cotta, the scallops with blood orange grenobloise — are still there, but now with a supporting cast worthy of some serious attention. And while I’ve not yet managed to sample the tasting flights at the bar, the small plates menu offered there (along with the entirety of the regular menu a la carte) is probably the most compelling pre-theater option on the Upper West Side right now. Better yet, there’s always their world-class cheese selection to enjoy. Hell, they even have a bona fide maître fromager. That, ladies and gentlemen, is hardcore.

But what about the full experience? What can be expected by the poor souls who happen to find themselves on the Upper West Side and in search of a great meal, or worse yet, the poor souls who actually live there? (I shouldn’t use the third-person so freely here…I was one of ‘em.) Well, in short, a very solid meal. That’s what. Let me talk a little bit about my first visit after the renovations. It was unfortunately well past wild game season, during which the kitchen produces a game tasting menu I’ve heard great things about. But there was still a tasting menu on offer, and it sounded very promising. So, as usual, Adam and I opted for the tasting menu that evening.

Things started off, as I wish all meals did, with a glass a champagne. If there is a better way to wake up the palate and stimulate one’s appetite, I sure don’t know it. We were soon brought a plate of amuses-bouche. Starting at 12 o’clock and working clockwise, we had a brandade croquette; cauliflower crème with lemon gel and parmesan crisp; wild salmon tartare with basil ice cream; and striped bass ceviche with shiso and bergamot. The croquette was nice; warm, crispy on the outside, and enriched with a dab of tasty aïoli on top. The flavors of the cauliflower crème were surprisingly a bit muted, as even the lemon’s acidity was masked by the rich creaminess of the mousse-like cauliflower. The salmon tartare was definitely my favorite of the bunch. I was worried the coldness of the basil ice cream would mask that herb’s aroma and overwhelm the subtlety of the raw fish, but the combination actually worked. Lastly, the striped bass ceviche didn’t really do much for me. In this case, I found the fish’s flavor to be quite overwhelmed, and while the shiso/bergamot flavor combination was a nice one, I would’ve preferred for the fish to be able to shine a bit brighter here.

Not long after this plate was cleared, some bread and butter arrived (decent, nothing special), followed a few minutes later by our first proper course: Sea Urchin Panna Cotta — chilled ocean consommé and caviar. This is a Picholine classic, and one taste will convince you why. It’s incredible. The panna cotta was soft and creamy, the gelatin just barely set. It rested on the “ocean consommé” that came in the form of a clear shellfish gelee, and was flanked by pousse Pierre (a type of seaweed), sea beans, and nori. The flavors were purely of the ocean. Adam remarked that he was literally reminded (in a good way) of swimming in the sea as a child and swallowing a bit of sea water in the process. Leagues better than the sea urchin dish at L’Atelier, and, to me, one of the great dishes to be found anywhere in the city.

Our next course was Crayfish Bisque — boudin blanc, fennel and piment d’espelette. This soup was also very pleasantly spiced, almost reminiscent of gumbo. Okay, a bit of a fancy-pants version considering with the addition of the fennel foam, but hey, it tasted good and that is what matters. The espelette pepper was just piquant enough to give you that slight prickly sensation at the back of the mouth, while the refreshing anise-y foam provided a nice counterpoint. Adam’s only complaint was that it bordered on being too salty. We both quite enjoyed it, though.

The next course was another holdover from the pre-renovation menu: Hand-Harvested Sea Scallop — blood orange grenobloise and cauliflower. A classic French preparation usually seen with trout, this revamped version using blood orange instead of the traditional lemon was a very nice one. The scallop was tender, avoiding the common problem of being over-cooked. Even so, I would’ve preferred it to have a more aggressive initial sear to develop a caramelized character to enhance the natural sweetness. But the tart blood orange vinaigrette and briny capers were refreshing hits on the tastebuds, and kept one from getting bored with the creamy cauliflower puree. The thin fried slice of cauliflower on top was a nice textural counterpoint as well.

My next dish was Wild Mushroom and Duck Risotto — butternut squash and black truffle butter. Quite a comforting dish, especially considering the incredibly ugly weather we were having that day. The earthy mushrooms and sweet butternut squash each complemented the duck in different, but equally harmonious ways. The black truffle butter added even further richness to the creamy risotto, and the tiny nuggets of duck skin crackling were a great addition that put it over the top. Granted, are duck cracklings ever a bad addition? Didn’t think so.

Not in the mood for meat that evening, Adam asked them to sub this course with the Pan-seared Gruyère Gnocchi — wild burgundy snails, bottarga and fiddleheads. This was also a winner. The Gruyère gnocchi were fluffy on the inside and nicely crisp on the outside, and full of the nutty flavor of the cheese. The buttery and garlicky snails, the salty bottarga, and the fresh green crunch of the fiddleheads made for a full range of textures and flavors. It all worked together nicely.

Our next course was not listed on the tasting menu, but rather something we’d seen at a nearby table and had to order: Soft-shell Crab — crisp pork belly and crab-tamarind sauce. This extra course was also a hit, save for the superfluous addition of a leaf of raw lettuce to the plate. The crab-tamarind sauce bordered on being overly sweet, but was nicely balanced by the salty pork belly (which was perfectly crisp on the outside, unctuous and fatty on the inside). The crab itself was a nice specimen, especially considering it was early in the season for this treat. I must admit, I am a sucker for soft-shells, and this preparation did not disappoint.

My next dish was supposed to be a lamb course, but something else on the menu sounded far too interesting to pass up: Heirloom Chicken Kiev — braised mushrooms and liquid foie gras. At first, they warned that this is a large dish not easily scaled down to a tasting menu portion, so they couldn’t do it. A few minutes of my disappointed indecision later, the waiter came back and said he’d re-checked with the kitchen and they’d find the smallest portion they could for me. Nice. This dish was, not surprisingly, quite rich. The chicken was remarkably moist, but I’m not sure how much I dug the foie gras filling. It looked kind of….broken. Like a separated sauce. Tasty, of course, but not the most visually appealing on the plate. The vegetables that accompanied the chicken were futile, completely overwhelmed by the richness of the foie gras. The sauce in which the chicken rested had also formed a bit of a skin, presumably from sitting under the heat lamp a bit too long (though the dish was served piping hot anyway). This is completely forgivable, though, as we’d ordered the soft-shell crab only after the previous course, and they’d been kind enough to sub it in at the position in the meal where it made the most sense in the flavor progression.

Adam also substituted this meat course for a different fish preparation. Neither of us seems to remember what this dish was, exactly. A bit of selective amnesia, perhaps, as this was definitely the weakest dish of the night. I seem to remember skinned grape halves, along with mushrooms (chanterelle?) and spinach came alongside the fish. Adam seems to remember some potato as well. Whatever the case may be, the fish was overcooked, dry, and a bit bland. A rare misstep in what had so far been a very solid meal.

Ah, the time had now come for the main event. Many would argue that the cheese course is Picholine’s raison d’être, and I would agree. In fact, I’d say it’s the best in the city (though close runners-up are Daniel, Gordon Ramsay, Otto, L’Impero and of course Artisanal). Their selection is truly encyclopedic. The fromager is quite a nice guy and very knowledgeable. We put ourselves in his hands, and he offered a beautiful selection of seven cheeses. From left to right in the photo, we had:
Casinca Chèvre - A goat milk cheese from Corsica. Firm, moist, animalic, and meaty-flavored balanced with a little salt.
Azeitão - A sheep milk cheese from Portugal. Soft, with an oily, nutty flavor.
Peña Blanca - A sheep milk cheese from Cantabria, Spain. Crumbly, moist-textured with a gamy flavor offset by a light briny accent.
Krümmenswiler Försterkäse - A cow milk cheese from Canton Thurgau, Switzerland. Soft with a spicy mustard flavor.
Alp Drackloch - A cow milk cheese from Switzerland. Hard, dense-textured with expansive sweet toasty flavors.
Gouda - A cow milk cheese from Holland. Hard, sharp with a slight butterscotch flavor.
Harbourne Blue - A goat milk blue from South Devon, England. Firm and moist with a brilliant, crisp, and tart flavor.
Really a great line-up, and I was especially happy to discover the Azeitão from Portugal, which was my favorite of the bunch. The entire progression, though, was lovely and well thought-out. As we were enjoying the cheese, our waiter graciously brought out a glass of Quinta Do Noval Colheita 1974 port for each of us. Colheita (Col-yay-tah) is the Portuguese word for “vintage,” and what a fine vintage this was. Just phenomenal. I’m no expert on port, but this is undoubtedly the best I’ve ever had. This was a nice, and unexpected, treat.

Time for dessert, where we enjoyed a Chocolate Soufflé — peanut butter sorbet and malt foam. The soufflé itself was very nice. It could’ve been a bit lighter, perhaps, but the flavor was great. And rather than the usual chocolate sauce or crème anglaise poured into the top, it was served alongside a dish of ethereal peanut butter mousse layered atop a pleasantly salted peanut butter “sorbet” (I’d have called it ice cream), and a salted peanut tuile. Wonderful textural, temperature, and flavor contrasts from start to finish. I really enjoyed this.

After the soufflé, we were served a glass of a very nice Riesling ice wine. Adam found it to be almost too sweet, and I’ll admit it was definitely a step down in complexity after the earlier glass of port. But I thought it was quite tasty. A tray of tasty chocolates and petit fours, and we were out the door — well-fed, happy, and surprised that we were, in fact, still on the Upper West Side.

Given its relative proximity to me, I have no idea why I waited so long to try Picholine. Truth be told, before the renovation, I didn’t really see much reason to go, except for the fabled cheese cart. But since the renovation, I’ve been lured many times to locales far more distant and meals far less impressive than the one Adam and I enjoyed that evening. I will certainly be back.