 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
The restaurant, located in the Trump International Tower and Hotel on Columbus Circle, is unmarked (you’re just supposed to know it’s there). After being ushered through giant glass doors, my dining companion and I passed through the Nougatine room, with its semi-circular bar and low-lying tables, on our way to the main dining room, where the pink orchids on every table and, of course, the food, provided the color for the restaurant. The dominant motif in this place without motifs is the simple form of the square: two rows of alternating coffered squares adorn the ceiling of the main dining room; a single square on the plates echoes the motif. But there is nothing square about the food, which is daring, imaginative, and surprising. Some have called Jean-Georges a revolutionary chef because he uses untraditional ingredients and avoids the typical butter and cream sauces. But this is to misunderstand him. Jean-Georges studied under Paul Bocuse and Louis Outhier, two kings of traditional French cuisine. He has just let his menu evolve with the times, and the result is an exciting blend of tradition and surprise. Our first appetizer appeared enigmatically on the menu as “egg caviar.” It arrived as a dressed-up hardboiled egg, sitting on a bed of coarse sea salt. The egg was scrambled inside the shell and topped with vodka crème and caviar. Then came the tender bay scallops with caper-raisin emulsion and caramelized cauliflower. The mildness of the cauliflower played nicely against the caper-raisin combination. Tangy pickled dried cherries accompanied the mouth-watering foie gras pâté, a delightful contrast. A streak of pistachio cream added color and warmth to the dish. Many of the dishes at Jean Georges are consummated at the table, such as the young garlic soup with sautéed frog legs, which arrives sans soup. The dish is brought to perfection before you as the waiter pours out the pungent liquid, unleashing the dish’s scents and flavors. As a result, nothing is lost as the food makes its way from the kitchen to the table. Jean-Georges seems to have calculated timing and taste to the sixth decimal. Some of Jean-Georges’s creations are Asian infused, such as the lobster tartine with lemongrass and fenugreek broth, and the white mushroom and sweet miso velouté with shrimp and citrus gelée. (Like the garlic soup, this arrived dry — just one shrimp perched on the tangy gelée. It reached fruition when the silky miso mixture was poured around it.) But these flavors perform so subtly as to make one forget that fenugreek and miso are not part of the traditional French repertoire. Mustard butter and tiny cubes of fresh mango transformed the cumin crisp that accompanied the crab-salad appetizer. These dishes, so understated yet elegant, fit right into French cuisine; if their origins are exotic, their rendering here is traditional. Through the evening the restaurant flirted with perfection. And it may have found it in a filet of black sea bass encrusted with nuts and seeds in a “sweet and sour jus.” The crust added texture and taste, and while it married the sauce, it retained its integrity. Almost as stunning was the turbot, served in a Château Chalon sauce (named for the special “vin jaune” from this town in the Jura region of France). The venison capped the entrees, triumphantly. Thin medallions reclined on a cannelloni stuffed with golden beets. The dish was finished off with pink peppercorns. The palate-cleanser that came between the entree and dessert could have been a forgettable detail. But I’m still thinking about the one we were served at Jean Georges. A small fluted glass arrived with Campari syrup and grapefruit-ginger jelly. To this was added (at the table, of course) a small amount of champagne. It was prickly and refreshing. A small thing, but it stood out. Jean Georges’ pastry chef, Eric Hubert, offers three dessert-tasting menus, each featuring four desserts. They knew it was my companion’s birthday, so when dessert arrived we had nine “tastes” set before us — eight from the menus and a raspberry napoleon (the extra birthday dessert, compliments of the chef), which came with a ten-inch marzipan plaque on which was written, in chocolate script as ornate as silver filigree: “Happy Birthday.” The desserts featured a poached pear bathed in an amaretto-chocolate sauce; a strikingly bitter chocolate soufflé; a light and silky tapioca pudding with clementine sauce; a passion fruit meringue-cream mixture in the shape of a sunflower; a molten chocolate cake; a pain perdu (the French word for “French toast”); a pomegranate sorbet in a meringue shell; and a rhubarb soup with a tiny île flottante (a small floating island of meringue). This last was watery and uninteresting, for which we were actually thankful — we now had room for a bonus plate of chocolate miniatures and dime-sized petits-fours. Only one aspect of the experience at Jean Georges disappointed, but it was an important one: a number of small gaffes added up to sloppy service. The silverware was placed with indifference; the water glasses were refilled hastily and replaced carelessly; and a waiter tried to pull away my plate while I was still eating — a faux-pas even at T.G. I. Friday’s. But, all in all, it is difficult to quibble with the quality of this restaurant. The minimalist surroundings of Jean Georges provide a tableau for the culinary craftsmanship of a daring and creative chef. Few things occur here by chance, and this restaurant cannot fail to please even the most demanding of diners.
|
|
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||
<% dim printurl
printurl = Request.ServerVariables("URL")%>
verything
about Jean Georges, the flagship restaurant of world-renowned chef Jean-Georges
Vongerichten in New York City, is sleek. But unlike the city’s other jet-setting
pieds à terre, sleekness at Jean Georges is not an end in itself.
The bare walls and silvery gray interior are tasteful, not doctrinaire,
and they focus the mind on higher things: the dazzling culinary creations
of a brilliant artist. 
