Featured Dessert: DBGB’s Baked Alaska for Two

The Gluttoness — September 11, 2009

DBGB’s Omelette Norvegienne (Baked Alaska for two, $18) w/Raspberry Sorbet, Vanilla and Verbena Ice creams, Meringue and Chartreuse.

For dessert-lovers a double-serving of sweets can be a must-order whether or not you’re dining solo or à deux. DBGB Kitchen & Bar’s (restaurant page) super-sized treatment of their Baked Alaska fulfills both possibilities. This classic dessert usually features pastry-wrapped ice cream, topped with meringue, then broiled or torched until the creamy insulator is ablaze with a bubbling, brown char. In addition to the American moniker (said to have originated in 1876 with Chef Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s to honor Alaska’s acquisition), at DBGB the dish is given a French appellation, Omelette Norvégienne.

DBGB’s open-ended Baked Alaska for Two displays a spumoni-like trifecta of flavors. The restaurant’s pastry chef, Myriam “Mimi” Eberhardt broke down this “pretty traditional dessert.” First she portions it for two so the ice cream doesn’t melt. The trio of ice creams are frozen solid then wrapped in a thin layer of almond cake. This spongy layer is covered with French meringue which is pre-charred then flambéed tableside with Chartreuse (a green French liqueur made using 130 herbs under the supervision of Carthusian monks). The cake quickly becomes infused with its surrounding flavors, particularly the remnant Chartreuse and melting meringue, which drools to the bottom once the confection is set aflame.

Chef Eberhardt’s selection of homemade ice creams is based on the season so the dessert’s flavors will change with nature’s bounty. Currently a tart, ruby red raspberry sorbet acts as the fruity gem in the center of vanilla bean and lemon verbana ice creams. As Mimi explained, “the freshness of the sorbet balances the creaminess of the ice cream.” As superb as this current combination is, we’re eager to taste what flavors fall has in store.

AlwaysLearning: Durian, As Bad As They Say

Arthur Bovino — August 24, 2009

Durian, the so-called “King of Fruits,” being prepared at the fruit stand outside Tú Qùynh Pharmacy in Chinatown.

Durian. Eating this stinky fruit is a culinary rite of passage you see Andrew Zimmern and Anthony Bourdain perform halfway around the world, late at night on television. But you don’t have to let them have all the food challenge fun.

Where it’s from: Southeast Asia. Though native to Indonesia, Malaysia and Brunei, Thailand is the world’s largest exporter.

What it is: Durian, a greenish-brown fruit renowned for its powerful smell, grows from a tropical evergreen tree, and grows to be a foot long and a half-foot wide. Its spiny shell inspired the name— duri is Malay for thorn. The texture inside is part custard, part mushy-stringy-slimy rot. The smell comes from a high concentration of sulfurous compounds.

Comparisons to cheese, sewage, and death, and descriptions like “banana, caramel, and vanilla, with a slight onion tang,” may seem over-the-top at first. Travel-writer, Richard Sterling’s description sets the tone: “pig-shit, turpentine and onions, garnished with a gym sock.” But Bourdain’s isn’t far behind, “your breath will smell as if you’d been French-kissing your dead grandmother.”

There is no hyperbole. Keeping this down may be difficult. As if durian’s natural flavor isn’t uncompelling enough, some preparations go further. Take Tempoyak, fermented durian, and boder, durian minced with salt, onions and vinegar.

There are several durian-related urban legends. One is that the ripe fruit falls from the tree and kills people. Another is that it eating it in excess can kill anyone with high blood pressure. Many in Southeast Asia believe that it’s lethal to consume alcohol with durian, some brave souls set out to disprove on video. It’s also believed to be an aphrodisiac— there’s said to be an expression in Java, “durian jatuh sarung naik”, meaning “durians fall and the sarongs come up.”

Left, Tú Qùynh Pharmacy at 230 Grand Street. Right, Durian Sorbet at Bao Noodles.

Where to get it in New York: Visit the stand in Chinatown outside Tú Qùynh Pharmacy on the corner of Grand and Bowery. They regularly receive durian flown frozen from Thailand. You have to buy the whole fruit, which on average weighs 8 to 11 pounds and costs about $2/lb. A salesman with protective gloves selects a durian (when ripe and shaken, it’s said to rattle inside like a soft-boiled egg), slices it open with a boxcutter and seals it in plastic for you.

If you’re interested in a more tame experience, try Bao Noodles, which recently featured a surprisingly pleasant Durian sorbet or Chinatown Ice Cream Factory, which regularly offers Durian Ice Cream.

First Look: Bao Noodles Menu Revamp

Arthur Bovino & The Hungry Goat — August 11, 2009

Salt and Pepper Soft Shell Crab at Bao Noodles.

A few weeks ago, we were invited to a seven-course tasting at Bao Noodles (restaurant page) to sample dishes being introduced as the owners try to redefine it now that former chef Michael ‘Bao’ Huynh has moved on to his mission of turning Manhattan into one giant bahn mi emporium.

The meal began with a Green Soy Bean Salad, a lightly dressed bowl of shelled edamame. Though it needed salt, the dish was a nice alternative to the standard approach. Malanga with Sesame Cracker and Pickled Eggplant, followed. Shrimp and sesame crackers are fantastic snacks, and it’s interesting to engage restaurants’ attempts to integrate them with sit-down meals (for example, Rhong Tiam). The malanga (mashed taro), eggplant and curried tofu sauces were tasty with varying textures, but the dish became messy quickly. Shrimp Paste Noodle Soup arrived hide-your-tongue-in-your-cheek hot but the noodles were overcooked and the broth was underseasoned. Even the housemade hot sauce (right) couldn’t save it.

It’s one of the contemporary mysteries of New York City’s commercial kitchens that they often overcook quail. The Pan-Roasted Quail with Choi Sam was an exception. It was perfectly cooked and dressed with a salty soy glaze. The Salt and Pepper Softshell Crab was also well-prepared. Unlike the soup, the taste matched its vibrant visual appeal. Crunchy, tangy bites of crab intermingled with red cabbage slaw.

Desserts were surprisingly successful. Unless you’ve eaten actual durian it’s difficult to appreciate how muted and good this sorbet is. While tame, it still had a substantial hint of the stinky fruit. That “hard to place, something is a little off somewhere” taste lingers in the back of your throat and explains why the serving is so small. Still, the flavor keeps you tasting it again and again, trying to figure it out. There was a similarly pleasant hard-to-place taste with the Yucca Waffles, which were much lighter than the name would lead you to expect. The taste? Fruity Pebbles syrupified. Bottle that stuff.

Lollipop Chicken with Taro Fries and Spicy Mayonnaise.

We enjoyed the softshell crabs and the quail, two dishes that demonstrate a successful effort to prove Bao Noodles can be more than Michael Bao’s menu. But the highlight was a staple item which we had on special request, the renowned Lollipop Chicken with Taro Fries and Spicy Mayonnaise. It may be that the earnest, hospitable co-owners, Chris Johnson and Chris Andrews, may find that the best way to move Bao Noodles out from under Michael Bao’s shadow is to start by reclaiming their restaurant’s name.

Click here for more pictures of the tasting dinner at Bao Noodles. >>

Dish by Dish: L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon

Jeff Zalaznick — May 18, 2009

Les Burgers
Beef & Foie Gras Burgers with Caramelized Bell Peppers

It seemed as if I had missed the work of Chef Joël Robuchon when he closed, Jamin, his small, three Michelin-starred restaurant in Paris. I had never been. The food became something that I dreamed about, his famous mashed potatoes, purée de pommes de terre, haunted me in my sleep. Lucky enough, my prayers were answered, and six years after retiring, Robuchon’s L’Ateliers began popping up. First in Tokyo, then Paris, Las Vegas, and finally at the Four Seasons Hotel in New York City.

They could not have found a better home for L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon. The bar at the Four Seasons has always been a power drinking scene, but it had never really had the food to go with it. A Michelin-rated restaurant where one can order Asian and French influenced cuisine from one of the world’s most renowned French chefs seemed to fit the bill. As the location will reinforce though, this restaurant blurs the distinction between bar and restaurant, just as it does between bar food and fancy french. Over half of the menu is offered as small plates, including a game-changing rendition of sliders topped with seared foie gras (pictured above). This dish could be interpreted as a symbol for the restaurant as a whole.

The remarkable presentations, ingredients and flavors of Chef Joël Robuchon’s cuisine consistently impress, and since they opened in 2006, there is no question that L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon is one of New York’s best restaurants. It is what it’s supposed to be—excellent— and it does what it’s supposed to do: fine dining with out the fancy. It could be that you can sit at one of the twenty bar seats and watch Robuchon-protegé and genius in his own right, Yosuke Suga at work, or it might be that you can order an entire meal as tapas, but either way it is incredibly successful at making you feel comfortable eating foie gras in your jeans. And everyone is served a dish of mashed potatoes alongside the meal.

The world has gained more Ateliers (London and Hong Kong) since, and there is another one planned to open in Philadelphia in 2010. If you have one in your city, and enough money in your wallet, go there now.

Signature Small Plates: Les Burgers (Sliders), L’Anguille (Caramelized Eel Layered with Smoked Foie Gras), Le Calamar (Sautéed Squid with Violet Artichokes & Chorizo in Tomato Water)

Click for the photos Dish by Dish >>