A Tale of Two Steakhouses - Bern's, Tampa; BLT Steak, South Beach

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

For South Florida diners, it might well be the truth. On the one hand, we are fortunate to have local talents like Michael Schwartz, Michelle Bernstein and Jonathan Eismann at restaurants that are reflective of each chef's personal vision and style, and seem to be finding an audience both with locals and the seasonal tourists. We've also had a massive influx lately of imported big-name restaurateurs making sizable investments in South Florida outposts, seemingly oblivious to the financial downturn (more likely simply the product of capital already committed before the economy turned south).

On the other hand, there seems to be a stultifying sameness to many of the new places, particularly the foreign imports. BLT Steak, Gotham Steak, Red the Steakhouse, the upcoming STK steakhouse ... do you see a trend here? But I'd be far from the first person to bemoan the fact that steakhouses are becoming as ubiquitous as Starbucks in Miami,^[1] and won't do so further.

Instead, let me get to the point. A couple weeks ago, I had the good fortune - though a cardiologist might disagree - of visiting two fairly celebrated steakhouses. The first was Bern's Steak House, a Tampa institution for more than fifty years and regarded by many as one of the finest steakhouses in the country. The second was one of the new foreign imported models, BLT Steak in Miami Beach, one of many spokes radiating from the New York hub of the Laurent Tourondel empire. It made an interesting opportunity for a compare and contrast.

Bern's Steak House

Bern's looks about a hundred years older than it actually is, because it is decorated in the style of a 19th century brothel. I say that with respect and appreciation. The governing principle of the decoration is that if there is a surface, it should be covered with red velvet, gilt, or if in any way possible, both. It is quite a sight to behold and doesn't look much different than the last time I was there, which was probably more than 20 years ago. While clearly an old-school institution, the restaurant is not fixed in amber. Indeed, they were ahead of the locavore trend, and for years have run their own farm which supplies many of the vegetables used in the restaurant (which, being a steakhouse, is not a ton, but still ...).

Arriving there late, and solo, on a Monday evening, I asked to be seated in the more casual bar area in the front of the restaurant, and skipped the tour of the kitchen and wine cave that is customarily offered. I was brought a plate with a few crackers topped with some melted cheese, which looked unfortunately grey in the restaurant's dim light, and then was given the fat menu and the even fatter wine list. Bern's wine collection is possibly even more legendary than its steaks, with 6,800 selections and over a half million bottles. Only a portion of the collection is actually housed in the restaurant's cellar, with the rest stowed in a warehouse across the street. There are two things in particular I find especially appealing about Bern's wine list: (1) the incredibly deep collection of older American wines; and (2) the eminently reasonable prices for many of those wines, most of which were purchased by the restaurant upon their release.

If there is a hole in Bern's massive wine list, it is the absence of half-bottle options; but given the prices, it was fairly easy to splurge on a full bottle even if I was dining alone. I told my waiter that I was interested in trying a zinfandel with some serious bottle age on it, that I trusted Ridge as a producer, and that he ought to help pick something good as he was going to be finishing off the bottle himself after I was done. He steered me to a 1977 Ridge Coast Range Zinfandel (priced around $60) that another diner had recently tried and enjoyed (he kept a notepad in his pocket to keep track of such things), which was decanted at the table. The common wisdom is that zinfandel is not a wine that ages particularly well, and that most should be drunk within about five years of release. Ridge, however, has a reputation for producing age-worthy zin, and this wine certainly reinforced that reputation. Despite thirty plus years in the bottle, this wine was still fully alive and vibrant; not the jammy flavors of most current zins, but elegant and layered, with a nose that suggested fallen leaves and hints of mushroom and forest floor among the dark fruit notes. It was a thrill to find something this old, and this well-kept, at such a reasonable price.

I let the zin get some air while I started with a flute of Delamotte Le Mesnil Champagne and an order of American hackleback sturgeon caviar. Bern's offers 20+ different caviar selections in one-ounce portions, ranging from various flavored whitefish or tobiko roes for $25 to $220 Iranian Oscetra. The hackleback, one of my favorites of the American sturgeon roes, comfortably resided much closer to the lower end of that range. Along with some toasted brioche, it came with accompaniments that I found highly amusing - six different flavored foams! That most stereotypical and loathed conceit of the so-called "molecular gastronomists," here in this seriously old-school steakhouse? Say it isn't so! Does this mean we should now call Bern's Steak House a "molecular gastronomy restaurant"?^[2] Unfortunately, I can no longer recall all six flavors (lemon; onion; avocado; curry .... ?) but after sampling each, I stuck with the lemon or just a bare naked scoop of roe on the brioche.

I elected to skip the soup which comes with every entrée and moved on to the salad. I usually do not care much about fussy service, but I am still a sucker for touches such as the chilled fork that was brought out with the salad. I believe my server said the salad had 12 different vegetables, many from the Bern's garden, but I have to confess that none particularly moved me.

Next arrived what I had really come for - the steak. The steak portion of the Bern's menu takes up a total of five pages, and includes an explanation of each cut (and how Bern's butchers each - all butchery is done in-house and to order); pricing for various weights of each different cut (ranging from a 6 oz. filet mignon to a 60 oz. New York strip); a detailed description of the degrees of doneness you can request; and a lengthy discussion of their in-house dry-aging process. I went with a 10 oz. rib-eye, and it was one of the finest steaks I've had in a long time. The beef was clearly the beneficiary of good dry-aging, rendering it tender with a deep concentration of flavor. Most remarkable was that it had been trimmed so that there was not a bite on this steak that wasn't edible. I actually like the "cap" on a rib-eye, which is usually separated from the rest of the steak by a thick line of fat, but this was trimmed like what I have more recently seen described as an "eye of rib-eye." When I mentioned to my server (after devouring every bit of the steak) that I liked the cap, he told me to just say so on my next visit, as every steak is cut to order and can be butchered basically however you want.

The steak was accompanied by a perfectly pleasant baked potato with all the fixings, some slightly flaccid, soggy onion rings, as well as some rather nebbish vegetables from the Bern's garden - some shredded sauteed carrots with a hint of sweetness, which just seemed odd, and a few different types of wax beans, which were given an incongruous splash of soy sauce. I didn't save room for a trip to the "Harry Waugh Dessert Room."

The truth is, I could have easily lived without everything at Bern's but the steak and the wine; but with just those two things, I could have had an incredibly satisfying meal. All the more remarkable considering that the rib-eye I ordered - which came with an onion soup, salad, baked potato, onion rings and vegetables - was $40. I know that seems like a steep price point to be talking about a "bargain," but relatively speaking - and particularly once the wine prices are factored in - that might well be an apt description of Bern's.^[3]

BLT Steak

Visually, at least, BLT Steak is the anti-Bern's. Stationed in the lobby of the Betsy Ross Hotel on the northern end of Ocean Drive in South Beach, BLT Steak is the embodiment of minimalism, a stark contrast to the baroque excess of Bern's. The space draws lots of natural light from the windows facing out on Ocean Drive, and everything is terrazzo, blond wood, and beige linen. The primary "decoration" is a large blackboard behind the banquettes inscribed in chalk with a tutorial on different types of beef. It is a surprisingly small space, with a bar off to one side, about a dozen or so tables in the main lobby space (which still also functions as the Betsy Hotel lobby), and another row of tables in a narrower space along the windows facing Ocean Drive. There's also outdoor seating on the front patio.

Whereas at Bern's I could have just stuck with the steak and the wine and happily skipped everything else, it was the "everything else" that made for some of the biggest highlights at BLT Steak. Indeed, one of the best things was one of the first to arrive at the table, a jam jar filled with warm, oozy chicken liver mousse, along with a similar jar of lightly pickled vegetables and some crusty bread. I don't know many people that enjoy chicken liver (at least not as much as I do), but I hope they're at least willing to try this - it may make them converts. These treats were followed by a tray with a gigantic popover for each diner, delicately crispy outside, tender and warm but not mushy or doughy within. I would be hard pressed to pick a favorite pre-dinner steakhouse spread between this and Bourbon Steak's trio of duck fat fries and truffle-oil soaked focaccia.

photo credit: Jacob Katel

In addition to the regular menu, which doesn't stray very far from the usual steakhouse staples (although it does offer more fish and seafood selections than usual, both in the appetizers and entrées), there was also a separate menu of daily specials which appears designed both to give the chef (the all-of-25-years old Samuel Gorenstein) an outlet for more creative fare, and to take advantage of seasonal local product. The specials menu offered both prix fixe and a la carte options, but I felt like I needed an abacus to figure it all out. The prix fixe offer included three courses plus a side dish (I believe it was for $60), theoretically from any of the items listed on the specials menu, but at least half the items had "supplement" charges if ordered as part of the prix fixe, ranging from $3 to nearly $20. Feeling too mentally taxed to figure it all out, we simply went a la carte.

I started with one of the daily specials, a porchetta di testa. It was amusing to see that this was the exact same preparation as the one done by Chef Chris Cosentino of Incanto in San Francisco, as shown in this video; and one that I have already seen duplicated, in almost exactly the same manner, right down to the garnishes, by Chef Michael Schwartz at Michael's Genuine. One more dish to add to my list of "goes around ... comes around" items, apparently. It was good, possibly even a bit more refined than MGF&D's iteration, and I have no complaints with finding pig head on multiple local menus.

Mrs. F started with a classic shrimp cocktail, something that's often good but tough to make really sing. In fact the only time I've ever had a truly standout shrimp cocktail was at Bourbon Steak (which, it seems, I need to go back to), where an extra dimension was added by a poaching liquid redolent with tarragon and other fresh herbs whose flavors were beautifully picked up by the crustaceans. The shrimp at BLT Steak were plump and sweet but not particularly special.

photo credit: Jacob Katel

Frod Jr. and I split a 40 oz. porterhouse, an impressive cut roughly two inches thick, with the sirloin and filet on either side deftly trimmed off the bone and sliced into big slabs. It was done closer to medium rare than the medium/medium-rare I'd requested (for Frod Jr.'s benefit), but the heat from the pan actually provided for some carry-over cooking of the slices left within. It was a good steak (though an unfortunate seam of fat running the length of the sirloin side was a distraction), with a nicely charred exterior from broiling at 1700 degrees (!), but lacked the depth of flavor (and the conscientious trimming) of the steak at Bern's. A pat of herb butter on top was unnecessary, and a head of roasted garlic seemed very 1980's. We did have plenty of leftovers, and Frod Jr. and I had a steak sandwich, and a steak sandwich, for lunch the following day. We even tried to put it on the Underhills' bill. And that head of garlic actually came in handy to flavor a roasted garlic mayo for the sandwiches.

Mrs. F and Little Miss F elected to split a swordfish - a decision I didn't fully support, particularly given the rather uninspiring menu description as "spiced grilled swordfish / olive oil & lemon." The only thing missing was the "spiced," and this was a bland dish if generously portioned. There were other intriguing fish options, including an acacia honey marinated Alaskan black cod and some local fish selections in the daily specials.

As sides, we ordered some "crispy gnudi" from the specials list, along with onion rings and creamed spinach from the regular menu. The gnudi didn't really work for me, the exterior not so much crispy as just a bit gummy, and the rest of the components not really seeming to come together - a scatter of thinly sliced speck on top, a ramekin of butter on the side. The onion rings were big fat rounds of sweet onion, with almost a tempura style coating, stacked impressively into a tower. The creamed spinach was no better or worse than any other steakhouse version.

Desserts were a big hit among the junior members of the Family Frod. The real surprise hit was a key lime panna cotta which Little Miss F ordered. Served in a big glass bowl, the panna cotta was quiveringly light but bright with zippy key lime flavor, topped with a creamy coconut sorbet that was an effective pairing. Frod Jr. can almost never pass up a molten chocolate cake, and was sucked in by the one on the specials list. I've had these too many times to get excited by them, but he's still young.

The wine list, unsurprisingly, is no match for the list at Bern's. While fairly short, it manages to offer more options than just the typical panopoly of big California cabernets that are usually prevalent on steakhouse lists. The markups were wildly unpredictable, however. A 2006 Ridge Three Valleys zin, typically around $20 retail, was priced at $70+; on the other hand, a 2006 Alain Graillot Crozes-Hermitage, at $49, was less than 2x the average retail price of $30. Guess which one we got? (Hint: it was not the "base-model" current release from the same winery which produced a nicely 30+ year-aged wine that I bought for less at Bern's earlier in the week). The Graillot, a reliable Northern Rhone syrah, was a great match with the steak.

Service at BLT Steak was smooth and solicitous, belying the stereotype of apathetic or worse South Beach service. Though it was quiet for a Friday night, sometimes those slow service nights seem to trigger a certain inertia in the staff. Not true here. The servers cooperated in taking care of tables, the manager stopped by mid-meal to check on us, and the sommelier complimented us on the selection of the Graillot. It's not often that somebody notices and comments favorably on a wine from the low end of the list's price range.

So what's the point? I suppose there are a few. (1) overall, I had very pleasant meals at both Bern's and BLT Steakhouse; (2) despite both being "steakhouses," they are quite different places, with their own strengths and weaknesses, and perhaps it's too simplistic to simply lump all the "steakhouses" together; (3) despite my prejudices against steakhouses and even moreso those that are imported satellites, Bern's steaks and wine list alone are worth the visit, and BLT Steak is doing enough right to be worth checking out again - if for no other reason than the chicken liver mousse and popovers.

Bern's Steak House
1208 S. Howard Avenue
Tampa, FL 33606
813.251.2421



BLT Steak
1440 Ocean Drive
Miami Beach, FL 33139
305.673.0044

^[1]In fact, there are now more steakhouses in Miami Beach than there are Starbucks. The Starbucks locator shows 9 stores in Miami Beach. Steakhouses? BLT Steak; Fogo de Chao; Gotham Steak; Parilla Liberty; Outback Steakhouse; Prime One Twelve; Rare Steakhouse; Red; Shula's; Smith & Wollensky; Texas de Brazil = 11. And that's not even counting recently closed Kobe Club and Tuscan Steak, or soon-to-open STK.

^[2]Regular readers will know I don't think there is any such thing as a "molecular gastronomy restaurant" and hopefully the use of techniques such as foams in an old-guard restaurant like Bern's helps prove the point.

^[3]One oddity of Bern's is that the bill includes a 12% service charge "to be given to your waiter in lieu of salary," with a note that "The option of a gratuity for fine service, of course, is yours." I frankly had no idea what to make of this rather ambiguous notation, and added about another 10% to the bill as tip - in addition to the glass or so I left behind of the Ridge zin my server had recommended.

goes around ... comes around Part II

I noted in earlier posts the curious phenomenon of similar dishes multiplying like tribbles across menus throughout the country. Today, Food & Wine predicts that sea urchin will be the "Next It Sandwich," giving props to Michael White at the newly opened Marea, George Mendes at the newly opened Aldea, and El Quinto Pino, a tapas spot in Chelsea. One curious omission? Michelle Bernstein, who has had her uni sandwich (which was wowing folks at the James Beard Awards a couple months ago) on the menu at Sra. Martinez since it opened last December. At least the New York Times gave due credit when it ran a similar story last month, as did an earlier blogger's recounting of the genesis of the dish (sort of) at El Quinto Pino.

Not that the increasing prevalence of uni sandwiches is anything to complain about, of course.

Mariani in da House

Miami restaurateurs, time to put on your best bib and tucker: John Mariani of Esquire magazine (and its annual Best New Restaurants list) is in the 305. How do I know this? Well, Mariani is not exactly known for keeping his presence a secret, and indeed, the word is out that he was paying a visit at Area 31:


Pacific Time was named in last year's list, Michael's Genuine Food & Drink was in the 2007 list, Cioppino in the Ritz-Carlton Key Biscayne in 2005 (I was as surprised as you - who knew? Of course, the chef mentioned in 2005 appears to no longer be there), Carmen the Restaurant (closed due to fire in 2006 and never reopened) in 2003, Pascal's on Ponce in 2000, and both Wish (with Andrea Curto, now of Talula, then at the helm) and Ortanique in 1999, so Miami is frequently on Mariani's radar.

I've probably already said enough about Mariani, so instead let me just say "good luck" to all the Miami restaurateurs and chefs who get paid a visit by the "freelance corespondent" (he's not a "restaurant reviewer") who cracks out the business card with instructions for making a daiquiri. There are several local restaurants deserving of the recognition.

Mexico to Miami by Way of New York

Another New York import is on its way to Miami, but lo and behold it's not a steakhouse. Instead, it's Mercadito, from Chef Patricio Sandoval, which pitches itself as being inspired by the food of Mexican markets but with a modern flair. They currently have three locations in New York City which seem to get a decent amount of love on the Manhattan Chowhound board. Their fish tacos in particular oft are singled out for high praise.

I'm not sure what to make of the fact that their 5-page menu only has 2 pages of actual foodstuffs, the rest being a pretty impressive list of tequilas, cocktails, wine & beer, other than that you may be carrying me out of there. The food items look to have the same contemporary, vaguely upscale, geographically unplaceable quality of, say, Rosa Mexicano, another Mexico-to-Miami-by-way-of-New-York mini-chain. As compared to Rosa Mexicano, it seems that more of Mercadito's menu is focused on a lengthy selection of tacos and smaller plates, though I'm a bit disappointed to see that with nearly a dozen taco options to choose from there are still none of the more visceral taco stand staples like lengua, tripas, cabeza, etc. But then I can always find the Orale taco stand and get such things for about 1/3 of the price on the Mercadito menu.

Mercadito's Miami outpost is destined for Midtown Miami where they are taking out a 5,000 square foot space. Other tenants supposedly slated for Midtown Miami include Brasserie d'Azur (from the same folks who brought you Maison d'Azur), Sugarcane Lounge from the SushiSamba folks, The Cheese Course, and Primo Pizza. Projected opening is "Winter 2009." Some good Mexican would be a nice addition to Miami dining options, especially in the Midtown area, though it sure seems we've been hearing about all these places slated for Midtown Miami for quite some time.

Lessons Learned in the Test Kitchen

So after six hours in the kitchen for a Paradigm dinner service (as recounted in Part I and Part II of my running diary), what have I learned from my "Chef Fantasy Camp"?

Alls chefs are not sociopathic miscreants. Contrary to the reputation fostered by "bad-boy" chef tell-alls like Anthony Bourdain's "Kitchen Confidential," the population of every kitchen is not the equivalent of a jailhouse with pots and pans. I know it's fun to imagine that every kitchen is like the crew of a pirate ship, and perhaps some are. But the kitchen at Neomi's is full of sincere, hardworking people who you'd be perfectly happy to take home to your mother. Maybe they were just on their best behavior for me.

Mise en place is where it's at. I know this is really basic and that just about any book about cooking will tell you the same thing. But there is simply no way any menu like this can be done, or indeed virtually any professional kitchen could function, without a lot of advance prep work. Seeing the process involved to put out one 11-course meal for ten diners makes the sheer logistics of places that do this all the time, with even more elaborate menus, all the more daunting. Even as a home cook, there's surely a lesson here too. We enjoy doing dinner parties, but it drives Mrs. F crazy that I seem to spend most of my time in the kitchen. The more prep that can be done in advance, the less time it takes to get the food out.


Plan, plan, plan, and then be ready to improvise. Shit happens. Hopefully nothing too monumental. Despite all the advance work, something invariably will go awry. As guests were arriving, Chef Windus was still hauling his anti-griddle from outlet to outlet trying to get it to work. As the ticking clock started to narrow down the window of opportunity, the chefs quickly switched gears and got the blood orange puree into some molds, onto some ice, and into the freezer, in enough time to set before it was time to be plated. You have to be constantly ready to adapt.

Inspiration can be like wild fermentation. Ideas travel fast these days, particularly when people are willing to let them do so. One of the components for the Paradigm menu was inspired by three words in a twitter post: "beer can cabbage." This is not the first time I've had a dish in Miami that was inspired by the eternally creative Aki Kamozawa and H. Alexander Talbot of the blog Ideas in Food. Several months ago I had a dish at Talula that paired roasted bone marrow with pickled bananas, inspired by this post. I've noted previously how one of the things I find so interesting about much contemporary cooking is the "open source" nature of it. Where for much of culinary history, recipes and techniques were closely guarded secrets, today many chefs eagerly - almost as a badge of honor - share information about methods, ingredients, ideas and inspirations. This can be a double-edged sword. On the one hand, those prone to simply mimicking will do so, which can lead to a disappointing and ironic sameness in a cuisine that should be a platform for creativity. On the other hand, those who see this information as tool and inspiration, rather than just something to be duplicated, can effectively use it as a springboard for their own ideas.

There is such a thing as "lefty" plating and "righty" plating. It just so happened that lefties (myself included) dominated the kitchen last Friday night, but not exclusively so. It was pretty amusing to see one chef start a plating element, and then to have another follow behind and have to twist himself into a convoluted pretzel to duplicate the brush of a sauce across the plate.

The waitstaff have a serious sweet tooth. Sometimes they need to be appeased. Especially after a long night of bringing out food for other people, a little something to boost the spirits and energy levels is a good idea. Keep your waitstaff happy.


In case you were wondering – if there is anything in the slightest way distinctive about your appearance, your clothes, your manner, your voice, or just about anything else – you can be pretty sure the waitstaff have come up with a nickname for you. I don’t want to know mine. You probably don’t want to know yours either.

I'm clearly not cut out to be a professional chef. For any youngster with TV-inspired visions of becoming a celebrity chef, or mid-life-crisis-aged amateur cook contemplating a career change - spend some time in a kitchen. It's hard work. My "fantasy camp" was a small - and preposterously comfy - sampler of what it's like to work in a professional kitchen: I was there barely more than 1/2 the day of a typical cook (in an earlier post I linked to a StarChefs survey showing that the average workday for most culinary professionals is 9-11 hours), I didn't spend hours chopping onions or dicing potatoes or trimming artichokes. I wasn't working over a hot sauté or grill station for hours turning out hundreds of covers. I was spared the thrill of tracking inventory, taking in deliveries, and cleaning up stations. And yet by 11pm I was beat. There's little doubt in my mind that you have to really and truly love what you do to last as a chef. While I share their passion, I don't know that I share their energy. It's a lot easier on the other side of those swinging doors between the kitchen and the dining room.

Pizza Poll Closed, Pizza Crawl III Approaching

My "Best Pizza in Miami" poll has closed, with Anthony's Coal Fired Pizza eking out a victory by the thinnest of slices, followed closely by Spris, and then PizzaVolante and Pizza Rustica in a tie for third. Not to dismiss the results of a gloriously democratic process, but the poll seems pretty much meaningless considering among other things: (1) those of us participating in the "Pizza Crawl" haven't even completed Round III of the crawl yet; and (2) some places started getting votes before they'd even opened!

PizzaVolante pizza, photo credit: Jacob Katel

My impression of the general consensus from Pizza Crawl I and Pizza Crawl II is that PizzaVolante took Round I, with Joey's in close contention, and that Racks Italian Bistro was the clear winner of Round II. I don't think there was any clear victor as between PizzaVolante and Racks.

Meanwhile, Round III resumes next week on July 2 for a tour of South Beach including Sosta, Piola and Spris. For more information join the "Miami Chowdown" Google group and follow the "Pizza Crawl Part III" thread. It's already a pretty big group so it may be a squeeze. Thanks to Trina of Miami Dish for playing organizer this time around.

In the Test Kitchen at Paradigm (Part II) - Sunny Isles

In an earlier post, I had started to recap my experience in the kitchen of Neomi's for one of their "Paradigm" tasting menu dinners. Jacob Katel from Miami New Times now has his "Behind the Line" pictures up, and you can see all of my pix in this flickr set. Part I of the running diary left off about half-way through the dinner, which is where I'll pick up the action here.

8:48 pm - as the guests are having the "refresh" course, plating starts for course VI, "cuban sandwich." It begins with a shmear of Wild Turkey honey mustard, and then a square of a fluffy "swiss miss" sponge is placed with one side near the center of the plate. A rectangle of thinly pressed bread is balanced upright, leaning on the sponge.

8:52 pm - Marianne, meanwhile, seems to be everywhere at once. She's expediting orders, she's cooking, she's plating, she's handing finished dishes to the room service guys ... nonstop. While Chefs K and Chad's attentions are focused mostly on Paradigm, she's making sure the rest of the kitchen keeps running while still helping out with most of the Paradigm dishes too.

8:57 pm - I saw the cubes of pickle-brined berkshire pork belly come out of the walk-in a couple hours ago; I don't know what's happened to them since, but they now look burnished and golden-brown and, well, downright sexy, if you go for such things. The pork goes opposite the cheese sponge and helps prop the bread up. The cheese is topped with a pickle "froth" (emulsified with soy lecithin is my guess) and then garnished with vibrant magenta bull's blood micro-greens. A sprinkle of guanciale powder (I'm guessing made by adding tapioca maltodextrin to rendered jowl bacon fat) goes over the cube of pork belly.


8:59 pm - the "cuban sandwiches" go out to the table and an extra one comes my way. I taste each of the components on their own, but that's not what this dish is really about. After all that work plating, the way to eat this is to mush it all together so the flavors can mingle. And when they do, it is indeed like a Cuban sandwich made with some really awesome pork. Steven's eyes light up when he finds out there's an extra plate for him too.

9:01 pm - it's right around now that Malka Espinel, Pastry Chef at Johnny V, shows up in the restaurant. It's like deja vu all over again as Chef Chad and Marianne start putting together a couple plates of each of the earlier courses for her and her guest to sample.



9:12 pm - a sheet pan of sliced hamachi comes out for the "tiradito," course VII. Chef Chris is putting some of his sweet potato polenta down on the plate, and Chef K follows behind him with three spirals on each plate of the vibrantly pink hamachi. Next each plate gets striped with some bright yellow aji amarillo vinaigrette, then I follow with a spinkle of toasted cancha corn on each piece of fish. Some glistening white coconut "pearls" go over the fish, and finally, a sprig of micro-cilantro.

9:18 pm - I try the tiradito. The fish is meaty, tender, and sweet, really nice hamachi. The fascinating thing about the dish is that it offers neither the acidity nor the salt that I'd typically expect of a tiradito. Rather, the extra components each seem to bring another dimension of sweetness, along with a touch of heat from the aji pepper sauce, which complements the natural sweetness of the fish. And the colors are sensational. The chefs probably won't appreciate the association, but in retrospect the pastel pink, yellow and orange make me think of Miami Vice. I could definitely see Crockett and Tubbs wearing these shades.

9:20 pm - someone notices the fried onion rings - which were supposed to be one of the components to the tiradito - still sitting on the pass behind the plating area. Doh. They make for a good snack for the kitchen. The batter uses Trisol, a product from Ferran and Albert Adria's "Texturas" line of products originated in the elBulli workshop (and Chef K poured some pisco into the mix to stick with the Peruvian tiradito theme too). The wheat starch, used in combination with regular flour, helps fried items stay crispy, and indeed these onion rings have great crunch. Even more interesting, they hold that crunch and don't get soggy or greasy for several minutes (as long as they lasted in the kitchen, anyway). Too bad they didn't make it out to the dining room.

9:29 pm - my moment of truth is approaching. Course VIII is "corned skirt," skirt steak prepared in the manner of a corned beef, which also features (my) swiss orbs, nestled in a pumpernickel streusel, a ketchup caraway vinaigrette, "beer can cabbage," and kennebec potato chips. On his blog Chef Chad gives a good description of the inspiration and prep for the "beer can cabbage." All I can say is "mmm, chicken skin." He showed me one of the whole heads before service and it is indeed an awesome sight to behold.

9:37 pm - the corned skirts go out to the table and I sample. The skirt steak has a great texture, a fantastic crimson color, and is wonderfully juicy, but has soaked up too much salt from the brine. Chef Chad is already making mental notes for next time to adjust the brining time. The cabbage shows some promise but also, I think, needs some tweaking. It seems to have picked up some bitterness either from the beer or the smoking, and the texture falls undecidedly somewhere between tender and crisp. And my swiss cheese orbs? They're looking a little more spherical, and they hold up on the plate OK, but I find that the exterior membrane is too thin (like a pudding skin) and they're too loose and liquid inside. Needed more time in the alginate bath to form a thicker exterior. Perhaps I'm my own worst critic, but the pride of creation is quickly tempered by the frustration of knowing something could be better.



9:43 pm - we're starting the move into the sweet side of the menu, but gradually. One of the common threads of many contemporary cooking approaches is the breaking down of barriers between sweet and savory. For instance, it's one of the tenets of the "Synthesis of elBulli cuisine" (#13); it can also be seen in the menu at Alinea where subtle diagrams show where on the spectrum of savory to sweet each dish falls, or at Tailor in NYC where almost all the dishes have sweet and savory components. In Paradigm dinners I've had previously, there's been a "pre-dessert" that acts as a transition from savory to sweet, picking up elements of each. Here, Chef K has picked an interesting main ingredient for this transition - foie gras. Disks of a light, cold foie gras mousse are paired with several other components that further the interplay of sweet and savory - cherry relish, cherry drops (more spherification), a ribbon of banana, white chocolate, dried sherry vinegar chips, pistachio brittle, and dots of a bright green basil puree.

9:52 pm - the many pieces of the foie dish are assembled, even more than I've listed above. I taste, and this dish hits all the right spots. It really gets you thinking why foie is typically used to start a meal instead of to finish, particularly when it's often paired with a sweet wine like a Sauternes (which tends to throw off the palate early in a meal). So much about the foie is dessert-like: it's rich, it's creamy, it's even somewhat sweet. The other components all effectively play off this savory-sweet balancing act, but the real stand-out is the "cherry drop." Orbs of spherified cherry juice have been held - macerated, in effect - in cherry balsamic (a trick Chef K says he picked up from the Alinea cookbook, noticing that the recipes often called for spheres to be held in a flavored liquid). The orbs clearly pick up the vibrant flavor of the vinegar and give a sweet-sour burst that is the highlight of the dish for me.

10:05 pm - Pastry Chef Fabian's time has arrived, and he begins assembling the first dessert. I know from prior experience that even Chefs K and Chad rarely have much of a clue exactly what to expect from Chef Fabian until he starts plating. He is a man of talent and mystery and I'm always intrigued to see what he has in store. The first dessert, course X, is described as "yogurt, toffee foam, lime air, pineapple glass, raspberry textures, red pepper streusel." I see what's going down on the plate and am struggling to connnect all the dots. There's a translucent golden round, which he's topped with a red dab of something, then some pearly white yogurt spheres go over that, then a squirt of a toffee foam, then a spoonful of a lighter air (the lime, I assume), then a couple of barely-there tuiles with black sesame seeds. Then the assistant pastry chef Deborah comes around and is grating what I'd swear is a gigantic red beet over the top of it. The "beet" turns out to be a frozen raspberry dough which I think Chef Fabian says also has some almond paste in it.



10:28 pm - at some points during the course of the service, the plates are lined up just about ready to go and the kitchen is waiting for the diners to finish and the servers to clear; at other times, the waitstaff are gathered and waiting impatiently for the next course to make its way out as the chefs finish plating. But other than these between-course intervals, the waitstaff are not usually in the kitchen. I notice now, however, that the waitstaff seem to have come right back to the kitchen after the dessert was served. It would appear that all of the servers have serious sweet cravings going on, and are lurking anxiously around hoping for a taste. There's one extra plate but, seeing their eager expressions and having been eating all night, I offer mine up as well. It is gone in about 6.5 seconds. The waitstaff are happy.

10:31 pm - the extra round of dishes for Chef Malka Espinel, who's in the restaurant tonight, have nearly caught up, and Chef K is plating the foie pre-dessert. Those pretty foie disks, though, are now melting and barely make it intact from the sheet pan where they were held on to the plate. Chef K makes a quick adjustment - the foie disks are now foie smears. All is well.

10:39 pm - plating starts for the last of eleven courses. First,a line of chocolate "soil," at one end of which is balanced a round caramelized brioche soaked with honey. A scatter of "vanilla evoo rocks," a quenelle of chantilly sorbet,a dab of coconut foam, a scatter of purple-green micro-greens, and the dish is complete.

10:47 pm - the final course goes out the door to the dining room. I have a taste of the brioche. It's great - simultaneously light in texture, but dense with sweet caramelized honey, like a really good brioche pain perdu. A fine close to a fine meal.



10:53 pm - I see a step ladder next to a fridge and take a seat on it. It's the first time I've sat down in more than five hours.

11:04 pm - the dinner is done. Chef K checks to see if there is still any Estrella Damm Inedit in the house. This is a beer which Ferran Adrià helped craft specifically to accompany food, and I was fortunate enough to try it several months ago when we visited Dos Palillos, the Barcelona restaurant of Adrià's former chef de cuisine Albert Raurich. One bottle (it comes in a big 750 ml) left. Chef gets several glasses and we all toast to a successful dinner. That beer really hits the spot right about now.

11:14 pm - the chefs go out to the dining room to visit with the guests, and drag me along with them. The diners look happy and satisfied. I am in no way responsible for this, but it's a good feeling nonetheless.

11:22 pm - I return to the kitchen, glug down another far less exotic beer with Chef K and Chad, and as they're summoned back out to the dining room to schmooze the guests, I peel out of my "chef's whites" and pack up my stuff. The kitchen is pretty quiet now, and has been turned over to the hotel's night shift. I've hardly done a thing all night, and still I'm beat. I've been on my feet for nearly six straight hours, my feet hurt, my back hurts, and I could really use a shower.

So what have I learned from my "chef fantasy camp"? Coming next post - Lessons Learned in the Test Kitchen.



Neomi's
Trump International Beach Resort
18001 Collins Avenue
Sunny Isles Beach, FL
305.692.5604