Stratford I: Church Restaurant

Friday 12 September

A pre-theatre bash at an old favorite. We ate here many years ago with our nieces Melanie and Jenny, who were very sophisticated when presented with a real live dead partridge complete with real live dead claws and stuff.

It is a converted church, complete with belfry, and the atmosphere may be a little overly pious when it comes to the food as well. A four plate tasting menu gets you this for $90. Here are their descriptions with a few comments. Our waiter, a nice fellow, kept getting everything mixed up, pointing unfailingly to the wrong ingredient on the plates, not all that surprising since what was on the plate did not match the menu description in a number of cases. So

I. A. "Coconut and Leek ‘vichyssoise’: Cuttlefish, Wild Gulf Shrimp, Mussels and Kumquat."
A very luscious cold soup in a Thai style, brought as now seems the fashion, in a little Erlenmeyer flask and poured over the other tasty fish bits.

I. B. "Big eye tuna ‘carpaccio’: Parmesan, tomato, basil and puffed wild rice."
The tuna was served in little rolls, with a strange sort of gel strip (the tomato and basil) laid over them. Why 'carpaccio' even without the scare quotes I don't know. The parmesan came in the form of a little pool of foam, and a globe of a gelato. The little puffs of rice added some crunch, but as if someone had spilled Rice Krispies on a bit of sushi. An odd dish composed of discordant notes.

II. A. "Sassafras Glazed Slow Roasted Pork Shoulder: Lobster and Quinoa, Nappa Kimchi, Smoked Date Jus"
The pork was nice and tender, rather char shu. Can't say we noticed the lobster, or the dates, or the smoke. The napa cabbage kimchi was a major mistake, obliterating any other flavors.

II. B. ‘écolait’ Veal Tasting: Braised Cheek, Crisp Sweetbreads and Tongue ‘a la vinaigrette’: de Puy Lentils, Cauliflower, Tatsoi and Curry Flavourings."
‘Écolait’ turns out to be the name of a Canadian producer.
This owed not a little to Thomas Keller's now canonical "Tongue and Cheek." The goal is to transform commonplace, nearly offal, ingredients. This was only partially successful. The tongue was dull. The cheek was tender, stewed with a full-flavored dark reduction. The crisp sweetbreads the best of the three preparations. The pea-shoot-like tatsoi added a little peppery flavor, the titsy-bitsy lentils were cute, but the best thing was a teaspoon of cauliflower buds, vibrant with a subtle curry.

III. A. "Pan Roasted Beef Tenderloin: Foie and Sweetbread Sausage, New Potato Fondant, Grilled Red Tropea Onions; Spinach and Comte ‘subric’, Purple Mustard Jus"
The best dish, and time for Holt's now quadrennial test to see if he still hates liver. He still does but the little sausage slices sitting on top the "potato fondant" masked the taste quite well, making it the least loathsome liver he's had in a while. "Potato fondant" means many things to many people: In some cases it's a mashed potatoes enriched with cream, in others a sickly sweet candy-like fondant of sugar (and coconut; jeez!). These were uniform little circles of potato, cooked in broth, and then baked, as here. The beast itself was perfect, with a great crust and sauce. Accompanied by splendid terrine (eggless, we we're told) of spinach in three layers of greenosity, and the French cheese Comté (the accent is important); nor was it a "subric" in the classic sense, which was a fried ball of stuff (and still is in Italy), but now seems to mean a cream and vegetable preparation. Neither OED or more importantly the Epicurious Food Dictionary knows from subric.

III. B. "Kevin McComb’s Lamb in Several Preparation s: Eggplant ‘soubise’, Smoked Paprika Jus"
The modern trend, as evidenced here, is for multiple preparations of a single hunka hanka burning protein to showcase the chef's skills: sort of the Iron Chef philosophy. The best we ever had was "Everything from a rabbit" at the old Pinot's in Las Vegas.
This was mighty fine. Lamb loin with a hot paprika sauce (pimenton della Vera, no doubt). A little lamb sausage redolent with cumin seeds. A stewed bit of lamb neck (of all things) breaded. And single lamb raviolo with a tomato (rather than eggplant) "soubise" (Now the third use use of 'scare quotes'). Since a sauce soubise is onions and cream, how it can be tomato or eggplant beats me.*

Finally for dessert:
IV. A. Roasted Peach and Pistachio Galette: Peach and Cardamom Sorbet, Acidulated Caramel
On a thin buttercrust cookie with whipped cream and a peach mousse. A little ball of peach sorbet on the side.

IV. B. Cocoa Butter and Espresso Crème
Espresso and Licorice Crisps, ‘dulce de leche’ Ice Cream.

Well, you can see the problem: excess and scare quotes. The dishes have too many things going on, fussy details that get in each other's way. Some fine preps, but too much is too much.

*We offer the following from an essay entitled "The Incomparable Onion" 
by Elizabeth Robins Pennell in her The Delights of Delicate Eating (1896) and reprinted in the more entertainingly entitled A Guide for the Greedy by a Greedy Woman (1923. Being a New and Revised Edition of "The Feasts of Autolycus").
The subject, even, of a serious scholarly article.

Sauce Soubise is the very idealization of the onion, its very essence; 
at once delicate and strong; at once as simple and as perfect as all 
great works of art. 
The plodding painter looks upon a nocturne by Whistler, and 
thinks how easy ,how preposterously easy! A touch here, a stroke there, 
and the thing is done. But let him try! And so with Sauce Soubise. 
Turn to the first cookery book at hand, and read the recipe. "Peel 
four large onions and cut them into thin slices; sprinkle a little 
pepper and salt upon them, together with a small quantity of nutmeg; 
put them into a saucepan with a slice of fresh butter, and steam 
gently " — let them smile, the true artist would say — " till they are 
soft." But why go on with elaborate directions? Why describe the 
exact quantity of flour, the size of the potato, the proportions of milk 
and cream to be added? Why explain in detail the process of rubbing 
through a sieve? In telling or the reading these matters seem 
not above the intelligence of a little child. But in the actual making, 
only the artist understands the secret of perfection, and his understanding 
is born within him, not borrowed from dry statistics and 
formal tables. He may safely be left to vary his methods; he may 
add sugar, he may omit nutmeg; he may fry the onions instead of 
boiling, for love of the tinge of brown, rich and somber, thus obtained. 
But, whatever he does, always with a wooden spoon will he stir his 
savory mixture; always, as result, produce a godlike sauce which 
the mutton cutlets of Paradise, vying with Heine's roast goose, will 
offer of their own accord at celestial banquets. What wonder that 
a certain famous French count despised the prosaic politician who 
had never heard of cutlets a la Soubise!

You can also find this chapter in The Epicure's Companion, ed. Ann Seranne and John Tebbel. David McKay: New York (1962).

And after all that here's Fanny Farmer (1911):

Soubise Sauce

2 cups sliced onions 1/2 cup cream or milk
1 cup Veloute Sauce Salt and pepper

Cover onions with boiling water, cook five minutes, drain,
again cover with boiling water, and cook until soft; drain,
and rub through a sieve. Add to sauce with cream. Season
with salt and pepper. Serve with mutton, pork chops, or "
hard-boiled" eggs.

Thank god for Boston and common sense.