There comes a time in every food bloggers life where one must take the trip to a culinary Mecca: the prestigious Michelin star restaurant. Surprisingly, I find that a lot of you numb nuts' out there actually don't even know what the Michelin Star rating system is! Well let me bring you up to speed:
In 1900, one of the Frenchies who co-owned the Michelin Tyre(aka "tire") Company started publishing guides for good hotels and restaurants in France to let the rich dick-heads know where exactly they should be eating and sleeping if they were to travel the country with their new found motorized dick-head vessels. By 1920, the dining section of the guide became so popular(with what i'm gonna call "walkies"), that they started publishing guides for just restaurants based around a three star rating system(The *gasp* Michelin Star). The inspectors would visit the restaurants anonymously, payed for by Michelin, and would award one star for
New York has 66 Michelin star restaurants, with only seven rated at two stars, and seven at three stars. It was really tough searching out what crazy expensive ass nice place I was going to go to, but after viewing "A Matter of Taste - Serving up Paul Leibrandt", I knew two star Michelin, Corton, was where I was gonna go be a real dick hole.
So I can't really read that menu from here either, but the basic gist with a restaurant of two star Michlein caliber or higher is that you just have the option of the chef's tasting menu, meaning you can't choose what you want cuz this motherfucker knows what's best for you; Unless of course you're allergic to shit like shell fish, peanuts, dairy, or the ever illusive fake white person allergy: gluten. A concern not of mine nor my date, so it was time to get mouth pregnant.
First up: canapés!
So the canape course is actually the first of three "unofficial" courses served in a traditional fuck-face meal. Back in the Downton Abbey days, the canapes were served in a seperate room from the dinning area, which would evolve into the veritable "cock-tail hour" of later days. It encouraged the bro-ing down of dudes and chicks who probly hated each other but let the therapy of drink ease the pain. The traditional canape being salty and/or spicy also led said dude or chick to have another drink... cuz seriously, fuck that asshole, give me another drink.
On the top left, we have the sweet potato doughnut with caviar eyes and candied grape-fruit eye brows over rock salt, a la, uhmm... ninja turtle. To the right of that we have a puff pastry with leaf of arbitrary filled with mornay sauce(mornay sauce is fancy speak for awesome cheese sauce). The stoner in me just wanted to tell Le Brandt to give me a bag of these for $20 and dip out cuz that's the kind of sin that puts the "eat" in "death". Finally, on the bottom, we have oyster stew that was frozen, melon balled, crispy crusted, and deep fried. *ahem* say WHAAAAAAT!?!? garnished with spicy cracker and served over black sand.
So on to "unofficial" course number two: the amuse bouche!
Amuse bouche literally translates to "mouth amuser"(LOLLOL!@!@##3). Traditionally, it's a bite of shit the chef gives you when you sit down at the table to prepare your mouth piece for the rest of the meal that's to come(LOLLOL!@!!##33). I've never really experienced this in such a way as an actual portal into a chef's meal, but have received it more as of a, "here you go you poor bastard, have a free bite of shit". I used to be in charge of this course at a restaurant I worked at and would make fancy mini big-macs and old crostinis with blackberry cream cheese. BUT! At Corton, we had this:
Well well well, if isn't black kombu gelee with totally obscure mushroom soup bite. You mother fuckers had me at jelly. The funniest part about this amuse is that my lady and I thought that this utensil was meant for the complimentary bread and compound chestnut butter:
"Owh no NOHW! Le petit squirrel spoon es par amuse bouche, mademoiselle!"
"Succle bleu, monsieur!! My bee!"
Fuck! Why don't you just bring me the squirrel spoon with that shit instead of making me feel like an asshole!? Btw, all the food runners actually had thick Uzpakistanian accents, so we actually had no idea what any of them were saying when they put shit on our table.
On to course number one, dudes:
Royal of Santa Barbara Uni
Seasoned with Nutmeg Oil, Ossetra Caviar, Black Kombu Gelee
"Sea Urchin from that place with the good hookers with nutmeg oil, eggs from baby Beluga(remember that Raffi jam??), and jello made from sea weed"
So yes, sea urchin. Apparently that shit tastes retarded if you mix it with a bunch of butter and pasta, according to Eric Reppert. The eggs, however, aren't actually from the beluga whale, but from the pre-historic beluga sturgeon! all proper caviar comes from sturgeon, much like real champagne comes from Champagne, and if you pay thousands of dollars($7,000-$10,00 per kilogram for Ossertra Caviar) for the real thing, then you I might have to point out to you that there's a giant cock in your ass fucking you against your will. caviar's pretty damn over rated if you ask me, as is Cristal and Dom. I'll take a damn chicken egg any day of the week over dinosaur fish egg.
Spirit of the Sweet Potato
Sweet potato gnocchi, pumpkin seeds, serrano ham consomme
So this one isn't pictured because apparently since it was the "spirit of the sweet potato", i done and slam sniffed it without even realizing it. One gnocchi!?!? fuck you, dude! but, goddamn, it was one a fuck of a sniff. Gnocchi is the new easy-mac to a lot of people these days, so i guess i should clue you in to what consomme is: complex garbildy gook which purifies the gnar gnar from the gnar gnar, to make a clear gnarless gnar. And I'll also tell you what it's not: wolf piss. True story.
Kalamansi Mandarin Mochi
So this was a course that they wouldn't even give us a damn squirrel spoon to eat with: little sour ice cream balls. Mochi is a Japenese thingy where they pound out some rice into a sticky paste. Chef Lebrandt made some ice cream balls out of tiny Filippino oranges and tiny Japanese limes and wrapped those slams with the mochi and said, "that's right assholes, you're spending over a month's rent on this dinner and I just gave you fucking ice cream balls."
Fresh mousseline of surf clam and black truffle, delicate puree of Winesap apple and pine, bergamot paste, creamy veloute of chestnut and mussel
"Retardedly named fish, served under a tiny fort with thing that looks like poached egg and smoodge of what looks like someone missed the bowl hovering over the toilet to diarrhea. "
This was one my favorite courses, actually. John Dory is a wild ass looking coastal fish that kind of tastes like a less fishier cod, and even wikipedia doesn't really seem to know whhy it's named John Dory. I don't know what the fuck any of that other shit is. The non-culinary meaning of the word mousseline is "crisp fabric", so I'm guessing Lebrandt's pulling a fast one and those two crispy looking things are the mousseline. The creamy veloute (aka diarrhea smudge) was DOPE. But I don't why that dude's living so far away!
Calotte de Boeuf
Calotte de Boeuf cooked in black birch, slow-cooked oxtail, turnip and white miso puree
Tartare de boeuf, delicate gelee of beef shin, green mango, hazelnut cream
"First, we're gonna get a beef wang and present it to you over a bunch of sticks, then we're gonna take the beef wang and chop it up into little beef wang segments and give you a little beef wang segment served with a dark puddle. After that, we're gonna put half a nibble of raw beef in a giant martini glass and then go blow our brains out."
I think maybe Pauly might have trust issues. Dude, if you tell me you're cooking the damn beef over a bunch of birch sticks, than I totally believe you, dawg! You ain't gotta show me that shit first! Yum town for sure, though. And as you can all see, the tartare paired wonderfully with titty of girlfriend.
It's a fucking cheese plate
Smoked maple creme, sour cherry puree
coffee sponge cake, almond, toast ice cream
"Candy bar topped with cake crumbs and ice cream shaped like an old person's butt".
Cremeux of Mast Brothers Moho River choclate
Black Mission fige ice cream, tarragon gelee
"Turd log served with a squiggle line on top of green jelly and... why the fuck not... GOLD. Cuz here at Corton, the real winners are the customers".
The customers who pay
for fucking dinner! Congratulations!!!
Well that was just good old fashion fun right there! Would you excuse me for a second? I have to find the nearest subway train to jump in front of.
Corton is located on 239 West Broadway, New York, NY, about 415 miles away from Bodo's Bagels, where I'll be eating for the next lifetime or two.