Hello,
The Great ______ Adventure has moved to Singapore, for a temporary but indeterminate period of time. Two days after returning, I have found apprenticeship under the cutest frenchman, Yann Follan. Communication in the office is hilarious. For those who do not know french, this is a great introduction to the language. ah.... putain. "Literally, it means whore. But not so literally... it means everything else."
It is troubling that for two weeks I've barely seen the horizon. The best moments, however, are early in the mornings when the streets are empty and the sky is a dramatic texture of dappled light. First, the clouds start to glow. Soon, the sun starts to reflect off the massive buildings like prisms. When you look down at the ground, there is condensation if the night was cool and plenty of scurrying insects. But before long, the day begins and cars zoom and sounds assault and the imagination is not so free anymore.
There is alot happening in Singapore right now - new bars, buildings, people. "Same pig, different lipstick," I cynically commented to Justus. But... I am optimistically cynical.
There are great moments.The pinnacle@duxton, for example, makes my knees go knockknock. Big bridges link the massive public apartments 50 stories in the sky. They call it "sky gardens", but sticking feathers up your ass does not make you a chicken, Singapore. Entry to said gardens are $5, which is a bitch, but a bottle of wine soothes over any irritations. The edge conditions, however, are boringly safe, with railings at a setback of several meters from the true edge. I had to throw something over the railing so I had an excuse to climb over it.
There is a sheen of glamour to everything here. I suspect a dorian grey-esque type of situation going on. Just the other day, I had a nested burger: wagyu meat wrapping ribs wrapping foie gras. I must be cautious not to fall into these petty indulgences too deeply.
Architecturally, it is a material wasteland. There seems to be an unquestioned adherence to cartesian geometry and a fetishization of details here. There are interesting thoughts when it comes to urbanism, but it is an easy dream within system like ours. I am bored. I am caged. I want to run and jump. I do not feel free. So, I must create.
2011-09-22
2011-09-02
//Epicurean Epiphanies
Last night, we had the Chefs Menu at the Tasting Kitchen. The Tasting Kitchen is a concept kitchen along Abbot Kinney in Venice, California where the menu is changed daily, and numbered accordingly. We had menu #774, which approximates to about two years of experimentation.
Roast Chicken is, in this writers opinion, the wonderbread of entrees: never offensive, but never spectacular.
The chef, Casey Lane, proved otherwise.
Serving half a roast chicken with a blackened cabbage-like vegetable. This dish was all about simple, plain ingredients transformed through immaculate technique and plated without any fancy frills. Charred bits of the vegetable added heft, and left bits of crunch and texture to play against the smooth slipperiness of the rest of the leaf. The chicken itself was from another planet. The meat was moist and had a consistent softness through its entire section, and the skin was thin and crisp but still moist - when held up by finger, it held its own structure.
The simple flavour profile let the taste of the meat take center. I really enjoyed the dignity of it, and the thought that one could, if practiced enough, access a dish like this at home too.
Other Notables:
_Dessert had an olive oil ice cream: it was full-flavoured, but without the usual heaviness of a full-cream ice cream. It was refreshing without being wimpy like sorbets. I will remember this fondly.
_Pork Rillette: I heart good rillette - smooth, chunky textures that yield ever so gently against the tongue.
*In othernews, I am currently in love with Bob Ghandi: Ratatat playing opposites off each other: low running primal beat with angel strings. It is the audio painting of a panther running through an African meadow.
 |
| The Tasting Kitchen Philosophy |
Roast Chicken is, in this writers opinion, the wonderbread of entrees: never offensive, but never spectacular.
The chef, Casey Lane, proved otherwise.
Serving half a roast chicken with a blackened cabbage-like vegetable. This dish was all about simple, plain ingredients transformed through immaculate technique and plated without any fancy frills. Charred bits of the vegetable added heft, and left bits of crunch and texture to play against the smooth slipperiness of the rest of the leaf. The chicken itself was from another planet. The meat was moist and had a consistent softness through its entire section, and the skin was thin and crisp but still moist - when held up by finger, it held its own structure.
The simple flavour profile let the taste of the meat take center. I really enjoyed the dignity of it, and the thought that one could, if practiced enough, access a dish like this at home too.
Other Notables:
_Dessert had an olive oil ice cream: it was full-flavoured, but without the usual heaviness of a full-cream ice cream. It was refreshing without being wimpy like sorbets. I will remember this fondly.
_Pork Rillette: I heart good rillette - smooth, chunky textures that yield ever so gently against the tongue.
*In othernews, I am currently in love with Bob Ghandi: Ratatat playing opposites off each other: low running primal beat with angel strings. It is the audio painting of a panther running through an African meadow.
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