Sunday, October 15, 2006

Spago - Beverly Hills



If The French Laundry is my Everest, Spago is my K2.

As such, when I was asked what restaurant I'd like to be treated out to for my birthday, I quickly replied, "The tasting menu at Spago" since it required nothing more than a reservation and a full tank of gas (for my second trip to L.A. proper in a year)...and oh yeah, oodles of cash.

In case you're keeping track: yes, this is the second birthday meal to occur after the blow-out at Bluefin a week prior.

And in case you're wondering: yes, when my generous and wonderful dining companions' birthdays come around, I plan to return the gesture in spades.

But still, out of sheer guilt, and to set the bar so that I may clear it myself when that time comes, I chose Spago's less expensive lunch tasting menu, which by the way, already runs $80 per person (before tax and an additional 20% service fee).

The expense is not surprising when you realize this is the same Spago where Elton John hosts his Oscar parties; the same Spago which is the flagship of the Wolfgang Puck empire; the same Spago which is #4 on Gourmet Magazine's Top 50 Restaurants in the U.S.; and the same Spago which won a James Beard Award last year.

And let's not forget: IT'S IN BEVERLY HILLS!



But despite the formidable credentials and the 90210 ZIP code, not once during our Saturday lunch did we feel out of place. The staff couldn't have been more cheerfully accommodating, and we couldn't have felt more comfortable and welcome.

Even pastry chef, Sherry Yard, came out to chat and asked how we enjoyed the meal.

Everyone we interacted with was professional but not stuffy. And since the tasting menu demands full-service, no less than three servers doted on us, explained the dishes, refilled our drinks, and replaced the silverware and china. They not only used crumb scrapers, but also gleaming silver-plated food domes which kept hot dishes hot until it was lifted off with a flourish in front of us.

While the service staff put us at ease, the kitchen staff had us on our toes. Their creativity was revving at full bore, and their desire to impress, challenge, and beguile was palpable at every turn; from the amuses to the petits fours.



The first amuse bouche emulated one of The French Laundry's signature items; the tuna tartare cone. Chopped raw tuna, laced with a stinging pepper sauce, was scooped into a miniature cone dotted with black-sesame seeds. Bonito flake streamers completed this whimsical nod to Baskin-Robbins.

Although the tuna sparkled, it was the cone that dazzled. Simultaneously savory and sweet, it resembled Chantilly lace woven from spun sugar.



The second amuse, was a bite-sized curl of salmon, lightly peppered, studded with onion, and topped with salmon eggs. It rested on a pillow-soft blini.

The chilled fish was the perfect foil to the airy warmth of the pancake; but it was the herby hit of dill which punctuated the luscious hor d'oeuvre, and whetted our appetites for more.



For the last amuse, a baked orb of feather-light puff pastry hid a buttery center of bacon fat. They called it Bacon Confit en Croute; I called it the Coronary Cloggin' Cream Puff.

Thankfully, there was only one per person, or else I would have gorged myself until I keeled over from heart failure -- with my hands clutched to my chest -- dead with a smile frozen on my face.



The basket of bread featured towering triangles of lavash, arranged to look like the tentacles of the Kraken reaching up from the depths.

Singed on its fringes from the fires of the oven, the crackers shattered into jagged pieces when bitten, and tasted like Wheat Thins on crack.



The first course went for the gut, literally, and set the tone for the rest of the meal. It was a message from the kitchen: "You asked for a tasting menu; we're going to give you one."

Veal sweetbreads, a euphemism for "pancreas of a young cow," sounded harmless enough for my dining companions, who were blissfully unaware of this fact.

I waited until they finished their plates before I informed them of what they had consumed. Thankfully, neither blinked when I did, which was both a testament to their open minds and how well the kitchen prepared the nasty bits.

Seared and paired with a tangerine gastrique, the spongy white lobes squished beneath our teeth, sublimely soft, like a meat marshmallow. The acidic sauce helped to tame the milky richness of the organ and temper the offal funk.



The next course was less exotic but just as ambitious. Maryland blue crab, sea urchin roe, and Matsutake mushrooms are cooked simply, then bathed with a mascarpone emulsion.

The sweet morsels of the crustacean mingled with sea urchin roe, which burst with a sea-salty tang of their own. The Matsutake mushrooms, exhibiting something the Japanese call umami, countered the cheesy creaminess and foam of the mascarpone.

This slobbery mess of a dish worked despite the fact that mascarpone, Italian cream cheese, is normally relegated to tiramisu.



The agnolotti, mini-purses of pasta resembling ravioli, oozed a buttery filling while sugary corn nibblets contributed texture. But the white truffles, which adorned the top in generous razor thin shavings, did not stand a chance from the flavor assault of the other two ingredients.

Its subtlety was lost, but not missed. Although the fact that its was there in the first place justified how much this meal was going to cost.



For the next course, skate was pan fried, and done up Indian style, with lentils and two kinds of chutney; mint and tamarind. The former scorched and cooled the tongue, while the latter tasted vaguely of prunes.

The combined effect was aggresive; a frontal attack on the mouth and sinus. It was almost too much for the delicate meat of the stingray to bear. But the striated flesh held its own with a bouncy and plump texture somewhere between lobster and trout, pulling apart in clean strips.



The last savory dish was also our least favorite. Roasted squab (yes, pigeon), was served provocatively, with the toes and feet still attached to the drumstick, and its talons curled-up in unimaginable anguish.

Next to it, the rare, bloody chunks of the breast looked tender but gnawed stubbornly like stale chewing gum. Making matters worse was the subcutaneous membrane separating skin and meat, which stretched like latex and contributed even more chewiness.

The whole thing also stunk of Chinese five-spice powder, which amped up the gamy flavor of the squab tenfold, and clashed with the drizzled port wine sauce.

In keeping with the Chinese theme, a side dish of stir-fried haricot verts and okra was slathered with oyster sauce. But this too was heavy-handed, and a chore to eat.



A wedge of runny cheese signaled the impending close of our lunch. The name of the sample escapes me, but it came with a rind covered in ash, and a taste reminiscent of brie with the slight medicine tang of bleu.

We spread the cheese on toasted raisin bread and spooned a touch of the berry marmalade. What we couldn't scrape with our knives, we pinched off with our fingers, leaving behind a clear sign that we enjoyed the dish -- napkins streaked with black soot.



For dessert, the warm berry crumble was presented in a boomerang-shaped bowl and a crowned with a scoop of "fifty vanilla bean ice cream."

The ice cream disappeared too quickly, and left us to finish a half bowl of the lip-puckeringly tart compote alone, without it.



Just when we thought it was all over, petits fours graced our table. The five delectable mini confections -- decorated in fondant, chocolate and cocoa dust -- promised teeth-rotting delights and delivered.

Our favorite by far was the chocolate cube, with a top lid composed of round chocolate pellets. Our server was instructed by the pasty chef to tell us to pop the entire piece in our mouths, lest we wanted chocolate sauce to squirt out and onto our shirts. Heeding the advice, we did so and felt the gush of liquid as soon as our teeths punctured the thin chocolate shell. The rush of chocolatey goodness made us giggle as only chocolate could.

The same instructions applied to the lemon "gusher", and when we ate it, it tickled us just the same.

My culinary K2 conquered, only Everest remains. And if you ask why, I'll answer, "Because it's there."

Spago
(310) 385-0880
176 N Canon Dr
Beverly Hills, CA 90210

24 Comments:

At 11:53 PM, Blogger Chubbypanda said...

Oh.. My... God... I hate you so much.

Well, no. Not really. I love every inch of that quirky mind of yours'. But dude, seriously. Spago? I'm burning with envy right now.

Miàofǎ Liánhuā Jīng. Miàofǎ Liánhuā Jīng. Miàofǎ Liánhuā Jīng.

Nope. No help from the Lotus Sutra. Still plagued by these earthly desires, which are the root of my suffering. =/

- Chubbypanda

 
At 9:27 AM, Anonymous Seth Chadwick said...

Elmo,

I will admit that when I saw the title of your review, I was going to whine in your comments about you going to Spago, especially after going to Blue Fin.

Then, after reading your review, I will offer a tad bit of envy, because I expected everything to be perfect for you, especially since it was a tasting menu, and it seems to have had a few bumps in the road. That, sadly, suggests that management needs to spend a bit more time in the kitchen as the whole thing should have been perfect.

On a side note, my Everest is Mary Elaine's (http://thephoenician.com/pages/maryelaines/index.html), the most upscale restaurant in Arizona and also a winner of a James Beard Award.

Some day.

Some day.

Great review, elmo!

 
At 11:24 AM, Anonymous JB said...

The skate looks really good, I must say. I'm happy the tasting menu was super-interesting and worthy of a birthday experience! For me it would've been kinda a risk to go with Spago, since Wolfgang, who never has been universally revered, is really spreading himself and his team thin with all his fine dining launches and brand extensions. But, based on this recap and my own recent experiences with his catering enterprise [a reception in Hollywood] and his cafes [lunch in South Coast Plaza], this Puck is finding the net.

 
At 2:18 PM, Blogger Tokyoastrogirl said...

Wow- I am disappointed that not everything was up to snuff. After all, it IS Spago! I hope that if my Spago Day ever comes, everything is perfect!

 
At 5:58 PM, Blogger henrychan888 said...

what the?? bluefin and spago's?? both in the same week??

i bow in your general direction.

one day. one day. i'll make it there.

great pics and review!

 
At 6:04 PM, Blogger cdmedici said...

Another great review. What made this review especially wonderful is that my wife and I had a very similar tasting menu at Sago the week before. Reading your review was like experiencing the meal all over again.

Too bad you didn't get the foi gras pastrami. I don't know how they did it but it was wonderful.

 
At 8:08 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Awesome post. Glad you enjoyed your birthday. -MEalcentric

 
At 9:24 AM, Blogger elmomonster said...

Chubbypanda,

You crack me up!

Seth,

It was a great experience overall, but that squab dish was really challenging. A spectacular failure on all counts. But then, I gotta give em props for having the balls to try it.

JB,

I wouldn't have been gung-ho about Spago either if I didn't read about the raves on Chowhound and its chef Lee Hefter. I wonder how long before Lee leaves and starts his own place. As I understand it, Wolfgang, himself, started out as an executive chef of a place now long gone. BTW, loved your line "Puck is finding the net."

Tokyoastrogirl,

Hope your experience turns out perfect too! I'll be looking forward to reading your review.

Henry,

I can't take the credit. I have incredibly generous friends.

cdmedici,

Ooh man. Foie gras pastrami!? The phrase alone excites me. It sounds decadent and insane! That must have been for the dinner tasting menu, which if I recall goes into the hundreds of dollars.

Mealcentric,

As always, thanks for dropping by!

 
At 11:23 AM, Anonymous Kirk said...

A most happy belated Birthday Elmo! Looks like you've done pretty well for yourself this year.

 
At 3:20 PM, Anonymous Julian Hsu said...

Happy Birthday Elmo!

Your reviews *almost* make me forget how gustatorily tough it was to move from LA to Orange County. (But then of course you go to Spago and write all about it)


Julian

 
At 4:05 PM, Anonymous esther said...

That looks so tasty. I'm totally envious! Happy birthday.

 
At 4:48 PM, Blogger russkar said...

Nice review. I'm going to Spago tonight with my Wine Group and for Lunch next week. I hate the Squab also but really like the other typical offerings which I noticed weren't part of your L menu? You probably need to go again?
For an interesting TM experience you should come to the Yahoo Scarf OPUS dinner Oct 24th, tue, 6p for some wild grub!

 
At 6:37 PM, Blogger Deb said...

I am lucky enough to frequent Spago's often. A client is 2 blocks south on Wilshire. Wolfgang is there quite a bit during lunch and it's always fun to top a great meal off with a celebrity sighting. Glad you were able to treat yourself... We all should!

 
At 11:10 AM, Blogger elmomonster said...

Kirk,

Thanks! Hope you are enjoying your vacation!

Julian,

And Happy Birthday to your daughter! I'm happy to have tried Spago, but even happier that I live in O.C.! L.A. has some pretty fine eats though. And I still make side trips to SGV when I can.

Esther,

Thanks for dropping by and for leaving a comment! Hope you are enjoying your new car!

russkar,

Glad to know that a Spago veteran as yourself also didn't like the squab. BTW, it was your enthusiastic posts that sold me on Spago in the first place.

Thanks for the invite to SCARF. I've been meaning to go to one of the get-togethers, but it's almost always in L.A. And I'm always too lazy to drive there, especially on a weeknight. But OPUS sounds like the place for my next L.A. foray.

Deb,

You are truly lucky indeed! It's funny that you mention celebrity sightings, because I went there with the expectation that I would see at least one, but I was so focused on the meal that I often forgot to look up!

If Tom Cruise tripped in front of me on Angelina Jolie's baby, and did a face plant into Paris Hilton's lap, I wouldn't have even noticed!

 
At 10:05 PM, Blogger Rasa Malaysia said...

Happy Belated Birthday Elmo. :)

 
At 10:09 AM, Blogger Eddie Lin said...

What the Puck? Great post and meal, Elmo! I hope sweetbreads are the new culinary trend, I do love them so. (If done right.) Just judging from your tasting meal photos, it looks like it could rival the French Laundry. *gasp* How dare I???

 
At 6:22 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hi Elmo,

Great review as always. I'm a huge fan of your blog and as an avid reader of OC Weekly, I congratulate you on being No. 60 on the Best of OC list. Good job!

 
At 7:02 PM, Blogger Eddie Lin said...

best of OC #60. you're holding out on us again, elmo!!! modesty will get you nowhere. well, maybe it'll get you to #60 in the best of OC. that ain't bad at all. congratulations!

 
At 11:43 PM, Blogger elmomonster said...

Rasa Malaysia,

Thanks! Now that you see how an OC Indonesian does a birthday, I'd like to see how an OC Malaysian does it.

Anonymous,

Hey I *did* make it! And I beat Tommy Lasorda (#61)! I knew that someday I would triumph over Tommy Lasorda. And now that day has come!

Eddie,

Congratulations yourself! Your meal of bull penis (and photo) is #69! (ahem)

 
At 4:09 PM, Blogger Eddie Lin said...

nobody tells me nothin. thanks, elmo.

 
At 3:33 AM, Blogger H. C. said...

Such yummy-looking pictures (even though, unfortunately, not everything turned out yummy) if it's any consolation, K2 is actually a much harder peak to climb than Everest.

 
At 11:04 AM, Blogger elmomonster said...

H.C.,

That's actually a fitting analogy because I heard that Thomas Keller, although creative, doesn't straddle the edge as much the chef at Spago does.

 
At 12:19 PM, Blogger Jon said...

I too had my birthday dinner at Spago’s (just last night). Impressive! Next time you are in LA LA land, check out Sona (http://www.sonarestaurant.com/), very “food forward” and also very good.

-Jon

 
At 5:22 PM, Blogger elmomonster said...

I'll definitely check out Sona! I've been hearing good things about it for a long time.

 

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