Dinner at Jean Georges

I know, I know, we're supposed to be getting ready for the London Brussels Lyon Paris run. But when old friends called and said they'd be passing through and wouldn't it be fun to meet at JG, what was I supposed to say? No, join me in a tuna on rye while I match socks and check the hems on slacks? really.

M. Vongerichten has establishments in many parts of town; the one at the Trump international Hotel is the flagship. Cabdrivers get expensively confused when you ask for this, because Mr Trump has modestly named so many buildings after himself. Unless it's really coming down, therefore, have the cab drop you at the TimeWarner Center (there's only one of those) and walk from there.


The entry to the restaurant is simultaneously formal and unprepossessing. Beige walls, beige desk, some thin serious people in black. If the flowers were more exuberant, you might feel you ought to sign in and pay your respects to the family. DO NOT BE DETERRED! Press on!

The first dining room, with long bar, is actually a separate and less formal JG restaurant called Nougatine (different menu, different prices). You will be led through this room to your table in the formal dining room, where you can relax with a glass of blanc de blanc at your table while you order.

The amuse-bouche was an infinitesimal wild mushroom canneloni, a slice of radish, and a glass of spiced carrot broth.



I started with an amazing soup:




Warm parsnip and leek soup with coconut foam and lime froth. This sounds overly imaginative but what an astounding concatenation of flavors! I would happily have had another serving of this and smiled and called it a night.
Himself started with morels in hollandaise over asparagus.




Next courses - mine, caramelized foie gras with powdered olive (loved the foie, couldn't quite figure out the olive powder) and a mousse of yuzu (loved the foie, couldn't quite figure out the yuzu).




Himself had turbot with a brunoise of tomatoes on top and chateau chalon sauce for his middle course. I asked him if he was happy. He gurgled.












My main course: lamb chops topped with a bolognese of wild mushrooms. A little broccoli rab on the plate as well.




His main course:



This is called crispy rabbit; it's a roulade of the boneless rabbit meat.
Others at table had - well, there was some duplication; a sea urchin first course stands out.
Desserts are on a separate planet here.









The chocolate included a chocolate and mulled red wine sorbet that tasted like lounging in front of an open fire on a cold night. In a green velvet dress. Barefoot.

They brought us candies with the coffee, too...

I loved everything, except the powdered olive.

catching up again

and why has it been so much trouble for two adults of above-average abilities to put a few things in a small suitcase? Because, dear friends, when you're only going to be in a place for a short time, you don't want to spend a whole day, or even more, tracking down comfortable shoes of a certain width, or toothpaste that doesn't taste like licorice, or -- you get the picture. The most recent genius idea was to buy a small 22-watt hairdryer in Paris a few years ago, thus assuring self it would work, would not fry hair, would not require converter, and would minimize use of plug adapters (which tend either to get lost or to melt themselves on to the outlet).

So now that most of that's been addressed, on to happier thoughts. Dinner the other night at Jean-Georges, just glorious, we'd been hesitant to go back because the menu is rarely updated, but then the Diner found himself in the mood for young garlic soup with frogs' legs, and off we went.



Guess what - Jean Georges' menu was updated! They still have that most wondrous of soups, but only as part of a tasting menu of JG's classics. We would have done the tasting, but our guests balked (ever so politely but still). And the captain informed us that, sadly, a dish from the tasting menu could not be ordered à la carte. Three-star restaurants all over France will accommodate this kind of request, but not on Central Park West. Not that we suffered. No, no, no.