A Week of Manresa

If I may paraphrase a well-written line from one Peter Mayle -- may I, Mr. Mayle? -- the year began with dinner.

I had chosen to celebrate the dawning of a new year at Manresa (a new year for me, that is, and if you ask nicely I might tell you which one). After my first experience there in May, there was no question where I would eat my birthday meal. And so, on a sunny summer evening in August, I found myself there again, hungry, happy, hopeful.

I cannot think of any better way to describe the meal than to say this: It was the best meal of my life. And so, I am devoting an entire week of blogging to it.

Now, tuck your linen napkin onto your lap and we'll get started. May I offer you an amuse? Wonderful. But let's start with five, as the generous and gracious David Kinch did. Kinch is the chef, perhaps better termed an alchemist, an artist, a master. For me, eating his cooking is like the Gods revealing the secrets of creation or the purpose of life. It is, simply, divine.

Petit fours "red pepper-black olive" A hallmark that begins the meal (and, in different fashion, ends it). These bites are savories presented in the form of a sweet -- a sugar-sprinkled gum drop, Proust's immortal madeleine. We begin with a smile on our lips.

Radis au beurre French radishes, pink and crisp, offered with organic butter and sel gris for dipping. Fresh. Crisp. Unrefined. Unbelievable.

Santa Rosa plum with hibiscus and lime A martini glass filled with sweet, unpeeled plums, gorgeous in their mottled purple skins, with hibiscus gelée and tart key lime granité. A wisp of mint here, a wisp of mint there, and the cool concoction slides down our throats with elegance and ease.

Fatty tuna belly tartare Mounded onto a large, heavy, gleaming spoon and brought to the table on a tray. We each take a spoon and nibble at the soft, rich blue fin toro tartare. Sesame seeds, chives, and a trickle of oil swim in our mouths alongside the nubile fish.

Pike mackerel sushi with shiso flowers A sheet of nori, a perfect rectangle of seasoned sushi rice, two pieces of pike mackerel draped cleanly on top. We pull off the purpley-pink shiso flowers and bring them to our noses, inhaling the burst of dusky scent, then carefully place them back on the fish to eat. A strong, sharp fish with notes of anchovy riding on its fins.

Corn croquettes I think I know what waits inside this lightly fried cube and eagerly pop it into my mouth, willing it to burst into the creamy richness of liquid foie gras. My eyes widen in surprise -- sweet creamed corn and vanilla bean instead! The waiter smiles.

Tomato soup, barely cooked, fennel tuile Barely cooked indeed. We sip fresh pink tomatoes, their essence everything a tomato ought to be, plus a hint of garlic, from stemless Riedel glasses topped off by a parmesan and fennel tuile. Southern summer caught in a glass, like fireflies after dinner.

Arpege egg A coddled egg served in its shell on a warmed egg cup and saucer, the top of the shell cracked off, sherry vinegar and maple syrup drizzled on top. Each deep scrape of the tiny spoon yields silky yellow yolk, earth in harmony with the sweet syrup and vinegar, just enough to take the edge off. I consider sticking my tongue in to lick the bottom clean. Mr. Food Musings shakes his head. I let the eggshell go, rueing what might have been.

Dinner will soon be served. While you wait, begin gathering precious items -- rings, watches, the family silver -- to hawk at the nearest pawn shop. You must do anything you can to eat here. (Though I must be honest, this is one of the most reasonable indulgences in the Bay Area when compared to anything remotely on par.) So maybe just the family silver.

Comments

[Fatemeh]

Oh, my goodness. How on earth does one create such a perfect quenelle of butter??

It's hard enough to do with sorbet or ice cream... but BUTTER??

[Catherine]

A question for Ms. Pim ;) It was somewhat softened, enough to permit running the radishes through it easily, though not to the point that it lost shape.