Getting outdoorsy.

Last Monday, I was lucky enough to pay a visit to Terroir's (an East Village wine bar) new outpost on the High Line. Their little patch of awesome sits over 15th Street, right where the park passes under the upper floors of Chelsea Market, and consists of a teeny shipping container (from whence food and drink are served) and rows of comfy picnic tables (where said food and drink are consumed).

You're outside, so wine (like this delightful French rose) comes in little plastic tumblers. There's also beer, but no cocktails - for gin or whiskey, you're going to have to head elsewhere. (Given how awesome the vino is, though, you shouldn't bother. Terroir is known for its perfectly curated lists.)

The plates are small and packed with flavor. On the (vehement) recommendation of our waiter, I tried the fried lamb sausage, which packed whole sage leaves between meat and thin, crisp crust. The sausage itself was juicy and robustly flavored - possibly even a little too salty, until I squeezed the lemon over the whole thing, which made everything right again. Smartypants restaurants with their functional garnishes.

My second dish was the farro salad, which I seriously enjoyed. It was super satisfying in the way that only something delicious and healthy can be. It was perfectly tender, dotted with shaved white onion and chopped sugar snap peas, and dressed with mint, olive oil, salt, and pepper. This is one I'll be working on recreating awfully soon, hopefully with accompanying sunset.

Terroir At The Porch
The High Line
10th Avenue at 15th Street

In the neighborhood.

I did not move to the Upper East Side because it was cool. I did it because it was cheap, convenient, and, well, that's it. I've never regretted it, but I do wish I lived in a neighborhood where grabbing a tasty bite to eat in a cool atmosphere with good drinks was easier to do. For years, that was a pretty tall order. It's still not the easiest thing, but it is getting better. And the folks behind ABV are a big part of that.

I've been a few times, but only once when it was light enough out to get some decent snaps for you guys to enjoy. I paid a Friday evening visit with my friend Cristin, and we both ordered a flight of rosé. (The French one on the far right was definitely the best.) Then, we enjoyed a couple of snacks - first up, the fish tacos with kimchee. I really liked these, except for one thing: the guacamole was really strongly flavored with cilantro. For some of you, that would seal the deal. For me, it meant an early stop to the proceedings. I hate it when menus don't specify that things have cilantro. Grrrr.

Next up, the fried pickles. These are fancy fried pickles, with a light, tempura-ish batter coating seriously juicy half-sours in large chunks, all served with a miso mayonnaise. The enormous serving is enormously cheap (five bucks), and well worth your time. They go swimmingly with wine, too.

ABV is a wine bar, and, accordingly, they have a great selection of sweet and fortified wines to keep the drinking going once the savories have been dispensed with. My selection this time? The 10-year-old Nierporent tawny. Delicious on its own; even better with sticky toffee pudding. (Just saying.)

One quick note: my very favorite thing that ABV serves is their meatloaf sandwich, which comes with fries and is served on a toasted bagel and topped with a fried egg. It is, in a word, delightful. So don't not order it just because I've only eaten it when it's been dark out, is what I'm saying.

ABV
1504 Lexington Avenue
Between 97th and 98th Streets
212.722.8959

Would you move for a wine store?

My cousin Jason and his wife Abby have been living out in Greenpoint for about a year now, and they are the neighborhood's fiercest ambassadors. Or, at least, the fiercest ones with which I am acquainted. What they do, see, is invite you to their gorgeous, affordable two-bedroom apartment, lure you with delicious meals at local restaurants, and generally make the place irresistible.

Case in point? When they joined me to take a look at a new apartment building going up on the Greenpoint waterfront, they met me at the subway, had brunch with me at Marlow & Sons (see above for our discarded oyster shells), and showed me the most adorable wine store I've ever seen in New York.

Dandelion Wine on Franklin Avenue is drop-dead awesome. The owner, Lily, hand-writes price tags and descriptions for each bottle of wine she sells and hosts wine and cheese nights (FREE wine and cheese nights) every Friday. The shop carries a wide variety of wines, in terms of origin, varietal and price range, from an $11 rose to $100 bottles of vintage Pol Roger (1998, a very, very good year for champagne).

And did I mention the seriously amazing drawings decorating the chalkboard walls? Get your butts over to the Greenpoint Avenue G stop, people, and do it now.

Now that's what I call a vacation.

Gewurtztraminer.

Rosé.

Happiness.

The stuff of stars.

After burgers at Taylor's, my entourage and I headed north to Calistoga, home of Schramsberg Vineyards. It was my second visit to Schramsberg (Mom and I went back in August 2007); I suppose I could have chosen something new and different for the big 3-0, but, frankly, nothing makes me happier than champagne, so why not?

After making our way up Schramsberg's twisty, steep drive, we gathered in the reception area and met our tour guide, Ron. (Schramsberg runs several guided tours and tastings per day; if you have six people or more in your group, they request that you reserve a private tour.) The reception area is decorated with photographs and news clippings chronicling Schramsberg's history (lots more on that - and the méthode champenoise - in my post from 2007). We found ourselves gathering around a series of White House state dinner menus - and two very famous champagne coupes.

See, Schramsberg was the wine Nixon took with him to China to toast Chinese Premier Chou En-Lai. Jack and Jamie Davies, the proprietors, had no idea what the cases of 1969 Blanc de Blancs were going to be used for, but were asked by the State Department to deliver them to an airstrip in Southern California - turned out they were bound for Air Force One. Schramsberg has been the White House's go-to sparkling wine ever since.

After a quick run-through of the winery's history, Ron took us down into the caves, most of which were carved out by hand back in the late 19th century, when Jacob Schram owned the land. Champagne goes through a double-fermentation process; first, it's fermented in large barrels, like any other wine. Then, the wine is placed in bottles along with some extra sugar - food for the yeast whose digestive processes will eventually yield all that good carbonation. Once the wine is in the bottles, it's placed in the caves, where it will age, get bubbly, and eventually become champagne. (More here on the whole process, called the méthode champenoise.)

The caves are naturally cool, damp places, draped in fuzzy moss and filled with a musty scent. Every once in a while, you come across a bottle whose bottom has blown out, thanks to the carbonation building up inside. Not something you'd want to see in action, though, since the glass can fly several hundred feet through the air.

Eventually, we made our way upstairs to the tasting room, where Ron started us with one of my favorite wines of all time, Schramsberg's Blanc de Blancs. (When it comes to champagne, the primary grapes are Pinot Noir and Chardonnay. A Blanc de Blancs is a white champagne made exclusively with Chardonnay grapes. A Blanc de Noirs is a white champagne made with Pinot Noir grapes, and so on.) It's apple-y and crisp - the perfect wine to drink alone or with a plate of oysters and mignonette sauce.

We made our way down the line, tasting the J. Schram, an unbelievably creamy vintage blend of Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, full of caramel flavors, round and supple in the mouth. I think I could drink nothing but J. Schram from here to eternity and be pretty damn happy.

Schramsberg makes what may be my favorite Brut Rose (Brut indicates a low sugar level - don't be fooled into thinking pink = sweet.), but the coolest thing about this shot are the little bubble volcanoes in each glass. See, the carbonation in champagne isn't released until it comes into contact with another substance. Usually, this is the microscopic dust inside your glass. These Riedel glasses, though, have little laser-etched dots in them, which give the bubbles a place to gather and help control the release of the fizz. So nifty.

On the way out, Uncle Jack showed off his purchase and took the Riddler's pose - toasting the stars, of which we'd just drunk. Copiously.

Our first stop.

On our first real day in Sonoma (we spent Monday getting massages and consuming too much Mexican food), Jeremy & Mom went off to play golf in Bodega Bay, and Nick, Louisa, Miriam and I headed off to DeLoach Vineyards, just a mile or so down the road in Santa Rosa.

A friend of Jeremy's had (very generously) set us up with a tour in addition to our tasting, so when we arrived we were greeted by the hospitality manager, Lisa Vasse. Lisa was a great tour guide; like so many other people I've met in Napa and Sonoma, the wine industry is her second career (her first was in wine packaging, so not too far off the mark), and she's just downright psyched to be part of that world. It's really inspiring, actually, to spend a week meeting only people who are deeply engaged in and stimulated by their work.

Lisa took us on a tour of the winery, starting with the vineyards. The vineyards are all organic and biodynamic, meaning that they are farmed not only without pesticides, but also treats the farm as a living, breathing organism, capable of sustaining itself (but not capable of being pushed beyond its limits through chemical or artificial processes). This means that in addition tot he vineyards themselves, DeLoach also boasts an on-site organic garden, chickens, bees and sheep!

The garden and animals are reached by a path that winds past the winery's gorgeous guesthouse, which is reserved strictly for trade use. The wine industry is, by and large, about hospitality, and the guesthouses (most wineries have them) are where the winemakers entertain their clients.

The garden itself is rambling and windblown; the gardeners let things run their course here, so we saw not only perfectly ripe Sungolds (Lisa invited us to sample as many tomatoes as we liked; we were happy to oblige), but also late-season, flowering artichokes. It's pretty cool to see fruits and vegetables actually live out their life cycles; you don't get that opportunity too often here in Manhattan.

After a peek into the winery itself, where grapes were being moved out of the barrels after the first pressing, we moved on to the (epic) tasting. Lisa poured a dizying series of De Loach wines (Exhibit A: Miriam double-fisting below.), including a Sauvignon Blanc, a rosé, and some Pinot Noirs, Zinfandels and Chardonnays. Our favorites were the rosé (gorgeously dry but with a hint of fruit) and the OFS Chardonnay, a big, creamy wine completely devoid of the notorious California oakiness.

At the end, Lisa brought out a special treat: tawny port. She guessed right; she was working with a group of dessert wine fanatics, and we couldn't get enough. Rich and smooth but with a kick at the end, DeLoach port is fantastic. Three bottles made it into the case we took home, along with six bottles of rose and three of the chardonnay.

And, yes, I know you're wondering: we finished it all, save one bottle of port. We'll be drinking that at Christmas with our Christmas pudding (Miriam) and sticky toffee puddings (everyone).

A cold supper for a warm evening.

Sunday was kind of a lazy day here in Ohio. We'd eaten a (fantastic) dinner at Nick's cousin's place in Rocky River the night before, which meant we didn't get home until midnight. Factor in an early morning at church (I attend rarely, but the opportunity to sing in the choir was too good to pass up), and we were beat by Sunday afternoon.

Sunday dinner, as a result, was a low-key, improvised meal. Nick grabbed the rose from the fridge, I sliced up some gravlax I'd cured Saturday morning, and Louisa arranged a kickass cheese & charcuterie plate, complete with a crock of the chicken liver pâté we'd made the day before.

Nick sliced some apples and sprinkled them with lemon juice (a stroke of genius), Louisa poured the gravlax's espresso mustard sauce into a little dish, and we got down to the business of eating.

The cheese was, obviously, no work at all, and the pâté and gravlax were barely more than that; seriously, I highly recommend both of these as either starters for a dinner party or as part of a perfect, cold supper.

The curing process turns the gravlax a bright pink (these photos don't do it justice) and takes on the texture and flavor of salty, sweet salmon candy. The pâté is just chicken liver sautéed with onions, garlic and brandy; you purée the mixture, add some plumped currants, and let things set up a bit in the fridge.

Serve with apple slices and crackers on a deck in the setting sun, and you have perfection itself.

En plein air.

You know it's almost summer in New York when you eat outside for the first time. This probably isn't so different for non-New Yorkers - when I was growing up in Connecticut, we used to eat outside as soon as it got warm enough - but there's a curious willingness on a New Yorker's part to brave the smog and noise of congested avenues to dine al fresco the second the thermometer passes 70 degrees. (My friend Miles is a notable exception to this rule.)

Last Friday, after spending an afternoon off from work baking my sunscreen-slathered self on a rock in Central Park (that's a shot of the Great Lawn, taken just before dinnertime), I met my friend Cristin for an early dinner at Bar Boulud, near Lincoln Center. We actually ate there together at about the same time last year - and this time around, we had basically the same meal. Except, this time, we got to eat outside and enjoy the sunshine.

We shared a few small things, which seems to me to be the best way to eat, the vast majority of the time. Cristin ordered a flight of red wines, I tucked into a flight of French whites (white Burgundy - is there arnything better?), and we shared escargot, pâté grand-mère, and some delectably crispy French fries. Bar Boulud wins many, many points for serving its fries with tangy, European-syle mayonnaise. MANY POINTS.

(They lose a few points for some pretty shoddy service, though. They were hovering and imposing for the first twenty minutes, and then, when we were ready to order, they disappeared. They forgot Cristin's second glass of wine, too. For shame, frankly, at the price of $17 a glass.)

But, aside from the service glitches, it was a great, warm, sunny meal. So what if it's back in the 50s today?

Queenie's Take: Drinking your way through Napa.

Welcome to second edition of Queenie's Take! This week, we're talking travel!

Hall (no stranger to first-class travel experiences) is headed to Napa for a vacation in June, and is looking for some off-the-beaten-path spots to visit. He's been to Napa before, and he's done most of my favorites - Schramsberg, Far Niente, and so on. This time, he wants to try something new. And so I racked my brain, consulted my tweeps, and got down to business.

The question is where to go next? Any 'cult' vineyards that are worth seeing? Any over-the-top oenological experiences there that are hiding under my nose? Or, is there something else that is a must do? - Hall, Christchurch, New Zealand

After rigorous research and vetting (read: visiting a couple of these myself and asking some trusted friends), I think I have some ideas for you, Hall. First up, Frank Family Vineyards. I'm not really sure that Frank Family qualifies as a hidden treasure, since so many people mention them to me, but I love them all the same. Tucked away on a dusty side road just south of Calistoga, Frank Family produces delicious wines (I am particularly fond of their sparkling wines and their cabernet). They also have one of the livelier tasting rooms I've visited, with a casual, easy-going atmosphere.

Next, Reynolds Family. (Apparently, I have a thing for families.) I visited Reynolds Family with - appropriately enough - my mother, when we went to Napa in 2007. Our friends Rick and Aimee had alerted us to the awesomeness to be found at Reynolds, and they were right. The staff were some of the most knowledgable I've encountered in Napa, and the thirty-minute tasting was pure fun. They specialize in reds, and I actually have a bottle of their cabernet that needs drinkin'. Hmmm...

If you are hankering for a twisty drive, impressive views, and a gorgeous tasting room, head for Pride Mountain, which straddles the borders of Sonoma and Napa counties (and has the taxation headaches to prove it, it seems). Perched at the peak of the hill, the tasting room has expansive views of the valleys below, and the wines ain't bad, either. Just remember to designate a driver for the trek back down. (Safety first, kids!)

My friends Caroline and Brian are the ultimate Napa experts, so I trust their every word. They both (separately, so I REALLY trust it) recomment Vincent Arroyo, where the wine is so good that you really buy futures, as opposed to bottles. It sells out before it's out of the barrels. Seriously. And Brian says that August Brigg's Dijon Clones Pinot Noir is the best thing he tasted on his last trip.

So, Hall - I hope that'll do ya good for this trip. Don't forget to stop in at Bouchon Bakery for a caramel macaron, and you're golden.

As for the rest of you - please chime in with your favorite Napa and Sonoma destinations, and, also, with any questions you'd like to see me take on in a future edition of Queenie's Take!

Kitchen Lust: Vintage glassware.

If I had more cabinet space, one of the first things I'd invest in would be a collection of vintage glassware. Wine glasses, water goblets, champagne coupes (the ones above are available right now on Etsy) - you name it, I'd take it off your hands.

My ultimate goal? A motley yet curated collection that wouldn't look out of place on the best Parisian flea market tables.

Want to do what I can't? Go ahead and search Etsy and eBay, and don't tell me what you find. I'll just be too jealous.

When the weather outside is frightful...

Now that we're firmly entrenched in winter, it seems the right time for choucroute.

Lucy Vanel - she of the amazing, gorgeous, inspiring blog Lucy's Kitchen Notebook - agrees. Her latest post features a sublimely easy recipe for the Alsatian classic. If you'd like a bit more guidance, have a gander at these recipes.

Either way, go out, get some meat and sauerkraut, pick up a couple of bottles of Alsatian wine (I've had it from a reliable source that Gewurtztraminer is the best grape you can get), and settle in for a long winter's feast.

Mouthwatering photo courtesy of Lucy's Kitchen Notebook.

Champagne + biography = this reader's heaven!

I just saw this review by Roadfood's Jane and Michael Stern on NYTimes.com. Seems there is a new biography of the Widow (in French, Veuve) Clicquot that focuses "as much [on] Champagne itself as [on] the woman who helped elevate it to celebrity status."

Veuve is admittedly not my favorite Champagne, but Barbe-Nicole Clicquot was instrumental in turning Champagne into the international commercial enterprise it is today, and I can't help but be fascinated by that.

Sounds like my perfect book, and available at Barnes & Noble for less than 20 bucks (if you're a member, that is). Score!

Feasting with friends.

You know those nights when you just have an awesome time? Where the wine is unbelievably good and flows freely, where the food is simple but tasty and leaves you free to talk instead of just ooh and aah over it, where the company is comfortable and warm?

Saturday night was one of those nights for me.

My friends Caroline, Brian and Ellie came over for dinner, and we spent a most excellent evening together. Ellie's just started med school in Chicago, Caroline and Brian have just gotten engaged, and I'm starting a new role at work in January, so we had oodles to celebrate.

Accordingly, we drank a bottle of Schramsberg and a bottle of Ayala (an unbelievably good 1999 brut millésimé from my champagne soulmate, Louisa), some delicious homemade eggnog (courtesy of Brian, and accompanied by fried chickpeas with cilantro), and a gorgeous bottle of Hall Cabernet Sauvignon (which Caroline, far more discerning than I, pronounced too young, but I thoroughly enjoyed).

The food was all comfort, all the time: roasted tomato soup, gougères, macaroni and cheese with bacon and mushrooms, and sticky toffee puddings. The music was mainly Christmas songs, with a bit of Arcade Fire thrown in for spice. Ellie insisted on washing some dishes, and I actually let her, which means I must have been tipsier than I realized.

All in all, a fantastic evening.

Roasted Tomato Soup
Adapted from Ina Garten

3 lbs. plum tomatoes, sliced in half lengthwise
1/4 cup plus 2 tbs. olive oil, divided
1 tbs. kosher salt
1 1/2 tsp. ground black pepper
2 tbs. unsalted butter
2 small yellow onions, chopped
6 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
28 oz. canned plum tomatoes, with juice
4 cups fresh basil leaves
1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves, plus extra for garnish
1 quart chicken stock

Pre-heat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Toss the fresh tomatoes with 1/4 cup of the olive oil, the salt and the pepper, and spread evenly, in layer, on one large or two small rimmed baking sheets. Roast for 35-45 minutes, until well-browned.

In a large dutch oven or stockpot, heat the remaining 2 tbs. of olive oil and the butter over medium heat. Once the butter has melted, add the onions, garlic and red pepper flakes, and saute until the onions have begun to turn brown around the edges.

Add the canned tomatoes, basil, thyme and chicken stock. Add the roasted tomatoes, with their juices, and bring the mixture to a simmer. Simmer, uncovered, for forty minutes.

Using a stick blender (or a traditional blender, working in batches), blend to desired consistency (I like it thick but not chunky). Taste and adjust for seasoning and serve each bowl sprinkled with a few fresh thyme leaves.

Serves six, generously. Can be made up to a day ahead and reheated gently on the stovetop.

Paris, part four: Camille, la deuxième fois.

My second visit to Camille was a slightly more sedate affair - aside from a boisterous group of American women, the restaurant was relatively quiet when I tumbled in, fresh from Bar Hemingway, at about 10 o'clock. I was seated at a small table toward the back, and settled in with my book and a pichet (25, not 50 centilitres this time) of my beloved Bordeaux.

I'd filled up a bit on Bar Hemingway's most excellent potato chips, so I decided to forgo a starter and dive right into Camille's legendary (well, to me and Louisa, at the very least) steak tartare. I had to reassure the waiter that I knew the dish n'est pas cuit ("is not cooked"), and said yes to his offer of salad and frites on the side. This was gonna be good.

And it was. It was so good that I almost forgot to pause long enough to take a picture - but that would have been a crime, since you all deserve to bear witness to this most gorgeous dish. The steak tartare at Camille remains the best I have ever eaten - and I've eaten my fair share. The silky egg, the cornichons, capers and onions laced throughout the meat, the earthy mustard: all of these are to be expected, and are fantastically in play here.

But there's something else going on in Camille's tartare that I haven't quite been able to pin down - some elusive sweetness that balances out the tang of the traditional ingredients. This balance of sweet and savory is the same thing that makes their duck so delectable, and is, I think, is the thing that makes Camille so exceptional. You don't expect a neighborhood joint to produce something this subtly and intriguingly seasoned - it's a pretty impressive feat.

Oh, and the fries? Cooked in duck fat, and completely sublime. Ditto the simple salad, bibb lettuce tossed with a house-made vinaigrette.

Finally, to finish things off nice and proper, I ordered chocolate mousse for dessert. Camille's mousse is dense and rich, made with bittersweet chocolate and not a whole lot of sugar. Which is, for me, pretty close to perfection. I tried to solider through, but only managed to finish about half. My adorable waiter was a bit disappointed, I think. I promise to try harder next time!

No kitchen nightmare, this.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Cristin called me up and asked if I was busy one impending Friday night. I had some vague, misty plans, which promptly blew aside when she mentioned what she was calling about - for her birthday gift, her lovely boyfriend Paul had booked the chef's table at Gordon Ramsay at the London. Buh-bye, half-laid plans; hello nine-course dinner!

The nine lucky guests gathered in the bar just ahead of our 8 PM reservation. Our cast of characters for the evening:

Cristin, the birthday girl
Paul, the generous host
Connie, Cristin's oldest friend
Dan, Connie's husband and dog walker
Jasmine, a colleague of Cristin's
John, Jasmine's husband
Priya, another colleague of Cristin's, and quite the foodie in her own right
Rohit, Priya's husband, a devotee of sweet and fortified wines
Me!

After a cocktail in the bar (a glass of Ayala brut for me, my absolute favorite champagne from my trip last fall, and rarely to be found here in the States), we trouped back through the dining room, down a long, narrow hallway lined with wine refrigeration, and into the hot, bustling kitchen.

We were seated at a stainless steel horseshoe-shaped table facing the pass, and since the table and its banquette were raised a couple of feet off the floor, we had a clear view of the entire kitchen, all the way down to the end where the food for the more casual restaurant, Maze, is prepared. The pass was directly in front of us, so we had a front-row seat to the executive and sous-chef's doings all night long.

The meal was one of the longest I've ever had, with eleven courses spread over four and a half hours. There were canapes, two dishes featuring foie gras, three fish courses, and three desserts (not counting the cheese or the petits fours). Each course was paired with a different wine, starting with champagne and finishing with a sherry from 1971 (the birthday girl's birth year, it's worth noting).

Each course was introduced by the cook responsible for it - the guy working the fish line introduced the scallops, the cold appetizer guy told us all about the crudo, and the grill cook told us all about our filet, and the most adorable (and patient) captain painstakingly carved and served our cheese course.

For me, the highlights of the meal were the crudo and the quail. Well, those and watching Cristin learn from the pastry chef how to make a souffle. But first things first: that crudo. Delicate circles of pale swordfish and flushed tuna were served with paper-thin slices of cucumber - the crisp cucumber added some crunch to the fleshy, unctuous fish, and the soya dressing added a hint of richness. The dish was satisfying but light, substantial but ethereal. Really, really well done.

Quail and liver make a classic pair - Ouest serves roasted quail with a side of duck liver risotto, and dinner party hosts have been impressing their quests with quail stuffed with foie gras for years now. Both represent impractical luxury at its finest - quail with its tiny bones and little bitty pieces of meat, and foie gras with its time- and care-intensive production - and both are delectably, delicately rich. This presentation was no exception - a seared leg of quail flavored with honey and soy was presented atop a sweet-and-savory pear chutney (fall creeping into the menu there), alongside a seared lobe of foie gras. We eaters were left to mix and match meat and liver to our hearts' content.

Once we'd made it through the savory courses (save the cheese), the smokers declared it was time for a break, and the rest of us started poking around the kitchen. Josh, the executive chef, took Cristin back to the pastry station, where the pastry chef and his assistant taught her all about the fine art of souffle-making (whipping the egg whites, folding in the sugar, and so on). She very much enjoyed the lesson, which she attended under Gordon's watchful eye - you know what they say: if you can't be there, a wire sculpture of your imposing mug is the next best thing.

Chef's Table
Gordon Ramsay at The London
September 28, 2007
Photos of the full menu

Selection of canapes
~
Melon sorbet with watermelon, blood orange and tomato
~
Confit of Hudson Valley foie gras with slow-cooked free-range chicken
and micro green herb salad
Joh. Jos. Prum, Graacher Himmelreich, Mosel 2004
~
Carpaccio of swordfish and tuna with cucumber, herb salad and soya dressing
Riesling Rosenbourg, Paul Blanck 2004
~
Hand-dived scallops roasted with spices, golden raisin puree
and cauliflower beignets
Alex Gambal Chassagne-Montrachet 2003
~
Braised Pacific halibut larded with smoked salmon,
Romaine hearts, artichokes and marinated lemon, served with
smoked horseradish veloute
Godello, As Sortes, Rafael Palacios, Valdeorras 2005
~
Honey and soy roasted quail with sauteed foie gras
and spiced pear chutney
Corton, Grand Cru Les Combes, Chateau Genot-Boulanger 2002
~
Filet of Brandt beef and braised shortrib, spaetzle with
shallot confit and beef jus
Mayacamas, Napa Valley Cabernet 1992
~
Selection of cheeses
Chateau La Clotte-Cazalis 2003
~
Pineapple puree, vanilla yoghurt, pineapple granite, coconut tuiles
Apple and caramel trifle with cider granite, cinammon doughnut
~
Valrhona chocolate fondant with caramelized banana ice cream,
vanilla moelleux and malted milk
Bodegas Toro Albala, PX, Gran Reserva, Montilla-Moriles 1971