[Pigging by Wilfrid: August 17, 2007]
It was the waterfall put some people off. Made them dizzy.
Or perhaps it was the Ryvita. Reminded them of calorie-controlled diets.
Well, the Ryvita is still there (it's not, of course, it's the restaurant's own Scandinavian-style crispbread, and it's only one component of the generous basket). The fountain has gone. Or rather, the fountain stayed and the restaurant moved, in 2005, from its original home to blandly modern premises designed by Michael Franck on 55th Street.
Marcus Samuelsson became executive chef in 1995, at the age of twenty-four following stints in less senior kitchen positions. The restaurant is now so identified with him, that people may assume he opened it. Not so: the Swedish entrepreneur Håkan Swan, along with his partners, opened the restaurant in 1987 in a grand 54th Street townhouse owned by a Scandinavian Bank. The main dining room was in a kind of two-storey downstairs atrium dominated by a giddily cascading stream of water which some diners preferred not to face, striking though it was.
Ten years ago, I worked in offices nearby, and often lunched in the dining room. The preferred occasion was the annual crayfish boil, featuring big jars of the bright orange bugs cooked in Swedish beer with dill. The messiness of the experience contrasted with the cool-chic surroundings. Dinners were taken there too (I never, for some reason, ate in the more casual bar); but although I liked it well enough, I lost touch around the time I changed jobs, and never caught up with Aquavit in its new incarnation.
Matters were rectified this summer with repeat visits, and an extensive tour up and down the twin tasting menus (currently $115 per person, $195 with wine pairings). A couple of trays of amuses to start you off.
Now the problem here, of course, is that someone has already nabbed the little oysters which sat on those beds of salt. I think we can assume they were appealing.
While the main thrust of Samuelsson's cuisine is unquestionably global/modern (what used to be called modern French, but really isn't any more), he adheres to certain Swedish accents - pickling and smoking, in particular - and at the beginning of the meal to a classic Swedish ingredient, herring. In fact, herring is a northern European crush: the Germans around the Baltic eat it by the netful, and the British are fond of it too. The amuse trays feature herring prepared in several different ways, most pleasurably - for me - the sweet pickled version which Germans call Bismarck herrings and the British (garnishing it with sweet pickled onion) "rollmops". That's Samuelsson's sweet version, left of the lower tray, with a stronger, saltier version next to it. Notice lingonberries hanging around, even on the oyster, decorative and playing a sweet-sour note.
I eschewed the wine pairing; thought a 2003 Chassagne-Montrachet 1er Cru, Ramonet's "Boudriotte" was fair at $125; also got my nose into a small format "Brune et Blonde" Guigal Côte Rotie. It's a long list; the German and Alsatian offerings look impressive, but that's outside my field.
The faux lobster roll is another Samuelsson signature, living up to his boast of balancing acidity and sweetness in the cuisine. For once, the wrap is not turnip (all the rage in Manhattan this summer): it's apple, sliced thin, gently pickled (and when I speak of pickling in this kitchen, don't imagine harsh vinegary flavors - it's a subtle, balanced affair). Well-flavored lobster inside, a trout roe garnish, and the stylish touch of a bacon-flavored egg smudge at the side. A hit.
More challenging, but exciting, this presentation of yellowtail. The cubes of fish topped with a sharp lime foam, then capped with crisp discs of nori. This is a bracing, briney experience. Comfortingly, the glistening brown slivers offer the safe haven of umami, meatiness. Unexpectedly, they are duck's tongues. Offal maven that I am, duck tongue has never been a favorite; I often come across it in Szichuan cooking, boney and fairly flavorless. These are filets, braised, sweet and delicate.
Avocado has never been my favorite flavor, and the cool green avocado broth was not to my personal taste; which is nothing against it. The tangle of crab salad was tasty enough.
Another signature, another hit: the foie gras ganache (that's the light little "pudding" with a moist foie-ish center top left); thin sliced ballotine of cured quail (this is top charcuterie; a raisin smear - sorry, vinaigrette; and some pickled (again) asparagus. The balancing elements of flavor and texture on the plate scarcely need to emphasized. In case you wonder, it was very well executed.
Another really good dish. Hey, Blue Hill fans would like this. The most melting, almost jelly-like (in a good way) hot smoked trout, bathing in a fragrant apple-horseradish broth. Earthy slices of mushroom cap it, and a couple of chives.
Anyone who has been writing about restaurants in New York for five years runs the risk of being jaded. Especially by endless examples of perfectly good, perfectly predictable tuna or beef tartares. Any variation brings a frisson, and this is a turret of raw beef, enlivened with tartare of octopus. Surprising but functional, the octopus playing a fatty second fiddle to the cow. The menu mentions smoked avocado, but that rings no bell. I had thought it was fresh horseradish on top (another flavor note Samuelsson loves).
Venison, rare and tender (good), not too gamey (oh well, this is New York) with smashing little horseradish dumplings.
Beef two ways. Potentially dull, but I did like the quality of the filet, seasoned as you see; the braise was actually just a bit dry.
While we nibble the cheese - I am not a big fan of the dining room. Quite different from the old Aquavit, this is a low (or low-seeming), dimly lit rectangle of a room. Booths along one side. Larger tables with high-backed chairs at each end. Wood everywhere. I can see, but not quite specify, the Scandinavian touch, but it's a little close to Hotel Anywhere too. Comfortable of course, but far from grand. Service came from extremes: one captain, effusive to the max; the other, serious, correct, a little stern almost. There's ground in between. The only real grumble - and Aquavit is far from alone in this - is that a decision needs to be made about who will explain the dishes. If it's to be the second-string waiters, they need to get the descriptions down better; if the captains, they need to take charge. As it was, we tended to get a sketchy run-through at first approach, with details filled in by the captain or sommelier later.
...the unfair and insensitive wreckage of chef Samuelsson's famous Arctic Circle - in the background, assaulted by spoon before I could reach for the camera. What is struck asunder is a firm parfait of goat cheese and lemongrass, concealed inside the acidic kick of a passionfruit curd. The sorbet, blueberry. Upstaging that classic, several nice ways with chocolate.
Aquavit is a well-established, popular restaurant, and Marcus Samuelsson is practically festooned with awards. Three New York Times stars from consecutive critics, various James Beard gongs. In addition to the two Aquavit dining rooms, and AQ Cafe, and Riingo, the step up from cooking to (co-)ownership, there are the books and the TV appearances and...well, Aquavit somehow went off my radar, and hasn't been discussed as much as one might expect by the New York fine-beaks chasing after the latest openings, the new names.
It's expensive, yes. It's also very good - certainly as far as the conception and execution of these long tasting menus are concerned. Harmonious, balanced, and with the true mark of a thoughtful chef - themes repeated as stimulating variations. Worth rediscovering. (And I must make a note to get to the casual area at last for some hearty fun with meatballs).
Aquavit lurks here. The paired tasting menus aren't detailed, though. All errors above are mine. Discuss this article at Mouthfulsfood.
