Showing posts with label St. Barths. Show all posts
Showing posts with label St. Barths. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Restaurant Le Gaic

One of the number one indicators of a good food culture is whether or not friendly conversation turns to food. Be it in New Orleans, France, Napa or elsewhere if a stranger asks you "Where are you eating while here?", you have chosen a food friendly city. And thus it was with St. Barth's, wherever we went people asked us that question. When we answered "Le Gaic" we got the following response without fail: a rubbing of the belly and "Oui...la gastronomique."

For our final meal in St. Barth's we chose Restaurant Le Gaic at the Hotel Toiny. The restaurant, like most St. Barth restaurants, is open to the elements. We were seated at the edge of the dining on the edge of an infinity pool overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. The view would have impressed Ansel Adams.

First up was an elegant presentation of olives and gougeres. The green and black olives swam in a lemon infused olive oil. The result was an olive that was neither overtly briny nor acidic but an almost sweet, definitely subtle taste. Next to the olives, folded into billowing white pockets of napkin, were gorgeous little gougeres some filled with mozzarella and tomato others with fried pumpkin.

Settling into the plush, cushioned chairs we realized quickly a fabulous meal would soon come our way. First an amuse of smoked chicken and vegetable spring roll. So tiny and flavorful we wondered if there was a team of small handed chefs in the kitchen.
First course for me was foie gras. An enormous lobe of foie gras sat atop an orange and onion soubisse. Surrounding the delicate liver was a pool of tart demi glace, which contrasted nicely with the rich foie. Sitting atop all of this was a gingerbread tuile, providing a crackly contrast to the smooth star of the dish.
Lindsay's first course was a crispy scallop dish studded with truffles and surrounded by a salted lemon foam. The truffles in this dish were no afterthought. Large, almost pulsing truffles were tucked into the nooks and crannies. To find a truffle amongst the scallops was to unearth a treasure of the forest under the sea.
Next up for me (I had two additional courses than Lindsay did) was a crawfish ravioli with an almond foam. Delicious, huge crawfish perfectly poached, hide under impossibly thin sheets of pasta. This produced an altogether different sensation of eating crawfish than our typical and wonderful boiled crawfish.
One of the specials the night we were there was a truffled cream pasta course. Which sounds decadent in its own right, but the presentation was even more luxurius. A huge wheel of Parmesan was rolled over to the table, its inside hallowed out to create a bowl. The warm pasta was tossed in the pasta bowl while hot cream was ladled over it. Then, a truffle the size of a golf ball was shaved over the whole thing.

In one of the great misopportunities of my life, we skipped this dish. Earlier in the week Lindsay had eaten "the single greatest thing ever". A ravioli with ricotta, truffle, and cream. She feared ruining the memory of such an exquisite dish. Sometimes it is about what you dont eat.

Then before the main courses, we were served a lime sorbet. A perfect palate cleanser, as beautiful to look at as it was to eat. Yes, this one also had a foam.

Lindsay's main course was a grouper stuffed with lobster and another light foam along with some perfectly cooked asparagus spears.
I had the duck with tiny baby vegetables and a cherry coffee stick. The cherry coffee stick provided the sweetness so often served with duck, but in a wholly new light.

Dessert for me was a false Cannoli of chocolate mousse, marinated strawberries, and basil foam wrapped in a nougat shell. The dish was stunning. The grassiness of the basil foam gave way to the acidic sweetness of the strawberries which then birthed the dark, rich chocolate mousse.
Lindsay opted for a Grasshopper cocktail served with a spun globe of dark chocolate.

The wines were nothing to sneeze at either. A 2007 White Burgundy took us up to the Duck Course, while this herbaceous, cherry driven Gevrey-Chambertin with its delicate tannins saw us through dessert.

Finally some mignardiase including the smallest palmiers I have ever seen. Writing this article, I struggled to come up with a great closing line. Some Bourdain like summation that was both philosophical and paradoxical. But no such line came. Instead I realized that sometimes sharing an amazing meal with someone you love deeply is meaning enough.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Lovely Places To Eat When You Are Stranded in St. Barth's

Part II

St. Barth's is a Caribbean Island with one toe in the Atlantic. The island began 50 million years ago when God used his mulligan after Tijuana, Cozumel, and Panama City. So he created a French and Swedish colonial island where truffles grow on foie gras trees and fish ferry fresh fruits from Neptune's treasure chest. Needless to say, it is a horrific place to visit if you don't like wonderful food, unspoiled beaches, and the smell of the ocean.

So if you happen to find yourself stranded in St. Barth's, here are some places you should eat, if you must.

Every morning we headed to La Petite Colombe Boulangerie for croissants, fresh squeezed orange juice, and cafe creme. I am not making that name up, for you insiders of the blog. Any time your day begins by dodging shrapnel from a near perfect croissant and tearing ends off of a baguette, I would say your day can only go up. Grab a sandwich on your way to the beach. We grew partial to the Curry Chicken Salad.
K'Fe Massai was a charming African attired, world flavored, French bistro. To start Lindsay got a duo of raw beef: carpaccio and tartare. I jumped on the foie gras torchon with fig mostarda with such gusto the waiter shuddered. For my main I had an ethereal pork dish (which did not photo well) with perfectly cooked vegetables and caramelized rice with a soy sauce glaze. Lindsay head butted this seafood risotto, with chunks of lobsters, shrimp, scallops, and mahi mahi. Her main complaint? She wanted more.

For dessert, Lindsay chose an apple tart tatin with cinnamon ice cream. It came with a crown of sesame.
I had the Ti Punch barely understanding what that was. What arrived was a glass of vanilla rum and a Liuzza's style schooner of lemon sorbet. The sorbet had chunks of lemon confit which created a dynamic textural balance to the tart and smooth sorbet. You poured the rum over the sorbet, swirled it around, and watched your troubles fall to the wayside. At least that is how I did it.
Probably one of my favorite meals of the trip was at this little spot called Andy's The Hideaway. At lunchtime, it became the hub of the island with the gendarme, city clerks, and workmen sharing bottles of cold, vin ordinaire rouge as they tucked into the plat du jour. We opted for more Carpaccio. The Carpaccio came awash in a less formal version of pesto. Lemon, basil, and olive oil, lightly pureed and painted over thin slices of beef tenderloin. This Carpaccio was so good it made you wonder why man discovered fire.

Then some pizzas. A Neapolitan for Lindsay with extra anchovies and one with Bayonne ham for me. I am sure you are saying, "Pizzas, cheesburgers, you tourists." Shut up, we were on vacation and the smells from the oven could not be ignored. Plus they were studies in why a pizza made with a thin-crust and judicious use of toppings is just damn good.
Guess which pizza had ham on it? After Lindsay downed her Planter's Punch we ordered a Carafe of the aforementioned wine. The afternoon's appointments were seriously in jeopardy.
Dessert of course was more ice cream with liquor on the top. Here, they chose strawberry and lemoncello. A call was placed, all appointments for the afternoon were canceled in favor of a nap by the pool.
More on St. Barth's next week, including our run in with high gastronomy, foams, and wheels of parmesan.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Songs About Food and Drinking

This is Part I of a LXI Part Series on St. Barths, traveling, and the Colonial period.

Despite the fact that most people, save models and those protesting the British, need to eat and drink at least once a day, there is a relative dearth of songs about food and booze. Songs are mostly written about dudes who love chicks who love poetry or cars. Sure, there is Escape ("The Pina Colada Song"), that Gwen Stefani song about bananas, and Honey by Mariah Carey, but who listens to those with the windows rolled down in a 1997 Camaro? Not I, said the bug.

So face it, the greatest song about food and drink is Cheeseburger in Paradise by none other than James T. Buffet. The song itself is pure genius from a get in your head and stay there point of view. Plus making fun of a menu at a Holiday Inn is always welcome in our book. Well, the story behind the song states that The Pirate now looking at Sixty wrote the diddly after a cheeseburger at Le Select in Gustavia Harbor on St. Barth's. And guess where Lindsay and I were last week? Not at work I can assure you.

(Sorry had to include this photo, I took it all by myself, and it doesn't suck!)

Le Select will celebrate its 60th Anniversary this November. Their fiftieth featured the above balladeer performing a free concert, so plan now. Situated under a canopy of trees is a snack bar, a booze bar, and some tables. You grab a few Caribs, order a burger (a single for Lindsay, a double bacon laced deal for moi), and wait. In a few minutes over a cackling loudspeaker comes a Franglish sputtering which sounds like this "Un, numba won, pick up yer or dare." Translated it means: "Your food is ready."


A frosty Carib.

The Marius Special at Le Select. Two all beef patties, cheese, bacon, white onion, lettuce, mayo, mustard, ketchup, and tomato.

Sure there are better burgers. But combine the setting, this history, and the fact it beat work and it sure was a Cheeseburger in Paradise, except where was the big kosher pickle?