When superstar chef Jean-Georges
Vongerichten invites you to be his guest for dinner, you
don't turn him down. Even if it means traveling to the
Bahamas.
Over the course of one's culinary life span, there are usually no
more than a handful of meals that stick to one's gut forever; no
more than a few gastronomic episodes that remain lodged in one's
taste buds beyond that last bit of palate-cleansing sorbet.
No, I'm not talking about Montezuma's revenge. I'm talking about
the kind of meal you
dream of having one day -the kind of
meal you dream about afterward should you be so lucky as to have
actually eaten one. It is for this reason that when superstar chef
Jean-Georges Vongerichten invited me to a private dinner, I
couldn't possibly say no, despite the fact that
the Bahamas is a
heck of a long way to go for a meal (even if you live in Miami,
which I don't).
In the foodie world, Vongerichten is one of the few chefs to
transcend his recipes to become a culinary personality and empire.
If you think that it's easy, try counting the ones you know.
There's Emeril Lagasse. That's easy. But then who comes to mind
next? Maybe Wolfgang Puck? Bobby Flay? Jamie Oliver? Paul
Prudhomme? Or maybe not. Celebrity chefs just don't roll off the
tongue like
basketball players and hotel-chain heirs, especially
when your name is
Vongerichten.
But suffice it to say, the man knows his way around a kitchen. In
1986, before the tender age of 30, he earned four stars from the
New York Times for his work at Lafayette, inside Swissôtel
the Drake. He also struck culinary gold in 1992 with Vong, his
Thai-infused French restaurant that began in
New York City and now
occupies kitchen real estate in
Hong Kong,
London, and
Chicago. In
1996, he was named Best Chef: New York City by the religiously
respected
James Beard Foundation. The following year,
Esquire magazine designated him Chef of the Year after he
opened
Jean Georges in the Trump International Hotel and Tower, and
in 1998, the restaurant received the Illy Best New Restaurant
award. Obviously, these people know a thing or two about food.
Since that time, Vongerichten has opened heralded restaurants in
New York (Mercer Kitchen, Nougatine, Perry St., 66, Spice Market),
Las Vegas (Prime Steakhouse),
Houston (Bank), London (Rama, V),
Paris (Market), and
Shanghai (Jean Georges). He has written three
cookbooks, including
Jean-Georges: Cooking at Home with a
Four-Star Chef, and you can find his line of gourmet sauces
under the Vong label at boutique groceries and markets around the
world. So, like I said, when Vongerichten invites you to dinner,
you clear your schedule.
Vongerichten's latest venture is Café Martinique in the Bahamas, a
re-creation of the island's legendary café whose original claim to
fame was an appearance in the 1965
James Bond flick
Thunderball. Of course, this is a new-and-improved version,
housed inside the Atlantis resort's brand-new 65,000-square-foot
marketplace, Marina Village. Though the original restaurant closed
in 1997, a few of the original Café Martinique employees have been
wrangled up to work again. You know, to keep it real.
THERE ARE SEVEN OF US eating on this night, and we have the
restaurant to ourselves. It's the evening after the grand opening,
and Vongerichten has arranged for the restaurant to be closed to
the public. When we reach the café's entrance, we are whisked up to
the dining area in a wrought iron birdcage elevator - a spectacular
piece put in place by restaurant/hotel design atelier Adam D.
Tihany, who also designed
Thomas Keller's Per Se in New York, among
many others.
With this re-creation, Tihany remained true to the café's original
British Colonial style. The large, open dining room is a royal
affair without losing touch with its location on an island -
expansive windows offer views out to the million-dollar yachts in
the adjacent marina. The soothing sound of a Steinway piano greets
guests ascending the regal mahogany staircase framed by etched
glass, in place because the elevator only holds so many. Whichever
route you choose, you'll start to feel a bit like James Bond
yourself.
We are greeted by Vongerichten and a fascinating man named Allen
Brown, personal fisherman to the superchef. Both are standing
beside a table that holds the day's fresh catch. There are so many
fish here, it looks like
Seattle's Pike Place Market. I spy conch,
red parrot fish, turbot, hog snapper, four types of grouper
(including
Nassau grouper, the most popular fish on the island),
Bahamian lobster, and a huge spider crab, as well as a few
unidentifiable saltwater species.
Brown explains that he has hand-caught everything we see by using a
spear. It is a two-man affair, requiring one to spear the fish (100
feet below the surface, mind you) and one to keep an eye out for
sharks. (I guess I've never really thought about where my fish
comes from, but that's some crazy stuff right there.) Vongerichten
credits Brown with 70 percent of what he does. "Without the
product, we are nothing," he says. James Bond has nothing on Allen
Brown.
Brown then demonstrates a Bahamian tradition I could have done
without as an appetizer. He first challenges any of us to remove
the pistol, a slimy portion of the digestive system of the conch
that is wedged quite firmly inside its shell. "For a million
dollars, you can't get it out," he cackles. A few try, but it
doesn't budge. Brown then pokes a small hole to relieve the
pressure inside the conch and pulls the pistol right out … and into
his mouth.
We all gasp in horror as he explains the locals believe the pistol
to be a walloping aphrodisiac. "You'll be in trouble tonight," says
Vongerichten. "No,
she'll be in trouble," counters Brown.
WE AWAIT THE FIRST COURSE like rabid parents at a Christmas
department-store sale.
When it finally arrives - a rice-cracker-crusted tuna - it is, of
course, a knockout. The salty crunch of the rice cracker marries
perfectly with the buttery tuna, a fish that sat before us on the
table not 20 minutes prior. We chase it with Moët & Chandon
White Star NV from the Epernay Champagne appellation and toast to
our good fortune.
Though none of us is too keen on trying conch after Brown's
complete disregard for sensitive stomachs and American food tastes,
we suck it up on the second course and lap up the excellent conch
chowder, more reminiscent of the Manhattan version than the New
England one. Next comes a frisée, endive, pear, and blue cheese
salad - an uncomplicated dish that revels in its simplicity and
freshness - paired with an earthy Marquis de Garraud 2002
Bordeaux.
A three-course whammy of entrées follows, and it's the best yet
that Vongerichten has offered on this balmy evening. We begin with
a grouper with roasted pickled peppers, combined with a 2004 South
African Graham Beck Chardonnay - crisp with hints of lime and
vanilla - which proves to be an excellent companion.
Lobster thermidor arrives next, a rich, fat portion of lobster tail
browned to perfection in the superbroiler. It's paired with a
unique Falanghina Fendi San Gregorio from
Campania,
Italy, and our
taste buds are shocked and awed. Then comes the meal's coup de
grâce: a New York strip au poivre paired with a 2002 Stag's Leap
Artemis Cabernet Sauvignon that had been decanted and allowed to
breathe for four hours.
This succulent piece of perfectly grilled, medium-rare beef is
loaded down with more pepper than an Indian spice market. Some in
our party complain that it is too much; for me, it couldn't have
been enough. Pepper is one of my best friends. Moreover, it's the
quintessential embodiment of the perfect dish: nothing more than a
darn good steak chased by a darn good wine, which is all you can
really ask for when you dine at Vongerichten's house.
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