As a general rule, we don’t like to eat straight fat. That is, unless, it’s the fat rendered from an engorged goose liver.
Washington diners (and I use that term in the most derogatory sense possible) and critics (ditto) rave about Restaurant Eve like they were the first to uncover the Dead Sea Scrolls. Specifically, people gush about the tasting menu, which takes place in a room of about eight to ten tables and offers diners the choice of a five- or nine-course meal.
We’d only previously been able to enjoy the fabulous signature cocktails and much-celebrated birthday cake, complete with pink frosting and sprinkles, as our budgets would not allow for the indulgence that is the tasting room.
But on a glorious day last June, we got lucky. A few weeks before our reservation, AC popped the ole question to yours truly, and AC’s dad, DC, who shares our tendency for eating past the state of fullness, treated us to an engagement celebration fit for kings…and people with five stomachs.
It would take me a year to remember every course (DC and I opted for nine, AC, wisely, went for five), many of which were the size of actual entrees, but the epiphany occurred when the seared foie gras on brioche toast with gooseberry jam was placed before me. Though ordering it is a gamble (it’s an extra $20 supplement to the regular menu price), it became immediately clear that I had done the right thing. The presentation was magical: A very buttery, lightly browned toasted brioche cup came in two pieces. The “cup” part was tapered at the end and held the delicate foie gras, which was a neat palm-sized portion, slightly blackened on the top from the cooking, but otherwise fragile, as if one fork tine would cause it to come completely undone. Another piece of toasted brioche was gingerly balancing atop the fatty liver. Accompanying this elegant display was a small pool of gooseberry jam for dipping.
Each bite of this course was extremely rich; I could feel my arteries grimace with each taste. The foie gras was fatty, yes, but it was more like a salty, meaty butter with only a hint of liver flavor. Because the serving was modest, each bite had to be carefully assembled. A small piece of foie gras, a corner of brioche, and a dab of gooseberry. The combination of salty spread, buttery crisp toast, and sweet jam resulted in a transcendent amalgam of flavors.
Though I’ve had foie gras in its various forms, nothing comes close to having it prepared expertly seared. And thus, Eve is all right in my book.
—AK
Hey, AK, this is MOM-- you know, the one in "One Fish, Two Fish." Well, I am appalled that you would consider it a gamble to order foie gras. I would think that you would be overwhelmingly genetically predisposed to it. I would eat it every day if it were practical. I would ignore the call of the gym, the Tony Hill Workout tapes, the Beachbody fitness gear, and my recently ordered body blueprint from Makeover America, all for a little savory tidbit of foie gras. So that you can be fully under the thrall of that Siren's song, let me give you a few more ideas along that line. The fifth floor in the Hotel Palomar in San Francisco has the most wonderful foie gras amuse bouche. It deceptively appears to be mere foie gras mousse piped into a small cup. Wrong. I have no idea exactly what was done to it, but there are little hints of Kosher salt suspended in the mousse that almost explode when you eat them. It is an ultimate food fantasy realized. Also, along the lines of Eve is the Pacific's Edge at the Highland Inn in Carmel. They have highly complex entrees on their tasting menu, and the foie gras is served both sauteed and in terrine with a berry sauce which is perfectly located at the intersection of tart and sweet. I ordered this particuar offering twice-- in one meal. The restaurant also has a Wine Spectator award-winning cellar and a world-class view of the Pacific. Expect a short stay and dining to set you back the equivalent of an average house payment. Finally, and this is a walk down memory lane, in your own fair city, there used be a Ritz Carlton on Massachusetts Avenue. The restaurant there was the famed Jockey Club. They had a wonderful notion for foie gras. They served it with pain grille and a glass of Chateau D'Yquem, all for a rather regal sum of $150. A perfect starter. That is gone now, the place is a Luxury Collection Sheraton, and no Jockey Club. Sic transit gloria mundi.
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