A Day in the Life

A Day in the Life

Heading home after a long day at work, obsessed with the thoughts of lovely fat women, pretty of face, ample of body and sharp and witty of mind, my path takes me through Grand Central Terminal and the thousands of people coming, going and at this time of year, seemingly just hanging out and watching the displayed holiday images on the ceiling and walls of the main room. The regular high powered, high speed zigzag used to reach my train platform, usually diagonally placed from the corner I enter GCT won’t work at this time of year. There are easily half again and perhaps twice as many people in the terminal, many of them milling around eyeing the visual display or, exhausted from a day of shopping or awaiting the appearance of friends and family stand like statues. To make matters worse from a FAs perspective they’re all wearing overcoats as winter, for some reason not in a hurry to stay, has made one of its cold feints into the Northeast. So, all these people, many of them bbws and ssbbws, are essentially hidden from view by the billowing coats and outerwear. Also, the shear volume of people tend to hide individuals from view as my attention as a faster moving pedestrian needs to be focused on the ten or twenty feet of space in front of me to navigate around slower moving folks, milling obstacles, people with abundant suitcases and the like. Clearly not for beginners.

But as I make my way finally to my platform the logjam is broken and the number of people is manageably reduced. On a slightly earlier train than usual to deal with something on the home front I hope to see a different crop of commuters and some infrequent visitors to the city on the train. My hopes are met as I swing into my usual car and look for an open seat. From the outside, looking in the windows I see at least three women who are bbws and one who appears to be a ssbbw. In fact, the woman entering the car in front of me has a swinging wide rear atop a lovely set of graceful full legs. That poetic pliability of flesh and fabric which follows a woman with thighs wider than the space between the two legs is working and my outlook has improved immediately. I’m also looking for a suitable seat, the aisle seat on a three seater row with no one in the middle. If the passenger sitting on the window seat is a bbw or ssbbw that would be even better. I pass the three bbws sitting in the car but no empty seats next to them. As I continue down the aisle and the open seats I know are there, I follow the gal with the mesmerizing meaty mambo and watch as she heads for the second open seat, so I head for the first one, in the row behind her.

As I approach my seat I look at the couple sitting together in the row behind the one I’ll be in. They are actually quite huge, surprisingly so. The man looks like you’d expect Santa Claus to look like if he stopped climbing in the sleigh so much and let himself really enjoy the food at the North Pole. I can’t tell how tall he is, but I’m guessing under 5’8” and the weight somewhere in the 400s with a very ample belly to go with his wide full face ringed by a white beard and wispy white hair. Sitting next to him is his wife, they both have their wedding bands in view, a ssbbw of similar vintage… probably early to mid 50s. My first impression is that she has one of the huge black and white cookies sold in the terminal resting on her bosom as if it were a table or shelf. They’re discussing some book the fella is reading and the woman keeps absently touching the cookie, almost stroking it, until I notice that she’s flipped it over so the black and white frosting is now pointed down and the baked bottom of the cookie is facing up. As I slowly take off my overcoat, scarf and suit jacket, stowing them on the overhead rack and letting people walk by(it’s easier to do this stuff while standing in the aisle then when in the row of seats(not enough room for this big fellow to maneuver gracefully there) I have an opportunity to observe the woman. She is sitting in the middle seat, tight up against her hubby, rather than the more roomy aisle seat which would give them some space. While not a spring chicken she has that smooth,unlined facial skin common among women of size who haven’t spent a lot of time losing and gaining weight. Her body shape seemed to be that of a pear shaped woman with a relatively smaller top spreading to a much wider base. I would consider her an ssbbw of middle size. My initial interest in why she elected to sit in the middle seat(sort of, since her husband extended somewhat into that seat) rather than the end seat which would have given them both more room, was answered about ten minutes after the train took off and I heard gentle snoring from both of them periodically. Of course, had someone wanted to sit in the same row(with three seats, nominally), the space between the aisle and the woman’s left hip was probably under a foot. How sweet it was to see the two of them together, growing older as a loving fat couple, the woman having eaten the black and white cookie before going to sleep.

After sitting for a few minutes and just before the train headed off, another bbw came up the aisle. A shortish, about 5’3” dirty blond with shoulder length hair and thick arms, smallish bust and slightly bigger belly but ample derriere. A tasty confection, if not a meal sized treat. And then, after she was settled she took out Tattoo Magazine. I spent the rest of the ride trying to imagine how many tattooes she must have and where they are located. None were apparent and she was dressed conservatively in a pair of black dockers and a purple wool sweater which seemed just a bit snug. I hoped that it would creep up exposing her back above her waistband and show a tattoo. Alas, when it was my stop she was still fully covered and apparently tattoo free.

And off I went….

Le Bernardin Beckons, Part II

Le Bernardin Beckons, Part II

Picking up again at the beginning of the Main course of my luncheon at Le Bernardin, the salmon amuse bouche and the appetizer and bread have taken the edge off my hunger and tittilated my palate enough for me to be ready for the main course with its different elements.

I’ve been a fan of monkfish for quite some time and have enjoyed it at many restaurants and even in my own home but have never been able to get the texture as perfectly done as they achieve at Le Bernardin. When I first heard of Monkfish I had been told it was known as poor man’s lobster because of the texture and mouthfeel, if not taste of the fish. It does have a similar feel to it, not flaky like a flounder or steak-like as tuna or swordfish can be. The tender near white flesh resists the bite and maintains its shape and integrity as you chomp down on it, much in the way that lobster has an almost rubbery feel. The monkfish generally isn’t quite as elastic as the lobster, but also has a slightly less strident a flavor, making it more suitable to flavoring.

The menu called the Monkfish entrée a tribute to Gaudí: pan roasted Monkfish; confit peppers and fiery “patatas bravas”; Chorizo Albariño emulsion. The pan roasted monkfish appears on the plate as a series of slices fanned into a gently curved line in the middle of the plate. The finely diced peppers sit in a vertical orientation below the fish. The potatoes are smaller versions of the bar food known as potato logs, potatoes split lengthwise into narrow sections above the fish. The potato sections are drizzled with two narrow parallel zigzags in bright contrasting colors. Once the plate is firmly situated in front of you, the server gently pours a happy smile of the Chorizo Albariño emulsion at the bottom of the plate facing you. The chorizo is the spanish or Portuguese sausage and Albariño is a grape used in a dry Spanish wine. The orange/red sauce is relatively thin, but coherent presenting a lovely support to balance the monkfish and potatoes above it. Finally, with the smile of the sauce, the confit peppers, sitting above the sauce and below the monkfish appear like a bright red soul patch. Preliminary review finds the potatoes to be small but prior experience counsels cutting the potatoes into smaller pieces for eating to enjoy them more fully. The two zigzagged sauces have different but complementary flavors with a bit of spice. As a chili head and a disciple of the capsaicin cult I didn’t find the sauces to be fiery. For those who don’t like spicy foods fiery might be only a slight stretch. In any event they were piquant and tasty. The monkfish as recalled was ethereally delicious, with a mild flavor and a rich mouthfeel even before dipping in the emulsion. I tend to be no fan of overly complicated names for things, and in this case I think the name for the emulsion is a bit wordy, but…. It was amazingly good. I’m a big lover of chorizo the Iberian sausage so frequently used in Spanish and Portuguese cooking and I was dubious of getting the big bold flavors of the chorizo into a relatively thin sauce. But, surprisingly, the bright sauce held both the flavor and rich aroma of the chorizo without the bulk or even flecks of the sausage. The wine flavor was mostly overcome by the bigger sausage flavor. Somehow, I realized I was having another dish with a pork contribution.. very odd at Le Bernardin. I hadn’t thought of that when I’d ordered the Monkfish but its impact was felt on each dipped bite of the monkfish adding another dimension of heartiness to the delicious fish beyond the flavor and texture.

When I’d eaten the entrée into a mere memory and only the emulsion remained on my plate, in the interest of not lowering my tongue to the plate or lifting it to my mouth to get the last drops of that liquid gold I used the remaining bread to sop it up. In some way I was a bit embarrased that my plate looked so clean that it could almost be used for the next diner without cleansing, but in another I was so pleased with the deep glow that was growing across my face as my lips fought mightily against a permanent grin spreading across my mouth. And, the anticipation that I would be presented with a new menu with the series of mouthwatering desserts detailed.

The remnants of the main course were removed and the linen returned to its pristine purity with a quick sweep and twist of the crumb removal tool. Again, the drinks were refreshed and after we’d had a few moments to continue our conversation and begin to compose paeans to the first courses, we were each presented with the dessert menu. Each of the desserts is a special combination of elements inducing pleasure through the vitality of flavors and variations in taste, temperature and textures.

Invariably this is the toughest part of the meal at Le Bernardin, the selection of only a single dessert from among the wide variety of choices. And, as if that weren’t hard enough, they throw in the possibility of having a selection of cheeses in lieu of the dessert. I will confess that being a gourmet cheesehead(no On Wisconsin in this guy) that I’ve succumbed on occasion to this option, particularly if I’m with others who share what they’ve picked so I can tickle my sweet sensors. Their selections of cheeses are not only so deliciously decadent and delightful, but presented at room temperature so the full flavor of the curds are released, the runny cheeses are in full sprint and the aromatic elements are arrestingly aroused. But, alas, that day we weren’t sharing and I couldn’t imagine not having some succulently sweet specialty to trigger unstimulated parts of my brain.

So, the look at the choices began. Like a whirling dervish entering his music and movement enhanced trance, I began to commune with the dessert menu. The lovely room, the hushed conversation at other tables, the constant sussuration of passing waitstaff and even conversation at our table passed into the background as I focused my attentions on the important selection. Even though I knew that there would be no bad choices, I was expecting a transcendent experience and would be brutally disappointed with a merely very good choice. I quickly eliminated the simple dishes, like a dish of ice cream(though I’m a huge fan of a simple dish of chocolate ice cream sans whipped cream-even the real stuff and not the “shaving cream” from the can or Cool Whip), and focused on the specialties.

As a confirmed chocoholic I always first look to the chocolate themed desserts. My eyes immediately focused in on the Chocolate-Peanut dessert, described as Dark Chocolate, Peanut and Caramel Tart, Meyer Lemon Purée, Peanut Powder, Praline-Citrus Sorbet. I could already sense the rich deep dark chocolate paired with two textures of peanuts and then a variety of palate cleansing acidic citrus ingredients… but, I refuse to choose so quickly.

I quickly scan the titles of the main desserts that follow: Chocolate-Corn; Honey; Sweet Potato; Pear; Passion Fruit; Apple and Yuzu-Green Tea. The ice creams and sorbets that follow are all delicious, but I sense that I would be missing out on something fabulous by going for these more mundane choices. At the end is a kicker, that cheese course in lieu of the dessert. Savory instead of sweet. For me this is always a tough choice as I truly love cheese and they tend to put together a very nice plate with four or five selections and some small fruit pieces, crackers and delectable breads.

The ice cream choices are Vanilla and Malted Rum Milk Chocolate. The sorbets: apple-lychee; raspberry-ginger; coconut; and Mandarin.

I have to reduce the fifteen possibilities: eight main desserts, two ice creams, four sorbets and one cheese plate to a single choice. With my clients who aren’t sharing people(and there’s nothing better than going with a bigger group and getting to try all the choices) I know that if I don’t order it the closest I’ll get to it will be to see it up close and watch the reaction of its owner as he eats it. So, I operate by the process of elimination, throwing out those things which don’t make the cut. First to go are the four sorbets. They are somewhat interesting, but with all those other choices, not in the running. Next is the Vanilla Ice Cream. I’m sure the vanilla ice cream is heavenly, and made from fresh vanilla beans and the perfect temperature, etc. etc. etc… but, hey, it’s only Vanilla Ice Cream and I’m a chocolate fiend, so it’s gone. Ordinarily all the ice creams would go but the thought of Malted Rum Milk Chocolate flavor has my tastebuds circling to know more. So, I put that on the list, but hanging on precariously. The cheese plate I put aside, knowing that the ultimate choice will be between the selected dessert and the cheese plate.

So, I’m now down to 9 choices for the dessert. And I focus on the eight main dessert choices and see that there’s another chocolate option. I give myself a moment to breathe and pass some fresh air over my palate as my brain cogitates on the Chocolate-Corn selection, described as Soft Chocolate Ganache and Sweet Corn in Three Textures: Crunchy Corn and Hazelnut Base, Corn Sorbet, and Corn Tuile. I can taste in my mind the soft chocolate ganache, its richness and smoothness egging me on but the sweet corn in three textures causes me to consider this oddly. I’m imagining that this will be a single dish with all the ingredients assembled in a logical fashion. So, I figure that the CrunchyCorn and Hazelnut Base will be on the bottom, forming the base with the soft chocolate ganache pooled on top, capped by the Corn Tuile(presumably a thin, curved cookie) making a tasty roof and with an orb of the corn sorbet on the side to liven the whole group. Sounds interesting, even good, but Corn? Not even with the chocolate. I just can’t rally to the cause of Corn as a dessert item. So, much as I hate to kill off a chocolate dish so early in the process.. it’s gone.

The next dish, the Honey is described as Citrus-Strawberry Salad, Honey Parfait, and Charentais Melon Purée. Interesting, even unusual, and I have no idea what a Charentais Melon is, but… somehow, it just won’t beat out a chocolate dish with dark chocolate and a sidecar of a sorbet. It’s gone.

Later research shows that a Charentais Melon is actually a true European cantaloupe. That was a good call at the table by me.

I must confess that when I scanned the menu the first time I was looking to find a souffle, having had two before here and enjoying them completely. One was a fruit flavored souffle, I believe a lemon with a chocolate cream cloud mixed in. The other a chocolate sorbet of such divine complexity that there are still times that my taste buds go through withdrawal from that amazing experience. But, alas, no souffle. Perhaps those times were dinners, but I don’t really recall, it was some time ago.

So, onto the next main dessert, Sweet Potato. This one is close to being eliminated early in the process… Sweet potato just isn’t what you think of as a dessert food, but I read on and decide to keep it in the first pass. The dessert is described as Spiced Sweet Potato Tart, Red Wine Caramel, Maple Whipped Cream, Pistachio, Vanilla Salt. Again, I try to recreate what this will look like and I imagine it as low tart filled with a cinnamon and clove flavored sweet potato with veins of red wine caramel topped by the richest of whipped creams, larded with rich meaty pistachio meats topped by vanilla flavored large crystal sea salt. Okay, I’m getting excited as I read this now, so you can only imagine how it felt then.

I recall at this point looking up and making some conversation to break the internal mood and asking what the others were looking at. They hadn’t decided and while the Boss was carefully reviewing the options the other fellow was considering going without dessert. His boss and I talked him out of this. Heathen, philistine(even Phyllis Stein), idiot… thoughts that went through my mind at the thought he wouldn’t have dessert, until it occurred to me that if he didn’t want to order a dessert I might order a second one “for him” so I could taste it since the fixed price includes a dessert. But, this thought came a millisecond too late as he said he would have some dessert and began to look.

Next on my hit list was the Pear: Warm Pear "Charlotte", Ginger Caramel, Pineapple Buttermilk-Sorbet, Lauria Alpine Cream Liqueur. Now, I happen to really enjoy pears and the thought of a delicious cooked pear charlotte with ginger caramel and a dollop of pineapple buttermilk-sorbet doused in some Lauria Alpine Cream Liquer sounded pretty darn good. No way this was getting cut on the first pass. I was starting to lean toward something that had a main portion and a secondary frozen confection like sorbet on the side.
On with the show, the next choice was Passion Fruit. Now, I’m usually not a huge fan of passion fruit, finding it usually too sweet and missing in complexity of flavor, but I read on. It’s described as Passion Fruit Cream Enrobed in White Chocolate, Ginger Caramel, Mandarin Sorbet. Mmmm enrobed in white chocolate. Now that’s an expression I can wrap my tongue around. More of the Ginger caramel, something which doesn’t really excite me, but, with the Mandarin sorbet. It meets the two part standard so, despite the passion fruit its still in the running.

The next choice is Apple. Described as Slow-Baked Apple Confit, Poached Dates, Yogurt Sorbet, Quince and Ras el Hanout Coulis. Very interesting sounding, including dates which are a favorite, and it has the yogurt sorbet(interesting concept) and a coulis(not a huge fan of sweet thin jams). Somehow this one just doesn’t make the grade of the others, and its gone. Thank goodness I’ve eliminated something.

One more, Yuzu-Green Tea. A Japanese inflected dessert. Interesting, though yuzu is not my idea of a dessert as its so bitter, generally. It’s described as:Yuzu Cream, Caramelized Rice, Grapefruit, Green Tea Ice Cream, Crisp Meringue. While interesting, somehow I’ve never found green tea ice cream to be flavored in a way that is sufficiently interesting to my palate. I enjoy drinking green tea, hot and even cold, but as ice cream it isn’t bold enough to stand up to the ice cream challenge. Whew, another one whittled away.
That’s the end of round one. So, what do I still have left for the second pass to go up against the cheese plate in the finals? The Malted Rum Milk Chocolate Ice Cream, Chocolate-Peanut, Sweet Potato, Pear and Passion Fruit. Five choices, each a interesting one. At this point the ice cream melts under the pressure and is quickly gone and I’m down to the four main desserts. Then, the other two diners are heard from. The Boss has decided that he’s going with the Passion Fruit because he’s taken by the “enrobed in white chocolate” language. He confirms that he’s a white chocolate addict. I smile solicitiously and feel sorry for him that he doesn’t enjoy the full richness of high cacao percentage dark chocolate. His junior immediately agrees that he will have the same. Just because I’m feeling ornery I drop the Passion Fruit from my list, down to three choices.
On reviewing the Chocolate-Peanut my lips commence smacking in anticipation, always a good sign, if a bit gauche. My predisposition against sweet potato shines through and I ditch this choice wistfully. Down to the last two, the Chocolate against the Pear. This is a really tough choice and I sense that I’ll need to decide quickly since the other two have reached their choice. The chocolate wins out, if only because it’s a dark chocolate and hell, I love chocolate, and can’t imagine how a ginger caramel will taste anyhow.
Whew, done it selected the dessert. But wait.. what about the cheese plate. So, I temporize and signal the Captain over and ask him what’s on the cheese plate. He says that the cheeses haven’t yet reached the right temperature and the chef has indicated that he would prefer not to serve them. Saved by the bell. I thank him and order the Chocolate-Peanut dessert.

As the Captain retreats with our orders I hope that the dessert will live up to all that touch choosing.
The conversation continues and the ambience in the dining room is one of excitement, civility and a bit of celebration, with a larger round table near ours with about 8 people drinking from 4 different bottles of wine. At this point my hunger has been sated, but I’m not so full that I’m not still aching for more to eat and not looking forward to a toothsome delight for dessert.

Three servers arrive like a well drilled marching band carefully setting down the dessert plates from the left and then quickly retreating without pause. I look at the plate in front of me and sense that my choice was a good one. That sense will soon be confirmed. I glance at the passion fruit desserts in front of my colleagues, comparing it to my own and see that the enrobing is sufficiently ample to be satisfying, but otherwise I’m confident that my own choice will be wonderful and was a much better choice for me.
Sitting in the middle of a wide, but narrow plate is a small round tart filled with a bottom layer of caramel and an abundantly dark but soft chocolate and peanut mixture. Heavier than a mousse, thicker than a ganache, but not solid, it fills the tart with a domed shape. Drizzled on this and trailing off the side is the Meyer Lemon Purée which is exquisitely citrus in intensity. Sitting on the left is a small patch of the peanut powder, peanuts ground to a very fine, almost pastry dough ingredient size, on the dry plate. On the right is a perfect sphere of the Praline-Citrus Sorbet, barely touching the end tendril of the drizzled purée.
Eating this will be a self conducted tour of the components. My first bite is of the tart itself with a bit of the purée on top. The mouthfeel and depth of flavor of the dark chocolate, contrasted with the peanuty flavor, the crunchiness of the tart’s pastry dough and the citrine acidity of the purée is breathakingly delicious. Now, I taste a bite of the praline-Citrus Sorbet which is just glistening as it is softened but still cold enough to not melt. Wow, the burst of flavor, not sure whether it’s a grapefruit, lemon or some other citrus fruit is clear and fresh, but with the rich crunchiness of the pralines.

Next, I take a small amount of the sorbet and dip it in the peanut powder which sticks to the ice cream and it adds a peanuty crunchiness to the sorbet. Very nice. Then, another forkful of the tart, dipped chocolate first into the peanut dust, adding a real crunchiness to the bite and enhancing the peanut flavor along with the chocolate and caramel. Reese’s cups include similar elements, but it’s like comparing the drive of a Yugo to a Maserati or Ferrari. It moves, but oh what moves the Ferrari has the Yugo can’t imagine. The differences here are the same. Then, another bite of the sorbet to clean the palate for another dose of dark chocolate richness. Finally a combination of the tart with the ice cream and the peanut dust to get all the flavors working at once. The next few minutes are a whirlwind of overwhelming richness and clarity and smoothness and crunchiness until the only way I could have more would be to lift the plate to my face and lick what remains. Don’t think I didn’t consider it.

Unusually, for me, I ordered a cup of coffee. It’s so good I have another, enjoying the flavor and comforting glow that it puts on my dessert and meal. After that, I deal with the bill and walk my clients back to their office, having visited the Temple of Fish and having received an epic and memorable dining experience of religious proportions.

Le Bernardin Beckons, Part I

Le Bernardin Beckons, Part I

It comes that time of year when I take some of my best clients out to a very nice lunch to thank for them for their patronage during the year and of course to frequent some of the nicer places I enjoy eating. This past Thursday was such a day and I took the big boss at an important client and one of the next tier bosses for a nice meal at one of my all time favorite places Le Bernardin, a temple to the holiness of fish, and a dining experience second to none, even for BHMs, BBWs and SSBBWs.

While the restaurant is one of the few in the city requiring a jacket for the gentlemen, it is one of the most beautiful rooms, you can see it on their website (http://www.le-bernardin.com/) , and, well, I tend to wear a suit and tie to work anyhow, so it’s no big deal for me. As a BHM myself, I would find their wooden armchairs, though sufficiently sturdy, to be a bit tight on my legs and hips. However, each time I’ve come, without asking, between the time I am greeted by the maitre’d or other guardian of the podium near the door and the time we are sent to our table some signal or appraisal is silently and without fanfare, so that I have been sent to one of the tables with chairs without arms(which look the same apart from the arms) or a table with at least two of the four chairs having no arms.

As soon as you are comfortably seated a low level server puts a beautifully curved white serving porcelain bowl on the table filled with a salmon spread and a plate with ultra crisp toasted bread sufficiently thinly sliced so that it is more like a cracker in texture, though not taste. The portion of salmon spread is so ample as to allow you to pile heaps of the ambrosial mixture onto the bread, the plate holding two slices of bread for each guest. Of course, the serving bowl includes a fish spreading knife suitable to the task.

While this delicious amuse bouche is warming your palate to the piscine task and delights ahead, the waiter asks what you would like to drink. Unfortunately my guests are not wine drinkers at lunch(sadly rarely am I either), so we got a large bottle of sparkling water and I also got iced tea. With the graceful service so rarely encountered, the water was carefully poured into a large curved glass and the remainder placed on a silver serving caddy on the table out of the reach of the three of us, but which was carefully tended by a serving staff member as soon as the level in one of the glasses dipped beneath some magical invisible line on the glasses.

The iced tea was a wonderful riff on the usual service protocol. The iced tea came out in a tall curved glass with a healthy dollop of ice on a small doilied plate with a tiny spoon and a separate plate with a broad selection of sugars and artificial sweetners. As is my habit I emptied one sweet ‘n low into the glass and used the small spoon provided to stir it. As soon as it was apparent that I was satisfied with the sweetening process a skilled server slipped in moving the glass to the white linen tablecloth, removing the doilied plate, the spoon, the empty sweet n’ low packet and the sweeteners plate. When I got refills of the iced tea they appeared again on a doilied plate with a spoon, though with only a single sweet ‘n low. What amazing attention to detail.

One of my clients ordered a regular coke without ice. The captain(the highest ranking of the servers), brought his glass, which seemed to be chilled and then carefully and skillfully poured the entire bottle of coke into his glass without causing it to foam up. He then retired with the bottle in a graceful fashion.

We were then offered a selection of breads from a wide silver tray. As a regular customer I know that many of the usually 4 or 5 options will be of interest so I always select at least two. In this case there were thin olive studded saltsticks which were as good as I had hoped and a fruit nut bread which they gave me three very slender slices in one maneuver. Both were amazingly delicious and were used to sop up some of the remaining sauces . The other choices were different types of rolls, both crispy and soft. Butter was served on a silver dish with a class insert on which were precut and overlapped pats of rich butter.

At this point we were provided the menus, which are substantial solid covers with the paper menus inside on facing pages providing the choices which must be made. Both for lunch and dinner the meals are prix fixe(a/k/a fixed price) and include an appetizer an entrée and a dessert. On the appetizer side of the menu, on the left page are the “simply raw” choices on the top and the “lightly cooked” choices on the bottom. The entrees are not separated and include a wide variety of choices describing both the fish which forms the main part of the entrée along with the preparation and the accoutrements and sauces. For those who simply need more time to consider the choices than is allowed in the restaurant you can check out the menu online in advance. For a dedicated foodie who’s enjoyed the simply magnificent preparations and swooned on numerous occasions in this incredible restaurant I know there are no bad choices, but regret colors any decision because of all the other options foregone. Like a man met by St. Peter at the gates to Heaven and told there is not one heaven but twenty and only a few minutes to decide which one he will spend eternity in, the choices are wrought with heavy implications.

The three of us poured over the twenty choices for the appetizers and the twelve for the main course(not including the three non-fish choices offered at the bottom of the menu as “on request”). Among the 240 possible combinations we each picked three. I will describe my choices in greater detail as I actually tasted them. The portions aren’t huge, well, they’re not even really big, but the flavor more than makes up for it. However, if you cannot be satisfied without a substantial volume of food or need to eat very quickly this restaurant will be sorely disappointing. While I usually cross-taste with my restaurant companions, this wasn’t on the agenda with this group. However I did get their impressions and the big boss and I have dined together many times over the last 5 years and he has an appreciative palate and enjoyes Le Bernardin as much as I.


My choice for an appetizer. It's called Pork Belly-Calamari on the menu and is described as Crisp Braised Pork Belly and Baby Calamari Basquaise. The basquaise sauce was a very dark looking sauce like squid ink, but redolent with flavor and aroma and not the single note of squid ink(or even it’s flavor, merely sharing it’s color). It had garlic and onion and pepper and butter, very rich. The dish came out in a smallish flat bottomed soup type round dish with a flared rim. The bottom layer was pieces of baby squid each of which was not enough for a full mouthful, so that you needed two or three on your fork for appropriate mouth feel. Camped on top of this was a perfectly shaped cube of braised pork belly which was about one and a half inches on the edge. As is the case for pork belly it is a study in contrasts, with the upper level a perfectly crispy skin layer, with two layers of fragrant and juicy fat underneath it, a crepey upper section connecting the crunchy skin to the more solid layer of pungently piquant fat underneath it and at the bottom a supremely braised layer of fall off the bone tender meat(though no bone, of course). The dish was presented dry and then as it lay in front of me on the starched linen tablecloth, with a small porcelain creamer type container the server carefully poured the Basquaise sauce on the calamari, around the pork belly but not touching it; the porcine pillar sitting on top, dominating the plate like the black monolith in Kubrick’s 2001.

Examining the dish and knowing that the top crispy skin layer would be incredible I started with that and found it to be a perfect exemplar of all that is holy about crispy skins, the crunch, the mouthfeel of the unctuous crackling and eruption of flavor. The two distinct layers of fat underneath it presented both a contrast between the skin’s rigidity and the fat’s softly accomodating texture and a prelude to the exquisitely tasteful braised meat underneath it all. The arpeggio of flavors triggered sparks of excitement in my tongue, nose and brain. And, my brain was struggling to register that here in the temple of fish I was enjoying a meat dish so far from fish and hadn’t found my way yet to the wee calamari or Basquaise sauce so liberally dispersed in the dish. Pressing on I speared a pair of pieces of the calamari, dragging them gently through the dark sauce before gently dipping it in my mouth. The contrast in flavors from the abundantly rich pork belly to the freshly briny squid and pungent sauce was simply delicious and I paused for a moment to soak in the aromas and burn the flavors into my memory banks for later pleasure. Clearing my palate as well as possible with the iced tea I began to play with the different layers of the pork belly and the abundantly tender calamari and its aromatic sauce. Unlike some who like to finish their food in series, first one item and only then another, I revel in the ability to sample each of the flavors on my plate and attempt to spread out the eating so that the ending will be one last bite of each of the things I’ve been eating. Of course, trying desperately to maintain my status as the host of this repast I maintained the conversation and inquired if the others were enjoying their appetizers as much as I was enjoying mine. I wasn’t terribly surprised to discover that they were.

The big boss was having a dish I’d been eyeballing on the menu and had been considering seriously as I’d had a similar dish there some time ago with a different fish. He had ordered the fluke. It was described as a progressive tasting of marinated fluke: four different ceviches; from simple to complex combination. The fluke was served on a long and narrow plate with four small glass dishes spaced from left to right. The waiter said, “the chef suggests that you eat the dish from left to right”. We each looked at the four dishes which seemed to hold similar amounts of small slices of the fish, but which seemed to be sitting in a nearly colorless first liquid in the leftmost dish with increasing color, add-ins and viscosity as the dishes moved to the right. The rightmost dish seemed alive with flecks of red and green and white and yellow colors and a creamy texture. He started as suggested from the left and as I happened to look up periodically from own private right of passage through my appetizer saw him experiencing a similar sense of bewildered overwhelming pleasure. He tried to explain how the first ceviche was a simple, vinegary flavor that highlighted the fish’s relatively simple taste and the second added an oil based flavoring which mellowed the vinegar. The third added a complexity of additional flavorings and the fourth added in a deeper sense of richness from a creaminess. With each of the flavors the pristine flavor of the fish came through undulled by the flavors of the ceviche. I’ve had a similar dish with a different fish before and know the feeling that is amazing, like additional layers of flavor being added as one moves from one tasting to the next. Simply magnificent.

The third fellow, who is more of a meat and potatoes type eater had ordered the “crab cakes” as the menu called them. The menu calls it Crab: Warm Peekytoe-Maryland Lump “Crab Cake”, shaved Cauliflower; Dijon Mustard Emulsion. His description of the food was, good, very good. Not very helpful, but of course he was shocked by what he saw as there was no breading in the dish as a traditional crab cake has, and no browning of the surface of the cake. He had a nearly white dish which seemed to include a layering of the lump crab meat and shaved cauliflower gently baked and then finished with a loving application of the mustardy sauce.

Several minutes passed after the appetizers had been cleared to allow us to relish the appetizers, have several drinks of our beverages and talk before the main courses appeared. This allowed us to do our “business” and to talk about various things until the main course appeared. Also, the servers made sure that we each had fresh beverages before the next course.

The big boss had ordered the Cod selection, as he’d talked about how growing up he’d loved Codfish and was looking forward to a particularly good version of it. The other fellow ordered the same thing that I had selected. When the main courses appeared all conversation seemed to die away as we looked at our main courses.

The codfish is described as baked codfish in salt crust; stuffed baby artichokes with romesco; red wine-olive and preserved tomato stew. This was a small, but nice piece of the white codfish with a skin on top of salt crust with two baby artichokes with a garlicky, romesco sauce filling it and extending out of it like with an overstuffed mushroom or pepper. The red wine-olive and preserved tomato stew was between the two and had a stewlike quality even though the dice on the olives and tomato seemed to be tiny. The only commentary I got out of the big boss between the start and finish of his main course was “very very good” as he finished it without much commentary, obviously enjoying himself.

I ordered the monkfish. I happen to love monkfish and have had the same dish before and enjoyed it so much that I ordered it over the other choices which seemed so good. The other fellow also ordered the Monkfish.

But, I think since this entry is long enough for now I’ll end Part I and save my main course and the desserts for Part II is there is interest.

New Directions

As I've thought about ways to take the blog in new directions now that I've gotten out the things that had to get out, I've been doing a variety of things. One, I convinced myself that I could satisfy myself with shorter pieces without affecting the esthetic of the blog. One of my friends said something which rang true. It's your blog and you have to be happy with it. While I aim to please and am pleased to make others happy, I try to make it pleasurable for me too. So, I've got a couple of new things coming up in the short term.

First, one of my joys is eating and attempting to recreate the intense and fabulous pleasure of eating in a textual fashion. By now, anyone who's read a few of the posts knows that my prose tends to avoid Hemingway like spareness or simplicity for the rubenesque abundance of poshly padded parlance. In simpler terms, I like to babble in multi-syllabic, multi-phrase sentences. Some have gone so far as to suggest that some of my food related writing might be called food porn since it is so sensorily oriented. If it is, so be it.

On occasion I've posted a few of these pieces on the Dimchat Foodie Board, and recently have done so with a long form piece that I split into two sections. Typed in Word these two pieces are each about 6 pages long. But, with the power of the blog I have considered putting it together as a single piece. But, I think it would be too much in one session to read and have decided to put it in here as two separate pieces, like on the Boards to allow you a chance to read the first part, get all hot and sweaty and hungry and then cool yourself off a bit before moving on the climax of the story. So, that will follow, with the captions Le Bernardin Beckons I and II.

For those of you not from NY or dedicated foodies, Le Bernardin http://www.le-bernardin.com/ has been a four star New York Times rated restaurant since its opening more than a decade ago. In the most recent Zagat's it has the highest overall rating of any restaurant in New York City, a pretty lofty perch. It also happens to be one of my favorite restaurants both because of the food and the service and the way in which fat people are treated to comfortable seating in a discreet and inviting way.

Second, I've been formulating a post that will be related to some of the other X-Fat folks that I've conversed with over the years, without providing too much information which might identify them, since there seems to be a general fascination with people who are so much larger than the "average" person and several times bigger than even the larger ssbbws and bhm's. Of the various areas that the commenting readers have pointed to this is clearly the most popular one. I've asked our contributing X-Fat friend to join in but she's been kinda slow in responding with something bloggable due to a move of her abode and the resultant activity. However, I can report that she's doing fine and even appears to have gained more weight.

So, in the next day or so, to allow some of you to read this first, I'll post the two Le Bernardin pieces and then, hopefully shortly the X-Fat Chronicles.