Purple! nomnomnom
Yesterday evening, Nik & I had dinner at The Purple Café and Wine Bar with astridsdream & doctorconquest. Nik and I had been there twice before, but this was their first time. On Sundays, the Woodinville and Seattle locations offer ½ off bottles of wine under $50, which is awesome. (Kirkland, which is a bit closer, does it on Mondays, which are much less convenient for us.) I ordered the Pascal Jolivet Pouilly-Fumé 2005 (sauvignon blanc), our waiter somewhat apologetically carded all of us when he brought it out, because astridsdream looks really, really young. Except when he got to me, he barely glanced at my ID and said, "Well, you're obviously ok." A little amused, I didn't respond to that - really, what is there to say? And he got this brief look of utter horror on his face as he realized he had just implied that I looked old, and might well have grievously offended me. He stammered an apology, poured the wine, and fled. I am not that easy to offend, as people who know me well will know. I did try to tell him I wasn't offended, but he didn't look entirely sure whether I was sincere, or just being gracious. What I am almost certain he meant, and how I took it, was that since I had ordered a $50 bottle of French wine with both authority and proper pronunciation, the odds of me being underage were really, really slim. And the only people who think I look like I might be under 21 are at least 20 years my senior. The wine, by the way, was fantastic. I can't recall whether I've had that one before, or if I've just seen it at Whole Foods, but I definitely recognized the label. It was crisp and fruity, and it got drier and more tart as it warmed. It also played nice with dessert, which surprised me.
Dinner was also fantastic. We got the baked brie, which is topped with just a touch of apricot preserves, and wrapped in phyllo dough. If there were carmelized onions involved, as the menu alleges, they were really carmelized. It was served with a salted crisp bread (kind of between a flatbread and a cracker), and sliced grapes with, of all things, cilantro. Not enough to be in any way obtrusive, or even really noticeable, just enough to alter the flavor a touch. Much to my disappointment, they were out of the mushroom-Gruyère tart, so our waiter recommended the caprese salad instead. The caprese was, as astridsdream put it, "about nine kinds of delicious." So I started counting, and with the aid of the rest of the table, did indeed find nine ways in which it was delicious. My first count was seven, but had neglected the blending of flavors and the presentation.
Everyone but me got one of the specials: Nik got the risotto with seared duck medallions, and the others got halibut in a creamy sauce with broccoli and fingerling potatoes. It looked like the duck breast had been cooked at fairly high heat and then sliced into medallions, so the outside was lightly blackened while the inside was still a bit pink. I don't recall what the risotto was. I got a veggie sandwich on ciabatta that had havarti and a lovely not-quite-hummus spread made of chick peas and roasted red peppers.
I saved room for dessert. I'm not sure that anyone else did, but that didn't stop them. I believe Nik's exact words were, "Well, crap. These all look delicious." He got the banana white chocolate bread pudding with caramel semifreddo. The bread in question was indeed banana bread, and there were also bits of banana. I was, unsurprisingly, more excited about the caramel sauce.
I ordered the pear and hazelnut galette, with balsamic-port reduction and vanilla ice cream. Unfortunately, the restaurant gods apparently just didn't want me to have a tart that evening, because they were out of that, too.
Instead, I got the baked chocolate mousse with crème fraiche sorbet and chocolate chip cookies. I took a bite of the mousse, and sat there, stunned and blinking for a moment before I was even able to say, "Wow." I don't know when the last time was that a dessert has reduced me to stunned silence. Most of the desserts at Chiara caused me to do all manner of happy dances (and yes, there are several distinct dessert-related happy dances), and some bordered on transcendent, but none just stopped me like that. It was somewhere between a mousse and a molten chocolate lava cake in texture. The chocolate flavor was concentrated and intensified. It also tasted more roasted, like if you think of regular chocolate as being a medium-roast coffee, this was more like an espresso roast. It is possible there was also espresso involved, but it was very subtle if there was. This was definitely roasted chocolate. I find the notion of crème fraiche sorbet utterly fascinating, because it seems like a contradiction in terms. Sorbet is the frozen dessert that is made without dairy. It was a bit lighter than ice cream, which is a good thing, since the mousse nearly knocked me over. The sauce that I had vaguely assumed was crème anglaise may very well have been unfrozen sorbet. And now that I think about it, it was less yellow than crème anglaise, which is a very thin liquid custard and thus contains eggs. I didn't read the description of the mousse, so I didn't know it wasn't ice cream, and was thus not looking for the difference. It gracefully yielded the floor to the almost overpowering force of the mousse. Now I'm scouring my brain, looking for descriptions of the sorbet, and the best I can do is that it was lighter than ice cream, and didn't contain eggs. The cookies were yummy, but I'm not entirely sure what they were doing there. I don't think they were, either.
astridsdream and doctorconquest expressed dessert envy. She got the classic crème brulée, and he got the peanut butter milk chocolate mousse. The crème brulée was one of the better crèmes brulées I've had. Lest you take this to be an understatement or a slight, remember (or imagine) the sorts of places where I have had crème brulée. The bar is very high. This one was simple and elegant. It was served in a wide, shallow dish, and the sugar was burnt to a lovely deep amber, where it's starting to think about blackening, but hasn't yet. It was neither too thick nor too thin. The vanilla beans and the custard harmonized beautifully, rather than warring for dominance, which can happen if the custard is too eggy or the chef is a bit heavy-handed with the vanilla. One frequent flaw in my cooking is that I will fail to resist the temptation to add just a little more vanilla/spice/herb/liqueur/etc.
The peanut butter mousse was topped with roasted cocoa nibs, praline pretzels, and nearly as much whipped cream as there was mousse. I didn't try the pretzels, and neglected to confirm whether they contained peanut butter. The mousse was light and fluffy, which was an interesting contrast to the rather aggressive flavor of the peanut butter. This is not to say that the peanut butter completely overpowered the chocolate, more that there was really no question which was the dom and which was the sub in this relationship. I didn't know you could make peanut butter be that airy. This was probably my least favorite of the four desserts, because I just couldn't get past my feeling that peanut butter and chocolate are a deep, earthy combination, and have no business trying to be angels. It was very well executed, I just didn't much care for it.
Sadly, it did not occur to me to bring a camera to the restaurant, so the above is more food erotica than food porn. I hope no one is overly disappointed by the slightly misleading tag.
Dinner was also fantastic. We got the baked brie, which is topped with just a touch of apricot preserves, and wrapped in phyllo dough. If there were carmelized onions involved, as the menu alleges, they were really carmelized. It was served with a salted crisp bread (kind of between a flatbread and a cracker), and sliced grapes with, of all things, cilantro. Not enough to be in any way obtrusive, or even really noticeable, just enough to alter the flavor a touch. Much to my disappointment, they were out of the mushroom-Gruyère tart, so our waiter recommended the caprese salad instead. The caprese was, as astridsdream put it, "about nine kinds of delicious." So I started counting, and with the aid of the rest of the table, did indeed find nine ways in which it was delicious. My first count was seven, but had neglected the blending of flavors and the presentation.
Everyone but me got one of the specials: Nik got the risotto with seared duck medallions, and the others got halibut in a creamy sauce with broccoli and fingerling potatoes. It looked like the duck breast had been cooked at fairly high heat and then sliced into medallions, so the outside was lightly blackened while the inside was still a bit pink. I don't recall what the risotto was. I got a veggie sandwich on ciabatta that had havarti and a lovely not-quite-hummus spread made of chick peas and roasted red peppers.
I saved room for dessert. I'm not sure that anyone else did, but that didn't stop them. I believe Nik's exact words were, "Well, crap. These all look delicious." He got the banana white chocolate bread pudding with caramel semifreddo. The bread in question was indeed banana bread, and there were also bits of banana. I was, unsurprisingly, more excited about the caramel sauce.
I ordered the pear and hazelnut galette, with balsamic-port reduction and vanilla ice cream. Unfortunately, the restaurant gods apparently just didn't want me to have a tart that evening, because they were out of that, too.
Instead, I got the baked chocolate mousse with crème fraiche sorbet and chocolate chip cookies. I took a bite of the mousse, and sat there, stunned and blinking for a moment before I was even able to say, "Wow." I don't know when the last time was that a dessert has reduced me to stunned silence. Most of the desserts at Chiara caused me to do all manner of happy dances (and yes, there are several distinct dessert-related happy dances), and some bordered on transcendent, but none just stopped me like that. It was somewhere between a mousse and a molten chocolate lava cake in texture. The chocolate flavor was concentrated and intensified. It also tasted more roasted, like if you think of regular chocolate as being a medium-roast coffee, this was more like an espresso roast. It is possible there was also espresso involved, but it was very subtle if there was. This was definitely roasted chocolate. I find the notion of crème fraiche sorbet utterly fascinating, because it seems like a contradiction in terms. Sorbet is the frozen dessert that is made without dairy. It was a bit lighter than ice cream, which is a good thing, since the mousse nearly knocked me over. The sauce that I had vaguely assumed was crème anglaise may very well have been unfrozen sorbet. And now that I think about it, it was less yellow than crème anglaise, which is a very thin liquid custard and thus contains eggs. I didn't read the description of the mousse, so I didn't know it wasn't ice cream, and was thus not looking for the difference. It gracefully yielded the floor to the almost overpowering force of the mousse. Now I'm scouring my brain, looking for descriptions of the sorbet, and the best I can do is that it was lighter than ice cream, and didn't contain eggs. The cookies were yummy, but I'm not entirely sure what they were doing there. I don't think they were, either.
astridsdream and doctorconquest expressed dessert envy. She got the classic crème brulée, and he got the peanut butter milk chocolate mousse. The crème brulée was one of the better crèmes brulées I've had. Lest you take this to be an understatement or a slight, remember (or imagine) the sorts of places where I have had crème brulée. The bar is very high. This one was simple and elegant. It was served in a wide, shallow dish, and the sugar was burnt to a lovely deep amber, where it's starting to think about blackening, but hasn't yet. It was neither too thick nor too thin. The vanilla beans and the custard harmonized beautifully, rather than warring for dominance, which can happen if the custard is too eggy or the chef is a bit heavy-handed with the vanilla. One frequent flaw in my cooking is that I will fail to resist the temptation to add just a little more vanilla/spice/herb/liqueur/etc.
The peanut butter mousse was topped with roasted cocoa nibs, praline pretzels, and nearly as much whipped cream as there was mousse. I didn't try the pretzels, and neglected to confirm whether they contained peanut butter. The mousse was light and fluffy, which was an interesting contrast to the rather aggressive flavor of the peanut butter. This is not to say that the peanut butter completely overpowered the chocolate, more that there was really no question which was the dom and which was the sub in this relationship. I didn't know you could make peanut butter be that airy. This was probably my least favorite of the four desserts, because I just couldn't get past my feeling that peanut butter and chocolate are a deep, earthy combination, and have no business trying to be angels. It was very well executed, I just didn't much care for it.
Sadly, it did not occur to me to bring a camera to the restaurant, so the above is more food erotica than food porn. I hope no one is overly disappointed by the slightly misleading tag.