Moto
For our anniversary, Vered took me to Moto.
If you aren't familiar with Moto, take a second and go look at their website to see pictures of their food. It is pretty, and it will give you some context.
Moto is fascinating. It is the brainchild of chef/inventor/designer Homaru Cantu, and is considered one of the leading examples of molecular gastronomy and postmodern cuisine. I hear he will be on Iron Chef soon.
In simple terms, Cantu does really weird things with really weird and/or high-quality food. They often apply cool technological processes in order to do this. Sometimes the food is fairly simple, but looks like something it isn't. Moto is probably most famous for serving pictures of sushi made with edible inks and paper. I appreciate that Cantu is willing to break down barriers in terms of our preconceptions about food. It is something I try to do myself, a bit, though I clearly don't have the resources or training he does... and, you know, it isn't my life's work or anything.
I've heard what Cantu does be described as the intersection of food and science. I have some thoughts on this from the perspective of someone who has studied the philosophy and history of science, but I'll leave those off until the end so as not to bore you. I suspect you are reading this for the food porn, not the theorizing.
Cantu also, I believe, designed all the eating utensils and dishes (mostly of sleek-looking white porcelain) and things that are used in the restaurant. Some of these really added to the meal. I'll discuss them as appropriate below, but I would like to point out that I really liked the standard silverware that they used. The handles had a nice curve to them that managed to be both elegant and ultra-modern at the same time. Moto was sort of like that overall... ummm... except for the curvy bit.
On to the meal. . .
We planned to get the Grand Tour Moto (GTM) - the largest tasting menu. We looked over the menus on-line beforehand, realizing that they could change from day to day. We did, in fact, notice a change between the menu on Friday and the one on Saturday (when we went) - "Macaroni & Cheese" became "Beef Macaroni & Cheese." You can check out the menus on their website, but they aren't particularly informative. I admit that I would have appreciated a bit more detail or description on the menu. As it is, I felt a bit silly taking notes when our servers described dishes to us.
Since the GTM usually takes over four hours, Vered made the earliest possible reservation, at 5pm. We arrived early, as the cab company dramatically overestimated the amount of time it would take to get there. I'm not too familiar with many areas of Chicago, yet. The restaurant is located in an area filled with older warehouses. Across the street was an older-looking diner, but next to Moto was an upscale art gallery. I didn't really get a feel for the area, though. It struck me as being in the process of gentrification. As Moto opened at 5, the doors were still locked when we arrived. We called (from outside the front door) and a hostess let us in.
I should pause for a moment and discuss the waitstaff. They appeared to be predominantly in their mid-twenties (but I've gotten increasingly poor at judging ages), dressed in black, a bit geeky, and good at their jobs. Those we spoke to seemed to have a good sense of humor, and we got the impression that these were people with whom we could be friends. We learned that everyone on staff takes their turn in the kitchen, which is something I can respect. If nothing else, it gave them an understanding of the food that they might not otherwise have had - and since they'd be the ones answering the inevitable questions, this is a good thing.
Table settings were changed before every dish that came out. When a dish was set in front of us, it was described in detail. We asked a number of questions about several courses and they were competently answered.
Okay, really, on to the meal now. . .
Drinks:
We sat down and had to make our only real decision of the night: wine or no wine. There was a wine progression that paired each course with a wine. Neither of us are real wine connoisseurs, though we'd like to be. More to the point, though, we are both lightweights when it comes to alcohol, and there were twenty courses in the GTM. We decided to start with cocktails instead. This was, actually, a more appropriate choice in some ways. The cocktails exemplified the unique style of Moto. Vered got a French Toast Martini, and I tried the Margarita Fizz. These were described as "liquid french toast" and "a science experiment."
The French Toast was the standout of the two. It had two layers: a cold, bottom layer of maple syrup vodka and a warm layer of pureed french toast (probably pureed with cream - this was a thick, uniform liquid that tasted like french toast). It was garnished with a bit of ice cream. The two layers stayed separate as the drink was consumed, despite the fact that you tasted both with each sip. The contrast was nice.
My margarita was prepared, in part, at the table. I was brought a glass rimmed with salt with some liquid in the bottom. Then a large syringe was emptied into it. The result was supposed to fizz up impressively. The fizzing was underwhelming. Apparently, it hadn't worked properly. They brought me another which fizzed nicely... and tasted better. Taste-wise, it was a rather good margarita... but nothing too special.
First course: The Menu
We were brought our menus. These had the three menu-options on them (Five Course, Ten Course, and GTM). Ours also had a personalized anniversary message. The menus were placed on white porcelain trays that were made to fit them. The menus themselves were thin crostinis printed with edible inks. I think that the printing was actually done on some sort of rice paper that was then sealed to the surface of the crostini, but I am not sure. The menus were tasty: crispy and flavorful without being too dry.
Okay, first real course: Nitro Sushi Roll
This came out in a cool-looking bowl that somehow managed not to look like a dog-food bowl despite the fact that every time I try to describe it I end up describing a dog-food bowl. It didn't look like one. Really.
Anyway, the stuff inside the cool bowl looked cool, too. It was, mostly, the makings of a sushi roll, deconstructed. There was some raw Tasmanian salmon and some daikon that had been marinated in yuzu. Sheltering these was a piece of crispy yuba that was topped with lime vesicles. There were some seasonings (I think they were typical agedashi seasonings) in the bowl as well. It was pretty. I also had to look up half the things in it after the fact in order to know what it was that I ate.
The main feature of the dish, however, was the "Nitro" part of it. When they served the dish to us, they came out with a smoking pot, in which was floating some white powder. This was powdered sesame oil floating in liquid nitrogen. They spooned the sesame oil into our bowls and suggested that we taste it immediately so that we could breathe out the vapors.
I liked this dish quite a bit, but not as much as Vered did. The flavors worked well together, but I felt that, texture-wise, there were too many dry things. There were a lot of powders involved, and the main source of moisture (the lime) was too tart to relieve the dryness. It would have benefited, I think, from more of the daikon, which I found to be very pleasant in terms of texture in this dish.
I'm also not sure that this should have been the first course. I understand why they did it. The dish has a high "wow" factor: liquid nitrogen is cool. On the other hand, it was one of the more complex dishes in terms of taste, and I think it might have been nice to work up to it. It was also one of the dishes that I perceived as being more substantial - there were twenty courses: most of them were relatively light or small.
Soup: Italian Food
We were brought out a long soup tureen, shaped almost boat-like. On the left half was a reddish soup, and the right half held a green soup topped with small croutons and some sort of oil or sauce. The dividing line wasn't down the center, precisely, but it was a neat line with little mixing. Very pretty.
The red half was pizza soup. It was warm. It tasted like pizza.
The green half was caesar salad. It was, as far as we could tell, largely pureed caesar salad, topped with croutons and some caesar salad dressing. It was cold and tasty.
Both of these tasted exactly as they were supposed to taste. The temperature contrast was very nice, and the two soups mixed where they met in the bowl as I ate them in a pleasing way.
I liked this. A lot.
OMG: Maple Squash Cake
Before I went to Moto, if someone said the words "Maple Squash Cake" to me, I'd have looked at them quizzically. Now, I'd be salivating.
I should preface this by saying that I like squash enough, but I'm not really a rabid squash fiend or anything.
(Are there rabid squash fiends in the world? Probably.)
The oblong plate came out with what I'll decribe as a shotglass (elegantly curved, made of porcelain, maybe slightly larger than a typical shotglass, but I'm not sure - few of these were used throughout the meal and I am just going to refer to them as shotglasses from now on) on one side and a piece of cake on the other. It was pretty.
The shotglass held marinated cubes of squash, smoked applewood bacon, and sage in a warm, light, syrupy cider.
The cake was one of the best things I have ever eaten in my life. It was squash. It was squash that was turned into a foam. It was frozen squash that was turned into a foam and then had the air vacuumed out of it. It was incredibly light. Let me say that again: INCREDIBLY light. I put my fork on top of it, and it practically floated up off the plate in order to slice itself off on my fork. I put it in my mouth and it dissolved into something that resembled a maple-squash-butter.
I'm glad no one is around at the moment, or they would hear me whining about how I wish I could make this. Unfortunately, from the process described, I am guessing that some rather specialized tools were involved.
We were told to try the two parts of this dish together. I did. It was nice. Cantu appears to be really into temperature contrasts.
Yes, the stuff in the shotglass was good. Vered said it tasted like autumn. That's about right.
Is this a course?: Synthetic Champagne, prepared tableside
We were brought champaign flutes containing some apple cider. Into this was injected (with a syringe - Moto likes syringes, apparently), some unfermented grape juice. The two reacted and turned fizzy. The result tasted a lot like champagne.
I'm not sure that I'd call this a course on the GTM, insofar as it is a beverage. I'd also say that this probably would have been best if served before the meal, but doing so would reduce the likelihood that people would order cocktails. I will say that, though this was cool, the "wow factor" of it was somewhat reduced since I'd already had the margarita.
The palate cleanser: Goat Cheese Snow
This course was a small amount of frozen chevre noir that was shaved to resemble snow, both visually and in texture. A bit of non-frozen chevre noir was placed on top. I wouldn't have thought goat cheese could serve as a palate cleanser. It did, though. Neat.
Carbonated sashimi: Hamachi & Clementine
This came on an oblong plate. On the right-hand side was half a clementine that had been carbonated (apparently carbon dioxide is absorbed into the fruit in an airtight environment - they call it fizzy fruit.) On the left side was a bowl with three separate things in it: some lovely raw hamachi, some micro-arugula topped with fried shallot rings, and a small scoop of celery root puree. We were advised to squeeze the clementine over the hamachi. We did, and the result was analogous to sashimi with natural orange soda (which isn't a bad thing at all).
I liked this dish a lot, but I am not sure how much the celery root and micro-arugula added to it. The shallot rings were cute. I love hamachi.
After eating the rest of it, I finished off most of the clementine. It was carbonated. That's pretty cool.
Honestly, I think that the meal might have benefited if this course and the Nitro Sushi Roll had traded places. One thing that we realized early on was that despite Moto being a rather upscale (I sort of hate that word, but I don't know a better one to use) restaurant, we needed to get our hands dirty. Fun was important, and a lot of the food we had was interactive. We recognized this fact early on, but I suspect that a lot of people more stuffy than we have some trouble with the idea. Having them start off their meal squeezing a carbonated clementine would get that across, I think.
Interlude the first: The Not-So Mysterious Box
Two amber-colored polymer boxes were placed on our table. We were told that they contained a mystery ingredient and that it would be cooked at our table as we had our next two courses. Each of the boxes had two parts. The bottom had a hot liquid, while the top held the "mystery ingredient" - the liquid in the bottom cooked the stuff in the top. We knew the ingredient was bass. The menu had "Bass Cooked Tableside" on it. I am not sure if they really expected this to be mysterious or if it was the sort of thing we were supposed to figure out - so as to make us feel smart or something. The mystery thing made me feel slightly condescended to, but I am fairly certain it was unintentional.
The boxes were topped with some Spanish paprika. The heat from the boxes warmed it and it gave off a nice aroma which actually added something to the next two dishes.
Popcorn and coconut: Passion Fruit & Scallop
The plating on this dish was lovely, and taste-wise it was probably the most well put-together of the night. In the center of the dish was a pan-seared scallop. Draped over the scallop and across the dish was a translucent golden pasta, shaped like thick spaghetti. On the plate were two sauces (one green and one yellow) and a white powder.
The scallop was a scallop. I'm not a scallop-person, but it was really quite good.
The pasta was actually made from passion fruit. It tasted good, but it was soft to the point where it was actually difficult to eat. It wasn't difficult to digest, mind you - but getting it on your fork without it falling apart was non-trivial.
The green sauce was a lovely shiso syrup. The yellow sauce was buttered popcorn sauce. It tasted exactly like buttered popcorn... even with a hint of that "only at the movies" buttered popcorn taste. The powder was coconut.
The reason that I give this dish such high marks is due to the way the disparate parts of it fit together. Buttered popcorn and scallop? It sounds weird, but the taste that came through when you ate them together was that of a creamy buttered scallop. The shiso, coconut, and passion fruit all rounded this off nicely. The variety of tastes came together incredibly well.
Palate cleanser #2: Gooseberry & Mint
This was a visually appealing interlude. The rectangular porcelain tray had three items lined up on it from left to right: a gooseberry gelee in a husk, a whole gooseberry in a hust, and a shotglass filled with pomegranate juice and mint. We were instructed to eat this from left to right. I'm not certain why - no explanation was offered, and I didn't think to ask, assuming it would be evident after the fact - it wasn't particularly.
Taste-wise, this was nothing spectacular. I liked the gooseberry gelee. I will say, though, that the paprika aroma coming from the center of the table did do something for this.
Eggplant heaven: Bass Baked Tableside
We were presented with large bowls, the bottom of which were covered with a brown puree and chanterelle mushrooms. I really, really dislike mushrooms - and the brown goop wasn't the most attractive thing in the world. I was told it was an eggplant puree, and that got my hopes up. I like eggplant when it is prepared properly - and I couldn't imagine that it wouldn't be.
Then they opened up the polymer cubes on our table. Inside were stark white cubes of sea bass. These were placed atop the eggplant. The sea bass was perfectly cooked. I cannot express how perfectly it was cooked.
It didn't compare to the eggplant puree, to which I would like to compose a poem. I will refrain from doing so, as I'd end up trying to rhyme something with aubergine and demonstrate just how poor my French pronunciation is.
That, of course, is hyperbole: my poetry doesn't rhyme.
The only drawback of this dish was my own fault, really: my dislike of mushrooms. I ate them - and as far as mushrooms went they were inoffensive - but I didn't enjoy them.
A meditation on violence and food: Rabbit & Aromatic Utensils
This was a strange dish. Let me describe it visually to you:
We were brought out to industrial-looking metal trays. This was striking. All the plates and such up to this point had been shining white porcelain with graceful curves. The trays looked like sheet metal that had been formed into the shape of battleship boards (perhaps calling to mind a play on violence). They were situated in front of us just as battleship boards were. We couldn't see each other's food.
Splashed across both planes of the tray was a red-brown paste (scarlet runner bean paste) that evoked splattered blood. In the center of the tray were pieces of rabbit. One was a clump of shredded rabbit. The others were medallions. The rabbit was all stained bright red with beets. There were two large, red-brown (scarlet runner) beans near the rabbit. They looked a bit like organs. The plate was garnished with crisp rice and truffle oil powder.
Into the top part of the tray, placed perpendicular to it and pointing (accusingly?) toward me were my eating utensils. These had corkscrew handles into which was stuffed fresh sage.
This was a bit of an incongruous and uncomfortable course for me. We couldn't see each other's food. Were we supposed to be feeling shame at eating the cute little bunny rabbit that had been slaughtered for our meal? I don't know. If so, the message would have been more effective if we'd actually ordered the rabbit individually rather than it being part of the course progression.
Maybe I am reading (far?) too much into this dish, but I don't really understand the purpose of the trays if it wasn't to evoke the feelings that I had.
In terms of taste alone, I did enjoy this dish. I really liked the scarlet runner beans (whole and paste) and the crispy rice added a necessary textural element. The sage aroma definitely added something - more than I thought it would.
Palate cleanser #3: Jalepeno,Cilantro, Avocado
This was a pretty little palate cleanser. It was a dollop of creme topped with a wee scoop of jalepeno sorbet. This was surrounded by small avocado cubes flavored with lime, and the entire thing was topped with a bit of fried quinoa. The sorbet definitely tasted of jalepeno, but it wasn't spicy at all, which was impressive. I'm not sure where the cilantro in this dish was. Maybe in the creme? It wasn't a strong flavor, but Vered believes the creme was citrusy. The avocados were a bit disappointing here. They seemed unnecessary. Everything else fit together really well.
I should point out that this entire course was only a couple of spoonfuls.
The experiment: Beef Macaroni and Cheese
This course came in two parts that we were instructed to combine. On the left was a shotglass filled with a cheese sauce made from an aged (14 year) Wisconsin cheddar. On the right was some dry, puffed, crispy macaroni topped with a small-yet-lovely beef medallion.
We were told that this dish - or at least the addition of beef to it - was new. I am not one to turn my nose up at beef (especially such a lovely piece), but I didn't think that the beef added all that much to the dish. I'm not saying that this course wasn't good. It was... but it was very much 'Macaroni and Cheese... with a piece of Beef' rather than 'Beef Macaroni and Cheese.' There wasn't any integration. Perhaps if the beef had been sliced thin or cubed it could have been mixed in with the macaroni. Alternately, if it had been served apart from the macaroni, it might have been there to simply complement it without a presumption that it was meant to be integrated.
The macaroni, by the way, was pretty damn cool. I mean, it was crispy. That's neat. This dish was also one of those that confused me, though. Many of the courses we had were fairly serious. Others were silly and fun. Macaroni and cheese, though, I tend to think of as cheap food. Yes, I have made fancy macaroni and cheese in the past, but my first association with macaroni and cheese will probably always be of a cheap blue box. It seems odd to have it as part of an expensive meal. Maybe this contrast could have been played up. Cantu might have been going for that with the addition of the beef, but, if so, it didn't come through.
One of our servers later asked us for feedback about this dish, since it was new on the menu. I appreciated that and told him more or less what I wrote above.
Interlude the second: the Kitchen, the Laser, and the Chef
One of the servers brought two pairs of dark goggles by our table and informed us we'd be given a kitchen tour. Apparently, this isn't standard, but Vered knew that I'd appreciate it and had managed this somehow. She rocks.
We went into the back and were told to don the goggles. Then we descended the (very wide) stairs into the kitchen where a red light was flashing. The red light was flashing because they were about to use the laser. Everyone in the kitchen was wearing dark lenses, and while they claim that the red light and glasses were mandatory whenever they used the laser, I half-suspect that they only do this when patrons come down like we did.
Did I say laser? Yup.
They caramelaserized us some wine. What is caramelaserization? It involves using a Class-IV laser to vaporize some ingredient (orange peel, for us - but vanilla beans and other things have been used). The vapor is then captured in an upside-down wine glass. The glass is set upside-down until the vapor sets onto the glass. The idea is that since the flavor-bearing bits are more-or-less instantly vaporized, they retain their natural flavor without being burnt. Moreover, since you are using a laser (as opposed to a fuel-based fire) there are no unwanted contaminants.
I asked a few questions about the kitchen, but I felt strange down there. Part of me wanted to run and play with all the cool kitchen toys. Another part of me was still seriously working on digestion. A third part of me was having a minor flashback to when I briefly worked in a restaurant kitchen - and that had been a miserable experience in a verbally abusive environment (which was why I only worked there briefly - I wanted to learn and I needed the money, but I value my self-esteem more than was apparently tolerable there). A fourth part of me was trying to dredge up everything I could remember about lasers from the experimental physics and optics classes I took in college more than a decade ago. Damn. I'm old.
Before we left the kitchen, Chef Cantu came over to say hello. He seems like a cool guy, and someone I'd enjoy hanging out with and bouncing weird ideas off of. Vered thanked him for the cooking lesson that he'd donated to the nonprofit she works for (which they auctioned off for $500+), and he immediately offered her two more - and whatever else he could do.
A delicious taste of the ordinary: Lamb with Kielbasa
Our next course was served along with the caramelaserized wine. We received a large plate in the center of which was a lovely rare lamb chop. This was bedded atop mustard-flavored cabbage. The plate was decorated with a light brown sauce, which we were told was made from pureed sausage and brioche. The sauce sounds stranger than it actually was - it tasted like a very good sausage gravy. Altogether, this was the most conventional dish that we had. I'm not complaining about it, though. It was excellent. The lamb was great. The cabbage added a nice sharpness to the dish, and the sauce was creamy but complimented the meatiness of the lamb without countering it.
My only complaint about this dish is that it felt like a bit like the main course of the meal. This was, I think, contributed to by a number of things: the fact that it was one of the more substantial dishes we had, the fact that it was accompanied by wine, and the fact that it was served right after we'd met the chef. It seems a shame that the dish I perceived as central was the most conventional. On the other hand, I suppose that might have informed my perception. Perhaps I needed something normal against which to compare the other courses.
The wine (Carlei Estate Tre Rossi Shiraz Heathcote 2001 with orange flavor) was enjoyable, and it went well with the dish. I don't know enough about wine to say a whole lot more than that. The orange flavor was definitely there, but it was more like an aroma that filled out the wine than anything else. It sort of formed a virtual buffer of orangeness around it without intruding. Even without being a wine-person, I can see why they like the caramelaserization technique.
Food as art: Fruit and Pasta
Damn, this was a gorgeous dish:
Three pieces of lychee rigatoni standing upright in a swirl of sauce made from white chocolate and cheese.
On the other side of the plate - a rice crisp flavored with toffee powder that curled over and sheltered a slice of marinated crabapple and a piece of candied squash.
I wish that this dish had tasted as good as it looked. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't the knockout that I'd hoped it to be. The sauce was, to me, the standout here. It was a really interesting, creamy white chocolate sauce that was nicely sharpened by the addition of cheese. The lychee pasta tasted fine, but suffered from the same problem that the passionfruit pasta had; it simply fell apart and was difficult to eat. The crabapple was surprisingly tasty, flavored with cinnamon and not too tart. The squash wasn't too exciting, and the rice crisp was a bit dry. Maybe I should have eaten it with the sauce.
This dish did serve as a nice transition toward dessert, though, as it stood about halfway there.
Carnival time: Three Cotton Candy Stages
Three items were presented to us on the standard white porcelain. The first was a sheet of edible paper with a cartoony picture of cotton candy printed on it in edible ink. This tasted like cotton candy. The second (which I ate last) was a white chocolate ball covered with rainbow sprinkles. Inside this was a cotton candy sorbet (which had melted). The third was crispy fried cotton candy. I don't particularly care for cotton candy, but despite the fact that I got a distinct cotton candy flavor from each of these none of them were overpowering. Vered liked this course far more than I did, but I think that is because she likes cotton candy far more than I do.
This was one of those fun and silly dishes. I appreciate fun and silly, but I found it slightly incongruous in a nice restaurantin the midst of an expensive meal. Maybe it needed a more appropriate lead-in. I think that the fun and silly dishes ended up being mostly desserts, which is a shame. It is a convention that went unbroken.
Nitro part II: Frozen Flapjacks
This was a fun and silly dish that really worked for me.
We were brought a bowl in which a large spoon rested. Within the bowl of the spoon was a single spoonful of heirloom maple syrup. Our server came to the table carrying a clamp that was attached to a smoking metal plate. He explained that it had been cooled in liquid nitrogen. He then took a large syringe which, he explained, contained cooked pancakes that had been pureed with cream, and squirted out two tiny pancakes onto the metal plate. The bottoms froze, and he flipped them... and then placed them carefully into our syrup-laden spoons. This was a one-bite dish that, unsurprisingly, tasted like pancakes and maple syrup. It was sort of gimmicky, but neat nonetheless.
Missed chances: Peanut Butter and Jelly
This dish was visually stunning and fun to play with.
The plate had a bit of mascarpone on it. To one side was a cube of french toast. To the other side was a shape not unlike those tiny cheese rounds that was made of jelly. This seemed awesome. The jelly-round was all jiggly. It reminded us of an eyeball, and we kept poking at it. We knew that it had to be filled with peanut butter, and that was exciting. How'd they do that?
Eventually, I stopped playing and cut into it. Liquid peanut butter spewed out, all over the mascarpone. Unfortunately, the liquid was too bitter, even with the sweetness of the mascarpone and jelly. I regret not having eaten the untainted mascarpone when I had the chance. The french toast cube was good, but it was only a bite.
Vered's bane: Banana Split
I was dreading this course on Vered's behalf, since she hates bananas, but she actually didn't seem to dislike it. I was shocked (pleasantly so).
This was another dish that wasn't that unusual except for presentation and a single element. The "split" in this course refers not to a banana being split down the middle, but to the two different ways in which banana was prepared in this dish. On the left was a bit of dark chocolate caramel on top of which was a roasted banana and some shredded wheat. Either there was also a chocolate sauce or the dark chocolate caramel was much more liquidy on the top than the bottom. On the right side of the dish was a bit of banana caramel topped with a slab of sorbet, The sorbet was made from a marshmallow flavored like a maraschino cherry (but not overpoweringly so). I enjoyed everything here. Despite the name, this was probably the most serious of the desserts.
Not all liquid bread is beer: Donut Soup and Pancake
While they were usually fairly descriptive, the server really didn't have an introduction to this other than, "donut soup." There isn't much more to say. We received a shotglass filled with a thick, batter-like soup. It was garnished with a tiny pancake. It tasted like a donut.
Appearance isn't everything: Chili Cheese Nachos
We were presented with a tray that had three tortilla chips on it, evenly spaced. Each of these appeared to have some salsa verde, semi-melted shredded cheese, and chili meat on them, with some sour cream on the side. In actuality, the chips were sweetened and topped with mashed kiwi, shredded mango, and milk chocolate, with some sweetened yogurt (mixed with cream cheese, maybe?) on the side. This was tasty, but it seemed like this was done solely for the visual trick with the realization that the flavors would work out acceptably. I think I'd expected more: the visual trick should work with the flavors really adding something that wasn't there. As it was, it tasted like a fruity corn chip with a bit of chocolate dipped in a sweetened cream. Perhaps if the tortilla chip had been replaced with something else or more heavily modified, this would have been more impressive taste-wise.
While I don't know that I'd have done it precisely this way, this is more-or-less the sort of dish that I like to think up. I enjoy coming up with food that looks like other food: the felafel waffle, the fruit and cheese "sashimi" plate, and things of that sort. I assume that this is one of the main reasons that Vered took me here. As such, while I thought this dish was tasty, it was the only one that I seriously thought that I could have just made at home.
This was, we thought, the last course. We ordered some coffee while we decompressed. The coffee was good, and they brought out a final mini-course with the coffee:
Time to get packing: Upside-down Coconut Creme Pie
This was a sweetened packing peanut, one end of which was topped with a little hat of toasted coconut. It was cute, and reasonably tasty as it dissolved in my mouth.
Recap:
The entire meal took well over four hours. Overall, the experience was amazing. I've had some incredibly good meals before and some rather strange meals before, but never a meal that was quite so unique... and certainly not one that was both so good and so innovative. Yes, there were some things that I didn't particularly care for (the mushrooms, the peanut butter), but there were 20+ pre-set courses. I expected to dislike a few things, and I'm actually surprised that there weren't more things I didn't like.
On odd thing about the meal was that it seemed to be lacking in an overarching or unifying style. To a point, I expect that of something called a "Grand Tour." My point isn't so much that there wasn't some sort of gimmicky overarching theme, but that there was really nothing to unify many of the dishes. This wasn't a "Grand Tour of Food Made Using Cool Tech" or a "Grand Tour of Food that Looks like Other Food" or "Grand Tour of Pureed Food that Is Not Normally Pureed" or anything like that. It was a grand tour of all of these things that don't have all that much in common. A "Grand Tour Moto" doesn't present much more of a unifying theme than "food cooked at Moto." I suppose it could be a "Grand Tour of Food Prepared and/or Served in Clever and Unexpected Ways." That more or less covers it, but it is still sort of vague.
I've read a few reviews of Moto. One complained that it valued style over substance. Another described it as a place where food and science intersect. I'd link to them, but I don't remember which was which and I'm too lazy to go look. Besides, I've already spent enough time writing this.
Anyway, these two comments had an impact upon my expectations going in to the meal. Now that I've experienced it for myself, I wanted to respond to them.
Style vs. Substance
I was really confused by this comment. Restaurants are, ultimately, places that provide you with goods (notably food and drink) and services (table service, a nice environment, and possibly entertainment). Other than quality ingredients in food and skill in preparation (neither of which were lacking at Moto), the substance of a restaurant lies largely with its style. It is the stylistic flourishes in food preparation, service, and atmosphere that really differentiate restaurants of otherwise equal caliber in my mind. If Moto emphasizes these flourishes to the point that they become the focus, is that a problem? It isn't as though they are ignoring substance in any way.
I think the problem is that substance can be misidentified as adherence to convention. Chef Cantu doesn't seem to be big on convention.
Food and Science
A number of reviews and such that I've read called Cantu's creations things like "Food Physics" and "Where food and science meet" and things of that sort. I think that there is an element of truth to this, but it isn't what the writers were referring to.
What Cantu does isn't, on the whole, science. You can clearly use science without doing science. One of the things Cantu appears to be doing is looking at scientific principles and technologies that have not been used in food preparation and figuring out ways of using them effectively. I don't think that the quest he's on is really part of the scientific project.
Cantu's role, however, does have a really interesting analogous one in the history of science. If we conceive of the history of cooking as analogous to the history of science, then Cantu is a revolutionary - though not (yet?) one on the scale of Copernicus or Einstein.
In science, we occasionally see shifts in theoretical paradigms - from a Newtonian physics to a relativistic physics, for example. Between those periods, when one paradigm reigns most of the work of scientists is to work within that paradigm and flesh it out, figuring out all the ramifications that they can. Cooking appears to me to be a lot like this. Different cuisines have different 'paradigms' and chefs tend to work within those paradigms. There is a difference, of course, in that the paradigms of cuisines are not typically mutually exclusive, whereas scientific paradigms are typically incompatible.
I'm oversimplifying here, I know. Just take the basic point and run with it.
The way I've been looking at what Cantu does is as an attempt to show that the current cooking paradigms are incomplete. We can do things that don't fit within them, and these can be really good things. What he doesn't do, however, is offer an alternate cooking paradigm. His work, so far, seems to be more about breaking down barriers than about developing a unique style. In history of science terms, it would be as if Einstein showed that there were a bunch of things that Newtonian physics couldn't explain, but which he could - without creating relativity, a theoretical paradigm that unified those explanations. This would be more problematic in physics than it is in cooking. Ultimately, a meal at Moto is a series of unrelated, yet very persuasive, arguments about the incompleteness of the common conception of what food can be.
If you aren't familiar with Moto, take a second and go look at their website to see pictures of their food. It is pretty, and it will give you some context.
Moto is fascinating. It is the brainchild of chef/inventor/designer Homaru Cantu, and is considered one of the leading examples of molecular gastronomy and postmodern cuisine. I hear he will be on Iron Chef soon.
In simple terms, Cantu does really weird things with really weird and/or high-quality food. They often apply cool technological processes in order to do this. Sometimes the food is fairly simple, but looks like something it isn't. Moto is probably most famous for serving pictures of sushi made with edible inks and paper. I appreciate that Cantu is willing to break down barriers in terms of our preconceptions about food. It is something I try to do myself, a bit, though I clearly don't have the resources or training he does... and, you know, it isn't my life's work or anything.
I've heard what Cantu does be described as the intersection of food and science. I have some thoughts on this from the perspective of someone who has studied the philosophy and history of science, but I'll leave those off until the end so as not to bore you. I suspect you are reading this for the food porn, not the theorizing.
Cantu also, I believe, designed all the eating utensils and dishes (mostly of sleek-looking white porcelain) and things that are used in the restaurant. Some of these really added to the meal. I'll discuss them as appropriate below, but I would like to point out that I really liked the standard silverware that they used. The handles had a nice curve to them that managed to be both elegant and ultra-modern at the same time. Moto was sort of like that overall... ummm... except for the curvy bit.
On to the meal. . .
We planned to get the Grand Tour Moto (GTM) - the largest tasting menu. We looked over the menus on-line beforehand, realizing that they could change from day to day. We did, in fact, notice a change between the menu on Friday and the one on Saturday (when we went) - "Macaroni & Cheese" became "Beef Macaroni & Cheese." You can check out the menus on their website, but they aren't particularly informative. I admit that I would have appreciated a bit more detail or description on the menu. As it is, I felt a bit silly taking notes when our servers described dishes to us.
Since the GTM usually takes over four hours, Vered made the earliest possible reservation, at 5pm. We arrived early, as the cab company dramatically overestimated the amount of time it would take to get there. I'm not too familiar with many areas of Chicago, yet. The restaurant is located in an area filled with older warehouses. Across the street was an older-looking diner, but next to Moto was an upscale art gallery. I didn't really get a feel for the area, though. It struck me as being in the process of gentrification. As Moto opened at 5, the doors were still locked when we arrived. We called (from outside the front door) and a hostess let us in.
I should pause for a moment and discuss the waitstaff. They appeared to be predominantly in their mid-twenties (but I've gotten increasingly poor at judging ages), dressed in black, a bit geeky, and good at their jobs. Those we spoke to seemed to have a good sense of humor, and we got the impression that these were people with whom we could be friends. We learned that everyone on staff takes their turn in the kitchen, which is something I can respect. If nothing else, it gave them an understanding of the food that they might not otherwise have had - and since they'd be the ones answering the inevitable questions, this is a good thing.
Table settings were changed before every dish that came out. When a dish was set in front of us, it was described in detail. We asked a number of questions about several courses and they were competently answered.
Okay, really, on to the meal now. . .
Drinks:
We sat down and had to make our only real decision of the night: wine or no wine. There was a wine progression that paired each course with a wine. Neither of us are real wine connoisseurs, though we'd like to be. More to the point, though, we are both lightweights when it comes to alcohol, and there were twenty courses in the GTM. We decided to start with cocktails instead. This was, actually, a more appropriate choice in some ways. The cocktails exemplified the unique style of Moto. Vered got a French Toast Martini, and I tried the Margarita Fizz. These were described as "liquid french toast" and "a science experiment."
The French Toast was the standout of the two. It had two layers: a cold, bottom layer of maple syrup vodka and a warm layer of pureed french toast (probably pureed with cream - this was a thick, uniform liquid that tasted like french toast). It was garnished with a bit of ice cream. The two layers stayed separate as the drink was consumed, despite the fact that you tasted both with each sip. The contrast was nice.
My margarita was prepared, in part, at the table. I was brought a glass rimmed with salt with some liquid in the bottom. Then a large syringe was emptied into it. The result was supposed to fizz up impressively. The fizzing was underwhelming. Apparently, it hadn't worked properly. They brought me another which fizzed nicely... and tasted better. Taste-wise, it was a rather good margarita... but nothing too special.
First course: The Menu
We were brought our menus. These had the three menu-options on them (Five Course, Ten Course, and GTM). Ours also had a personalized anniversary message. The menus were placed on white porcelain trays that were made to fit them. The menus themselves were thin crostinis printed with edible inks. I think that the printing was actually done on some sort of rice paper that was then sealed to the surface of the crostini, but I am not sure. The menus were tasty: crispy and flavorful without being too dry.
Okay, first real course: Nitro Sushi Roll
This came out in a cool-looking bowl that somehow managed not to look like a dog-food bowl despite the fact that every time I try to describe it I end up describing a dog-food bowl. It didn't look like one. Really.
Anyway, the stuff inside the cool bowl looked cool, too. It was, mostly, the makings of a sushi roll, deconstructed. There was some raw Tasmanian salmon and some daikon that had been marinated in yuzu. Sheltering these was a piece of crispy yuba that was topped with lime vesicles. There were some seasonings (I think they were typical agedashi seasonings) in the bowl as well. It was pretty. I also had to look up half the things in it after the fact in order to know what it was that I ate.
The main feature of the dish, however, was the "Nitro" part of it. When they served the dish to us, they came out with a smoking pot, in which was floating some white powder. This was powdered sesame oil floating in liquid nitrogen. They spooned the sesame oil into our bowls and suggested that we taste it immediately so that we could breathe out the vapors.
I liked this dish quite a bit, but not as much as Vered did. The flavors worked well together, but I felt that, texture-wise, there were too many dry things. There were a lot of powders involved, and the main source of moisture (the lime) was too tart to relieve the dryness. It would have benefited, I think, from more of the daikon, which I found to be very pleasant in terms of texture in this dish.
I'm also not sure that this should have been the first course. I understand why they did it. The dish has a high "wow" factor: liquid nitrogen is cool. On the other hand, it was one of the more complex dishes in terms of taste, and I think it might have been nice to work up to it. It was also one of the dishes that I perceived as being more substantial - there were twenty courses: most of them were relatively light or small.
Soup: Italian Food
We were brought out a long soup tureen, shaped almost boat-like. On the left half was a reddish soup, and the right half held a green soup topped with small croutons and some sort of oil or sauce. The dividing line wasn't down the center, precisely, but it was a neat line with little mixing. Very pretty.
The red half was pizza soup. It was warm. It tasted like pizza.
The green half was caesar salad. It was, as far as we could tell, largely pureed caesar salad, topped with croutons and some caesar salad dressing. It was cold and tasty.
Both of these tasted exactly as they were supposed to taste. The temperature contrast was very nice, and the two soups mixed where they met in the bowl as I ate them in a pleasing way.
I liked this. A lot.
OMG: Maple Squash Cake
Before I went to Moto, if someone said the words "Maple Squash Cake" to me, I'd have looked at them quizzically. Now, I'd be salivating.
I should preface this by saying that I like squash enough, but I'm not really a rabid squash fiend or anything.
(Are there rabid squash fiends in the world? Probably.)
The oblong plate came out with what I'll decribe as a shotglass (elegantly curved, made of porcelain, maybe slightly larger than a typical shotglass, but I'm not sure - few of these were used throughout the meal and I am just going to refer to them as shotglasses from now on) on one side and a piece of cake on the other. It was pretty.
The shotglass held marinated cubes of squash, smoked applewood bacon, and sage in a warm, light, syrupy cider.
The cake was one of the best things I have ever eaten in my life. It was squash. It was squash that was turned into a foam. It was frozen squash that was turned into a foam and then had the air vacuumed out of it. It was incredibly light. Let me say that again: INCREDIBLY light. I put my fork on top of it, and it practically floated up off the plate in order to slice itself off on my fork. I put it in my mouth and it dissolved into something that resembled a maple-squash-butter.
I'm glad no one is around at the moment, or they would hear me whining about how I wish I could make this. Unfortunately, from the process described, I am guessing that some rather specialized tools were involved.
We were told to try the two parts of this dish together. I did. It was nice. Cantu appears to be really into temperature contrasts.
Yes, the stuff in the shotglass was good. Vered said it tasted like autumn. That's about right.
Is this a course?: Synthetic Champagne, prepared tableside
We were brought champaign flutes containing some apple cider. Into this was injected (with a syringe - Moto likes syringes, apparently), some unfermented grape juice. The two reacted and turned fizzy. The result tasted a lot like champagne.
I'm not sure that I'd call this a course on the GTM, insofar as it is a beverage. I'd also say that this probably would have been best if served before the meal, but doing so would reduce the likelihood that people would order cocktails. I will say that, though this was cool, the "wow factor" of it was somewhat reduced since I'd already had the margarita.
The palate cleanser: Goat Cheese Snow
This course was a small amount of frozen chevre noir that was shaved to resemble snow, both visually and in texture. A bit of non-frozen chevre noir was placed on top. I wouldn't have thought goat cheese could serve as a palate cleanser. It did, though. Neat.
Carbonated sashimi: Hamachi & Clementine
This came on an oblong plate. On the right-hand side was half a clementine that had been carbonated (apparently carbon dioxide is absorbed into the fruit in an airtight environment - they call it fizzy fruit.) On the left side was a bowl with three separate things in it: some lovely raw hamachi, some micro-arugula topped with fried shallot rings, and a small scoop of celery root puree. We were advised to squeeze the clementine over the hamachi. We did, and the result was analogous to sashimi with natural orange soda (which isn't a bad thing at all).
I liked this dish a lot, but I am not sure how much the celery root and micro-arugula added to it. The shallot rings were cute. I love hamachi.
After eating the rest of it, I finished off most of the clementine. It was carbonated. That's pretty cool.
Honestly, I think that the meal might have benefited if this course and the Nitro Sushi Roll had traded places. One thing that we realized early on was that despite Moto being a rather upscale (I sort of hate that word, but I don't know a better one to use) restaurant, we needed to get our hands dirty. Fun was important, and a lot of the food we had was interactive. We recognized this fact early on, but I suspect that a lot of people more stuffy than we have some trouble with the idea. Having them start off their meal squeezing a carbonated clementine would get that across, I think.
Interlude the first: The Not-So Mysterious Box
Two amber-colored polymer boxes were placed on our table. We were told that they contained a mystery ingredient and that it would be cooked at our table as we had our next two courses. Each of the boxes had two parts. The bottom had a hot liquid, while the top held the "mystery ingredient" - the liquid in the bottom cooked the stuff in the top. We knew the ingredient was bass. The menu had "Bass Cooked Tableside" on it. I am not sure if they really expected this to be mysterious or if it was the sort of thing we were supposed to figure out - so as to make us feel smart or something. The mystery thing made me feel slightly condescended to, but I am fairly certain it was unintentional.
The boxes were topped with some Spanish paprika. The heat from the boxes warmed it and it gave off a nice aroma which actually added something to the next two dishes.
Popcorn and coconut: Passion Fruit & Scallop
The plating on this dish was lovely, and taste-wise it was probably the most well put-together of the night. In the center of the dish was a pan-seared scallop. Draped over the scallop and across the dish was a translucent golden pasta, shaped like thick spaghetti. On the plate were two sauces (one green and one yellow) and a white powder.
The scallop was a scallop. I'm not a scallop-person, but it was really quite good.
The pasta was actually made from passion fruit. It tasted good, but it was soft to the point where it was actually difficult to eat. It wasn't difficult to digest, mind you - but getting it on your fork without it falling apart was non-trivial.
The green sauce was a lovely shiso syrup. The yellow sauce was buttered popcorn sauce. It tasted exactly like buttered popcorn... even with a hint of that "only at the movies" buttered popcorn taste. The powder was coconut.
The reason that I give this dish such high marks is due to the way the disparate parts of it fit together. Buttered popcorn and scallop? It sounds weird, but the taste that came through when you ate them together was that of a creamy buttered scallop. The shiso, coconut, and passion fruit all rounded this off nicely. The variety of tastes came together incredibly well.
Palate cleanser #2: Gooseberry & Mint
This was a visually appealing interlude. The rectangular porcelain tray had three items lined up on it from left to right: a gooseberry gelee in a husk, a whole gooseberry in a hust, and a shotglass filled with pomegranate juice and mint. We were instructed to eat this from left to right. I'm not certain why - no explanation was offered, and I didn't think to ask, assuming it would be evident after the fact - it wasn't particularly.
Taste-wise, this was nothing spectacular. I liked the gooseberry gelee. I will say, though, that the paprika aroma coming from the center of the table did do something for this.
Eggplant heaven: Bass Baked Tableside
We were presented with large bowls, the bottom of which were covered with a brown puree and chanterelle mushrooms. I really, really dislike mushrooms - and the brown goop wasn't the most attractive thing in the world. I was told it was an eggplant puree, and that got my hopes up. I like eggplant when it is prepared properly - and I couldn't imagine that it wouldn't be.
Then they opened up the polymer cubes on our table. Inside were stark white cubes of sea bass. These were placed atop the eggplant. The sea bass was perfectly cooked. I cannot express how perfectly it was cooked.
It didn't compare to the eggplant puree, to which I would like to compose a poem. I will refrain from doing so, as I'd end up trying to rhyme something with aubergine and demonstrate just how poor my French pronunciation is.
That, of course, is hyperbole: my poetry doesn't rhyme.
The only drawback of this dish was my own fault, really: my dislike of mushrooms. I ate them - and as far as mushrooms went they were inoffensive - but I didn't enjoy them.
A meditation on violence and food: Rabbit & Aromatic Utensils
This was a strange dish. Let me describe it visually to you:
We were brought out to industrial-looking metal trays. This was striking. All the plates and such up to this point had been shining white porcelain with graceful curves. The trays looked like sheet metal that had been formed into the shape of battleship boards (perhaps calling to mind a play on violence). They were situated in front of us just as battleship boards were. We couldn't see each other's food.
Splashed across both planes of the tray was a red-brown paste (scarlet runner bean paste) that evoked splattered blood. In the center of the tray were pieces of rabbit. One was a clump of shredded rabbit. The others were medallions. The rabbit was all stained bright red with beets. There were two large, red-brown (scarlet runner) beans near the rabbit. They looked a bit like organs. The plate was garnished with crisp rice and truffle oil powder.
Into the top part of the tray, placed perpendicular to it and pointing (accusingly?) toward me were my eating utensils. These had corkscrew handles into which was stuffed fresh sage.
This was a bit of an incongruous and uncomfortable course for me. We couldn't see each other's food. Were we supposed to be feeling shame at eating the cute little bunny rabbit that had been slaughtered for our meal? I don't know. If so, the message would have been more effective if we'd actually ordered the rabbit individually rather than it being part of the course progression.
Maybe I am reading (far?) too much into this dish, but I don't really understand the purpose of the trays if it wasn't to evoke the feelings that I had.
In terms of taste alone, I did enjoy this dish. I really liked the scarlet runner beans (whole and paste) and the crispy rice added a necessary textural element. The sage aroma definitely added something - more than I thought it would.
Palate cleanser #3: Jalepeno,Cilantro, Avocado
This was a pretty little palate cleanser. It was a dollop of creme topped with a wee scoop of jalepeno sorbet. This was surrounded by small avocado cubes flavored with lime, and the entire thing was topped with a bit of fried quinoa. The sorbet definitely tasted of jalepeno, but it wasn't spicy at all, which was impressive. I'm not sure where the cilantro in this dish was. Maybe in the creme? It wasn't a strong flavor, but Vered believes the creme was citrusy. The avocados were a bit disappointing here. They seemed unnecessary. Everything else fit together really well.
I should point out that this entire course was only a couple of spoonfuls.
The experiment: Beef Macaroni and Cheese
This course came in two parts that we were instructed to combine. On the left was a shotglass filled with a cheese sauce made from an aged (14 year) Wisconsin cheddar. On the right was some dry, puffed, crispy macaroni topped with a small-yet-lovely beef medallion.
We were told that this dish - or at least the addition of beef to it - was new. I am not one to turn my nose up at beef (especially such a lovely piece), but I didn't think that the beef added all that much to the dish. I'm not saying that this course wasn't good. It was... but it was very much 'Macaroni and Cheese... with a piece of Beef' rather than 'Beef Macaroni and Cheese.' There wasn't any integration. Perhaps if the beef had been sliced thin or cubed it could have been mixed in with the macaroni. Alternately, if it had been served apart from the macaroni, it might have been there to simply complement it without a presumption that it was meant to be integrated.
The macaroni, by the way, was pretty damn cool. I mean, it was crispy. That's neat. This dish was also one of those that confused me, though. Many of the courses we had were fairly serious. Others were silly and fun. Macaroni and cheese, though, I tend to think of as cheap food. Yes, I have made fancy macaroni and cheese in the past, but my first association with macaroni and cheese will probably always be of a cheap blue box. It seems odd to have it as part of an expensive meal. Maybe this contrast could have been played up. Cantu might have been going for that with the addition of the beef, but, if so, it didn't come through.
One of our servers later asked us for feedback about this dish, since it was new on the menu. I appreciated that and told him more or less what I wrote above.
Interlude the second: the Kitchen, the Laser, and the Chef
One of the servers brought two pairs of dark goggles by our table and informed us we'd be given a kitchen tour. Apparently, this isn't standard, but Vered knew that I'd appreciate it and had managed this somehow. She rocks.
We went into the back and were told to don the goggles. Then we descended the (very wide) stairs into the kitchen where a red light was flashing. The red light was flashing because they were about to use the laser. Everyone in the kitchen was wearing dark lenses, and while they claim that the red light and glasses were mandatory whenever they used the laser, I half-suspect that they only do this when patrons come down like we did.
Did I say laser? Yup.
They caramelaserized us some wine. What is caramelaserization? It involves using a Class-IV laser to vaporize some ingredient (orange peel, for us - but vanilla beans and other things have been used). The vapor is then captured in an upside-down wine glass. The glass is set upside-down until the vapor sets onto the glass. The idea is that since the flavor-bearing bits are more-or-less instantly vaporized, they retain their natural flavor without being burnt. Moreover, since you are using a laser (as opposed to a fuel-based fire) there are no unwanted contaminants.
I asked a few questions about the kitchen, but I felt strange down there. Part of me wanted to run and play with all the cool kitchen toys. Another part of me was still seriously working on digestion. A third part of me was having a minor flashback to when I briefly worked in a restaurant kitchen - and that had been a miserable experience in a verbally abusive environment (which was why I only worked there briefly - I wanted to learn and I needed the money, but I value my self-esteem more than was apparently tolerable there). A fourth part of me was trying to dredge up everything I could remember about lasers from the experimental physics and optics classes I took in college more than a decade ago. Damn. I'm old.
Before we left the kitchen, Chef Cantu came over to say hello. He seems like a cool guy, and someone I'd enjoy hanging out with and bouncing weird ideas off of. Vered thanked him for the cooking lesson that he'd donated to the nonprofit she works for (which they auctioned off for $500+), and he immediately offered her two more - and whatever else he could do.
A delicious taste of the ordinary: Lamb with Kielbasa
Our next course was served along with the caramelaserized wine. We received a large plate in the center of which was a lovely rare lamb chop. This was bedded atop mustard-flavored cabbage. The plate was decorated with a light brown sauce, which we were told was made from pureed sausage and brioche. The sauce sounds stranger than it actually was - it tasted like a very good sausage gravy. Altogether, this was the most conventional dish that we had. I'm not complaining about it, though. It was excellent. The lamb was great. The cabbage added a nice sharpness to the dish, and the sauce was creamy but complimented the meatiness of the lamb without countering it.
My only complaint about this dish is that it felt like a bit like the main course of the meal. This was, I think, contributed to by a number of things: the fact that it was one of the more substantial dishes we had, the fact that it was accompanied by wine, and the fact that it was served right after we'd met the chef. It seems a shame that the dish I perceived as central was the most conventional. On the other hand, I suppose that might have informed my perception. Perhaps I needed something normal against which to compare the other courses.
The wine (Carlei Estate Tre Rossi Shiraz Heathcote 2001 with orange flavor) was enjoyable, and it went well with the dish. I don't know enough about wine to say a whole lot more than that. The orange flavor was definitely there, but it was more like an aroma that filled out the wine than anything else. It sort of formed a virtual buffer of orangeness around it without intruding. Even without being a wine-person, I can see why they like the caramelaserization technique.
Food as art: Fruit and Pasta
Damn, this was a gorgeous dish:
Three pieces of lychee rigatoni standing upright in a swirl of sauce made from white chocolate and cheese.
On the other side of the plate - a rice crisp flavored with toffee powder that curled over and sheltered a slice of marinated crabapple and a piece of candied squash.
I wish that this dish had tasted as good as it looked. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't the knockout that I'd hoped it to be. The sauce was, to me, the standout here. It was a really interesting, creamy white chocolate sauce that was nicely sharpened by the addition of cheese. The lychee pasta tasted fine, but suffered from the same problem that the passionfruit pasta had; it simply fell apart and was difficult to eat. The crabapple was surprisingly tasty, flavored with cinnamon and not too tart. The squash wasn't too exciting, and the rice crisp was a bit dry. Maybe I should have eaten it with the sauce.
This dish did serve as a nice transition toward dessert, though, as it stood about halfway there.
Carnival time: Three Cotton Candy Stages
Three items were presented to us on the standard white porcelain. The first was a sheet of edible paper with a cartoony picture of cotton candy printed on it in edible ink. This tasted like cotton candy. The second (which I ate last) was a white chocolate ball covered with rainbow sprinkles. Inside this was a cotton candy sorbet (which had melted). The third was crispy fried cotton candy. I don't particularly care for cotton candy, but despite the fact that I got a distinct cotton candy flavor from each of these none of them were overpowering. Vered liked this course far more than I did, but I think that is because she likes cotton candy far more than I do.
This was one of those fun and silly dishes. I appreciate fun and silly, but I found it slightly incongruous in a nice restaurantin the midst of an expensive meal. Maybe it needed a more appropriate lead-in. I think that the fun and silly dishes ended up being mostly desserts, which is a shame. It is a convention that went unbroken.
Nitro part II: Frozen Flapjacks
This was a fun and silly dish that really worked for me.
We were brought a bowl in which a large spoon rested. Within the bowl of the spoon was a single spoonful of heirloom maple syrup. Our server came to the table carrying a clamp that was attached to a smoking metal plate. He explained that it had been cooled in liquid nitrogen. He then took a large syringe which, he explained, contained cooked pancakes that had been pureed with cream, and squirted out two tiny pancakes onto the metal plate. The bottoms froze, and he flipped them... and then placed them carefully into our syrup-laden spoons. This was a one-bite dish that, unsurprisingly, tasted like pancakes and maple syrup. It was sort of gimmicky, but neat nonetheless.
Missed chances: Peanut Butter and Jelly
This dish was visually stunning and fun to play with.
The plate had a bit of mascarpone on it. To one side was a cube of french toast. To the other side was a shape not unlike those tiny cheese rounds that was made of jelly. This seemed awesome. The jelly-round was all jiggly. It reminded us of an eyeball, and we kept poking at it. We knew that it had to be filled with peanut butter, and that was exciting. How'd they do that?
Eventually, I stopped playing and cut into it. Liquid peanut butter spewed out, all over the mascarpone. Unfortunately, the liquid was too bitter, even with the sweetness of the mascarpone and jelly. I regret not having eaten the untainted mascarpone when I had the chance. The french toast cube was good, but it was only a bite.
Vered's bane: Banana Split
I was dreading this course on Vered's behalf, since she hates bananas, but she actually didn't seem to dislike it. I was shocked (pleasantly so).
This was another dish that wasn't that unusual except for presentation and a single element. The "split" in this course refers not to a banana being split down the middle, but to the two different ways in which banana was prepared in this dish. On the left was a bit of dark chocolate caramel on top of which was a roasted banana and some shredded wheat. Either there was also a chocolate sauce or the dark chocolate caramel was much more liquidy on the top than the bottom. On the right side of the dish was a bit of banana caramel topped with a slab of sorbet, The sorbet was made from a marshmallow flavored like a maraschino cherry (but not overpoweringly so). I enjoyed everything here. Despite the name, this was probably the most serious of the desserts.
Not all liquid bread is beer: Donut Soup and Pancake
While they were usually fairly descriptive, the server really didn't have an introduction to this other than, "donut soup." There isn't much more to say. We received a shotglass filled with a thick, batter-like soup. It was garnished with a tiny pancake. It tasted like a donut.
Appearance isn't everything: Chili Cheese Nachos
We were presented with a tray that had three tortilla chips on it, evenly spaced. Each of these appeared to have some salsa verde, semi-melted shredded cheese, and chili meat on them, with some sour cream on the side. In actuality, the chips were sweetened and topped with mashed kiwi, shredded mango, and milk chocolate, with some sweetened yogurt (mixed with cream cheese, maybe?) on the side. This was tasty, but it seemed like this was done solely for the visual trick with the realization that the flavors would work out acceptably. I think I'd expected more: the visual trick should work with the flavors really adding something that wasn't there. As it was, it tasted like a fruity corn chip with a bit of chocolate dipped in a sweetened cream. Perhaps if the tortilla chip had been replaced with something else or more heavily modified, this would have been more impressive taste-wise.
While I don't know that I'd have done it precisely this way, this is more-or-less the sort of dish that I like to think up. I enjoy coming up with food that looks like other food: the felafel waffle, the fruit and cheese "sashimi" plate, and things of that sort. I assume that this is one of the main reasons that Vered took me here. As such, while I thought this dish was tasty, it was the only one that I seriously thought that I could have just made at home.
This was, we thought, the last course. We ordered some coffee while we decompressed. The coffee was good, and they brought out a final mini-course with the coffee:
Time to get packing: Upside-down Coconut Creme Pie
This was a sweetened packing peanut, one end of which was topped with a little hat of toasted coconut. It was cute, and reasonably tasty as it dissolved in my mouth.
Recap:
The entire meal took well over four hours. Overall, the experience was amazing. I've had some incredibly good meals before and some rather strange meals before, but never a meal that was quite so unique... and certainly not one that was both so good and so innovative. Yes, there were some things that I didn't particularly care for (the mushrooms, the peanut butter), but there were 20+ pre-set courses. I expected to dislike a few things, and I'm actually surprised that there weren't more things I didn't like.
On odd thing about the meal was that it seemed to be lacking in an overarching or unifying style. To a point, I expect that of something called a "Grand Tour." My point isn't so much that there wasn't some sort of gimmicky overarching theme, but that there was really nothing to unify many of the dishes. This wasn't a "Grand Tour of Food Made Using Cool Tech" or a "Grand Tour of Food that Looks like Other Food" or "Grand Tour of Pureed Food that Is Not Normally Pureed" or anything like that. It was a grand tour of all of these things that don't have all that much in common. A "Grand Tour Moto" doesn't present much more of a unifying theme than "food cooked at Moto." I suppose it could be a "Grand Tour of Food Prepared and/or Served in Clever and Unexpected Ways." That more or less covers it, but it is still sort of vague.
I've read a few reviews of Moto. One complained that it valued style over substance. Another described it as a place where food and science intersect. I'd link to them, but I don't remember which was which and I'm too lazy to go look. Besides, I've already spent enough time writing this.
Anyway, these two comments had an impact upon my expectations going in to the meal. Now that I've experienced it for myself, I wanted to respond to them.
Style vs. Substance
I was really confused by this comment. Restaurants are, ultimately, places that provide you with goods (notably food and drink) and services (table service, a nice environment, and possibly entertainment). Other than quality ingredients in food and skill in preparation (neither of which were lacking at Moto), the substance of a restaurant lies largely with its style. It is the stylistic flourishes in food preparation, service, and atmosphere that really differentiate restaurants of otherwise equal caliber in my mind. If Moto emphasizes these flourishes to the point that they become the focus, is that a problem? It isn't as though they are ignoring substance in any way.
I think the problem is that substance can be misidentified as adherence to convention. Chef Cantu doesn't seem to be big on convention.
Food and Science
A number of reviews and such that I've read called Cantu's creations things like "Food Physics" and "Where food and science meet" and things of that sort. I think that there is an element of truth to this, but it isn't what the writers were referring to.
What Cantu does isn't, on the whole, science. You can clearly use science without doing science. One of the things Cantu appears to be doing is looking at scientific principles and technologies that have not been used in food preparation and figuring out ways of using them effectively. I don't think that the quest he's on is really part of the scientific project.
Cantu's role, however, does have a really interesting analogous one in the history of science. If we conceive of the history of cooking as analogous to the history of science, then Cantu is a revolutionary - though not (yet?) one on the scale of Copernicus or Einstein.
In science, we occasionally see shifts in theoretical paradigms - from a Newtonian physics to a relativistic physics, for example. Between those periods, when one paradigm reigns most of the work of scientists is to work within that paradigm and flesh it out, figuring out all the ramifications that they can. Cooking appears to me to be a lot like this. Different cuisines have different 'paradigms' and chefs tend to work within those paradigms. There is a difference, of course, in that the paradigms of cuisines are not typically mutually exclusive, whereas scientific paradigms are typically incompatible.
I'm oversimplifying here, I know. Just take the basic point and run with it.
The way I've been looking at what Cantu does is as an attempt to show that the current cooking paradigms are incomplete. We can do things that don't fit within them, and these can be really good things. What he doesn't do, however, is offer an alternate cooking paradigm. His work, so far, seems to be more about breaking down barriers than about developing a unique style. In history of science terms, it would be as if Einstein showed that there were a bunch of things that Newtonian physics couldn't explain, but which he could - without creating relativity, a theoretical paradigm that unified those explanations. This would be more problematic in physics than it is in cooking. Ultimately, a meal at Moto is a series of unrelated, yet very persuasive, arguments about the incompleteness of the common conception of what food can be.