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Cathy, Tocqueville deserved them.  Thank you for your kind words.  

Wilf, single-breasted, you say? The sheer radiance of your visage must’ve given me double vision!  It is always a joy to see you.

Tana, thank you very much for your warm welcome.  

Lippy, you’re too kind.  My husband, David, will be flattered.  

Seth, it was very nice meeting you and your wife.

More pictures.

Coconut panna cotta with mango
I seemed to have enjoyed desserts less this time.



Chocolate mini cupcakes


Mango mousse in caramel/sesame seeds tuile


The truffle in the kitchen


The kitchen

Tocqueville is in the process of transformation from a lovely neighborhood restaurant to a more ambitious enterprise.  I always enjoyed the economy of design of the old location, which has been preserved and gently transported to the new dining room. The high-ceilinged room continues to convey a comparable play of delicate esthetic contrasts of gray/blue and gently yellow colors.  The large wall-mirrors, mimicking windows, establish weightlessness and should serve as perfect reflectors of incoming light dispersed by the small central window at lunchtime.  There is no explicit confrontation between the simplified classical style and modern movement (which sometimes turns decor cold, rhetorical and intellectual – Mix comes to mind), and at the same time, warm, modest colors prevent the room’s newly acquired grandeur from becoming overbearing, making it structurally whole from top to bottom, to the last detail within the same elegant theme.

I wonder to what extent the new menu at Tocqueville (and there is a new menu) will continue the trend I’ve recently seen and enjoyed toward incorporating contemporary French/Spanish influences.   The cuisine, under the collaboration of Marco Moreira and George Mendes (who joined about three[?] years ago as Chef de Cuisine after apprenticing with Passard, Berasategui, Bouley and Gutenbrunner), is taking a more unified and creative path not only in regard to new dishes, but old ones as well:  there is more precision, meticulous accuracy, either new groupings of ingredients or regrouping of the old ones around the main theme (as with the sashimi tasting plate, an old favorite that is only gotten better).  Tocqueville’s current cuisine is brighter, more sensuously charming, more decorative, and its effects are more complex despite minimalistic tendencies that challenge tradition.  

I think that there are two important principles in a successful dish: rhythm and contrast.  Each ingredient may form rhythms with like elements, and each of these rhythms may enter into relationships with rhythms formed by other elements to create contrasts.  In short, the dish is lacking when overemphasis of one or more of ingredients or their unskilled use fails to effect the unity indispensable in a successful dish.  Either the chef has nothing to say or he lacks the command of means to convey an idea.  

George actually creates contrasts through rhythms, bringing flavor to an asparagus velouté, for instance, too mild to stand on its own, through the slightly acidic asparagus dice hiding on the bottom of the cup:  the acidic intensity is washed off the asparagus tips, adding to the velouté the necessary balance with the first swirl of a spoon.  That is, it is through the play of the same ingredient that the contrast is achieved.  

There are whimsical sparks throughout the menu, sometimes delayed (as in the crème-fraiche ice cream in the Heirloom tomato appetizer, which upon melting and melding with the tomato juice, adds smooth, balanced leverage), sometimes direct (as in using the acidity and perfume of baked apples in place of vinegar). There is Passard’s slow-cooking combined with Basque tradition in the same dish, as in the slow-cooked hake with a parsley/garlic sauce (a play on the Basque “merluza en salsa verde”).  

While the dishes described above, which I’ve enjoyed recently at Tocqueville, weren’t served at the opening, there was the same character and variety present in many little amuses at the party.

Beet and goat cheese
The beet reminded me of the dehydrated beet ribbon amuse at El Bulli.  Interestingly, when dehydrated, the beet loses its native flavor characteristics, with delicate sweetness accentuated.  Adria uses vinegar powder(?) to oppose the sweet notes; Tocqueville added goat cheese to contrast not only flavors (sweet vs. sour), but textures as well (crispy vs. smooth).  It was indeed one of the best small morsels.



El Bulli beet ribbon



Smoked cod brandade on squid ink chip
Very Basque, clever and tasty. The chip was a witty visual imitation of fish skin.



Foie gras and bay scallop with mostarda mango
The central mango piece tasted better when paired with either the scallop or foie gras separately, but not when all elements were eaten together.  This dish echoed the house signature foie gras and scallop.



Rabbit tonatto
A nice and a worthy pun.



Potato blini, smoked salmon, roe, lemon zest
I assume that this dish was a variation on Russian “aladushki” (a more precise name for this type of “blini”). Aladushki (or as they are also called, “aladyi”) are generally served warm (Tocqueville’s version was chilled) with a blob of crème fraiche (or sour cream) and caviar on top.  The chilled sour cream serves not only as a complement to the potato, but also as a temperature insulator for the caviar, because caviar tends to lose its firm texture shortly after being exposed to heat.  This was a nice amuse, but I wonder whether it wouldn’t have been better had the blini been warm.



Venison, red cabbage topped with chestnut tuile
A classic combination of ingredients with a contemporary spark of paper-thin, crispy and delicate chestnut tuile.  This was a great amuse, and the venison was indeed cooked properly.



Celeriac and potato beignets with truffle mayo
What could’ve easily been heavy turned out to be absolutely delightful.  The beignets were exceptionally light, and the truffle mayo wasn’t weighty enough to take this lightness away.



Tuna wrapped in prosciutto.
I don’t have a picture of this dish, which I found very interesting not only because of its excellence, but also because the combination of raw fish and meat and their interplay has interested me ever since I tried beef carpaccio with Aquitaine caviar at Clos des Sens in Annecy; upon being mixed with the caviar, the meat developed a flavor similar to that of fatty tuna.  The concept at Tocqueville was analogous and worked as well:  that is, the prosciutto didn’t overpower the raw tuna, but rather created an unexpected unity of flavor.

Chicken bouillon with truffles, scallions and a quail egg
You just can’t go wrong with that!



There is an undeniable interest in the New York restaurant scene in the modernist culinary movement – so much so, in fact, that even Wylie Dufresne’s foie gras with anchovies doesn’t turn diners off  . I think Tocqueville is on the right track, probing in this direction through moderate and gentle contemporary touches.  I wish Jo-Ann, Marco, George and David (Tocqueville’s wonderful Maitre d’) all the best, and I’m looking forward to returning as soon as the restaurant is open again.


P.S.

“Here’s Wilfrid,” said the charming Magdalena and briskly turned away, waving to a gentleman standing several feet ahead.  Though his image remained rather approximate and unfamiliar, his attire of classic brown, double-breasted checked jacket and scrupulously polished brown shoes, embracing the open-ended symbolism of the “dandy,” was convincing enough for me to proclaim that, though I remembered not the British chap (well, I might have recognized his distinguished beard-free profile, as was assured by the side-by-side seating arrangement at the table at USC at our last meeting several years ago), evidently, it was indeed Wilfrid, the one and only, with his Beloved by his side.

Had he persisted a bit longer, not only would Cabrales have brightened his night, but also the lovely SethG family and the wonderful Magdalena and Michael.  We pretty much “closed” the restaurant and a jolly time was had by all.