Hegel was the philosopher of retrospection, for whom understanding only comes in retrospect. “The owl of Minerva spreads its wings only with the falling of the dusk.” Joshua Skenes, by recent media reports, was a sort of shooting star that lit up the American dining horizon but faded out prematurely in a by now faint trail of stardust. If it is indeed the truth that he has disappeared, at least temporarily, from the dining landscape, that may say more about the strictures of a dining scene that moves on prematurely itself, in its perpetual search for the “new.” 3 out of 4 of the Gastromondiale editors (who were able to dine at Saison before he left the stoves to Gras) were dazzled by perhaps the only American chef to show how ingredients could be enhanced by paying a parental care to them. No American chef had ever exhibited the sort of maniacal care to their temporality, patient to their developing maturity as an elementary school teacher might wait for an unruly one to shed its acerbic edge.
Brandon GRANIER, Besim HATINOGLU
The Skenes era at Saison was the greatest period, not only in Californian cuisine, but in American. Skenes was an original, not because he did not borrow (he did profusely), but because his sensibility and capacity to adapt the ideas that preceded him, soared beyond those from whom he learned. As with any figure who shrugged off the politically correct imperatives of a mediocre American dining scene, he attracted his detractors. Greatness seeks resistance and produces resentment, inevitably.
We at Gastromondiale celebrate Joshua Skenes, the chef who made us rediscover the possibility in a turnip, a beet, a pumpkin. Who made us enjoy cuisine, uniquely American in its diversity, unlike we had until then and have since. We hereby present the first of Vedat Milor’s two reviews of Skenes-era Saison. Cheers.
Saison is an excellent restaurant. It is certainly one of the best in America and is the best in San Francisco. I will contend that, one ate three Michelin stars level food at the French Laundry between 1993-2000 when Thomas Keller was at the helm. Today, neither the French Laundry nor Meadowood, both three-starred restaurants, deliver at the level of Saison. (The only comparable quality in the Bay Area can be had at the David Kinch’s restaurant in Los Gatos, Manresa.) Certainly the fact that the founders of Twitter are among the financiers behind the venture help the chef Joshua Skenes to select the very best and rare ingredients. He charges the highest price of any restaurant in the Bay Area for the quality and luxurious rarity, but this is the United States and true luxury here has a higher price than in Spain, Italy, and even France.
There are two reasons for which this restaurant is not appreciated by the general public, and I understand them. One is obviously the price tag. Secondly, the service, although efficient and kind, has not yet reached the perfection one expects there. The welcome and farewell are as they should be at this level, but I found a couple small “gaffes” with service that came across also as a tad stiff. One is that, when, towards, the end of the meal, my wife’s camera flashed, we were told a bit too authoritatively that flash was not allowed. I agree with the policy, but there are less intrusive and gentle ways to give the same message before it happens. Secondly, I did not appreciate our server telling us not to take notes because they hand out the carte at the end. This is a well-intentioned gaffe, but nonetheless one feels “too closely watched” when told such a thing. I don’t need to rationalize to a server that: a. I write reviews and need more detail; b. The handouts are always inadequate and sometimes wrong (as it turned out it did not note down a couple of dishes we were served and it wrongly added a dish).
Ideally, servers in gastronomic restaurants should have minimum verbal contact with clients, other than answering questions about dishes (like “where do you get your lamb? How old is it?”). But gastronomic restaurants never seem to fit in in the States for cultural reasons beyond this review, and finding the right voice in the States is a learning process. One should be tolerant for mistakes like these, but I am mentioning them because I found the chef, Joshua Skenes, to be a perfectionist, and then you expect perfection at every level.
The new location of Saison may lack the warmth of the old location, but one cannot deny its luxe-rustic ambience. They valet park your car, so don’t look to find a spot.
The welcome was warm, and we were offered two glasses of Krug Champagne. The Krug was an excellent welcome before the start of a very successful meal. Even non-millesime Krugs are driven by minerality, and they are always, lush, and explosive.
The second aperitif was a soda, as is trendy nowadays: shoju, sake, and seaweed. It was actually very good.
First course: turnip custard and grilled turnip and sea urchin roe from Fort Bragg. Sea urchin is one of my favorite flavors on earth, and the quality was outstanding. I believe the chef countered its rich, intense, sweet taste with soothing but slightly sharp baby turnips. It was good, but I was not too convinced about the combination. The turnips did not enhance the quality of the sea urchin, and the flavor calibration was not optimum.
A good dollop of local caviar, from white sturgeons raised in the Sacramento valley, was served with a tomato jelly, corn pudding, and okra. I believe chef David Kinch is the first one who served caviar with tomato juice, and while skeptic, I was converted when I saw that the salty-fat-briny caviar married well with the sweet acidity. In Saison, too, this was one of the most satisfactory, truly 19/20 level dishes (but I hope one day we can find again the truly great caviars of the Caspian sea from wild beluga).
These first two courses were paired with a Demiere Ansiot, Brut Blanc de Blanc, GC. I did not know this champagne producer. It was an elegant 100% chardonnay, but felt a little lightweight following the deeper, more complex Krug.
There is one feature of the chef Skenes I like very much at Saison. He knows that human palate may not appreciate more than three to four flavors in each dish. His cooking is complex in the sense that ingredients are treated (maceration, different cooking methods, and then assembled), but they retain their clarity and focus. The next four tidbits which followed the caviar showcased this ability, and they were all delicious.
First, we had instant grilled amberjack or kamachi, cured in seaweed oil with the addition of a touch of cherry blossom oil.
Second, we had very fresh Maine scallops, smoked avocado, tiger lily, and a sauce from fermented pineapple skins. The scallops were sweet and nutty. This was an excellent calibration of flavors with a contrasting bitter element. Kudos.
Third, we had slightly smoked rainbow trout and roe on a rice cookie. It was nice.
Fourth, we had abalone roasted over the embers with a dark sauce containing abalone liver, oyster plant, pickled seaweed, and turnip slices. I have reviewed in gastromondiale some of the abalone I have eaten in the most distinguished restaurants in Japan, such as Mizai, Kitcho Arashiyama, Gion Sasaki, Ishikawa, Ryugin, Nakamura, Kodama, Kojyu, etc. The version at Saison would truly get approving nods from these masters.
Sommelier Marc proposed a mineral driven, very dry Austrian Riesling with laser like acidity with these first four tidbits: 2010 Jager Riesling Smaragd, Reid Achleitan, Wachau. This is an excellent choice from one of my favorite producers in Wachau which turns out some of the great Rieslings and Grüner Veltliners of the world.
If we count the tidbits each as a course, the fifth course was a consommé: roasted tomatillo consommé with sungold tomato and unprocessed safflower oil. The tomatillos were grilled before their juice was squeezed which made it more concentrated. This course also served like a palate cleanser.
It is nearly impossible to find a good wine match for the tomato-tomatillo combination. Marc proposed a Dai-ginjo (very well polished rice) sake. I have not noted the region where this sake came from but can attest to its merits. It was the “optimum” match, and I cannot think of a better one.
The next white truffle, or real Pico Magnatum, course, was quite special. It turned out to be one of the three best white truffle courses I have had in America. The first one was prepared by Jacques Pepin in the late ‘80s, when (I was a graduate student at Berkeley) he visited Chez Panisse. He simply paired white truffle with his own brioche. The second was in 1994 when I lunched at Daniel, when the great chef had just left Le Cirque and was cooking for a small number of appreciative clientele. He had paired them with root vegetable puree.
Chef Skenes basically prepared a risotto from “koshihkari rice” and parmesan. He prepared a white truffle custard to bind them together. I don’t know if I have tried the same rice in Japan, which was clearly a new harvest rice, but it worked. The only reason this dish scores 19/20 is that in mid-October the truffles were not fully ripe.
When in Piemonte in November I look for white Bourgogne to pair with truffle dishes, and for some reason Lafon Meursault is available in many lists. Italians usually pair it with Dolcetto, which is OK. Tourists order big Barolos, which is a disaster. I would like to thank the sommelier Marc for having found the right match for nutty truffles. 2011 Christian Moreau Chablis “Vaudesir” is as good as one can do, given the scarcity and price tag of properly aged Raveneau and Dauvissat “Le Clos”.
The printed menu says that the next, i.e. 7th course, is the “king crab”. Instead we were served something much more interesting and rare: spot prawns from Monterey. I once had a conversation with my ex-Gastroville partner and friend Mikael Jonsson, who left a career in law and business to open Hedone in London, about spot prawns. Mikael is endowed with an exceptional palate. He did not think too highly about spot prawns, because he considers them inferior to San Remo gamberi. The fact is that the red gamberi, which are caught in the deep and rocky sea in and around San Remo and also in Denia, Spain, are the most succulent and sweetest creatures on Earth if you can find the ones caught the same morning. To me they are more special than, say, lobster, but neither Mikael in London, nor a restaurant in San Francisco can have them transported without compromising the quality. The spot prawns are the best I find in the States, and chef Skenes poached them alive in sea water and served them with a touch of coconut and lemon grass sauce. I also remember a tiny bit of fermented unpasteurized cow milk brushed on the shrimp (yoghurt) and ginger.
They were delightful. The ingredients all blended well, and the milimetric taste calibration resulted in a high level of harmony.
Marc again hit the right spot with the wine match: 2011 Domaine Huet, Vouvray Sec, “Le Mont”, from Loire Valley. I have always been dumbfounded by the versatility of Loire Chenins. They come in a variety of styles (dry, bubbly, semi-dry and sweet). They display considerable variation, reflecting their terroir. For example, a Huet “Le Mont” is considerably different then, say, a Clos Rougeard “Breze”. This said, in France, in most modern new style bistros, I order a Chenin Blanc because it goes reasonably well with all vegetable and fish/shellfish dishes.
At this point we were served the best comfort food of which one can think: Parker house rolls, originally made in Boston, flavored by olive oil. Eating them is great pleasure. They made me think of the scenes from old Fellini movies, like Amarcord, where the innocent boy finds solace at the bosom of femme fatales with gigantic breasts.
Maybe this is less of a guilty form of pleasure, but it is also more dangerous: you gain an extra pound if you do not control your appetite.
I could not.
With the 8th course we turned to meat.
You cannot find good lamb in America. They are usually one year old. At Saison the chef did a very good job with the lamb. He aged it for about 60 days. He covered the rack with kidney fat. He sliced it, and served the tartare with grilled eggplant, cumin, fried onion, cloves and sun dried tomato. This was an excellent Mediterranean-Middle Eastern inspired dish which particularly appealed to me as I am Turkish. I forgot to ask about where the lamb came from, but it was among the very best I have had in the States. (I recommend the Dal Porto ranch in springtime when they slaughter about 30 lambs. Chez Panisse serves them if you hit a lucky night.)
Now what should the right pairing be with cold lamb tartare, spicy eggplant, and cumin? The MUST here is to pair it with a wine that possesses a smoky, minerally aroma. Then, it should be white. Ideally, the wine should be from volcanic soil. It should be something that is not too lean, but a white with some “body” to counter the texture of rich lamb. I would have chosen a Marcus Molitor Pinot Blanc, single vineyard. Namely I would have chosen Wehlener, Klosterberg (vineyard), and he puts three stars on his best wines and this one is marked by ***.
Kudos to Marc. He came very close. He offered a dry Pfalz Pinot Blanc, rather than a Mosel: 2006 Rebholz Weissburgunder ‘In Sonnensheim’ Gross Gewachs, Pfalz.
I recently made two visits to Germany to import some Rieslings to Turkey. I ended up selecting Herman Donhoff from Nahe and Egon Muller from Saar-Ruwer (Mosel). The 1976 Muller wines he generously uncorked gave me at least as much pleasure of the ‘78 Montrachets. Germany is still relatively undiscovered and unknown, but if you are interested in true terroir wines, Pfalz/Rheingau/Mosel are filled by rare gems. I would go out on a limb and contend that the terroir there is felt more than in Bourgogne. In Bourgogne, the style of the winemaker puts its imprint on the wine more than the terroir. So, say, a Coche Dury Meursault village and Meursault Perrieres (his best wine) will have a lot in common, and a Coche Dury Meursault is a more complex wine than some other producers’ Meursault Perrieres. In Germany, on the other hand, especially in Mosel, there are just too many good wines, and they all reflect primarily the difference in terroir (vineyard location, age of the vineyard, and soil composition).
Quite recently, given the demand for dry style wines, the producers came together and formed an association. To classify as “Grosses Gewach,” the wines should not have more than 4 ml per liter residual sugar and the yield should not exceed 50 hectoliter per hectare. There may be other regulations that I don’t remember, but I have been drinking quite a few GG Rieslings lately, and I recommend Clemens Busch which is available in the States.
The 9th course was a bouillon: pine mushrooms grilled over eucalyptus wood. The bouillon was made of pine mushrooms, with sea lettuce, spinach, and seaweed powder. Thinly cut raw pine mushroom slices contrasted with the grilled thickly cut slices. The smokiness from grilling surely added an extra dimension to the bouillon.
The pine mushrooms are called matsutake in Japan, and they are sought after by the best restaurants in Tokyo, in Fall. I have even eaten an ice cream made from them at Kodama in Tokyo, and I think matsutake is among the most complex and soul fulfilling food products you can find on this earth. The chef at Saison certainly made justice to this rare product, and had I closed my eyes, I would have thought about having the same in Tokyo.
Naturally, a yeasty Chardonnay with the right acidity is a good match for wild mushrooms. I will not take issue with Marc’s choice: 2010 Jean Noel Gagnard, Chassagne Montrachet “Morgeot”. Gagnard is a reliable, above average producer, and many restaurants in Paris carry his wines when they want to control cost and serve a “correct” CM.
A more interesting choice in the same price range would have been a Vin Jaune from Jura. I often pair them with celery and black truffles because they have a “celery/root vegetable” nose, and they are not fruity. It may be interesting to match them with Matsutake.
A one billion dollar question: what is the right wine match with slightly sweetened duck liver with toffee, caramelized white chocolate, milk, beer, and breadcrumbs?
Honestly, I don’t know. Another hat off for daring to offer an excellent match which is not wine: a beer, Reutberger Dunkel from Bavaria. The beer had the toffee notes to complement the dish. This was a fun dish and a fun match.
The final or the 11th course was the one which satisfied us the least: pigeon, rather baby pigeon. It was dry aged, but I don’t know for how long. The chef called it boudin, but this was a take on classic boudin, that is rolled pigeon breast topped by a matsutake cap. The sauce contained maple froth, dates cooked with coffee, and blackberries braised in sherry.
What baffled me was the softness of the breast. Even with baby pigeon or pigeonneau, I expect some gaminess, and about two weeks before I had eaten one of the best pigeon preparations ever, at In de Wulf, near the French border in Flamand-Belgium. I don’t think that chef Skenes did the unthinkable and sous-vided the pigeon, but maybe he should work more on retaining gaminess together with tenderness.
The wine match with the final course was merely OK: 2009 Domaine de Courcel, Pommard “Les Fremiers”. Serving this course with either Bourgogne or Cote Rotie is a no brainer. I am also not expecting ‘78 H. Jayer Vosne Romanee “Cros Parentoux” at the price which is charged for the upper end matching ($295 per person). But one can expect one of Hubert Montille’s Premier Crus (Volnay Taillepied or Pommard Rugiens are good), or an aged Bourgogne which has developed the gamey, roasted meaty aromas to match the boudin.
The desserts are also very good at Saison. First, we had a refreshing sorbet of yuzu and huckleberry with absinthe cream. The anis flavored liquor is a great idea here. Marc gave us a 1989 Sauternes with the desserts, which was generous. I would have given a shot of Absinthe or dry Ouzo/Raki with this pre-dessert and tell people that “the restaurant is not responsible for the consequences if you are not used to it!”
The Sauternes, 89 Chateau Coutet, was actually for the dessert: a buckwheat soufflé with buckwheat ice cream and buckwheat crumbles.
Desserts are the weakest part of the Michelin crowned American restaurants. I remember when Ducasse was in New York that he offered some very good desserts. Unfortunately the clientele was not sophisticated enough to appreciate his cuisine. He got a bad review from the NYT and he closed. I don’t know of any true haute cuisine French Restaurant in America right now. Chez Panisse makes very honest simple desserts. With these in mind, I found the “Buckwheat soufflé” successful. It was served with buckwheat ice cream that you melt in the soufflé and buckwheat crumbles. It was light, airy, non-eggy, flavorful, and the right finish to an excellent meal. I personally congratulated the dessert chef.
Grilled buckwheat tea was offered at the end of the meal. I guess at this point this was a better idea than serving grappa or Bas Armagnac as a digestive!
This review was originally published on February 13, 2014.
Thumbnail Image: Bonjwing Lee
