Papillon: Brashly Bucking the Comfort Food Trend
Mar 30 '02
The Bottom Line Every now and then, one needs to take a leap into the unknown to keep life interesting. When you’re ready to do it on the culinary front, step into Papillon.
You are about to read one of the most challenging restaurant reviews that I’ve ever written. I had considered abandoning the project altogether, but then concluded that it would be a terrible disservice to those die-hard food lovers among you who are always seeking to expand their culinary boundaries. Well, this is it, folks! You wanna talk about epicurean bungee jumping? In terms of high-art food, you are not going to get more cutting-edge or more experimental than Papillon.
What is noteworthy about Papillon is not just that the food combinations are bizarre. Anyone can create weird stuff (just ask my mother about epicure’s spring green casserole - hey, I was only 10!), but few can accurately predict how beautifully certain unusual ingredients will enhance the flavors of a dish the way Papillon’s chef, Paul Liebrandt of Atlas fame can. As an audacious twenty-something wunderkind who trained under David Bouley, Liebrandt cooks for thrill-seekers and risk-takers - people who don’t need to know everything about a dish before they will take a bite, which is exactly why this piece is so difficult to write. I generally like to provide my readers with a comprehensive picture of my dining experiences, including in-depth descriptions of the dishes, but at Papillon it is virtually impossible to recognize much less remember all the ingredients used in each dish. I’ll certainly try my best to provide you with details, but more important than my descriptions is your imagination.
Mr. Epicure and I met our friend Valerie for a mellow mid-week dinner a few days ago. Located on the outskirts of the West Village, Papillon hardly looks like a culinary trendsetter. In fact, the bar area of the restaurant resembles a traditional British tavern or pub with its long, well-worn wooden bar table and crackling stone fireplace. Two heavy red velvet curtains were parted for us as we were shown to our large round table in the corner of the main dining room. The atmosphere projected by the dark wood-paneled walls and the rich leather banquettes was one of sedate contemplation and quiet dignity. The maitre d’ graciously gave our party of three a table set for six. A small pear or kumquat rested on each white linen napkin as a sign of welcome.
Our server arrived within minutes to take our drink orders and to present us with the menus. Mr. Epicure and I both passed on the alcohol, having recently recovered from a horrible throat infection, but Valerie ordered a glass of Riesling. We then began surveying our choices on the menu, but quickly realized it was an exercise in futility. The menu might as well been written in an unknown language for all that the descriptions conveyed. We decided to wait for our server to come to our rescue.
I looked around the room as we waited and noticed that it was barely half occupied. After the flattering reviews that Paul Liebrandt received at his former restaurant Atlas, I would have expected Papillon to be overflowing with adoring foodies. But then, I guess one only has to pick up the dining section of the New York Times or a recent issue of Gourmet to see that comfort food is “in,” and ultra-stylized, eccentric fare is “out.” Personally, I am bored senseless by all the macaroni-and-cheese and meatloaf popping up on menus all over town. As they say, variety is the spice of life, and for every 10 homey neighborhood bistros, you need at least one Papillon.
Upon our server’s return, we peppered him with questions about the menu. He impressed me with his ability to describe the techniques and ingredients of each dish without so much as a pause. I guess he must get a lot of practice at a restaurant like this. So finally we settled on our choices and sat back for the show.
First came the amuse bouche, two contrasting teasers actually - a small white coffee cup filled with warm pumpkin soup and a miniature glass filled with room-temperature oyster flan. Both were delicious, but I think the pumpkin soup with its unusual blend of spices and curry had a slight edge over the delicate, quivery oyster flan. I detected an intriguing fruity note in the flan, but I am not sure what it is. A sentiment that will be echoed many times throughout the meal. Liebrandt loves to layer flavors that are complementary yet shocking.
As we waited for our appetizers, we sampled the warm, crusty white and sesame seed/poppy seed rolls brought over by one of the servers. The rolls were probably the most “normal” part of the meal. And then, more delightful surprises came our way.
I ordered the Eel, which consisted of layers of broiled eel, black lentils and pea shoots, served with a peanut-based sauce and foamy coconut emulsion. (Liebrandt uses so much foam in his dishes that I wonder if he’s related to Ferran Adria.) The eel was fantastic, as fresh and tender as any eel that I’ve ordered at top sushi restaurants in the city. The glistening eel skin was particularly appealing, and the entire plate looked so artfully put together. I could practically imagine someone in the kitchen, meticulously mapping out the position of the foam and the sauce, both of which tasted wonderful with the eel. Eel, like sable fish, takes extremely well to sweet glazes and sauces.
Valerie ordered the Spring Garlic. You’d never guess from the name that it is referring to a garlic soup, which managed to be incredibly flavorful yet light, leaving no strong garlic aftertaste, and a savory miniature pizza garnished with baby snails and artichokes. Personally, I’m not crazy about the deep flavor of snails, but they did leave a distinct imprint on the pizza the same way anchovies would. Mr. Epicure ordered an Organic Salad. It arrived as a huge pile of mesclun greens, accented by cilantro, peas and an orange vinaigrette. Underneath the pile lay irresistibly crisp shallots.
We were still raving about our appetizers when our server brought three small glasses of cool, celadon-colored foamy liquid to the table. Green tea palate cleansers, he explained. The tea flavor was very subtle. I wanted to taste the liquid and the foam at the same time, which was nearly impossible. The liquid slid easily into mouth while the foam clung stubbornly to the glass. Ignoring all rules of decorum, I tilted my head all the way back and watched the foam move at a ketchup-like pace toward the glass opening. Truthfully, it was rather plain tasting, but I had to try it.
At this point, we were all hyped up about our entrees, but to our disappointment they were nowhere near as successful as our appetizers. I had the Loup de Mer (a type of bass), which was hopelessly dry. The negligible drizzles of barbeque sauce surrounding the elongated piece of fish did little to revive it. I enjoyed the accompanying baby lentils, but the Chinese broccoli was completely oversalted. I thought Valerie had better luck with her tender, flaky Cod, which was actually upstaged by the crunchy, garden-fresh turnips and gorgeous crystallized-in-sugar turnip leaf served with it. The leaf appeared as if it had been laminated at the height of its beauty. Of our three entrees, hers was definitely the most aesthetically pleasing. The only aspect of the dish that seemed a little off was her turnip puree scented with vanilla. Mr. Epicure tried the most unusual combination - Scallops, pan-seared, bathed in an herb and sea urchin broth and covered by pieces of squab and a chocolate crisp. I sampled a couple of bites and concluded that while chocolate and scallops are a thought-provoking pairing, I would not want to have this dish on a regular basis.
Valerie jokingly commented that she couldn’t believe we were consuming all these dishes without the help of some spirits. During the course of our meal, she tried glasses of the Riesling, Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay, and she proclaimed them all to be sub-par. Knowing how open-minded Valerie usually is about wines, I would advise you to steer clear of the restaurant’s wines by the glass.
Thankfully, such a daring and ambitious meal did end on a high note with dessert. Among the three of us, we shared the Breton, Strawberry and Chevre. (Can the names possibly be more ambiguous?) We decided to play musical chairs with the desserts, each of us taking a bite and passing the dessert along to the next person until the plates were scrapped clean. Of the three desserts, there was one that no one wanted to touch - the Breton. “It looks like head cheese,” Valerie declared as she stared at it. Quite an accurate observation. The pistachio/pink grapefruit gelee fell somewhere between completely unappetizing and just plain gross. Sweet pink grapefruit slices were suspended in a green gelatinous substance with the texture of fat globules. It was crowned by a piece of buttery shortbread and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. A rather bizarre experiment gone wrong.
The Strawberry was a creative take on a classical dessert - a strawberry mousse mixed with some licorice and liqueur, topped with a scoop of strawberry sorbet and wrapped in a piece of rich dark chocolate. It was absolutely lovely and almost effortless to consume in comparison to the other dishes. I could hardly taste the licorice or the liqueur, which is a good thing in my book. The Chevre, a goat cheese millefeuille, was also received with much enthusiasm. A roasted pear complemented the creamy, pungent goat cheese and the delicate pastry layers nicely. Again, Liebrandt took a familiar dessert and turned it into something new and exciting.
As a grand finale, we were served a tiny cup of hot chocolate, a tiny glass of Red Bull (a caffeine taurine energy drink) blended with lychees, a martini glass with three caramelized macadamia nuts and a plate of first-rate financiers and sweet orange jellies. The hot chocolate tasted like it had some chicory mixed in, which gave it an earthy sensuality. And though it sounds rather dubious, the Red Bull and lychee blend was amazingly refined and silky in its flavors and texture. In a way, it is the perfect signature drink for this restaurant where food snobbery is nonexistent, and all ingredients are fair game for Liebrandt’s ingenious culinary laboratory.
For all of the thought and effort that goes into composing the seasonal menu and creating each intricate dish, I think the $45 three-course prix fixe is fairly reasonable, especially when you take into consideration all the little freebies provided by the restaurant. Next time, I may even skip the main course and order only an appetizer and dessert – there is also a $35 two-course prix fixe.
Papillon is a restaurant that defies categorization. I posted this review under New York City Festive Restaurants because if nothing else, Papillon is a celebration of the mysteries of food, boldly going where few have gone before. Plus, it would be a fun place to bring a group of adventurous-minded friends. A meal at Papillon provides intellectual stimulation for your taste buds.
Address: 575 Hudson Street (b/t West 11th and Bank), New York, NY
Telephone: 646-638-2900
Attire: Smart casual in the main dining. Very casual in the bar area.
Vegetarian Friendly: No, because even a seemingly vegetarian dish probably has some unrecognizable form of meat in it.
Child Friendly: No, I doubt many children will eat these dishes.
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Epinions.com ID:
Epicure
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 - Top 500 |
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Location: New York, NY
Reviews written: 88
Trusted by: 100 members
About Me:
I generally avoid temptation....unless I can't resist it.
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