Frank Bruni, Friend of the Working Man
Cometh the hour, cometh the man. In response to a reader's query as to why he'd bother to no-star Freemans when he's only got so many weeks in a year to review restaurants, Frank offers litany of reasons. We were particularly intrigued by this one:
[T]he size and frequency of crowds at Freemans, which is still filling up even after its expansion, suggest that every week, curious people who've never been there are showing up, ready to spend what may be hard-earned money.
And it's true; Frank has always been looking out for the little guy. After the jump, a selection of advisory opinions from the people's champ.
Per Se wants to dazzle and sometimes to challenge you. I recall in particular what I came to think of as a Wizard-of-Oz course of four different dishes of organ meats, including calf's brain (as delectably molten as foie gras) and calf's heart. Those were part of an extended chef's tasting menu that Per Se presented to three friends and me as a special option, something it does for a few tables during every lunch and dinner. The usual options are a nine-course tasting menu for $150 and a five-course prix fixe for $125. Each of these proceeds from appetizer to seafood to meat and tacks on a reliably superior cheese course, with cheese being defined liberally enough to include, say, ravioli filled with it. I recommend the nine courses, and I recommend that you let Per Se do wine pairings, which cost about $120 per person for a meal of that length. (Many bottles here cost more than that.) Per Se can be trusted with such decisions.
[Y]ou pay dearly. The price fluctuates with the season and the availability of certain delicacies. It now stands at $350 a person before tax, tip and sip of sake or bottled water. Masa, which reopens Jan. 11 after a holiday break, is arguably the most expensive restaurant in New York. Lunch or dinner for two can easily exceed $1,000. Justifiable? I leave that question to accountants and ethicists. Worth it? The answer depends on your budget and priorities. But in my experience, the silky, melting quality of Masa's toro and uni and sea bream, coupled with the serenity of its ambience, does not exist in New York at a lower price.
Over subsequent months and repeated visits to Ducasse, I had a few enchanting evenings (how, in a certain sense, could I not?) and a few insanely indulgent dishes of the sort that I would like to be fed just before my death, the timing of which has probably been advanced considerably by the aged rib-eye that a friend and I shared. It was carved tableside, and although already basted with butter, was further embellished with ribbons of foie gras. This was a fatty paean not merely to gluttony but to all seven deadly sins. I did not, however, experience the magnitude of magic implicitly promised by this restaurant's braggadocio: the glossy tomes by Mr. Ducasse on display in the plush parlor that serves as a cocktail lounge; the matte booklet on every table that lists his bibliography; the gold-crowned columns at the center of the dining room, which is as simultaneously sumptuous and sepulchral as a pharaoh's tomb. I did not experience the intensity — or rather consistency — of pleasure that should accompany the prices. The simplest three-course menu of appetizer, entree and dessert is $150. A chef's tasting menu of six courses is $225, and special truffle menus are in the vicinity of $300.
Alain Ducasse at the Essex House, February 2, 2005
