Tasting Menu Struggles

I’m a big proponent of tasting menus. They are the best vehicle for a chef to demonstrate his artistry, while allowing the diner an opportunity to sample many different dishes. Tasting menus also eliminate the possibility that certain dishes will become boring after more than a few bites. But a tasting menu isn’t the right choice in every situation. Some restaurants don’t offer tasting menus because their cuisine isn’t conducive to being served in small portions. Then there are instances when diners find themselves at odds with the way the chef wants to express his cuisine. But all things being equal, I opt for the tasting menu about 80 percent of the time. Unfortunately, there are times when uttering those two magic words, “tasting menu,” leads to a battle with the kitchen over who controls the meal.

Tasting menus come in different shapes and sizes, and give both the kitchen and diner some latitude in organizing the meal. Some restaurants offer a preset tasting menu in addition to their à la carte menu, and in some cases a diner can ask the kitchen to serve a series of dishes from the à la carte menu in tasting menu–size portions. However, I often get the best results by allowing the kitchen to make all the decisions about my meal. And if you have read my reviews of the many terrific meals I’ve had at Craft, Per Se, or Blue Hill, I typically cede complete control of the meal to the kitchen, letting them decide what dishes are best that day. But sometimes, based on prior experience with a restaurant, I know that I like or dislike certain aspects of a chef’s cuisine. In those instances, I’ll try to organize a tasting menu that best suits my preferences, avoiding dishes I know I won’t like. Surprisingly, some chefs resist this approach and insist on dictating the courses served, just because I have called what I’ve ordered a “tasting menu.” That’s what happened to me at a recent dinner at the Greenwich Village restaurant Annisa.

I hadn’t been to Annisa in a number of years. The chef, Anita Lo, is famous for her Asian fusion cuisine. But I always thought that hers was not a classic fusion cuisine, but a menu split between Asian- and French-influenced dishes. I always preferred the Asian dishes, while the French dishes seemed less inspired. So my agenda was to sample as many Asian dishes as possible, and to avoid the French dishes if I could. The best way to do that was to order a tasting menu. Fortunately, the restaurant feels their cuisine is conducive to this approach, and offers two different choices, a five-course and a seven-course tasting menu. What I didn’t remember was how the kitchen felt about who should control the tasting menu. So when our waitress came to the table to ask us if we had any questions, I immediately tried to unearth the information.

“Can I ask you something about the five-course tasting menu? Is it okay if I choose the dishes, or does the kitchen like to maintain control of the menu?” She replied that the kitchen likes to choose the dishes, a response that made me unhappy, but one that I had some sympathy for. I always thought that a chef’s job is somewhere between an artist and an artisan, there to cater to our various whims, but also to wow us with unique creations. It is a distinction I am sensitive to, and I try and consider it when hashing out the menu with the kitchen. On the other hand, eating remains a social and sensual experience, and I don’t want to eat dishes or ingredients that I dislike. So in instances where I find that the restaurant and I have different priorities, I try to find a compromise. “What if we order the seven-course tasting menu, and I give you a list of dishes that we definitely want to eat, and then Anita can choose the rest of the menu?" The waitress checked with the kitchen, and she seemed to indicate that it would be fine. I then listed the dishes that I wanted:

White Tuna Tartar

Miso-Marinated Sable with Silken Tofu in a Bonito Broth

Hiramatsu (forgive me if I forget the preparation)

Pork Cheeks in a Caramel Sauce

The white tuna arrived, then an octopus dish that the kitchen had chosen (I would never choose octopus, but that’s a different story), and then we enjoyed the miso-marinated sable. For our fourth course, the kitchen sent out a skate and oxtail combination. I wasn’t keeping track of where we were in the meal and thought this was just the second course that the kitchen had chosen. I should have realized that the menu had only five savory courses plus cheese and dessert, so there was no way they were going to serve all the dishes I had requested. But it became clear when the bartender, who doubled as a waiter, brought two orders of the smoked lamb chops. What happened next was one of those classic moments in dining, for which I seem to be a magnet.

The bartender placed the lamb chops in front of me. Expecting the pork cheeks, I now realized something was wrong, and it suddenly dawned on me that I shouldn’t have been served the skate either. “There must be some mistake,” I told him. “I ordered the pork cheeks.” He responded that this is what the kitchen wanted me to eat. Taken aback, I told him how the kitchen agreed to prepare a list of dishes I had chosen, and they were going to choose the balance of our meal. Unfortunately, he didn’t buy this explanation and he repeated the company line about the kitchen making the choice. Realizing I was getting nowhere, and not wanting to eat the lamb chops, I lifted the plate off the table and handed it to him. “You don’t understand,” I told him. “I’m just not going to eat this. Take it back to the kitchen and bring me what I asked for.” Seeing me lift the plate off the table was too much for him to handle, and he meekly took the plate back to the kitchen. A moment later he returned to tell me that the kitchen was preparing my pork cheeks, and they would be out in a few minutes.

All would have been well had our original waitress not come over to the table to scold me. “Sir, I thought I had explained our policy to you,” she half-sneered at me. Since I’d already gotten what I wanted from the bartender, and the waitress was in no position to deprive me of anything, I was able to switch gears into what I will describe as relaxed arguing mode. “I'm sorry,” I told her. “I thought we worked out a solution at the beginning of the meal. I obviously didn’t understand what you were telling me, and I apologize for the miscommunication on my part.” Unfortunately, she didn’t reach out to grab the other end of this small olive branch, but continued scolding me. “I'm sorry,” I repeated, “but I thought we had agreed on a solution, and that is why I gave you a list of dishes.” “But sir,” she replied, “I explained to you that while you could give me a list of dishes, the kitchen reserved the right to maintain the integrity of the tasting menu.” My dining companion and I burst out laughing, and I asked her, “What’s the point of giving the kitchen a list of dishes if they’re going to ignore it and send out what they want anyway?” Our laughter had the same effect on the waitress as lifting the lamb chops off the table had on the bartender—she simply walked away from the table. A few minutes later, the hostess, who had been so gracious when we entered the restaurant and who I believe is Anita Lo’s partner, came over to apologize. “You know, I’m writing a review of this restaurant for my website, and I chose the dishes I wanted to taste specifically with that in mind. But hearing how the kitchen likes to maintain control over its tasting menus, I tried to work out what I thought was a good compromise.” Her response, while good from my perspective, was not particularly good from a consumer’s point of view: “Oh, you should have just told us that. It wouldn't have been a problem.” Luckily, a moment later my pork cheeks arrived.

Annisa doesn’t have an exclusive on tasting menu mishaps or tugs of war between chef and diner. I have an ongoing battle with Wylie Dufresne, the chef at WD-50 on Clinton Street. While WD-50 is one of my favorite restaurants, and I believe that Wylie is among the greatest young chefs in the world, he likes certain assertive flavors or flavor combinations that I dislike. One such dish that fits this bill is his combination of foie gras with anchovies—“Surf and Turf,” as Wylie and his dad, Dewey, like to call it. But it is more like fish and fowl, I mean foul, to me. Despite my feelings being well known to the kitchen, what do they serve me when I visit with an L.A–based OA forum member? You guessed it: “Fish and Foul.” So when I next visit the restaurant, I explicitly tell our server which dishes I want included in the menu, and which dishes I want left out. This strategy results in a superb meal. But after we finished dining, Wylie visited our table to complain that I should have let him choose. Of course, if I was confident that he wouldn’t send out dishes I dislike, I’d be glad to let him choose. Normally, I would prefer that a chef as talented as Wylie makes these decisions. But he and I are at loggerheads on the issue of whether I should eat dishes that I don’t enjoy. So at this point in time I have suspended his right to choose until further notice.

Another situation where tasting menus can cause a conflict between restaurants and customers is when people at the same table want to eat different menus. Forum member Michael Lipyanskiy’s hysterically funny story about having dinner for four at Aquavit (one couple wanted the five-course tasting menu, one wanted the seven-course menu; they were forced to eat at different tables, divided by a wooden barrier which made them have to stand to talk to each other), is the classic story of a restaurant handling the situation poorly Tasting Menus that Divide Us. Is there really any difference for the kitchen if people at the same table order different menus? They allow people to do that when they order multiple dishes à la carte, why not when they order something called a tasting menu?

So who should be in charge of tasting menus? Should the kitchen always be in charge even when you ask them not to? It seems illogical; after all, what is the difference between a list of dishes from the à la carte menu and a list of dishes on the tasting menu other than the size of the portions? If chefs do not have any proprietary interest in how an à la carte meal is organized, why do they have a proprietary interest when you label it a tasting menu? If I had never uttered the words “tasting menu” at Annisa, I could have easily ordered only Asian dishes and the kitchen would have never gotten involved in the details of my meal. Or at WD-50, I could avoid eating dishes I don’t like without having to answer to Wylie. When you think about it, restaurants allow diners sitting at the same table to each order a different number of à la carte courses. But why is that not allowed as soon as one of those diners calls it a tasting menu? The whole thing seems crazy to me. One would think that restaurants would realize this, and would change their policies in order to make diners happy.

Comments

[MaureenO]

I so agree with your feelings regarding restaurants requiring everyone at the table to order the tasting menu. It makes little sense to me and I often miss out on the tasting menu as a consequence. Do you think it's a concern on the restaurants part that one person at the table will be eating while the other sits there? Or is it simply due to convenience of service? Either way I don't get it.

[FaustianBargain]

errmm..my 2c? tasting menus are 'value for money'. there is a tier system and food comes from different cost levels. if all the courses come from the same 'cost level'(forgive the way i phrase things, but I think you know what I mean), the restaurant simply cannot afford to satisfy every customer. Maybe they will make an exception for regulars, but that would be an exception to the rule. Pork cheeks may have been fixed in supply and the kitchen has to make certain decisions that directly affect their bottomline. Lamb is probably more easily available/cheaper than pork cheeks?

and oh..the aquavit story..is that for real??!!

[Steve Plotnicki]

Tha makes sense. But if cost was an issue for the kitchen, they should have told me that was the case, and told me there would be a surcharge for the pork cheeks. I would have gladly paid it. And yes the Aquavit story is true.

[mikhail]

Faustian - sadly its true :) if you want more details i'd be happy to oblidge... sounds funny now but i was closer to steaming during the dinner.

[FaustianBargain]

Hey Mikhail,

I read Steve's post about your experience and I agree with him. If it had happened to me, I'd have simply walked out. What was narrated is simply unacceptable. I hope the meal was worth it.

Slightly related and out of curiosity, what was the difference between the 5 and 7 course menu. I am trying to get to 'the other side' and imagine if there was something so drastically different that the two menus would have impacted service in a way that a pair of you would have been left twiddling your thumbs as the other two were being served their two extra courses? If this were the case, then surely, this could have been communicated to you instead of seperating the group!

At times like these, I like to ask myself, WWSD?

What Would Silvano Do?

Silvano of Le Gavroche.

[mikhail]

i think that was their reason - 2 people get to eat while others are just sitting... but thats not their problem - if we are ok with it what does it matter to them? or is this a "we tell you what is better for you" ... i dont need to be told how to eat - i am a big boy.

[amanda]

is the difference between a 5 course and 7 course menu the amuse and the mignardise? i'm a student at csca and i am having lots of trouble fionging this information for my class project.

[Steve Plotnicki]

Those wouldn't be counted as courses.

[JP Reilly]

I have been at several places where there are 5/7/9 courses offered. Usually the people with 5 get some small "filler" during the time when the people with 7 are at interim courses. It's never been a big deal...