p***y
发帖数: 18037 | 1 那一个幸运的同学星期日吃了这顿L Train大餐？看到那个menu就很饿呀，caviar,
foie gras, filet mignon, 和 panna cotta， 都是我爱的。
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http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/04/dining/04train.html?_r=1&ref=
Aboard the L Train, Luncheon Is Served
By MELENA RYZIK
Published: May 3, 2011
The maître d'hôtel, who identified himself as C. K., steadied
diners' tables.
Yana Paskova for The New York Times
IN the era of pop-up restaurants and speakeasies, flash mobs and social
stunts, it was perhaps inevitable that a formal luncheon for a dozen people
would be staged aboard the Brooklyn-bound L train. Inevitable, but still
impressive.
Multimedia
On Sunday, the second-to-last car of the L train was transformed into a
traveling bistro, complete with tables, linens, fine silverware and a bow-
tied maître d’hôtel.
The event was the work of several supper clubs, and the menu they devised
ran to the luxurious: caviar, foie gras and filet mignon, and for dessert, a
pyramid of chocolate panna cotta, dusted with gold leaf. All of it was
accessible with an invitation and a MetroCard swipe and orchestrated with
clockwork precision.
The first course, an amuse-bouche of fluke crudo with bone marrow mayonnaise
and trout roe, served in porcelain spoons borrowed from the pastry chef
Johnny Iuzzini.
A chef and host, Michael J. Cirino, of the supper club A Razor, a Shiny
Knife.
Because of a few no-shows, there was room for walk-ups like Nicolas
Brandstader, center, and his sister Ana, from Buenos Aires, pictured eating
foie gras en brioche, with pots of homemade port wine and raisin jelly on
the side.
A few stops later, the soup got on: purée of ramps, poured warm from a
silver teapot, over black garlic, morels and a prosciutto crisp.
In deference to Metropolitan Transportation Authority rules, the hosts did
not offer alcohol.
Guests on the train at their “tables” as passengers watch.
Sparkling or still?
“So, is there a dining car?” one of the guests asked, as the group
descended into the subway station at 14th Street and Eighth Avenue on Sunday
, shortly after 1 p.m.
In fact, there was. Within moments, a car of the waiting train was
transformed into a traveling bistro, complete with tables, linens, fine
silverware and a bow-tied maître d’hôtel. “Is this your first
time dining on the second car of the L train?” he asked, as guests filed in.
They had been lured by the promise of a clandestine dining experience. (“
Please go to the North East Corner of 8th Ave and 14th St,” read the
instructions e-mailed early that morning. “There will be a tall slender
woman there with jet black hair who is holding an umbrella. Please just go
up and introduce yourself. Her name is Michele and she is quite lovely, but
no matter how hard you press she won’t tell you about the adventure you are
going on.”)
The event was the work of several supper clubs, and the menu they devised
was luxurious: caviar, foie gras and filet mignon, and for dessert, a
pyramid of chocolate panna cotta, dusted with gold leaf. All of it was
accessible with a MetroCard swipe (Michele handed out single-ride passes)
and orchestrated with clockwork precision. The six-course extravaganza took
only a half-hour.
It wasn’t rush hour, so seating was easy. The tables (lap-width black
planks, with holes cut to fit water glasses) were tied to the subway
railings with twine. Tucking in behind them felt something like being
buckled into a roller coaster. At 1:30 p.m., a few minutes ahead of schedule
, the train lurched off.
“Remember, if you see anything, say something,” said the maître d’h&
#244;tel (actually an auctioneer who gave his name only as C. K.). He added,
“This train will be making all local stops.” Assistants decorated the
tables with sprigs of lavender and offered water, sparkling or still.
At the next stop, Sixth Avenue and 14th Street, the chefs and main
organizers, Daniel Castaño and Michael J. Cirino, of the supper club A
Razor, A Shiny Knife, hopped on, joined by gloved waiters with trays. They
presented the first course, an amuse-bouche of fluke crudo with bone marrow
mayonnaise and trout roe, served in porcelain spoons borrowed from the
pastry chef Johnny Iuzzini.
“We might mention that we really love the slow food movement,” said
another bowtied host, Jonathan Cristaldi, “but today we’re not really
about slow food. So eat quickly.”
Because of a few no-shows, there was room for walk-ups (or rather,
passengers). “We’ll show you to your table right now,” C. K told Nicolas
and Ana Brandstader, a brother and sister from Buenos Aires heading to
Williamsburg who stopped and went wide-eyed as helpers rigged up another
plank.
Paul Smith, a CUNY professor, encountered the meal on his way home to the
East Village and was invited to join. “I had this fantastic lunch,” he
said, “very exquisite. And then I thought, am I going to get arrested?”
There was no sign of the police or even a conductor, but officials at the
Metropolitan Transportation Authority, reached on Monday, were not amused.
“A dinner party on the L train?” said Charles F. Seaton, a spokesman for
the authority. “No. Subway trains are for riding, not for holding parties.”
In deference to the authority’s rules, the hosts did not offer alcohol.
This did not assuage Mr. Seaton. “No beverages at all with open containers,
” he said.
At Third Avenue came foie gras en brioche, with pots of homemade port-and-
raisin jelly. Guests scrambled for knives and salt cellars that slid around
the tables. As the subway rumbled, water refills sometimes missed the mark,
and C. K. got on his knees to stabilize the tables and proffer wet wipes.
Other riders gawked or — this is New York, after all — continued staring
ahead and listening to their iPods.
Under the river and out to Brooklyn, where, at the Lorimer Street stop, the
soup got on: purée of ramps, poured warm from a silver teapot, over black
garlic, morels and a prosciutto crisp. Among the guests was Helena De Pereda
, who is helping open a members-only club in SoHo and was considering hiring
A Razor, A Shiny Knife for events. “They wanted to impress me,” she said.
“They got the job.”
Like some counterparts in the underground dining scene, Mr. Cirino and Mr.
Castaño aim for a punk theatricality. Halfway to the last stop, in
Canarsie, Mr. Cristaldi, who performs as Jonny Cigar and hosts an itinerant
wine saloon, began reading aloud from a copy of “The Great Gatsby” that he
pulled from the pocket of his bespoke suit. The subway luncheon was his
idea.
Naturally, it was heavily documented; at times the photographers outnumbered
the staff. Mike Lee, of the dining club Studiofeast, the chef in charge of
the entree, arrived at Morgan Avenue with a video camera strapped to his
forehead. His runners carried boards with precisely plated cubes of filet
mignon, swipes of mashed potatoes and pickled asparagus tips.
Mr. Lee had drawn a map of the Morgan Avenue platform, complete with the
benches he used as work stations, and clocked dry runs of assembling his
dish. Like the others, it was cooked at an apartment along the L route.
Timing was crucial, but waiting for the right train was torture. “It was 50
minutes of sitting around and 10 minutes of sheer terror,” Mr. Lee said.
In a final flourish, the last two courses — a gooey spoonful of St. André
cheese and the dessert — were finished aboard the moving train. As the L
rose above ground and the car filled with sunlight, Mr. Cirino added a
raspberry coulis from a whipped cream dispenser to the panna cotta; plates
were quickly spooned clean. The Argentines gloated over their good fortune.
“You expect crazy things to happen in the subway, like people getting naked
, but this ... ” Mr. Brandstader said, trailing off.
With the dirty dishes packed away and the tables stacked, the organizers
took stock at a beer garden in Williamsburg. The whole event involved more
than 50 people and the cost to the hosts was about $1,600, Mr. Cirino
estimated, not including donated supplies (Mast Brothers chocolate for the
desserts) and prep space (courtesy of the Brooklyn Kitchen).
Tickets were $100, but the money was refunded as a sort of good-will
adventure gesture. “We wanted to challenge ourselves,” Mr. Cirino said. “
We raised the bar,” Mr. Castaño added. Coming from a crew whose idea
of a meal out is recreating a 20-course Thomas Keller-Grant Achatz feast and
serving it in three cities, this is high praise. Over lagers and sausage
they toasted a future filled with sizzling hot pots.
“Next year,” Mr. Lee said, “we do shabu shabu. What could go wrong?” | l*****z
发帖数: 13617 | | p***y
发帖数: 18037 | 3 米兔。。。尤其到现在还没吃晚饭。。。
【在 l*****z 的大作中提到】
: 啊呀呀，把俺家小胖馋得啊。。。。
| d*j
发帖数: 13780 | 4 都是些什么东西。。。 一个都不认识
【在 p***y 的大作中提到】
: 那一个幸运的同学星期日吃了这顿L Train大餐？看到那个menu就很饿呀，caviar,
: foie gras, filet mignon, 和 panna cotta， 都是我爱的。
: ======================================================================
: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/04/dining/04train.html?_r=1&ref=
: Aboard the L Train, Luncheon Is Served
: By MELENA RYZIK
: Published: May 3, 2011
: The maître d'hôtel, who identified himself as C. K., steadied
: diners' tables.
: Yana Paskova for The New York Times
| p***y
发帖数: 18037 | 5 好吃的东西。把这几个字记起来，以後去西餐馆就点这几样就成。
【在 d*j 的大作中提到】
: 都是些什么东西。。。 一个都不认识
| t********o
发帖数: 196 | 6 只看到一堆狼籍的空盘子，和绿绿的汤，好想谁的胆汁吐出来了
【在 p***y 的大作中提到】
: 那一个幸运的同学星期日吃了这顿L Train大餐？看到那个menu就很饿呀，caviar,
: foie gras, filet mignon, 和 panna cotta， 都是我爱的。
: ======================================================================
: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/04/dining/04train.html?_r=1&ref=
: Aboard the L Train, Luncheon Is Served
: By MELENA RYZIK
: Published: May 3, 2011
: The maître d'hôtel, who identified himself as C. K., steadied
: diners' tables.
: Yana Paskova for The New York Times
|
|
