I found myself in the Kobe Club for dinner this evening: a dark, brazen decor of chains, rocks and intricacy. Before settling into a booth, I met the 'critic' for a cocktail at the bar. Despite the recommendation of the Pink Punch (I hear punches are all the rage these days), I requested the KC: Kettle & Lillet: shaken, up with an orange twist. Discussion was held over cancer cell research, linguistic roots and Southern family history.
We moved to a booth in the back. Sunken in, black and approaching demonic. Wine and water were placed before us. A basket of puff pastry with Asiago crusted over the top followed. Before a breath could be taken, Kobe beef hot dogs wrapped in puff pastry- and sliced, with dabs of brown mustard were set down. I like hot dogs (I'll confess: especially from street carts at 2am) but these are another league. Smooth and melting: a delightful tease for the moments to come.
The following course: Kobe Cheek Ravioli in Truffle Broth. I'm going to go ahead and admit this was nothing spectacular. In fact, it was approaching on ordinary, or dare I say it: comparable to doggy food. Really, think of the smell of canned dog food. Now imagine how that might taste...and you got it. How can you mess up truffle oil? It seems sacrilegious.
The entree course pulled through and pushed aside the ravioli disappointment. Take this in: Salmon, grilled medium-rare with three lobster dumplings lazing over the top. The seafood rested on a bed of green beans. A large portion of fish, and prepared quite well. The dish wasn't anything spectacular, but certainly satisfying. The second dish we tried: American Waygu (4oz). The steak was buttery, delicious. The only complaint existed in the portion size, according to our critic. Personally, it was quite sufficient for me. We're in New York, not Ohio after all. To compliment the entrees, we requested the creamed corn and the mashers trio: Wasabi, sour cream and Langostine. A little more heart could have been put into the potatoes, but the presentation was nice: garnishes to suit. The creamed corn was quite delicious, well spiced and rich.
The meal was punctuated with the waiter recommended Baked Alaska. I'm still thinking on this one: why did the waiter recommend this dish? Is there a contest going on in the kitchen- how many people can we get to order this worthless dessert? Really, it was brutal. Honey ice cream could have been subdued, the gram cracker below was too hard and the meringue tasted store bought.
--On that note, I headed to coat check, while the critic stepped into the lavatory. The coat check guy leaned in and whispered, "First date thing?"
"Did that look like a first date? No, no, an analysis thing."
"Come again?"
"Well, it seems that he was critiquing you, the food. Although I cannot be sure. It started on craigslist."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Well, I hope we did well."
"Well enough," I smiled. Nodded.
He winked.
Into the cold, into a pub, in the N train station.
Images: Getty, Beef Aficiando.
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