Post 9: Blackbird, Chicago; Restaurant Review
What is it like to eat at your first michelin star restaurant?
It's the same feeling of christmas morning as a kid, there is no nostalgia to this event, it is new and your body is pulsating and breathing pure anticipation, excitement, nervousness. And as an adult, you are trapped in this role of being the most chic, the most classy and the most sophisticated version of yourself. You are not only there to be impressed, but to impress. So, you take your seat, mine, back to the wall eyes on the dining room, wait staff, and line. In that cryptic and selfish fashion; I think there is no one on earth who will have the exact same experience I am having in these anticipated moments. I know after the experience, I won’t tell but a handful of trusted confidants, because it is only mine and no one will ever experience, but me. It will not be worth telling the world to have them ruin it with their opinions, and questions and advice. I zoom out and shut out, no phone, hardly any conversation with the people attending christmas morning with me.
The first present is opened. Months later, it is one of the only things I remember about Christmas. Olive oil gelee and other souped up fixings mocking caprese salad. I take the spoon the way I was taught in dining class, scoop away from me, then back towards my mouth, and my lips close around the spoon and I’m not impressed. Not by the flavor at least, but never in my life have I had a texture so satisfying resting in my mouth. So, I pull the spoon away and place it back down and let everything sit as time pauses. It marches on around me with no apologies and I sink back into my chair, puzzled. It was the perfect temperature even, enough to notice it was cold, but it didn’t carry the harsh that cold usually carries. It melted and molded to the shape of my mouth and then down my throat, I am mystified that a dish could be so technically sound and produced, yet leave me disappointed. That’s the moment I truly understood what it was going to take to be great, to be the best. And to be entirely honest, it scared the hell out of me, but encouraged me, because I think I just might be able to pull it off.
Now the monk fish. It was cooked, and I’m hesitant to say this, but it was cooked perfectly. The dish was light and airy, but buttery and very floral, true to the inherent flavor of the fish. Except it had this black olive puree or fluid gel that was meant to be an eye pleaser on the plate. Stark black with this gorgeously pure white fish, and the black olive quite literally soiled the dish. It’s like it wasn’t even tasted or thought of after envisioning it. As you ate the black turned absolutely everything gray, and the flavor was so overpowering, I found myself eating around it, instead of trying to scrape up more. That dish was like pulling out the biggest present under the tree and in the bottom of the box was a single pair of socks. You’re upset and angry, you can’t help but think what could’ve been. It could’ve been so much more.
Time begins turning for again, fast and furious, all I can think, ‘If you wanted black on the plate so bad, why couldn’t you have used black licorice fluid gel and garnish with fennel flowers?’ The dish was clearly supposed to be about showing how beautiful a ‘peasants fish,’could be. Instead they covered it with malplaced decoratives, in hopes of giving it a face lift. Pretty wrapping paper on the biggest box. It broke the christmas spirit and set the pace for the night. Everything was almost awe inspiring. But then it wasn’t.
Finally the lavender and blueberry marshmallow, the last thing everyone ate, the thank you for coming in mint. I know it wasn’t, but, it tasted disappointingly artificial. Resembling the entire mood of service. Blackbird restaurant is artificial in the way it thinks and prepares food, at least that's what it feels like. There is no hiding the true talent and ability of a chef when they are truly pushing themselves to be everything they can. I no doubt believe the entire staff is proud of what they create and they should be, they’ve reached a level most people only dream to make it to.
I thought maybe its because the chef was still young and was still learning to push, but Blackbird was opened in 1997, 1 year before I was born, and Chef Paul Kahan is 56 years old. Another part of me thought, maybe all chef wants is 1 michelin star. But if a chef is already performing at a level that demands a single Michelin star, it would be impossible for them to not earn more stars, if they truly had it in them. It would be maddening to push the kitchen physically, but not creatively. Chef Paul Kahan and his team are not artificial in work ethic nor talent, but they are artificial in feeling and emotion. And that's what it takes to be great, to be the best. It takes wholehearted everything and nothing less.