Chicago Dining - TRU

Last Saturday night, six of us shared the kitchen table at TRU. There was unanimous consent that this was one of the finest meals any of us had ever had, with everyone either giving it the top spot, or at least admitting that it deserved to be on equal footing with a meal had years ago at The French Laundry.

Set aside as a room within a room, the kitchen table is a climate controlled room with windows that look out on all the action on the lines as well as in the pastry kitchen. As much as I like sitting in kitchens where I feel like I am sweating it out with the chefs, I think Chef Tramonto has it right by allowing us to see everything, but not feel it.

We began the evening with the chef's amuse, a plate of four selections that included: a salad of haricots verts, a spoon of squash panna cotta with chili oil, salmon sashimi, and a spoon of apple plum soup.

The salad was a very simple combination of haricots verts and baby asparagus tossed in a light vinaigrette. The squash panna cotta may have been my favorite of the bunch. It was a thick, rich, mouth-coating concoction with a few drops of hot chili oil suspended in the middle. The result is a cool, creamy squash flavor that is hot on the finish because of the oil. The wild salmon was fatty and delicious and melted in your mouth. The spoon of cold, apple-plum soup rounded out the quartet and also served as an excellent palate cleanser to set up for the next course.

The second course was the chef's now legendary Golden Osetra caviar staircase. If the amuse were a study in sourcing the freshest ingredients and preparing them simply in order to let them shine, the caviar course was our first taste of chef Tramonto's artistic side.

The "staircase" is a series of eight glass slabs fixed around a central axis, with each containing a different type of caviar or garniture. On this particular evening, from top to bottom, we had golden osetra, osetra, salmon roe, wasabi infused whitefish roe, egg whites, egg yolks, onion and capers. In addition, each diner was served a plate of toast points and crème fraiche with chives. This was both visually appealing and delicious. It was really fun to have the "horizontal" of different caviars in front of you and to discuss them all with each other as we sampled each one up and down the staircase.

Up until this point, our dining experience was excellent. Everyone was impressed with the food - both the ingredient and the preparation - and the service was beyond reproach. As with many other high-end restaurants, plates were presented and cleared in unison, dishes were carefully explained, and glasses remained full as if by some invisible hand.

With the presentation of the third course, chef Tramonto crossed the Rubicon.

Our server began laying out serving pieces for each of the six of us and eyebrows began to rise when many of the utensils did not match. We were about to say something, when he returned with different wine glasses and different bottles of wine for each of us.

It was then that we realized that he intended to serve each of the six of us a different dish - and pair it with a different wine.

"P" had a duo of fish tartare, avocado salsa, seaweed salad, potato gaufrette
"R" had an octopus carpaccio, teardrop tomatoes, micro arugula and olive vinaigrette
"M" had a chilled peeky toe crab salad, plantain puree, cilantro lime vinaigrette
"S" had the chef's sushi plate, soy reduction and wasabi
"K" had seared yellow fin tuna, tapenade, potato confit, carmellini beans and shaved radish
And I had the deconstructed Wagyu beef tartare, caper berries, white anchovy, quail egg, consommé gelee

All of these were excellent, but my Wagyu beef tartare was head and shoulders above the rest. The beef itself was a bright red and well marbled and served in a tower topped with a raw quail egg yolk and white anchovies. The caper berries and a wide swath of black truffle vinaigrette completed the dish. All of these very strong flavors competed for attention, but were in perfect harmony when combined in one bite. The consommé gelee was a bit out of place. It offered a bit of artistic flare (several translucent cubes off to the bottom left of the composition) as well as displayed the kitchen's technical skills (ask anyone who has ever tried to siphon consommé how much fun it can be to prepare), but just sort of sat there, staring at the rest of the dish.

Still glowing from the revelation of the third course, we noticed that we were all presented with the same utensils for the fourth course. Oh well. You can't really expect the chef to serve six different tasting menus at the same table, but it was fun for one course.

Then, several of us received very different wine glasses - and a stunning array of mismatched wines: Sauternes, Tokaji Azu, Berenauslesse, etc. As the next course arrived, we realized that each of the six of us was being served a different preparation of foie gras, with a wine paired accordingly.

"P" had seared foie gras with coconut emulsion and roasted pineapple
"R" had seared foie gras with brioche French toast, banana chutney and chocolate sauce
"M" had seared foie gras with steel-cut oats, blueberry compote and aged maple syrup
"S" had seared foie gras with vanilla-apple puree, apple macadamia nut salad and caramelized emulsion
"K" had seared foie gras with peach and basil marmalade, fried tarragon and duck jus
I had seared foie gras with spring berries and braised red cabbage

All of these were very good - and some were exceptional, both for their creativity and for their successful combination of flavors.

The foie gras, brioche and chocolate sauce was brilliant. The seared foie melted into the chewy brioche and the gamey, nutty flavor of the foie married perfectly with the chocolate sauce. I don't know why I had never seen chocolate paired with foie before (other than the fact that it is completely and utterly, over-the-top, decadent), but more chefs ought to try it.

The steel-cut oats, berries and maple syrup was another excellent pairing with the foie. When considered at the same table with the brioche/foie pairing, the foie with peach marmalade and the foie with vanilla, apples and caramel, I began to think: foie gras - it’s not just for breakfast anymore.

As we sat licking that wonderful combination of foie butter and residual sugar off our lips, our waiter returned with the soup course. Once again, chef Tramonto seemed hell-bent on blowing our minds. Each of us received a different "capuccino style" soup, served in mis-matched Versace coffee cups.

"P" had porcini mushroom
"R" had lobster bisque, served with a spoonful of lobster meat
"M" had corn chowder
"S" had potato leek, with a fin of crispy bacon protruding from inside the cup
"K" had cream of asparagus
I had curried cauliflower

Again, there was not a dud in the entire lineup. Each soup was unique, true to its "form" and provided a nice intermezzo before the arrival of the main courses.

By now, we realized that we were truly experiencing a remarkable meal. We gave up trying to guess at what might be served next and completely surrendered to chef Tramonto's genius.

By the arrival of the sixth course, we had grown accustomed to having a variety of different utensils and wines on the table and just sat back and marveled at the breadth of dishes we were witnessing.

"P" had hamachi with baby bok choy, bamboo rice and ginger cream sauce
"R" had roasted Columbia river sturgeon with braised oxtail and spiced carrot puree
"M" had grilled dourade with English pea spaetzle and foie gras consommé
"S" had grilled swordfish with escargot, fingerling potatoes, olives, white anchovy and herb-butter emulsion
"K" had roasted wild Alaskan salmon with squash puree and potato gnocchi
I had roasted halibut with Israeli couscous, marcona almonds and lemon confit

Each time a course came out, we would take a few bites and then begin passing them wildly back and forth.

The sturgeon with oxtail and carrot puree was a heavy, solid presentation that played up the oily, fishy flavor of the sturgeon, rather than dance around it. The dourade with English pea spaetzle was a very simple dish that screamed "summer." The Alaskan salmon with squash puree and gnocchi was terrific comfort food, with the fat of the salmon mixing with the sweetness of the squash and the chewy, doughy potato gnocchi.

Once again, I was partial to my dish, the halibut. It was finished tableside with a tomato broth that played off the lemon confit and added just enough acidic bite to make the halibut come to life. I ended up essentially licking the bowl clean.

As a reminder, it is worth noting that by now, we had been served four amuse, four caviar, six different starters (one each), six different foie gras (one each), six different soups (one each) and six different fish courses (one each).

Nearing the end of this culinary marathon, we had to dig deep and prepare ourselves for the seventh course.

"P" had Millbrook farms venison saddle with summer fruits and vegetables and red wine-pepper sauce
"R" had roasted squab with lemongrass-sunchoke puree, chanterelles and ginger-foie gras sauce
"M" had espresso-roasted quail with salad of hazelnuts, cippolini onions and figs with sauce aigre-doux
"S" had assiete of pork: loin and bread stuffing , rillettes and great northern beans
"K" had Elysian fields lamb saddle with marmalade of peas, pearl onions, lettuce and merguez sausage
I had braised beef short ribs with Thumbelina carrots, parsnip puree and natural jus

As we get farther into this meal (and the subsequent wine pairings), it is harder to remember every detail, but there were a few standouts here as well.

The venison with red wine, pepper sauce was outstanding. The venison was tender, served very red in the center and married well with the red wine and pepper flavors - a classic combination.

The squab was an intricate combination that married the gamey squab with classic accompaniments. We have all seen squab served with mashed potatoes, chanterelles and foie sauce (or some other rich gravy). Chef Tramonto has taken this classic and contorted it, by using sunchoke puree (Jerusalem artichokes) in lieu of potatoes and perfuming them with lemongrass. The trick is taken a step farther by flavoring the foie sauce with ginger. The result is a decidedly southeast Asian twist on a northern hemisphere dish.

The espresso roasted quail with hazelnuts, cippolini and figs worked very well, with the aigre-doux reinforcing the juxtaposition between the cippolini and the figs. The lamb with "marmalade of peas" was another great expression of summer's bounty. Finally, the short ribs on parsnip puree were heaven on a plate - there is a reason he did not serve that dish to the same person who had the Alaskan salmon with squash puree and potato gnocchi in the prior course.

For the cheese course, they wheeled in a trolley with dozens of cheeses and breads to choose from and offered each of us a selection of three. Realizing that we were all dangerously full, we opted to select nine or so from the group and each try just a taste of them all.

I remember a very ripe Livarot (aren't they all) and an exceptional Spanish blue, but to be perfectly honest, by this point, we were all a little flush and mouths began to hang open out of near exhaustion.

After a little breather, the dessert courses began to arrive. That's right - I said dessert courses, in the plural.

Like the grand finale at the end of a fireworks display, the pastry kitchen unleashed a torrent of sweet confections that built to one, final crescendo of the evening.

Each of us was served a two-part dessert, with ice cream and berries on the left and pots de crème on the right. As I recall, the men received vanilla ice cream with a coffee/caramel pot d'crème and the women received a cinnamon ice cream with a deliciously dark, chocolate pot d'crème (again, apologies for foggy details, I was quite literally at my mental and physical limits at this point - and poised to go straight past them).

Just as we were tucking into these, each of us received an individual soufflé, either blueberry or a sort of "smores" soufflé (chocolate soufflé with melted marshmallow on top and a tiny graham cracker garnish). Each soufflé matched the other dessert courses, was perfectly prepared, and completely unnecessary.

As we rounded the corner and began to push away our various dessert plates, we were served miniature root beer floats. Picture an old fashioned shot glass, with the tiniest scoop of vanilla ice cream floating in a thick, syrupy root beer, with a miniature straw sticking out of it. It was a little silly, but delicious and the little bit of carbonation helped to wash away the sweetness of the other desserts.

As we sat, alternately moaning and sipping coffee, they wheeled in the trolley of mignardises and lollipops. This was a collection of a dozen or so small cookies, lollipops and other confections (somehow, candied grapefruit wound up on my plate). A few of us made selections, if for no reason other than to be polite.

Finally, in one last attempt to ensure us all a trip directly to Dante's third circle, we were presented with a selection of chocolates.

These came around the table on a three-tiered silver serving plate and we were each encouraged to make selections. All of these were made in-house and ran the gamut in terms of the variety of colors and flavor combinations.

There was a white chocolate streaked with purple, which had been infused with lavender. There was another streaked with orange that was orange-flavored and another, with red stripes, that was imbued with chili pepper. Those were the only three that I could force down - more out of curiosity than anything else - but there were eight or nine different flavors to choose from.

At the end of the meal, we were presented with menus commemorating the evening and as we trundled out the front door, each of us was given a package of Cannelés (like a vanilla and rum scented, miniature French cruller from Dunkin' Donuts).

The inscription described the laborious process of making these delightful, ancient cakes from Bordeaux, and suggested that we consume them the next morning, "so that the memory of tonight's meal may linger."