Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I became concerned when our first course—a poached egg served on toast with bacon and Mornay sauce, i.e., béchamel and cheese—revealed itself as bland, closer in flavor to a special from Norm’s than to the oeuf dishes served in Parisian temples of haute cuisine. We progressed to an incoherent take on miso soup, which included chunks of foie gras, plus rhubarb, hibiscus, and beets. This dish seemed designed to present foie gras in the unlikely context of a soup, but it failed as a summation of all its components. While the foie’s pillowy texture was a clear benefit of its bath in the broth, the beets and hibiscus were indiscernible amidst the salinity, and the broth itself was pedestrian.
The beef tartare posed a different set of problems. Texturally, the beef was rich and succulent and should have been the best dish of the night. But Ludo emasculated the beef with so much black pepper that I tasted little else. Then, to exacerbate matters, he topped the beef with a giant stalk of white asparagus that added one more layer of cacophony to the plate. He redeemed the dish with a single act of genius: He decorated it with large, briny anchovies that were luxuriously good, perhaps the best I have ever had. The anchovies transported me to the Mediterranean coast, if only for an instant, and I could have made a meal of them alone. To my great disappointment, the gregarious, transplanted Texan sitting next to me also liked them, so I could not steal her portion despite my furtive casing of her plate.
Ludo also knows how to sauté a scallop. His divers were plump and delicious. I did not bother with the accompanying curry-yogurt sauce or spinach, because the scallops were too good to be adorned with anything. I also enjoyed the nuanced richness of Ludo’s creamy polenta with its cantal and tender tail of beef lurking at the bottom of the crock. In addition, L.A. blogdom’s consensus that Ludo can fry a chicken is, for once, correct.
On the other hand, the shrimp in a “sweet and sour emulsion” was a disappointment. The unsightly emulsion resembled the nasal outpourings of a very sick Cyrano de Bergerac, and it did not taste much better. The veal sweetbreads with foie gras, pear, and a liquid choucroute could have been great—that is, if the sweetbreads had not been overcooked. (To be fair, Ludo was not far off the mark, and I am confident he usually does much better.) The cod, which had attractive red contours owing to its spicy butter, was slimy and utterly inedible. The kitchen simply phoned it in.
All three desserts were bad; one of them, the odious combination of chocolate mousse and jalapeno, molested my tongue into submission, ending my night. (A simple cheese plate would have sufficed.) Although Ludo offers dessert, his heart and mind certainly lie elsewhere.
Ludo attempts to navigate a lengthy menu, put his stamp on the entire meal, and befriend his customers in the process. Alas, he does not convince in a single course. At this point, the aspirations are too high, and Pierre Gagnaire remains sui generis. (Our lunch at PG’s eponymous restaurant during our honeymoon remains a high point and one of my fondest memories.) For this type of restaurant, Ludo may find more success with a tightly edited menu with dishes that are demonstrable theorems, not hypotheses undergoing constant experimentation. As a devoted Francophile, I truly want Ludo to succeed. I appreciate his spirit of adventure, and I do like this style of food very much. But it is a high-wire act, and he is not there yet.
LudoBites at Breadbar
8718 West Third Street
Friday, June 19, 2009
I am helpless against the addictive power of gochujang , that fiery, fermented chili paste that is an essential element of Korean cuisine. Accordingly, we recently visited Beverly Soon Tofu, a local standard- bearer in the hitherto unknown (to us) world of soondubu jigae, the beloved red stew, catalyzed by the chili paste and filled with uncurdled tofu and sundry other tasty vittles.
Located in the de rigueur anonymous strip mall in K-town, BST’s English signage curiously reads Beverly Tofu House. Once inside, BST charmingly attempts to conceal its Olympic and Vermont location by decorating its walls with wood-like cut-outs that attempt to evoke some mythical, tropical Korean idyll. (Instead, they just reconfirm the awesomeness that is the Town of K.) The tables take the form of bisected tree trunks, and the backless seats are ersatz stumps. The illusion is broken only by the massive posters advertising Bokbunjajoo Raspberry Wine and what I will only assume is the deliciousness of its fashionably Alize-esque flavors.
The food, unlike the design, is serious business, as is the demeanor of its presiding grandmotherly practitioner. (Miss Bird took a particularly liking to her, giggling gleefully in her Graco as the old woman loudly tore sheets of plastic bags from a giant roll. Was it the sound that tickled our baby’s fancy? Or was it little Miss Bird’s knowledge that this woman knew the score?) Our meal began with an assortment of carefully prepared and delicious small plates, the banchan. I enjoyed all of them, but two were standouts. The kitchen gave each of us an amuse-bouche of silky, sliced coins of white tofu perched in a bowl of delicate soy/sesame oil sauce, and strewn with finely chopped green onions and grated dry seaweed. This beautiful and sophisticated creation, neither spicy nor sweet, had an airy effect that set the stage for the more vivid flavors to come. Texturally, it was a little slice of heaven, the tofu melting softly on our tongues. I also was quite taken with the kimchi of cubed daikon radish and its sweet, tangy chili sauce; the complexity of the spicy sauce’s flavors elevated this tiny dish of kimchi beyond the realm of simple comfort food.
But we were here for the stew, and I am pleased to report that this majestically red and hearty creation had an addictively robust flavor. I especially liked the iteration with kimchi and beef (though I did not care for the oysters, which were slimy and vile). It’s hard to ignore that the mild-mannered, but dependable tofu it is a worthy counterpoint to its friend, the soondubu – the Ackroyd to the stew’s Belushi, if you will. Upon serving the sizzling bowls of stew, the server cracks a raw egg into the teeming melange; however, I found that the additional fat slightly undermined the dish’s austere appeal. Marisa, befitting her sagacity, was grossed out by it, and therefore smartly declined the egg. I also enjoyed our accompanying platter of sautéed spicy squid, which, lo and behold, was served in a spicy chili sauce with some onions. The dinner was such a hit that we visited BST twice in three days – once on “date night” and again a few days later with Miss Bird. We can’t wait to go back.
Beverly Soon Tofu Restaurant
2717 W. Olympic Blvd.