Anger Burger

Every once and a great while I have the opportunity to taste how the other half lives – what it might be like to eat food lovingly prepared and where most importantly, expense is no issue.  When this happens I often catch myself thinking in a bitter way, some people get to eat like this all the time, but then I snap out of it.  That aggrandizing the very rich bullshit only leads to wondering why I can’t see the doctor whenever I need to and that road leads to madness.

On the other hand, when some very generous and kind friends offer to take you and your manmeat to Terrôir, the restaurant at Craggy Range vinyard in Hawke’s Bay New Zealand, you say yes please and show up with bells on.

I’m not going to mess around with photos of the surrounding countryside or the striking facilities themselves because blah blah blah jibber jabber.  FOOD.

Duck liver parfait, brandied raisins, toasted brioche and onion marmalade

As a starter, Hal and I had pâté (for some reason called “parfait” on the menu — I thought it was going to be layered in a glass, a kind of cheeky, organmeat food-prank, but it came out as a standard pâté, which then makes me think that someone screwed up on the menu and was all, what was that word again? Parfait?) with a sweet onion marmalade which basically made me embarrass myself with noises.

The pâté itself was perfectly smooth and velvety and lacked that kind of grossly rich quality that pâté sometimes has and was instead just delightfully near-overwhelmingly rich.

Whitloof and pear salad, Roquefort, wild rocket, honey walnuts and Craggy Range olive oil

Marika had a salad with endive (also called chickory, also called Witloof, though I’ve never seen it spelled with an h before, as seen here, which I realize now looks like I’m nitpicking the menu which I guess I am but I hope you understand only increases my enjoyment of it all), which I thought looked lovely but endive makes me cry so I didn’t even have a taste.  She appeared to enjoy it.

Twice baked soufflé of roast garlic and gruyere with red pepper, basil and new season asparagus

Her main was a fantastic soufflé with a medallion of red pepper and a few spears of asparagus.  I had a taste of the souffle and it was perfect: a texture that no word can really lend the respect it deserves.  Never eggy, not foamy, soufflé should be like eating a rich cloud, and this one was no exception.

Grilled beef fillet, parmesan gnocchi, crisp veal sweetbreads, braised baby leeks

Mike ordered beef, because it was his birthday and I promised him a steak.  It pains me to say it, but the beef wasn’t up to the rest of Terrôir’s standards.  The fillet itself was medium, though he ordered medium-rare, and it was one of those moments of “Do I send it back?”  Part of me feels an obligation to send back expensive cuts of meat when they are cooked improperly, but another part of me (and a vocal part of Mike) knows that when you’re not at a renowned steakhouse, you’re gambling on beef quality.  Fillet (also known as filet mignon) is a very lean, very tricky piece of meat.  It is often wrapped in bacon to protect the tendency toward dryness, and even still takes a delicate hand in the saute pan.  That it was overdone is unsurprising.  After a quick debate, Mike decided he’d prefer to eat lunch in a timely manner rather than send it back.

The sweetbreads were delicious, though overwhelmed by their frying batter, the gnocci were lovely and the baby leeks were tough to chew.

I feel the need to note that the staff were otherwise utterly pleasant in an unforced, easygoing way that made our Fancy Pants Lunch a pleasure.  We threw them a few curveballs (we moved tables!  sacrebleu!) and they caught them all with tact and skill.

Slow cooked rabbit leg with duck confit mousse, pancetta, sautéed liver and pearl barley risotto

Finally, my outrageous lunch.  I haven’t eaten this much midday since Thanksgiving.  First, the criticism: the waiter warned me that the rabbit was wild, and therefore had a stronger, gamy flavor.  I nodded enthusiastically.  Since it was slow-cooked, it should be tender and rich, like lean chicken thighs left to stew for hours.  What I got was a very firm, very delicious leg of rabbit that I couldn’t eat a third of because my dinner knife would not cut through it.  Another instance of: if I had said something, I’m certain the situation would have been remedied immediately.  On the other hand, I was nearly done with my meal and had reached a point of fullness that bordered on painful, so I just took it as a signal to stop eating.

However, the revelation?  That liver in front there, the glistening dark red pieces of meat, were incredible.  I had no idea organ meat could be so fine!  It was rich and clean and soft and the exterior was salty and crispy, and I could have easily eaten an entire entree of it, especially if it had been atop that toothsome, perfect barley risotto.   Liver!  Who knew?