Like many others, I was doubtful that the curators of Palais de Tokyo, one of Paris' ingenious modern art museums, would ever be able to fill the void per the June displacement of beloved Hotel Everland.
Leave it to marketing wizardry...
Sponsored by Electrolux, conceived by installation artist, Laurent Grasso, constructed by architect, Pascal Grasso, and manned by champion chef, Gilles Stassart, call it a hole in one, a pie in the sky if you will... literally.
Nomiya, named after the typique, micro-restaurants of Japan, sits high in the Parisian sky, up on the rooftop of Palais de Tokyo, offering a phenomenal view of an indisputably resplendent metropolitan. Kerplunk.
View aside, une belle experience vous attend...a beautiful, 3 to 4 hour experience at that.
A dazzling demi-sec champagne awaited the arriving guests. Lots of it. As does an adorably sassy maitre de whom chats up his 12 guests and later bestows porcelain spoonfuls of fabulousness upon his intermingling audience.
The aforementioned amuse bouche x 2 : First, diced kiwi in a wasabi glaze, topped by green fish roe, indeed a masterly blend of salt and sweet. Then, a delicate cube of creamy fois gras sitting upon a shaved wedge of a deep purple fig. I got a tad too excited about this one and potentially embarrassed myself before fellow guests. And alas, curse myself for not snapping a shot! It was difficult to maneuver with a handbag, champagne flute and overbearing tummy all working against me.
Roughly 2 glasses and an hour's worth of good conversation later, the guests were seated around the sleek, white, rectangular table, Stassart all the white appearing entirely peaceful beside his lustrous, stainless steal laboratory. Correct: A one man show, concocted on the spot, served to 12 eager gastro fanatics, 2 with specific dietary needs which were well-minded. Be this perhaps normal to a New Yorker, I assure that is an extreme rarity in le France.
And then it arrived. The most polished plating that I've ever personally witnessed in the land of sardines. A rainbow of beet root and radish carpaccio laid along the equator of the rectangular plate, just beneath the two, finely sliced morsels of sardines, the entire medley drizzled in a wonderfully pungent olive oil. And nestled as a centerpiece, a petit dune of an airy, spice-infused mousse d'aubergine (eggplant) laid beneath a bouquet of bean sprout, adding just the needed crunch. Publics often balk at the thought of sardine swarms but this was nothing of the sort. The fish was wonderfully flaky and had a very delicately salted flavor, not in the least bit intimidating.
The main course was delicious as well, though perhaps slightly less successful. Thin carves of a gorgeous, slightly pink lamb, crusted with breadcrumbs and shaved, sun dried tomato, all strewn atop creamed polenta, fragments of sun dried tomato and nectarous buttons of caramelized apricot. The polenta won me: beautifully buttered and creamed but still preserving an excellently grainy texture. As for the lamb, while I agree that it was a fine cut, I just didn't think that there was enough punch in the flavor to hold its own against the polenta, which instead merited a braised skirt steak or something of the sort. I was tempted to ask for salt but refrained, seeing as how I'd already once been modestly chastised for trading in my overly-acidic glass of white for an earthy and delicious red. Oh well.
And dessert: an adorable rondure of panna cotta, garnished with caramelized dices of nectarine and, interestingly enough, fabulously paired with doblets of sweetened, red pepper jus.
After espresso and a last lick of a licorice mashmellow, ever was there a happier dozen?
Joanna Hill, thank you thank you thank you for this unforgettable farewell lunch.
