Zoli
Have you ever wondered why cheesecake doesn't taste like any particular type of cheese? It wasn't a question I'd ever pondered until my recent visit to Zoli, where the menu offered up a taleggio version that put all other cheesecakes to shame. Just-sweet-enough, with that cheese's signature pungent aroma and fruity notes, it was a revelation: pleasingly funky and with such a hit of flavor it disappeared from the plate in 2 minutes flat.
That type of very specific cooking also elevates the savory dishes here, which will vary by season, but lean towards surf, with some turf thrown in for good measure. When we we last visited, toothsome surf clam got a tingle from serrano peppers, mussels were in a paprika-spiked marinade and served with hunks of grilled peasant bread for a build-it-yourself tapas, and a grilled leak with harissa tasted like the essence summer. We could have gone for duck hearts with hibiscus and coriander, or bison strip steak with sauce Robert— two dishes the table next to us loved— but we decided to stick with the fruits of the sea and land. Not a bad strategy, as chef Ned Baldwin is a second generation fisherman, and knows how to coax every last ounce of taste from seafood, whether he's using Basque, Vietnamese, Mexican, or Indian preparations to do so (each dish seems to be inspired by a different part of the world).
The setting for this feast is as artful as what's on the plate, with cathedral height ceilings, etched cinderblock walls, and a centerpiece of 500-gallon fish tanks in which nothing swims: they're a rather somber look at the detritus at the bottom of the sea from sculptor Pierre Huyghe (the only misstep here).
Have you ever wondered why cheesecake doesn't taste like any particular type of cheese? It wasn't a question I'd ever pondered until my recent visit to Zoli, where the menu offered up a taleggio version that put all other cheesecakes to shame. Just-sweet-enough, with that cheese's signature pungent aroma and fruity notes, it was a revelation: pleasingly funky and with such a hit of flavor it disappeared from the plate in 2 minutes flat.
That type of very specific cooking also elevates the savory dishes here, which will vary by season, but lean towards surf, with some turf thrown in for good measure. When we we last visited, toothsome surf clam got a tingle from serrano peppers, mussels were in a paprika-spiked marinade and served with hunks of grilled peasant bread for a build-it-yourself tapas, and a grilled leak with harissa tasted like the essence summer. We could have gone for duck hearts with hibiscus and coriander, or bison strip steak with sauce Robert— two dishes the table next to us loved— but we decided to stick with the fruits of the sea and land. Not a bad strategy, as chef Ned Baldwin is a second generation fisherman, and knows how to coax every last ounce of taste from seafood, whether he's using Basque, Vietnamese, Mexican, or Indian preparations to do so (each dish seems to be inspired by a different part of the world).
The setting for this feast is as artful as what's on the plate, with cathedral height ceilings, etched cinderblock walls, and a centerpiece of 500-gallon fish tanks in which nothing swims: they're a rather somber look at the detritus at the bottom of the sea from sculptor Pierre Huyghe (the only misstep here).
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