“The wrinkly texture of the yuba is interesting. Does it add much to the flavor though?" I took my first bite. "Hm. Yes, I think so. It's very thin and crackled, almost like chicken skin. And, look, it's bonded to the fish somehow. But what I really like is this gingerbread puree and cranberry bean soil. It's so unique. The gingerbread spices sort of unlock the monkfish's meatiness and muscle. Then the bean soil scratches your tongue and sort of forces the flavors into deeper levels of taste. And I love how you can't place it. It's not ethnic, it's not market-driven, it's its own thing.” FlavorsGingerbreadMonkfishCranberry Book:Food Whore Source: Food Whore
“Now that you have the menu, tell me what this is." "Tuna, vanilla brioche crumbs, and a bruléed disk of monkfish liver." "Ah, monkfish liver! Foie gras of the sea!" Michael Saltz said, lifting his cup in a toast. I refused to join him and just tipped the bite backlit a shot, letting the mouthful take shape all at once. Michael Saltz squinted at me while I set the cup down. If he disregarded me, then I'd disregard him. Next, Hugo brought out a single octopus tentacle, roasted to bring out the burgundy speckles in its skin, painted with sweet, sea-infused balsamic squid ink and framed by two quarters of a ruddy pear. We stayed silent as I ate. Skate came wading in a chorizo broth, a cap of seaweed poking through the surface like an island paradise.” SeafoodOctopusMonkfish Book:Food Whore Source: Food Whore