The Guardians madanmelder Jay Rayner anmelder den Michelin-trestjernede, parisiske restaurant Le Cinq DÅRLIGT med det vildeste sproglige overskud, et klip:
"Other things are the stuff of therapy. The canapé we are instructed to
eat first is a transparent ball on a spoon. It looks like a Barbie-sized
silicone breast implant, and is a “spherification”, a gel globe using a
technique perfected by Ferran Adrià at El Bulli
about 20 years ago. This one pops in our mouth to release stale air
with a tinge of ginger. My companion winces. “It’s like eating a condom
that’s been left lying about in a dusty greengrocer’s,” she says.
Spherifications of various kinds – bursting, popping, deflating, always
ill-advised – turn up on many dishes. It’s their trick, their shtick,
their big idea. It’s all they have. Another canapé, tuile enclosing
scallop mush, introduces us to the kitchen’s love of acidity. Not
bright, light aromatic acidity of the sort provided by, say, yuzu. This
is blunt acidity of the sort that polishes up dulled brass coins.
We hit it again in an amuse-bouche which doesn’t: a halved and
refilled passionfruit, the vicious passionfruit supplemented by a
watercress purée that tastes only of the plant’s most bitter tones. My
lips purse, like a cat’s arse that’s brushed against nettles.
The cheapest of the starters is gratinated onions “in the Parisian
style”. We’re told it has the flavour of French onion soup. It makes us
yearn for a bowl of French onion soup. It is mostly black, like
nightmares, and sticky, like the floor at a teenager’s party. There are
textures of onions, but what sticks out are burnt tones, and spherified
balls of onion purée that burst jarringly against the roof of the mouth.
A dish of raw marinated scallops with sea urchin ice cream is a whack
of iodine. It is the most innovative dish of the meal, though hardly
revolutionary. Sea urchin ice cream turned up on Iron Chef America back in the 90s.
A main of pigeon is requested medium, but served so pink it just
might fly again given a few volts. It comes with brutally acidic
Japanese pear and more of that flavourless watercress purée. A heap of
couscous is mined with a tiny portion of lamb for €95. Like the
watercress purée, it tastes of little. It comes with gummy purées,
unpleasant spherifications of lamb stock and mushy, one-note “merguez” sausages which are nothing of the sort. A sad, over-reduced sauce coagulates on the plate."
mandag den 10. april 2017
Løg, sorte som mareridt
Indsendt af Lars Bukdahl kl. 11.41
Etiketter: Jay Rayner, løg, madanmeldelse
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