Food, Part 3: Speech-arresting eats
Why J Vineyard's tasting menu has me dreaming of parmesan foam
A few times a year, I have a meal that prevents me from speaking. Words fail.
Instead, my pupils dilate, I let out a mouth-full, “ohmygod,” followed by guttural noises of approval and shaking my head as a grin staples itself to my face.
Most of those meals tend to come from steakhouses. There’s something about a perfectly prepared steak that stupefies me.
For my birthday a few years back, my mom took me to Osso Steakhouse on California Street, right next to the Masonic.
I had a 20-ounce ribeye that put me in that state of dumb-smile contentedness.
The only times I opened my mouth for the next five-to-10 minutes was to add a new bite.
Those meals are rare, and probably should be. If you constantly spoil yourself with the best there is, it’s hard to appreciate anything that doesn’t reach that impossible standard.
That’s why Yankees fans are such miserable people. They expect to win the World Series every year. Mets fans, meanwhile, expect disaster. It builds character and a sense of humor for the ever-present absurdities of life.
When you do get an opportunity to experience a high-quality steakhouse or haute cuisine, it stays with you.
A weekend wine tasting menu
A few weeks ago, I had a meal in that category at J Winery and Vineyards in Healdsburg.
It was founded by pioneering female winemaker Judy Jordan in 1986. She embarked into the world of bubbles when that was seen as a risky investment in the Russian River Valley. In the mid-90s, she expanded to pinot noir, and the winery became a staple of the area. The tasting room opened in 1999.
While Jordan sold the vineyard to E.& J. Gallo in 2015, it is still female run — chief winemaker Nicole Hitchcock was named winemaker of the year in 2022 — and though they’ve added white wines, those pale in comparison to their standard-bearer sparkling wines and pinots.
Their “Bubble Room” lunch wasn’t quite in the Michelin echelon, but it wasn’t far from it.
There were five (plus the amuse-bouche) courses as part of a wine-paired tasting menu as opposed to the dozen-course outlay at a place like SF’s $275-a-person, highly-cultivated Lazy Bear.
But it had the visual and gustatory qualities of restaurant that could reach that distinction. It was experimental, but not for the sake of experimentation.
The amuse-bouche
Each pairing, curated by J Vineyard’s estate chef Forest Kellogg and executive chef Aaron Meneghelli offers either a sparkling wine or pinot noir.
It began with a cuvée and an amuse-bouche featuring caviar.
(As an aside, every time I think of an amuse-bouche, it reminds of this scene in New Girl that exemplifies the horrid pretension that comes with terms like “amuse-bouche”)
Caviar is one of those high-brow items that often seems to be lumped into menus simply because it’s expensive. There is no question the saltiness and texture offers a distinct bite, but — despite its pomp and circumstance — caviar on its own can be underwhelming.
That was not the case here. It was served sitting atop a thin, gelatin layer of mandarin orange, and a cream fraiche base. There was real intention behind the preparation.
There was a rich, creamy foundation and, in the gelatin, a sweetness that gave each bite a textural base. Prepared like that, it gave the caviar a purpose; the salt and sweet worked together, and gave you a rich, multi-layered bite of something that was as much a dessert as it was an appetizer. It was light and heavy, salty and sweet.
Above all else, it got you to buy in to the rest of the meal.
There was an abundance of pomp and circumstance in the Bubble Room. It had comically high ceilings, traditional linen table settings and the sort of high-backed chairs that you (I) know you can’t afford.
In order to have a degree of seriousness about that meal, they have to give you a reason to buy in. That’s what the amuse-bouche did.
First course
Octopus | Citrus | Meyer Lemon Citronette | Yacon | Shiso | Toasted Pumpkin Seed — paired with Cuvée XB
This was my mom’s favorite part of the meal.
The octopus was prepared sous-vide in order to keep its moisture and prevent it from acquiring that horrible, rubbery texture that octopus has a tendency to get.
It was also sliced thinly, which contributed to its lightness.
My only qualm, or question with it, was whether when it was cooked sous-vide, it was cooked without a marinade in an attempt to let the other flavors speak for themselves.
The octopus itself was very plain and came with a tinge of fishiness that would make sense if it was cooked, then sat in its own natural flavors. It was a little displeasing.
That said, the citrus, citronette and other accoutrements were excellent. It was fresh and airy, with bits of earthy crunch from the pumpkin seeds and yacon, and an herbaceous, mint-like flavor from the shiso.
The Cuvée XB was also stellar. The winery’s commitment to using as little residual sugar as possible in their brut makes for an exquisitely dry sparkling wine with notes of apple and citrus.
Second course
Green Garlic Risotto | Bloomsdale Spinach | Parmesan Foam | J Estate Olive Oil | Dill — Paired with late disgorged Brut, 2011
This was the winner.
Parmesan foam, folks. I dream about parmesan foam now. When I feel uneasy, I imagine myself resting my head on a pillow of parmesan foam.
It was this part of the meal that I was transported elsewhere. I went into that state I mentioned above; call it the astral plane of gastronomy.
Everything on this plate was exceptional, but the parmesan foam was perfect. It sat in a pint-sized dollop that makes you think, “oh, so that’s what parmesan foam is.”
Then you take a slice like you’re scooping a bit of meringue off the top of a pie and get bombarded (positive connotation) with the essence of parmesan. It is outrageously rich without being overbearing, but simultaneously as light the bubbles in a bubble bath.
I could eat a bowl entirely of parmesan foam. I would pay a worrisome amount of money for a tub of it.
The risotto offered a nice bit of texture as a vessel for the foam. I can’t even remember what the late disgorged brut was like. The foam occupies all my mental real estate from that course.
Third course
Corned Cabbage | Mustard Seed | Rye Chamomile Crumble | Crosnes | Ginger Hollandaise — Paired with Pinot Noir, Strata, 2017
This took everyone by surprise after the risotto.
It’s like making an abrupt transition from an Italian wine bar to an Irish tavern. I, for one, loved it.
Mustard is one thing that I value highly in small quantities, but am disgusted by in large portions. In this case, the mustard seed was perfect, as it often is for brining corned beef.
It was a plate that felt like you were eating corned beef, but looked down and it was missing, replaced by cabbage. There was a well-received crunch from the crumble and crosnes (Chinese artichoke, served in minute bites). The mustard seed and hollandaise gave the plate a spicy, mustardy palate.
I enjoyed this probably more than anyone at the table. It was definite kick to the senses, and the Strata had a spicy finish to it, which certainly added to the jolt.
It wasn’t the highlight of the meal, but the creativity of it, and the way it offered the sense of eating meat in its absence, was impressive.
Fourth course
Lamb Kofta | Vadouvan Sweet Potato Gratin | Mint Chutney | Tamarind Jus | Curry Leaf — Paired with Pinot Noir, Foggy Bend Vineyard, 2017
I get why people are averse to lamb. I am not.
However, offering lamb in kebab format, essentially presented as a meatball, was a questionable choice in this setting.
The flavors were excellent. The chutney and jus were complex and complemented the kofta, but the texture kind of reminded me of eating swedish meatballs from IKEA in college.
It was by no means poor, but it was a little underwhelming.
The wine, however, was flawless. It’s described as, “Rich and spicy, with unctuous cherry, boysenberry and kirsch flavors that are filled with suave creaminess. Hints of roasted chicory and underbrush show on the burnished finish.”
I won’t attempt to verify exactly how “unctuous” the cherry was, but there’s a complexity to the Foggy Bend from the first sip to the last. There’s a tangible spiciness that gives way to a really balanced flavor. It’s intriguing without ever feeling too acidic or imposing.
Fifth course
Orange Creamsicle Parfait | Brûléed Marshmallow Fluff | Vanilla Wafer | White Chocolate Pearls — Paired with Cuvée 20 Magnum
There were mixed reviews on this one, but I was in the camp that enjoyed this. The dessert was presented in a ramekin that lets you chop through the wafer to scoop out a bit of fluff and parfait.
It’s a little bit messy, and makes me think of the end of “The Menu”, when Chef Slowik (played by Ralph Fiennes) describes a smore as “the most offensive assault on the human palate ever contrived. Unethically-sourced chocolate and gelatinized sugar-water imprisoned by industrial-grade graham cracker.”
This was probably a little too close to eating a smore out of a bowl, but in practice, it worked. It had fresh orange citrus to combat the fluff’s sweetness, and the pearls combined with the wafer for a crunch.
There was maybe too much crunch, but I’d prefer that over a soupy marshmallow mess, which this was not.
The Cuvée 20 Magnum — magnum because of the hilarious large bottle it comes in, which supposedly allows more air for the champagne to breathe — was noticeably drier than the Cuvée 20, which was the sweetest sparkling wine we had. This was preferable to the smaller variety.
Extra dessert
This put the entire lunch over the top.
I ate these in the wrong order, not that there’s an exact science to it.
(But I definitely ate them in the wrong order).
These were extra confections brought out after we finished dessert. The first is a lemon and white chocolate concoction, followed by a vanilla bean macaron, and finally, rosemary-infused dark chocolate.
I started with the chocolate, thinking I’d go dark to light, and the lemon half dome would act as sort of a palate cleanser.
The dark chocolate was damningly good. It incorporated rosemary without doing that annoying thing where a fragrant herb takes over the dessert. It felt like you were eating dark chocolate amongst pine needles in a forest.
I’m a sucker for macarons, especially when the texture is right, and these were well done. They were very respectable — not the greatest I’ve ever had, but still very solid, sweet goodness.
The lemon orbs were a little much. Lemon desserts can have a habit of overpowering tastebuds and this one did that. I went back to the dark chocolate before we left and washed it down with another sip of brut.
This was by far the most well-curated lunch I’ve ever had. While not every course lived up to the parmesan foam stage, they were all intriguing, and none disappointing. They provoked thought and curiosity, while also getting you tipsy. It was outstanding.