PER SE

I turned 35 this week. And as the clock struck midnight, turning Monday into Tuesday June 8th, I was feasting on chef Thomas Keller’s food at Per Se. Not a bad way to break into the declining age bracket known as 35-44. In addition to being 35 for the first time in my life, I am also speechless (wordless and sentence-less), for the first time in my life. Really, I don’t know what to say. Would it be enough to say that Per Se is miraculous? The food, by chef/deity Keller (and chef de cuisine Corey Lee on the night we were there) was exquisite, thrilling, and most importantly, genuinely fun to eat; the service—super-attentive but not in your face, kind and friendly with no attitude, but with immense knowledge; the wines—who can remember the wines, but the sommelier, Paul, is definitely getting a first born named after him if I ever reproduce. Truly. I cannot even begin to describe to you what we experienced on Monday night, but if “miraculous” is not enough, in the next few paragraphs, I will try my best to detail my experience. If it is, then feel free to ignore the rest of this email and just pick up the phone and make a reservation.

We had made our reservation in March, and then the infamous fire, and our table was rescheduled for June 7th (the day before I turned 35). I was there with three friends—two other wonderful food writers (Julie Besonen and Kathy Squires) and Kathy’s husband Ronnie, a banker, who happens to love food (and Kathy) very much. They were celebrating their 11th year of marriage. Wow. Who know people broke a decade any more? In my family, it’s six years, then bust.

Anyway, leaving my family saga behind and getting back to the dinner, we began our evening by lounging out in the front living room area, a space with a cool, airy, sort of luxe hotel lobby feel, swathed in soothing earth tones with soft plush love seats, low coffee tables, and sweeping views of the Park. You do not need a reservation for dinner to relax in the lounge, but you do need to be prepared to fork over between $17 and $25 per cocktail. And while you cannot order any food off the menu, you will be served the popcorn of the day (truffle and sea salt, for example, not white cheddar nacho cheese) and usually some canapés, compliments of the kitchen. The lounge at Per Se a lovely place to meet for a quiet (and delicious) hand-crafted cocktail; it is magnificent and civilized and allows your attention to rest solely on your cocktail partner and your conversation. This is occasionally a nice idea, no?

After our cocktail half-hour, we were seated in the dining room at a wide round four-top cloaked in layers of fine linen and set with stunning china specially made for Mr. Keller. The room is modest in size and is soft in design, decorated in a neutral palette of chocolate and light coffee tones, with waves of raw wood on the back wall, and a wide expanse of windows straight ahead to let the view below sort of fall gracefully into the room. The décor though, is not the draw here. It knows its place. It fades away, letting the food take center stage, but reminds you that it is there in subtle ways—perfect lighting, wonderful acoustics, comfortable chairs (we were eating in them until 2 am so I should know), and a general feeling of serenity.

We were presented with the menus about 8pm; they take a while to digest. There are three feasting options: The Chef’s Tasting Menu (nine courses, changes daily, $150 per person), the Tasting of Vegetables (not a vegetarian menu, per se (no pun intended), but a menu made from vegetables; nine courses, at $135) and the Five Course Prix Fixe menu, at $125. One of the great things about Per Se is the freedom of choice—every person can order a different menu; it is not one of those, “And everyone at the table must do the tasting menu” experiences. You have what you want. Three of us chose The Chef’s Tasting Menu, and one chose the Tasting of Vegetables. We asked for help with the wine list, and landed some stars (sorry, I was too overwhelmed to write them down and I have no short term memory anymore because I drink too much so I cannot tell you what they were.) I do strongly recommend that you discuss your wine budget in detail with your sommelier. It can get very high very fast. (If you must know—and you must—our check (including food and wine) was $1011 at the end of the day. And it was well worth every penny.

Our dinner stretched out to about 15 courses, including five desserts, and I cannot even imagine going through every course with you because honestly, I can’t even remember them all. They come in a slow and steady progression, at the exact right pace, in precisely the right size, so you are eager for the next course, not dreading it. There is no dread at Per Se. It is pleasure all the way. Love that.

There was a raw salad of jicama, shaved into fettucine-like noodles served in a stunning bowl that resembled a nun’s habit. It was dressed in a delicate but firmly seasoned pea-green colored Haas avocado emulsion, tossed with cilantro sprouts and a Persian Lime gelee. The waiter grated fresh lime zest over the noodles tableside, perfuming the air and sending a tart tickle under the nose. At some point we had one of his signatures, “Oysters & Pearls,” a creamy pudding of pearls of tapioca, topped with a plump oyster and a spoonful of Iranian Osetra Caviar. Impossible to describe unless you have it—the pearls bursting in your mouth against the creaminess of the pudding and the briny oyster and salty caviar—let’s just say it’s fabulous. We were served Beets and Leeks—butter-poached Nova Scotia lobster prepared sous vide, with melted green leeks, pomme maxim and a bright red beet essence. There was a whimsical truffled Deviled egg with a tiny little truffle pop tart, there was a cool cup of ridiculously rich olive oil custard with an zippy jam of tomato confit, an oven-roasted roasted grouper shank—fish that was glossy under the crispy seasoned skin, and that melted on the tongue—with wilted spinach, a silky-soft “bouillon” poached Four Story Hills Farm chicken, brought to the table beautiful and whole, then carved and served in a bowl filled with tarragon-infused consomé, floating with fava beans, braised red radishes and chanterelle mushrooms. The final savory morsel came in the form of steak—The Snake Creek Farms “Callote De Boeuf Grillé” (Snake Creek breeds wonderful Wagu beef, or American-raised Kobe). The slim, inch-thick slice of beef was tender to the point of astonishment, marvelously marbled, and impossibly rich. That would have been enough, but it was served with crispy little buttons of bone marrow, morels and perfectly roasted fat asparagus. Those marrow dumplings, with the buttery-rich steak, could possibly be the most divine reason to become a monolithic carnivore. I could go on, but you get the idea.

Desserts were more of the same theme—delicious, ingenious, glorious, and brilliant. There were ports poured, champagne glasses toasted (I was 35 at this point after all), Madeira sipped, and then many chocolates and mignardises (a fancier word for petit fours) nibbled. It was 2am. Dinner was now complete.

I’d like to add that at no point in the evening any server make us feel like we were keeping them up past their bedtime. They were as gracious at the end of the meal as they were at the beginning, six and a half hours earlier. This aspect of service should not be under-applauded. I felt completely adored the entire time I was there. I haven’t felt that in a very long time, in a restaurant, or in life come to think of it. (Cry me a river, I know.)

We were the last table in the dining room, aside from Mr. Keller who was seated at this point, relaxing with his partner Laura and with a couple of friends at a table near the windows. As we left, we approached him to thank him and kiss his feet. He stood up and introduced himself. Charming, friendly and very tall. We thanked him profusely for the meal. He smiled and seemed genuinely happy to hear it. He graciously offered to show us his kitchen, a sparkling palace of instruments and stoves. After our tour, he escorted us out and we all traded pleasantries and shook hands. He thanked us again for coming, like a friend at his home, saying goodnight. We told him it was our pleasure, and in a world of catty lies, and imperfect truths, we really meant it. Miraculous.

Per Se is at 10 Columbus Circle, 212-823-9335.

Andrea Strong