The Graphic Design Concepts For Ivy Ball MMXXIV

Every mid-December, the alumni associations of the Ivy League schools in Taiwan host a holiday ball, with two schools taking turns organizing the event. This year, the responsibility falls to the alumni of Cornell and Princeton Universities. Since I work in the field of design, I took on the task of designing the graphics for the ball, primarily the backdrop for the stage. 

I am an architect and not a graphic designer. I don’t know the finer points of typography or kerning. But as the Milanese architect Ernesto Nathan Rogers once said, “dal cucchiaio alla città” (from the spoon to the city). An architect should know how to design everything. 

To develop a concept for the design, I began by examining the designs of previous years. These designs predominantly utilized the logos of the eight Ivy League schools as the primary elements, creating various combinations and patterns. This approach is understandable, as the logos are likely the most recognizable graphics that represent the branding of the schools. However, I wanted to create a design that went beyond mere repetition, aiming for something fresh and distinctive. Additionally, I wanted the design to convey deeper meanings beyond its decorative nature. 

To propose a new approach, I opted to eliminate the logos entirely. After all, the logo alone is not the only thing that represents the school. In lieu of the logos, I would use the mottos of the schools as the primary graphic element. Arguably, these mottos possess greater symbolic resonance as they embody the spirit of the institution that the logos don't quite express. For instance, Harvard’s motto, “Veritas,” exudes a profound and enduring impact compared to its logo. By emphasizing the mottos rather than the logos, the graphics will acquire a deeper and more meaningful significance. 

Utilizing only text produce a more cohesive visual representation. However, during my research on the mottos of the eight schools, I discovered that Cornell is the only one without a Latin motto. Founded in 1868, the youngest of the eight schools, Cornell’s motto is exclusively in English and originates from its founder, Ezra Cornell: “I would establish an institution where any individual can obtain instruction in any discipline.” This phrase can be abbreviated as “… any individual … any discipline.” Having seven mottos in Latin and one in English would place too much attention on one school. 

Given that Cornell and Princeton serve as the organizers, I have chosen to use Princeton’s informal English motto. While Princeton’s Latin motto, “Dei Sub Numine Viget” (Under God’s Power She Flourishes), holds historical significance, it is now rarely seen or mentioned. Instead, Princeton has become predominantly associated with its informal motto, “In the nation’s service and the service of humanity.” This motto was conceived by Woodrow Wilson and subsequently added onto by Sonia Sotomayor. The two organizers will have their mottos in English and be differentiated from the other Ivy League schools. 

Utilizing text exclusively as the backdrop is new for the Ivy Ball, but it is certainly not a novel idea. I studied the design Pentagram created for the 92nd Street Y to determine the appropriate text size and its visual impact in photographs with people in the foreground. Unlike Pentagram, I didn't have the resources to develop a new typeface specifically for the Ivy Ball. Instead, I chose to use Bodoni. I remember when I interviewed Bruce Mau many years ago, he told me a story about Massimo Vignelli. Vignelli’s designers would be working with all sorts of typefaces, and he would come by their desks and say, “I don’t know, maybe Bodoni.” Vignelli once said that "Bodoni is one of the most elegant typefaces ever designed.“ 

Beyond consulting the works of graphic designers, I also drew inspiration from one of my favorite artists, Ed Ruscha, who began his career in the field of graphics. I have always admired Ruscha’s work, which centers around words and phrases. As Ruscha once stated, “I simply happened to paint words like someone else paints flowers.” 

Emulating Ruscha, I wanted the texts to float over a color field. Since I’m not an artist, I chose to do the color in a mechanical and calculated manner. I used the Princeton orange (CMYK: 6, 65, 100, 0) on one side and the Cornell red (CMYK:0,100,79,20) on the other side and asked the computer to generate a gradation in between. 

The physical backdrop for the Ivy Ball existed for only a few hours, but the design lives on in the digital realm through the photographs captured that evening. While some attendees may not be familiar with the texts in the backdrop, the mottos of the participating schools, many of which have theological roots, encapsulate universal moral principles. These mottos, such as seeking light and truth, providing opportunities for any person, and being in the service of humanity, serve as powerful reminders of the privilege of receiving exceptional education. This privilege, however, also entails the responsibility to contribute to a better world.

Is the Food at Restaurant A Art?

Restaurant A is the latest venture by chef Alain Huang, formerly the Chef de Cuisine of the two-Michelin-star restaurant RAW in Taipei. After leaving RAW Huang took more than two years to prepare and open his fine dining restaurant. He and his investors are clearly looking to garner multiple Michelin stars. Since the restaurant opened in September of 2023, I have been there twice for dinner, once in winter and another in spring. Restaurant A is an ambitious endeavor and asks questions that deserve careful considerations. 

Is food art? This is the main question Restaurant A poses to the diners. This question is often considered at fine dining restaurants as the line between food and art is sometimes blurred. For instance, chef Ferran Adria of El Bulli restaurant was invited to participate in the art fair, Documenta 12, in Kassel in 2007. By posing the question, Restaurant A certainly thinks food is art and wants the diners to view its food as art. This desire drives the bulk of the dining experience. While the approach is understandable and perhaps even admirable, it is also misguided. Food is not art because it has a functional purpose to nourish people. Food can certainly can be art-like, however, forcing the ideas of art onto the diners actually diminishes the power of the food and the enjoyment of the experience.

Restaurant A occupies the entire 4th floor of a small retail building in downtown Taipei. The elevator opens into a mostly white, sterile, and brightly lit space with a receptionist at one end. Upon entering, one of my dining companions quips, it’s like going to a dentist’s office; harsh but kind of true. The reception is designed to resemble a gallery. The hostess is eager to point out the artworks on the walls and that they are provided by a gallery the restaurant collaborates with. The artworks change with the seasons and they serve as inspirations for the food. While this may sound artsy and sophisticated, a gallery is not a good model for a restaurant. The space of a gallery is about selling art, in contrast, a restaurant is about providing hospitality. The word restaurant is derived from the French word, restaurer, meaning to restore to a former state; restaurant is about nourishing people. Another problem with using the gallery as a model for the restaurant is lighting. In the galleries the lighting is often bright because the purpose is to show the art. But a restaurant is less about spotlighting the food and more about creating an ambiance. Using the art gallery as the model for the restaurant is simply wrongheaded.

Before going into the dining room, I stop by the men’s room on the right side of the reception. The signage design is too artistic as it is hard to tell which door is the men’s room; the design forgets its primary purpose: communication. What's worse is if a woman accidentally opens the wrong door, she will have a direct view of two urinals; there's very little privacy. The custom designed sink isn’t too attractive either. I also fail to understand why in this post-pandemic world a restaurant doesn’t install a contactless faucet. The towels provided on the right side of the sink are too small to properly dry one’s hands. For a restaurant that seems generous with the use of space and cares greatly about appearance, the men's room is poorly planned. 

The sliding doors on the left side of the reception open to a lounge called Alcoholiday; the name doesn’t mean much. The ceiling, walls, and floor of the space are all in white. But the design is too complicated for its own good. The majority of the vertical planes consists of horizontal shallow shelves in a running bond tile-like pattern. This device is both a decorative element in front of solid walls and a screen that separates different spaces. The shelves are constructed of small modular pieces and connected with highly visible round head screws. I can only assume the designer really wants to reveal the construction of the shelves. I wish the design and the construction are more minimal and elegant to project a sense of effortlessness. The pitched ceiling consists of shingled long white planks with continuous cover lights. The ceiling reminds me a bit of the ceiling at the airline baggage check-in area in Taipei Main Station. I don't know what's the intention behind the design, but it's too busy. A hanging blue ribbon-like sculpture makes the room even more busy. 

The lounge is where the idea of an art gallery as a restaurant simply doesn’t work. The functional requirements of the lounge such as the counter for preparing drinks diminishes the prominence and power of the art, especially the paintings on the walls; they simply become decorative objects. At the same time the brightness of the lighting and the white walls and panels do not produce an intimate setting to enjoy a drink or to relax at the end of a long dinner. 

A narrow corridor with a white noren leads to the dining room. The use of the Japanese fabric divider is a bit random and unnecessary; another sign of too much stuff. The noren doesn’t block anything, since the corridor is not straight and there is no direct view to the dining room. The noren also doesn’t offer any symbolic function either as the food and the culture of service is not Japanese at all. As I walk along the corridor the hostess points to a built-in glass display case in the wall. Inside there's a custom made dinnerware that we will be eating off of later. The intention is clear, not only is the food art, the serving ware is also art to be fetishized. 

The design of the dining room is calmer and nicer than the previous two spaces. Instead of white terrazzo floors in the reception and lounge, the floor is light color wood planks. The combination of wood color and white is quite pleasant. The chairs are fairly comfortable and the tables are well spaced. The tabletop has a off-white leather-like finish which is also quite nice. The room is decorated with flower arrangements on the serving stations and on each table. One strange aspect of the room is none of the tables are placed close to the exterior windows. 

While the design of the dining room is better, it still suffers from a lack of restraint. The walls are not left alone but decorated with LED strips at different heights. There is also a strip of light at the base of the wall. The color of the light is too white and the effect is distracting. These light fixtures are really not necessary. 

At the back of the dining room is a large window with a clear view of the kitchen that is also mostly white. The full height glass sliding door into the kitchen isn’t very attractive. One gets a view of the tile floor of the kitchen, which is too jarring from the dining room. The dark floor mat that prevents slippage in front of the door is also visually distracting. The kitchen is brightly lit and looks very clean, yet not very attractive. I love open kitchen, but it needs to be designed and staged better. The irony is the kitchen is the one place in the restaurant that needs some decoration yet doesn’t have any. 

Unlike the reception and the lounge the dining room doesn’t have any artwork on the walls or the ceiling, except for one near the entry that’s not visible from most of the tables. Clearly the idea is the food is the art to be admired. 

After we sit down the server tells us that the no-choice set menu consists of 16 courses.This sounds grandiose but actually 9 of the so-called courses are really just snacks at the start and mignardises at the end. 

The meal begins with five snacks that are designated salty, sweet/acidic, spicy, bitter, and umami and served sequentially. I have been to Restaurant A twice for dinner and both times the meal starts the same way with an idea from art, trompe-l'oeil. An edible bouchon placed in the middle of a bowl of real bouchons. Maybe this is inspired by the potato stones at Mugaritz. Nevertheless, this is a fun idea. The diner picks up the edible cork and eats it in one bite. The problem is the chef can’t leave well enough alone. Besides the bowl of corks, the server brings out a custom made serving ware and says we can take the cork out of the bowl, place it on the plate, take a picture and then eat it. I oblige, but the plate is completely unnecessary–either serve the cork on the plate or in the bowl. You do not need both. The chef has too many ideas and can’t let some of them go. More isn’t better, in fact, they take away from the power of the dish. The tendency of having too much stuff is a recurring problem through out the meal. What the chef needs is an editor, someone to take things away rather than keep adding. 

Putting aside the problem with the presentation, the faux bouchon is a well made snack with a crispy shell and oozing cheese. Both times the cheese in the bouchon is Comté, which has a low salt content relative to other cheeses. Therefore instead of salty, the taste is a bit sweet. At my first dinner the Comté is paired with chestnut and nutmeg and the second time is with pine nuts and broccolini. 

The second snack is called Sweetness and is a fish roe tart. The tart shell is well made and the flavors are good. The third snack is a small bite of a chicken; nice but not too memorable. The fourth snack at both of my dinners is a little salad, or a display of tweezer food with small pieces layered elegantly. Of all the five snacks, this is the one I like the best and I wish it is a larger salad rather than small bite. 

The last snack is called the umami bomb, a small “doughnut” with a mushroom “cappuccino” on the side. Umami yes, but bomb I’m not so sure. The server says this is the signature dish of chef Huang, something he would never take off the menu. The dish is inspired by one of his mentors Justin Quek. I suppose this is a play on coffee and doughnut but it is not as interesting as Thomas Keller’s version. The use of the truffle makes sense at my first dinner in January. But why insist on using truffle at my second dinner in May when the ingredient is not in season? 

The five snacks to start the meal are all expertly prepared, in fact they are a show of the technical prowess of the kitchen staff. At my first dinner, the flavors are not as distinctive as I would have liked as they are more on the sweet side. This flavor profile is made more pronounced with the juice pairing. I don’t like to start the meal with sweet flavors as they dull instead of wake up the palate. At my second dinner the flavors are engineered better, but I am not convinced I need five snacks. I would prefer less snacks and more courses. 

The first course is a cold dish: a seafood salad. At my first dinner it is an escabeche with sea urchin and duck ham. At my second dinner I am served a “borscht” with Botan shrimp and cranberry. Both times, the seafood salad is nice. I am just unsure about the sequence. Before eating this dish, I already had a salad for a snack. Then I had a warm wintery snack. Now I am back to a cold dish again. And after this first course, the next course is another salad. 

When the server brings the second course to the table, I am already a bit tired of being served another salad. At my first dinner, the salad is a black and white colored dish. The server says the dish is inspired by the black and white painting hanging in the lounge. In case we don't remember the painting, our server brings out an iPad with a picture to show us. This is frankly just annoying and unnecessarily didactic. The connection between the painting and the dish is at best superficial. Just because the painting and salad both use the same colors doesn’t mean much, certainly doesn’t turn the food into art. Forcing the customers to make these visual connections actually diminishes the power of the food because it limits the diners’ imagination. What the chef should strive for is to spark the diners’ curiosity and to inspire them to seek their own connections. 

After the cold salad, the next course is a hot soup. Maybe the chef is purposely oscillating between hot and cold dishes, but I don’t really understand the purpose. Both times the soup is sort of a half hearted one as the liquid portion is small and there is so much foam at the top. Nevertheless, the soup is nicely made with very good flavors. 

The fourth course is a seafood. At my first dinner I am served a consommé with scallop and daikon. The server points out that the scallop is threaded with black truffle. This is a recurring theme of the restaurant. The server is constantly trying to point out the effort that goes into all the dishes in case the diners don’t appreciate or admire the work properly. I enjoy the dish as the consommé is well-made. I would have preferred the scallop to be thinly sliced rather than diced. 

At my second dinner the dish is a mackerel with white asparagus. When the dish is served one cannot see the fish as there is so much stuff layered on top of the protein. The white asparagus on the side is also only partially visible. The mackerel and the white asparagus are both very well prepared and tasty. But the combination of these two main ingredients is not too interesting. The dish certainly doesn’t need all the little flowers, herbs, and condiments. I wish chef Huang would take a page from the three-Michelin-star chef Eric Ripert’s playbook - let the fish be the star of the plate instead of making the dish more complicated than it needs to be. 

Bread (focaccia) finally makes an appearance as the main course is served at my first dinner. I really would have preferred the bread to be served earlier. Moreover, the focaccia is just so-so. Strangely at my second dinner, the server doesn’t bring out the bread before the main course. The server says because the chef already served a rice dish before, they will not serve the bread. However, if my guest and I don't feel full in the stomach, she can can bring out some bread at an extra charge of NT$260 per person. I have never encountered this kind of situation at the restaurant before. I am already paying over NT$7,000 per person, does the restaurant really need to nickel and dime me over some focaccia? Moreover, bread is not made a la minute. The restaurant probably has baked enough for the diners prior to dinner service. Not serving the bread simply means the staff will eat it instead of the customers.

Restaurant A lacks a sense of generosity or even the impression of generosity. I feel the restaurant is constantly looking to shake more money out of me. The bread is just one of the instances. Halfway through one of my dinners, the server places a bottle of wine on our table and says this goes very well with the next dish. One would think this is part of the wine pairing that's already paid for, or perhaps the server just wants us to try. Instead this wine comes with a supplemental charge. A restaurant should be about hospitality, yet it is just the opposite. At least the restaurant doesn't charge for putting a candle on the dessert for my wife's birthday celebration. Being in a restaurant where every offer from the server is a transaction just isn't an enjoyable experience. 

The fifth course is the main course. At my first dinner the dish’s is a small piece of lamb with around six sauces and condiments on the plate. It is as if the kitchen is trying to tell the diner, see how much we can do. The main sauce is a tuna sauce, akin to the one in the Italian classic dish Vitello Tonnato. I am not convinced this is the best sauce for the lamb. Another sauce is a red pepper sauce, which works a little better. Overall, the lamb really doesn’t need that much sauce. The server also tells us that after we finish eating the lamb we can take a picture of our plates with the leftover sauces and condiment and post it on the social media as our art for the night. This partly explains why there’s excessive stuff on the plate. The chef doesn’t want the diner to clean the plate, but play with the food to make art. But I am at the restaurant to eat. if I want to make art, I would have gone to an art class with my kids. 

The sixth course is a pre-dessert, which is a combination of hard liquor (vodka or whisky) with fruit (soursop or apple). Both times the combinations and flavors are nice. I cannot say the same for the last course of the dinner: main dessert. At both of my dinners, the dessert is a bit disappointing. Dessert is an opportunity to deliver the final wow factor and leave the dinner on a high note. However, the ones at Restaurant A are just decorative objects that are not very interesting. 

The dessert at my first dinner is an ice cream with chocolate sauce topped with ginger tuile. This was a disappointing end as it was simply not very impressive. It is a bit strange that there isn’t any juice pairing with the dessert, considering this is the time where a sweet drink actually makes more sense.

The dessert at my recent dinner is more emblematic of the problem at Restaurant A. The dish is the classic French dessert, Île Flottante, a classic French dessert with meringue and crème anglaise. Similar to the other courses, the dish is expertly prepared. The texture of the meringue is good and sauce has a nice flavor. The dish is decorated with all sorts of dots and leaves done precisely with a tweezer and squeeze bottles. The dish looks complicated but is actually not very interesting and doesn’t really innovate on the classic. One can compare this Île Flottante with the one by Jean Francois Piège’s at Clover Bellavita in Taipei. Piège’s version doesn’t have any fussy decorations nor is it thematic. The dessert looks deceivingly simple yet is very innovative by turning classic recipe inside out. Rather than an innovator, the pasty chef at Restaurant A is more of a decorator. 

Like many other disciplines, food has components of art: color, composition, materiality…etc. The creation of food certainly can borrow ideas from art. However, taking visual cues from art or making the food pretty doesn’t make the food art-like or art. Chef Huang’s creations try to emulate the visual appearances of art, but this operating on a superficial level. Also, by doing so art simply becomes a theme to be grafted onto the food. Instead of trying to make food that looks like art through decorative means, Huang should emulate the process and ideas of artists, how they innovate art by redefining what is art. They ask the question what is painting or what is sculpture? If Huang follows the method of the great artists, the questions he poses should not be whether food is art but rather what is food? What is fine dining? How can one make a new Île Flottante? 

After the dessert, the server asks us to move to the lounge to have the mignardises and coffee. I am a little reluctant to move and as I like the dining room much better than the lounge. I don’t see a reason for doing so. Usually restaurants move the diners out to the lounge because they need the table back for the next seating. There’s no such problem at Restaurant A. 

As I settle into the sofa in the lounge, the server brings out four mignardises and coffee. The mignardises are all made very well. One of the mignardises is cannelé flavored with cardamon. I know the chef is trying to be different and creative, but I still prefer a simple cannelé. The pour over coffee has a very clean taste but I don’t like the small cups they are served in. The coffee is also not hot enough for my taste. I rather have an espresso instead. 

Dinner at Restaurant A is not cheap, NT$6,850 plus 10% service charge. The price includes a compulsory beverage pairing; this is one way to make people spend more money. There is a choice of five alcoholic or non-alcoholic drinks. For a bit more money, the alcoholic drinks can be upgraded to better wines. Given that the drinks are included and without any say from the diners, it is a bit strange for the server to present the full wine list at the beginning of the meal. I suppose we can order more bottles besides the 5 glasses, but the server doesn’t make this clear. Maybe the server just wants us to admire the wine list. Unfortunately the choices of wines in the alcoholic pairing are not that interesting. At my first dinner the first drink is not even a wine but a beer. The pour of each pairing is also small and stingy, just around 70ml. Based on the restaurant’s numbers, there are 16 courses but only 5 glasses. As the dinner progresses it is not clear which glass of wine is suppose to be good for more than one course. Furthermore, dessert doesn’t get any pairing, which is a missed opportunity. 

I have also tried the non-alcoholic pairing and it is more disappointing than the wines. Instead of serving juices made by reputable vineyards, the drinks are all house-made. Spending the time making these juices doesn’t seem to be worth the effort. The problem with the juices is they are all a bit on the sweet side and don’t do much for the food. 

At the end of the dinner, the hostess hands out a folder with the menu as the diners exit the restaurant. This reminds me of my meals at Thomas Keller’s Per Se. However, unlike Per Se, where the menu is on one page, Restaurant A’s folder has three sheets: two on the food and one on the drinks. For the different courses, there are around 45 different ingredients listed on the menu and none are repeated. The abundance is certainly quite impressive and again, the restaurant needs to make sure the diners know it. There is no real need to have the menu on multiple pages when one page will do. This is a bit like a job applicant with a multi-page resume. Restaurant A is technically very sound in the kitchen. And for the most part the service is also quite pleasant. But Restaurant A is not very interesting. For instance, the content and the sequence of the dishes don’t seem to have an overarching concept: one dish is about Chef Huang’s mentor, another dish is about his travel, and a few art inspired ones are thrown into the mix. The portions are small but overly complicated. At times, I feel the restaurant is making dishes for themselves to admire rather than for the diners to enjoy. 

Restaurant A would benefit from being more subtle. This is all the more ironic as one page of the menu has the word “Subtle” written largely at the top. Sometimes the problem with young chefs and designers is they have a tendency to show all the things they can do at once and a desire to make sure people see them. I wish Restaurant A will be more elegant and project a sense of effortlessness. I also wish the chef will trust his customers a bit more. Dinner doesn’t need to be didactic. Maybe many diners don’t understand everything that’s put into the dishes or don’t appreciate the effort, but that’s fine. This is no different than when we are confronted with a work of art that we don’t fully understand. We don’t need the artist to be there explaining every little detail or intentions to us. In fact it is better for the diners to enjoy the dishes on their own terms. If they are intrigued by the work, they will find out more about it. Give the diners some room for imagination and inquiry. 

The “A” in Restaurant A’s name doesn’t quite stand for art. Nor is it quite awesome yet though it has the potential to be. The quality of the ingredients and the cooking at Restaurant A are very nice. My dinners at Restaurant A have some nice moments. I want to like the restaurant but I can’t fully embrace it yet. I admire the aspirations but as of now, for me the “A” stands for ambivalent.

Dot Dot Dot

“Can I propose something for the vitrines at the counter?”, I asked Chef Olivier Jean of L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon Taipei a couple of months ago. He accepted my offer but was probably a bit puzzled by my interest. While similar to the vitrines at a sushi bar, the ones at L’Atelier are not for displaying the day’s ingredients, but extending the decoration surrounding the open kitchen. Conceived and installed by the front-of-house staff, the contents of the vitrines change to reflect the seasons or the holidays. Whenever I dine at the counter of L’Atelier I see the vitrines and ask myself what would I do.

Since I’m an architect I want to do a more architectural installation. The theme of my proposal is dot dot dot. Using dots as a point of departure comes from the dishes at L’Atelier. Dots of sauces are frequently used as the finishing touches on a dish. The most famous example is the lobster gelée with caviar and cauliflower. At the top of the dish there is a ring of perfectly spaced tiny green dots. When the restaurant critic of the New York Times reviewed L’Atelier in the City, he wrote, “Not one dot of sauce, and there are many, is out of place.“

Besides the culinary nature of the dots, the theme makes a reference to ellipsis, a literary device to indicate an unfinished thought. Chef Robuchon passed away unexpectedly last summer, leaving many unfinished ideas on the future of food and restaurants. As such this installation is also conceived as a tribute to him.

There are six vitrines spread out along the length of the counter at L’Atelier. Each vitrine contains a variation on the theme of dot dot dot: cave, cityscape, constellation, park, ruin, and wave. All of them are based on circular geometry and abstraction. Architecture, nature, and ideas are reimagined as dot dot dot.

“Puis-je proposer quelque chose pour les vitrines au comptoir?”, Ai-je demandé au chef Olivier Jean de L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon Taipei il ya deux mois. Il a accepté mon offre mais était probablement un peu perplexe par mon intérêt. Semblables aux vitrines des bars à sushis, celles de L’Atelier ne servent pas à afficher les ingrédients de la journée, mais à prolonger la décoration entourant la cuisine ouverte. Conçu et installé par le personnel d'accueil, le contenu des vitrines change pour refléter les saisons ou les fêtes. Chaque fois que je dîne au comptoir de L’Atelier, je vois les vitrines et je me demande ce que je ferais.

Depuis que je suis un architecte, je veux faire une installation plus architecturale. Le thème de ma proposition est point point point. L’utilisation des points comme point de départ provient des plats de L’Atelier. Des points de sauce sont fréquemment utilisés pour la finition d'un plat. L'exemple le plus célèbre est la gelée de caviar à la crème de chou-fleur. Au surface du plat, il y a un anneau de minuscules points verts parfaitement espacés. Lorsque le critique de restaurant du New York Times a examiné L’Atelier dans sa ville, il a écrit: “Pas un point de sauce, et il y en a beaucoup, n’est à sa place.”

En dehors de la nature culinaire des points, le thème fait référence à des points de suspension, un dispositif littéraire indiquant une pensée inachevée. Chef Robuchon est décédé subitement l'été dernier, laissant de nombreuses idées inachevées sur l'avenir de l'alimentation et des restaurants. En tant que telle, cette installation est également conçue comme un hommage à lui.

Six vitrines sont réparties le long du comptoir de L’Atelier. Chaque vitrine contient une variation sur le thème de point point point: grotte, paysage urbain, constellation, parc, ruine et vague. Tous sont basés sur la géométrie circulaire et l'abstraction. L'architecture, la nature et les idées sont réinventés en tant que point point point.

10-Year Anniversary

Ten years is a long time. I find it hard to believe that I have been blogging for that long. While my output has decreased every year, I haven’t stopped.

I started blogging for three reasons. First, to let friends and family in New York City know what we were doing in Taipei; the inaugural blog post was about buying a television for my new home in Taipei. Second, to have a place to deposit ideas on design and architecture; I thought eventually I could develop some of them into articles to be published in a magazine. Third, to have an alternative to sharing the news on Facebook; I wanted more control over the graphic and format of the presentation of the information.

In the first few years, the blog contained various observations of Taipei, such as Paper and Plastic and Information Overload. Occasionally these observations were on food and restaurants, for instance the first of several blog posts on L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon Taipei. There were articles on design such as the furniture by Maarten van Severen and shirt by Comme des Garçons. There were also articles on my own architectural work including one of my favorites, Repeat. There was a mixture of subjects in the blog. I was once asked what was the theme of my blog? I answered that it was about me.

As the years passed, the subjects of the blog gradually shifted toward food and restaurants and focused less on design and architecture. This is mostly due to two factors. First, articles on design and architecture are hard to write, partly because it is my profession; I cannot pretend to be a dilettante. I feel that any articles that I write need to be good enough to be published in a trade magazine or an academic journal. Second, articles on design and architecture simply don’t receive as much interest from the general public. Google provides some rudimentary data on the number of hits each blog post get, and it is clear that the articles on food far exceed any other subjects.

In my earlier blogs on restaurants I didn’t post any photographs. I was against taking photographs during my meals in the restaurants. My reluctance was partly technical as I wasn’t able to take good photographs with my early iPhones; I certainly didn’t want to carry a large camera to a restaurant. I figured if people really want to see the images of the dishes I described, they could always find them on the Internet anyway.

Eventually I changed my mind. Many friends wanted to see pictures of the food. The camera on the iPhone improved significantly and took better photographs in low-light conditions. I also found that people in the restaurant industry took just as many photographs at restaurants as anyone else. I used to think the chef would be bothered if I take pictures of the food. A few years back some restaurants, such as Momofuku Ko in New York City, even banned the guests from taking photos of the food. Now if I don’t take a picture of the food, I wonder if the chef might be unhappy or thinks there’s something wrong.

While occasionally I still write about design, architecture, and fashion, for better or worse, the blog has become essentially a food blog. As a food blogger I have decided on some directions. In world of Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook, where images and blurb dominate, I have opted for the long form. Behind every restaurant is a lot of hard work and a significant financial investment. Restaurants and their staff deserve a more nuanced and balanced judgment instead of a snap impression. As much as possible I try to visit a restaurant more than once before writing about it. Judging a restaurant based on a single visit is a bit unfair. Anyone can have a bad day at work. Furthermore, consistency is one of the most important quality at a restaurant, which requires more than one visit to determine.

I try to write criticism instead of just complaint. I try to find the sources of my dissatisfaction or pleasure. I try to be objective and put aside personal taste. I try to be factually correct about ingredients and prices. I try to put the food in context. I try to understand what the chef is looking to accomplish and to judge the results on his or her terms. I try to imbue each article with a theme, a thesis, or a main idea, so it is not just a documentation of a meal. I may not always succeed in all these attempts, but these are my aspirations.

I am never certain who really reads my blog since there is limited feedback; a critic can actually use some criticisms. In this fast digital age, I suspect few people will take the 15 minutes or so to read my articles. I am grateful to the people who enjoy reading my blog. I am not sure how much longer I will keep writing. Will there be another ten years of blogging? I don’t know. But as long as there are a few dedicated readers out there, I will continue.

Is Rosewood the Best Hotel in Beijing?

Naming a hotel as the best is always a risky proposition. After all, I haven't been to every comparable hotel in Beijing. But using the phrase, "one of the best", is too non-committal. Recently, I stayed at the Rosewood Hotel in Beijing for a few nights, and I greatly enjoyed the experience. The location in the central business district is very convenient. The design of the hotel has an understated elegance that nicely combines Chinese and Western elements. The service is on point and not overbearing. While the hotel is not perfect, I believe it is the best in the capital of China.

The 282-room Rosewood Hotel occupies the first 23 floors of of a 52-story all-glass modernist tower, Jing Guang Centre. The tower was designed in the mid-1980's by the Tokyo-based Nihon Sekkei and was the first skyscraper in Beijing. The tower is owned by the Hong Kong-based development group New World. In 2011 New World Group purchased the America-based Rosewood Hotels and Resorts. The hotel in Beijing is Rosewood Group's first property in Mainland China and opened in late 2014.

The hotel was designed by the Melbourne-based BAR Studio. I am very impressed by all the components of the hotel, especially since the project is a renovation of an old building that surely came with many limitations. I actually visited this building more than ten years ago, well before Rosewood took over. I still remember the old design with the awkward stone base. Therefore, I am just amazed by the transformation. The design feels luxurious and doesn't scream for attention. In other words, the occupants still take the center stage. The various materials are well chosen and mixed harmoniously. The spaces and circulations are well proportioned and logical. There are a lot of attentions paid to the various details. As an architect I know this level of quality relies not only on the skills of the architect, but more importantly the strong support and care of the owner.

Rosewood Hotel is located at the northwest corner of the intersection of East Third Ring Road and Chaoyangmen Outer Street. Diagonally across from the hotel is the CCTV Headquarters designed by OMA. The vehicular entry to the hotel is on the Third Ring Road. A quick bend in the driveway leads to a forecourt that puts away the hustle and bustle of the City. The space is defined by the plantings on the perimeter and a shallow reflecting pool in the center with Chinese decorative motifs. While the overall feel is modern, the manipulation of the space reminds me of the strategies employed in traditional Chinese garden design. A blue Tesla Model X is usually parked in the forecourt. The attention-grabbing electric car is an amenity for the hotel guests who have lounge access and provide rides within a three-kilometer radius.

The lobby of the hotel is a sunlit triple height space. Inside, the console table with flowers and books on top, the four-seat leather sofa with pillows, and the area rug, make the space feels more like the living room of a large apartment rather than the lobby of a fancy hotel.

On the right side of the lobby, behind the columns and the screen are the counters for check-in, porter, and concierge. On the left side of the lobby is Bistro B Lounge Bar, where an afternoon tea is served everyday. The space is nicely designed and very pleasant. The large glass facade allows abundant sunlight to filter in. Sitting inside, one also has a view of the entry garden and the Beijing skyline in the background. The counter in the back has a beautiful display of ice creams, macarons, and other pastries.

Behind the three-story mural of the lobby are the six elevators to access the guest rooms. On the typical floor of the fan-shape plan of the tower, there are 18 guest rooms of varying sizes ranging from 45 to 75 square meters. I stayed at the 15th floor in the corner Manor Suite. The room measures 65 square meters in plan and feels very large. There are exposures on two sides. The long expanse of glass facade on the curved south side provides a great view of the CCTV tower and the China Zun designed by KPF. During evening rush hours, the car lights of the traffic jam on the Third Ring Road actually make for a beautiful tableaux.

The suite is a bit like a small loft with four areas for living, working, sleeping, and bathing. The room is elegant, comfortable, and warm. The overall color palette is beige, taupe, dark wood, and white. A large walk-in closet adjacent to the bathroom is to the right of the foyer. The living area is on the left side. The space can seat four people comfortably with two single-seat sofas and a double-seat sofa. The 50-inch TV on the credenza with soundbar is large enough for watching sports. The minibar is tucked into an alcove with Nespresso coffee machine and bottles of Voss water. The middle of the room is a round wood table with leather swivel chairs; a very comfortable place for in-room dining or work. Placed on the table when I walked in was a delicious pastry and a welcoming note from the manager of the hotel.

The bedroom can be separated from the living area with a large wooden sliding door. Next to the window is a built-in tufted leather lounge chair that is a great place to enjoy the view, read a book, or watch TV. A brown headboard frames a large and very comfortable bed with Frette sheets. The controls above the bedside tables are easy to use to control the lighting and the drapes. This was expected. But I was truly surprised when I saw the hotel placed monogrammed pillow cases on our bed. I've never experienced this level of personalization at a hotel.

The bathroom is very large and can be entered from both the foyer and the bedroom. The middle of the bathroom is a white marble counter with a large mirror that partly doubles as a TV screen. On the right side of the vanity is a separate room for the electronic toilet. On the opposite side is a large bathtub and a glassed enclosed walk-in shower with Lorenzo Villoresi toiletries in large hexagon-shape bottles. My only complaint is that for a large suite, the bathroom should have two sinks instead of just one.

Artworks and decorative objects are carefully selected and placed in the room. There are paintings on three of the walls in my suite. The shelves have Chinese acupuncture model, calligraphy brushes, and Chinese vases. Just outside the door to the room is another vase on a high pedestal. The mostly Chinese decorative objects provides a nice balance to the western-style furniture and light fixtures.

All the public spaces of the hotel are decorated with artworks. The installation is done in a tasteful manner in just the right amount. There is a nice mix of Chinese and Western art. I was happy to see artwork even in the fitness room.

The spa and the swimming pool are on the 6th floor of the hotel. I never go to a spa and didn't have time for a yoga class, so I cannot vouch for the service. However, the swimming pool is wonderful. The heated pool is 22 meters long. On the opposite side of the entrance, there are five cabana-like spaces. On the side of the pool is the jacuzzi. While the pool is indoor, the spaces feel like the outdoor since the roof is almost entirely in glass. The space is serene and detached from the rest of the city. The vertical green walls and the tropical-like planting make for a lush ambiance.

Staying at the Manor Suite comes with access to the Manor Club, Rosewood name for its executive lounge. The Club is on the 7th floor of the building and is open 24 hours a day. At over 800 square meters, it is one of the largest lounges I have ever encountered at a hotel. The Club is divided spatially into different parts. At the front are conference rooms for business meetings and a space with low sofas suited for casual meetings. The middle area is more for eating and drinking with an open kitchen, serving tables, and dining tables at different sizes and heights. At the back is a few cigar room-like spaces with leather couches, fireplaces and a red billiard table. One can easily imagine having a nightcap there or in my case, watching the World Cup matches.

The Club serves a breakfast buffet from 6:30 am. While the selection is not as large as the restaurant downstairs, it was more than sufficient for me. In addition to the buffet, I had an omelet cooked to order. I really enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere in the morning with daylight filtered through the window shades. A few good Viennoiseries, good coffee, and a paper New York Times in hand, I am a happy man. The service at the Club is very attentive and they are very good at remembering the guests. In my few days at the Club, the servers remember my preferences for juice and coffee in the morning.

Throughout the day, the Club serves a light meal. Everyday from 5:30pm to 8:00pm is cocktail hours. The ambiance of the room changes and even the servers' uniforms switch from beige to black. Three types of sparkling wines are available by the glass. There are a variety of canapes and a different cake everyday. The desserts at the Manor Club are always excellent.

The Manor Club is really an extension of the guest room. The large size of the Club ensures that atmosphere never feels crowded. The variety of furniture setup and spaces allows for different functional requirements at different times of the day to be met. While a stay at Rosewood Beijing would be very nice without access to the Club, it really enhances the experience, especially if one doesn't plan to venture outside of the hotel for the whole day.

Besides dining and camping out at the Manor Club, there are 4 restaurants in the hotel, Bistrot B for French Bistro cuisine, Red Bowl for Chinese hot pot, the House of Dynasties for Cantonese cuisine, and Country Kitchen for northern Chinese food.

In my short stay, I only tried Country Kitchen. Since I was in Beijing I wanted Northern Chinese food. My dinner was on a Saturday night and the restaurant was completely full. Just like the other spaces of the hotel, the restaurant is nicely designed with a mixture materials, granite, wood of different shades, metal screens, and terracotta. The lighting is a little on the dark side for a Chinese restaurant, but comfortable and intimate. Before getting to the tables, all the guests walk through the main corridor with open kitchens on either sides.

The wood tables are mostly in round shape with a lazy susan in the middle; this feel like a dining table at a large country home. However, the table setting with the custom design logo napkin, the copper-plated water jug, and the two-tone soup spoon, shows a lot of care has gone into the various details of the restaurant.

The food was pretty good. Many of the staples of Northern Chinese cuisine, such as dumplings and noodles were excellent. The only downside was the prices were on the high side. A bowl of the very good Zha Jiang Mian was RMB 75. For a traveler from New York City, the price is probably a bargain. But a similarly good bowl of Zha Jiang Mian at Da Dong can be had for just RMB18.

The stir-fried vegetables were simple, vibrant in color, and fresh. The grilled skewers of lamb were well-seasoned and perfectly cooked. The scallion pancakes were also very good. The only disappointing dish was actually the Peking Duck, a signature dish of the restaurant. The duck was carved table side with a task light. Some of the skins were served first and they were wonderful. But the rest of the duck was a bit dry and not as flavorful as I would like. The Duck at Country Kitchen is not significantly more expensive that the other restaurants in Beijing, but I prefer the Peking Duck at Da Dong. The service at the restaurant was pleasant, more so than most restaurants in the City, such as Da Dong, but there is still room for improvement.

The Chinese restaurant Country Kitchen is the only part of my stay at the Rosewood that I feel can be better. Overall, the guest room is really excellent and one would be hard pressed to find faults. I just have two minor criticisms. First, since I still prefer to read newspapers in physical form, I wish the hotel would deliver newspapers to my door in the morning. Second, while the "Do Not Disturb" sign is electric and turned on via a button, the "Please Make Up Room" is not. I still need to put a tag outside the door when I step outside. I would think an electronic system will improve the efficiency of the room-cleaning staff.

The hotel industry in Beijing is not only competitive but constantly growing and changing just like the city itself. I am sure every few years will bring newly-designed and fancier hotels. However, the design and the physical environment of Rosewood are excellent and will withstand the fashion and the trends. As the city of Beijing grows more sophisticated, I suspect the service and operation will actually get better. For the moment and the foreseeable future, Rosewood is the best hotel in the Beijing.