Since I am unwilling to spend five benjamins, we have a sustainable, artificial tree (actually made in Taiwan with ten year warranty); the ornaments are real.
Merry Christmas!
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Artificial Christmas Tree
Even though The New York Times has declared that a real Christmas tree is more green than a fake tree, we still got a fake tree. We didn't do it for environmental reasons. We didn't have much of a choice. A friend of ours told us that this year only a hundred or so real Christmas trees were imported by Taiwan. Most of them were sold to hotels, hence there were very few trees left for the average consumer. Even when one is lucky enough to find a real tree, the prices are crazy. While a friend of mine in New York City can get a six-foot tree for US$45 at Whole Foods, in Taiwan the price for a similar sized tree is more than ten fold.
Since I am unwilling to spend five benjamins, we have a sustainable, artificial tree (actually made in Taiwan with ten year warranty); the ornaments are real.
Since I am unwilling to spend five benjamins, we have a sustainable, artificial tree (actually made in Taiwan with ten year warranty); the ornaments are real.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Guest Blogging: Kevin Chen
Today I am presenting Kevin Chen, my great friend, as my blog's first guest blogger. Kevin is very opinionated and we often banter about everything, ranging from politics to pop culture. Now he is finally making some of his thoughts public. His first post is on one of our favorite subjects: sports.
You Can't Buy Luck
By Kevin Chen
As the Yankees, Red Sox and other high-spending teams continue their shopping spree in the off-season, it is interesting to ponder: given how much the Yankees outspend other teams, how come they don’t win the World Series every year? Or, at least every other year? And how come the Red Sox, the second highest-spending team, don’t win the majority of times that the Yankees don’t? The answer is simple but not very sophisticated: luck is a bigger determinant in the outcome of any baseball game than in most other popular sports.
Luck, or randomness, is a major part of any baseball game because unlike most other sports, the rules of baseball do not reward “progressive accuracy” – the general idea that the closer you get to doing something exactly right, the more you should be rewarded. The clearest example of progressive accuracy is taking a test. Let’s say the perfect score is 100 and there are 100 questions on the test. If you miss 20 questions, you will get an 80, which is a B-. If you miss only 5 questions, you will get a 95, which is an A, which is better than a B-. In sports, things are not this clear-cut, but still, logic dictates that one wants to set up the rules such that the same principle applies. In basketball, if you shoot a ball perfectly accurate, the ball will travel through the rim touching nothing but net, and in this case you will score 100% of the time. But, if you shoot it slightly off, the ball may barely touch the rim, but the less off you are, the lighter the ball will contact the rim, and the greater the chance you will score rather than have the ball “rim out”. This isn’t a perfect correlation – sometimes you can get a lucky bounce off the rim and score even when you’re way off, and other times your ball will barely graze the inside of the rim and somehow still bounce out (those agonizing “half way down and out” shots). This is luck at work. Still, in most cases, progressive accuracy is rewarded – you will score more often if you shoot the ball more accurately – meaning the closer your ball travels to the center of the basket, the greater the chance you will score.
Now, let’s look like one of the most fundamental aspects of baseball – hitting. This is where progressive accuracy is thrown off. Most of the time, the goal of the batter is to hit the ball as squarely and solidly as possible. But, if you don’t hit the ball perfectly squarely or solidly – it’s a home run when you hit it perfectly – the element of luck runs amuck in determining the outcome. Let’s look at some of the possible outcomes, from the wildest miss to the perfect hit (home run). If you miss the ball completely, it’s strike and maybe a strikeout. If you barely touch the ball, it’s either a strike or a do-over (with two strikes). So far, progressive accuracy is rewarded. But, if you do slightly better and hit the ball somewhat better than barely touching, chances are you will make an out – instead of being so off that the ball flies out of play and therefore you get another chance, you hit the ball accurately enough for it to land in the field of play, but not accurately enough for it to be a hit. Here, progressive accuracy is completely off. Then, if you hit the ball even better, you will improve your odds of getting a hit, but even here, you can potentially hit into a double-play. Most double-plays are very solidly struck balls that just happened to be hit at a specific fielder, and instead of being rewarded for making solid contact, the batter receives the worst possible outcome – worse than if he had completely missed the ball, and worse than if he had barely hit the ball. One can argue that the double-play ball was simply not hit accurately enough because if it had been truly accurate, it would have traveled between fielders rather than at someone. While this is theoretically true, no one even at the Major League level can realistically claim to be so accurate that he can intentionally aim a hit, say, slightly to the right or left of a specific fielder. The most a hitter can realistically try to do is make solid contact (except in the case of a bunt or a sac fly, but those are exceptions), and generally try to pull the ball or hit it the opposite way. As for exactly where that ball lands when you try to pull or go the opposite way – whether it is directly at the second baseman or two feet to his left/right – that is not just a realistic level of precision.
In essence, going back to the example of a test, what we’ve got in baseball is the following equivalent. If you get it perfectly right, you score 100 points (hit a home run) – no problem there. But, as you start to miss questions by varying degrees, the outcomes become murky. If you miss 10 points, instead of always getting an A-, there is a chance that you will end up with a C, or even an F, and if you miss 40 points, instead of a D, you may get to retake the test (but you’re stuck with a C or F if you miss 10 points). It’s not hard to see how in this system, the best students will not necessarily get the best grades because grades are not perfectly correlated with how well one does in tests.
By the same token, under a similar system, the best baseball teams will not win as often as the best basketball or football teams, as luck and randomness are greater factors in baseball than in those sports due to rules that do not reward progressive accuracy. In football or basketball, can you imagine an outcome where the two teams that made the championship final (Giants and Rangers) had a smaller combined payroll than a team that lost in the semifinal (Yankees) and a team that didn’t even make the playoffs (Red Sox)? That is only possible in baseball because you can’t buy sheer old dumb luck.
You Can't Buy Luck
By Kevin Chen
As the Yankees, Red Sox and other high-spending teams continue their shopping spree in the off-season, it is interesting to ponder: given how much the Yankees outspend other teams, how come they don’t win the World Series every year? Or, at least every other year? And how come the Red Sox, the second highest-spending team, don’t win the majority of times that the Yankees don’t? The answer is simple but not very sophisticated: luck is a bigger determinant in the outcome of any baseball game than in most other popular sports.
Luck, or randomness, is a major part of any baseball game because unlike most other sports, the rules of baseball do not reward “progressive accuracy” – the general idea that the closer you get to doing something exactly right, the more you should be rewarded. The clearest example of progressive accuracy is taking a test. Let’s say the perfect score is 100 and there are 100 questions on the test. If you miss 20 questions, you will get an 80, which is a B-. If you miss only 5 questions, you will get a 95, which is an A, which is better than a B-. In sports, things are not this clear-cut, but still, logic dictates that one wants to set up the rules such that the same principle applies. In basketball, if you shoot a ball perfectly accurate, the ball will travel through the rim touching nothing but net, and in this case you will score 100% of the time. But, if you shoot it slightly off, the ball may barely touch the rim, but the less off you are, the lighter the ball will contact the rim, and the greater the chance you will score rather than have the ball “rim out”. This isn’t a perfect correlation – sometimes you can get a lucky bounce off the rim and score even when you’re way off, and other times your ball will barely graze the inside of the rim and somehow still bounce out (those agonizing “half way down and out” shots). This is luck at work. Still, in most cases, progressive accuracy is rewarded – you will score more often if you shoot the ball more accurately – meaning the closer your ball travels to the center of the basket, the greater the chance you will score.
Now, let’s look like one of the most fundamental aspects of baseball – hitting. This is where progressive accuracy is thrown off. Most of the time, the goal of the batter is to hit the ball as squarely and solidly as possible. But, if you don’t hit the ball perfectly squarely or solidly – it’s a home run when you hit it perfectly – the element of luck runs amuck in determining the outcome. Let’s look at some of the possible outcomes, from the wildest miss to the perfect hit (home run). If you miss the ball completely, it’s strike and maybe a strikeout. If you barely touch the ball, it’s either a strike or a do-over (with two strikes). So far, progressive accuracy is rewarded. But, if you do slightly better and hit the ball somewhat better than barely touching, chances are you will make an out – instead of being so off that the ball flies out of play and therefore you get another chance, you hit the ball accurately enough for it to land in the field of play, but not accurately enough for it to be a hit. Here, progressive accuracy is completely off. Then, if you hit the ball even better, you will improve your odds of getting a hit, but even here, you can potentially hit into a double-play. Most double-plays are very solidly struck balls that just happened to be hit at a specific fielder, and instead of being rewarded for making solid contact, the batter receives the worst possible outcome – worse than if he had completely missed the ball, and worse than if he had barely hit the ball. One can argue that the double-play ball was simply not hit accurately enough because if it had been truly accurate, it would have traveled between fielders rather than at someone. While this is theoretically true, no one even at the Major League level can realistically claim to be so accurate that he can intentionally aim a hit, say, slightly to the right or left of a specific fielder. The most a hitter can realistically try to do is make solid contact (except in the case of a bunt or a sac fly, but those are exceptions), and generally try to pull the ball or hit it the opposite way. As for exactly where that ball lands when you try to pull or go the opposite way – whether it is directly at the second baseman or two feet to his left/right – that is not just a realistic level of precision.
In essence, going back to the example of a test, what we’ve got in baseball is the following equivalent. If you get it perfectly right, you score 100 points (hit a home run) – no problem there. But, as you start to miss questions by varying degrees, the outcomes become murky. If you miss 10 points, instead of always getting an A-, there is a chance that you will end up with a C, or even an F, and if you miss 40 points, instead of a D, you may get to retake the test (but you’re stuck with a C or F if you miss 10 points). It’s not hard to see how in this system, the best students will not necessarily get the best grades because grades are not perfectly correlated with how well one does in tests.
By the same token, under a similar system, the best baseball teams will not win as often as the best basketball or football teams, as luck and randomness are greater factors in baseball than in those sports due to rules that do not reward progressive accuracy. In football or basketball, can you imagine an outcome where the two teams that made the championship final (Giants and Rangers) had a smaller combined payroll than a team that lost in the semifinal (Yankees) and a team that didn’t even make the playoffs (Red Sox)? That is only possible in baseball because you can’t buy sheer old dumb luck.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Under Construction
My project in 中和市 that broke ground in April is coming along. Below is a picture of the site taken on November 18.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Less is More
Recently an architect friend of mine pointed out to me that Mies van der Rohe's famous aphorism, "less is more" was actually adopted from Robert Browning's poem "Andrea del Sarto" of 1855. Surprised, I looked up the phrase on Wikipedia, and sure enough the website confirms my friend's claim.
However, can we believe what's on Wikipedia? While Mies claimed to own three thousand books before he moved to the United States from Germany, was he really familiar with line 78 (Well, less is more, Lucrezia: I am judged) of the dramatic monologue by the Victorian poet?
I started to look through all the books I have on Mies, curiously none of them made any mention of Robert Browning. Therefore, if Mies didn't adopt the phrase, then who made the connection?
If Mies didn't know the phrase via Browning, did he come up with it independently? Moreover, did the phrase even come from Mies? While Fritz Neumeyer has shown in The Artless Word, that Mies shared Romano Guardini's penchant for dialectical structure in his writings, there's actually no evidence that Mies ever uttered or written the phrase, "less is more." The first time the phrase was linked to Mies was in Philip Johnson's seminal book, Mies van der Rohe, published in 1947 by the Museum of Modern Art. Therefore, the phrase can only be attributed to Mies by Johnson.
If the famous aphorism was actually constructed for Mies by Johnson, did he adopt it from Browning? This is hard to verify since Browning may not even be the originator of the phrase. In 1774, the German poet and writer Christoph Martin Wieland wrote the phrase "Und minder ist oft mehr, wie Lessings Prinz uns lehrt", which translates as "And less is often more, as Lessing's Prince teaches us." If this quote from Wikipedia can be believed, then did Browning or Johnson both adopt the phrase from Wieland?
In short, there is a lot more to "less is more", too much for one night's musing.
However, can we believe what's on Wikipedia? While Mies claimed to own three thousand books before he moved to the United States from Germany, was he really familiar with line 78 (Well, less is more, Lucrezia: I am judged) of the dramatic monologue by the Victorian poet?
I started to look through all the books I have on Mies, curiously none of them made any mention of Robert Browning. Therefore, if Mies didn't adopt the phrase, then who made the connection?
If Mies didn't know the phrase via Browning, did he come up with it independently? Moreover, did the phrase even come from Mies? While Fritz Neumeyer has shown in The Artless Word, that Mies shared Romano Guardini's penchant for dialectical structure in his writings, there's actually no evidence that Mies ever uttered or written the phrase, "less is more." The first time the phrase was linked to Mies was in Philip Johnson's seminal book, Mies van der Rohe, published in 1947 by the Museum of Modern Art. Therefore, the phrase can only be attributed to Mies by Johnson.
If the famous aphorism was actually constructed for Mies by Johnson, did he adopt it from Browning? This is hard to verify since Browning may not even be the originator of the phrase. In 1774, the German poet and writer Christoph Martin Wieland wrote the phrase "Und minder ist oft mehr, wie Lessings Prinz uns lehrt", which translates as "And less is often more, as Lessing's Prince teaches us." If this quote from Wikipedia can be believed, then did Browning or Johnson both adopt the phrase from Wieland?
In short, there is a lot more to "less is more", too much for one night's musing.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Osteria by Angie
A few weeks or so ago, a good friend of mine told me that a new Italian restaurant, Osteria by Angie, opened near my office. Shortly after, the restaurant was featured in the weekend section of China Times. My interest was piqued enough that we made a reservation for a family weekday dinner.
As we walked into the restaurant, we were greeted by a hostess who couldn't find our reservation. I thought that was not a good sign and unfortunately, it would not be the only problem for the night.
Since the restaurant was not full, no reservation was not a problem, moreover, the hostess seated our party of four at a table for six. We were given a table right next to the front door. This would have been fine except the door didn't always close properly. Throughout the night, there was constantly a draft directed towards me.
Notwithstanding the problem with the door closer, the decor of the restaurant is actually quite pleasant consisting mainly of white walls and dark colored furniture. It is clear the owners cared quite a bit about the appearance of the restaurant, including the choice of the dinnerware. The owners even blogged about their unwavering choice of Staub as serving pieces, though I don't quite understand the reason for using ceramic instead of steel. While the silverware has nice shapes, they are a bit too small and cute, especially the spoon, thus making them less enjoyable to eat with.
After a look through the menu, we decided to order a seasonal salad and a fritto misto to share as appetizers. For the main course, we ordered a pasta with tomato and pancetta for the kids, I had the risotto with beef cheeks, while Maria ordered a margherita pizza.
The salad came first and it was just tasteless, totally bland. While the ingredients were fresh, they were severely under-seasoned, almost as if the chef forgot the salt. The fritto came a little later, and the dipping sauce was also bland.
Similar to the starters, the three main courses also came at different times. For my risotto, the beef cheeks were cooked well with good flavor. However, the rice was simply not creamy enough. I am not sure what the problem was, maybe not enough was done at the mantercatura stage; there just wasn't enough emulsification. I also didn't understand why the chef decided to serve the risotto in a small casserole-like dish rather than a shallow bowl or plate.
The pasta for the kids came shortly after and the casarecce was cooked well and the sauce had good flavors. At least the kids were happy.
The pizza didn't arrive until roughly ten minutes after I finished my risotto. Considering a pizza should cook very quickly, this was really unacceptable. While we were waiting for the pizza to show up, and asked the server to check on it multiple times, we saw the chef, out of the kitchen, wondering around the restaurant and even exchanging a glass of wine with someone, presumably his friend. What was worse, the pizza wasn't good. There simply wasn't enough of a crust. The bottom of the pizza was barely charred; I suspect the oven wasn't hot enough.
After the pizza we lost any interest in trying the desserts. I even skipped my usual espresso and simply asked for il conto.
With a few thousands NT$ lighter in the wallet, what makes the whole experience more disappointing was the fact that we were sitting at a table right across the aisle from the owners. The husband and wife were wining and dining their four friends and seemed oblivious to what was going on at the rest of the restaurant. It was then that I realized this is not really a restaurant for the general public, but rather a place for the owners to entertain their friends. If the owners are serious about being restaurateurs, they ought to show more care towards their paying customers. Until that happens and when the chef finds the salt box and some more heat, I will not return.
As we walked into the restaurant, we were greeted by a hostess who couldn't find our reservation. I thought that was not a good sign and unfortunately, it would not be the only problem for the night.
Since the restaurant was not full, no reservation was not a problem, moreover, the hostess seated our party of four at a table for six. We were given a table right next to the front door. This would have been fine except the door didn't always close properly. Throughout the night, there was constantly a draft directed towards me.
Notwithstanding the problem with the door closer, the decor of the restaurant is actually quite pleasant consisting mainly of white walls and dark colored furniture. It is clear the owners cared quite a bit about the appearance of the restaurant, including the choice of the dinnerware. The owners even blogged about their unwavering choice of Staub as serving pieces, though I don't quite understand the reason for using ceramic instead of steel. While the silverware has nice shapes, they are a bit too small and cute, especially the spoon, thus making them less enjoyable to eat with.
After a look through the menu, we decided to order a seasonal salad and a fritto misto to share as appetizers. For the main course, we ordered a pasta with tomato and pancetta for the kids, I had the risotto with beef cheeks, while Maria ordered a margherita pizza.
The salad came first and it was just tasteless, totally bland. While the ingredients were fresh, they were severely under-seasoned, almost as if the chef forgot the salt. The fritto came a little later, and the dipping sauce was also bland.
Similar to the starters, the three main courses also came at different times. For my risotto, the beef cheeks were cooked well with good flavor. However, the rice was simply not creamy enough. I am not sure what the problem was, maybe not enough was done at the mantercatura stage; there just wasn't enough emulsification. I also didn't understand why the chef decided to serve the risotto in a small casserole-like dish rather than a shallow bowl or plate.
The pasta for the kids came shortly after and the casarecce was cooked well and the sauce had good flavors. At least the kids were happy.
The pizza didn't arrive until roughly ten minutes after I finished my risotto. Considering a pizza should cook very quickly, this was really unacceptable. While we were waiting for the pizza to show up, and asked the server to check on it multiple times, we saw the chef, out of the kitchen, wondering around the restaurant and even exchanging a glass of wine with someone, presumably his friend. What was worse, the pizza wasn't good. There simply wasn't enough of a crust. The bottom of the pizza was barely charred; I suspect the oven wasn't hot enough.
After the pizza we lost any interest in trying the desserts. I even skipped my usual espresso and simply asked for il conto.
With a few thousands NT$ lighter in the wallet, what makes the whole experience more disappointing was the fact that we were sitting at a table right across the aisle from the owners. The husband and wife were wining and dining their four friends and seemed oblivious to what was going on at the rest of the restaurant. It was then that I realized this is not really a restaurant for the general public, but rather a place for the owners to entertain their friends. If the owners are serious about being restaurateurs, they ought to show more care towards their paying customers. Until that happens and when the chef finds the salt box and some more heat, I will not return.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Au Revoir Chef Suga
A months or so ago my wife, Maria, and I were back at L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon Taipei again. After another splendid dinner, where we met the friendly new sommelier, Benoît Monier, we were told by Grendy, the always lovely manager, that in October Chef Robuchon will come back to Taipei and be at the restaurant for five days. Upon hearing that, I was eager to make a reservation so I may finally meet the Chef of the Century. I also thought five days seem like a long time to visit to see how things are going. Later I learned the Master's visit is not a routine one, rather he is coming to install a new executive chef, the Italian Angelo Agliano, to take over the restaurant from Chef Yosuke Suga, who will head to Paris to work on another project.
As I wrote in my previous posts on L'Atelier, Maria and I are very happy to have Suga as the chef of the restaurant. While we don't know him personally, we feel a sense of connection. He was the chef at L'Atelier in New York when we lived in Manhattan. He moved to Taipei the same year when we moved to Taipei. While I didn't expect him to stay forever in Taipei, it was still a slight shock to hear he will leave with Robuchon. All of a sudden, the excitement to meet Robuchon is tinged with a bit of sadness.
For this hello-and-goodbye dinner I asked four friends to join us. While we were a large party of six, I still chose to sit at the bar, which is more fun than sitting at the tables far removed from the actions in the kitchen. The restaurant prefers large parties to order from one of the three set menus, two of which contained three to four choices for each course. After confirming with my friends that they eat everything, I asked the restaurant to just cook a four course menu for us. Instead of choosing the dishes for each course, the six of us will eat the same thing: whatever the Chef wants to serve.
While four of us arrived punctually at the reserved time of 7:00PM, two of my friends showed up almost an hour later. While I was annoyed and embarrassed, Grendy and her team could not have been more accommodating and relaxed about it. As we waited, we munched on the typically delicious breads; I assumed my good friend Emily's cousin, Alan, made some of them. Benoît introduced us to Antoine Hernandez, the Head Sommelier of Robuchon's operations and one of Robuchon's partners and traveling companions; Benoît calls him the human wine list. Benoît, knowing I didn't want to break the bank, picked out a nice white wine for us: 2006 Domaine Robert Denogent Pouilly Fuissé "Les Reisses". While we waited, Vincent, the manager introduced us to another partner of Robuchon, Philippe Braun, who speaks English very well, thus making it easier for us to chit chat.
Robuchon showed up before my tardy friends. Before he greeted us he actually first looked at the wine bottle to see what we were drinking. I was just glad I let Benoît and Antoine pick the wine. After a slight nod of his head, I assumed this meant he approved, he said a quick hello.
Dinner began with an amuse: a steamed custard with small pieces of chicken topped by a wasabi foam. The first course seemed like a new dish, at least for me, a beautifully composed plate with rolls of shaved foie gras terrine, large chunks of artichokes, shavings of parmigiano cheese, julienne of radishes, and thin slices of toasted baguettes. The combination of cheese and foie was a nice surprise for me.
The second dish was a pumpkin velouté with three spinach ravioli that contained mushrooms and Fourme d'Ambert cheese. I really liked this wonderful autumn dish with vibrant colors of yellow and green. The slightly sour and bitter taste of the blue cheese gave a nice contrast and sharpness to the sweetness of the smooth pumpkin soup.
The pièce de résistance of the night was the Poulet de Bresse au vin jaune. Months ago, Chef Suga told me he was going to order some chicken from Bresse because he found the local chicken to be too tough. I eagerly wanted to have a taste of this famous tricolore chicken from France. It is hard to get to eat a Bresse chicken outside of France. Even in New York, fancy restaurants don't import Bresse chicken, and typically use the American blue-foot chicken. As Benoît explained, the chicken pieces were cooked with Chateau Chalon wine in a Staub cocotte, and that was how it was first presented to us. The servers then brought the chicken back to the pass to be plated. This was a very fragrant dish. The chicken was meatier than I imagined. The chicken was served with a light jus with mushrooms and Robuchon's famous mashed potato. My friend wondered how much butter was in the potato. This seems to be a question on many people's minds, even Anthony Bourdain asked Robuchon about it in his meal at L'Atelier in Paris. The portion of potato to butter is roughly 4 to 1 in weight; I suspect Robuchon is probably tired of answering this question. It is often been said that sometimes the simplest things are also the most difficult. The dish of chicken with mashed potato was a simple and classic dish beautifully executed by a confident team at L'Atelier. This delicious dish is often not served in fancier places in the current age of molecular gastronomy and celebrity chefs; just a pleasure to eat it at L'Atelier.
After the pre-dessert, Chef Kazutoshi Narita sent us a new dish that he has been working on. Narita explained that typically in France, diners tend to split into two camps: some prefer to finish dinner with savory cheeses while others may prefer the sweet desserts. He wanted to offer something in the middle, thus taking elements from both sides. First of all, it was a visually attractive dish. Different curvilinear elements: dices of poached in-season quince, circular puff pastry tart with fresh cheese, quenelle-shaped sorbet, individual berries, and chopped pistachio nuts were placed linearly on different horizontal lines, almost like a musical score. The composition was served on a round plate with rectangular indentations, echoing the compositions of the dessert. The combination of the sweet and savory were further emphasized with some drizzles of olive oil. Since the different elements were laid out individually on a plate, it allowed the diners to play with different combinations themselves. I enjoyed the dish very much and it was a revelation for me.
After we finished our espressos and caramel macarons, I briefly talked with Suga, along with Robuchon. Suga introduced me to Robuchon as the blogger who thought all the food was good but complained about being served too fast; he still remembers my first blog entry on the restaurant. Robuchon joked the problem must have been the chef is no good and that's why he is leaving. I tried with my rudimentary French to explain to Robuchon que je ne suis pas un "real" blogueur. C'est dommage que le restaurant est parfait maintenant, mais Chef Suga quitte Taipei.
Outre le délicieux dîner, il s'agit d'une soirée mémorable et amusant. Au revoir Chef Suga. Merci pour tous les merveilleux repas à L'Atelier. Nous nous reverrons à Paris.
As I wrote in my previous posts on L'Atelier, Maria and I are very happy to have Suga as the chef of the restaurant. While we don't know him personally, we feel a sense of connection. He was the chef at L'Atelier in New York when we lived in Manhattan. He moved to Taipei the same year when we moved to Taipei. While I didn't expect him to stay forever in Taipei, it was still a slight shock to hear he will leave with Robuchon. All of a sudden, the excitement to meet Robuchon is tinged with a bit of sadness.
For this hello-and-goodbye dinner I asked four friends to join us. While we were a large party of six, I still chose to sit at the bar, which is more fun than sitting at the tables far removed from the actions in the kitchen. The restaurant prefers large parties to order from one of the three set menus, two of which contained three to four choices for each course. After confirming with my friends that they eat everything, I asked the restaurant to just cook a four course menu for us. Instead of choosing the dishes for each course, the six of us will eat the same thing: whatever the Chef wants to serve.
While four of us arrived punctually at the reserved time of 7:00PM, two of my friends showed up almost an hour later. While I was annoyed and embarrassed, Grendy and her team could not have been more accommodating and relaxed about it. As we waited, we munched on the typically delicious breads; I assumed my good friend Emily's cousin, Alan, made some of them. Benoît introduced us to Antoine Hernandez, the Head Sommelier of Robuchon's operations and one of Robuchon's partners and traveling companions; Benoît calls him the human wine list. Benoît, knowing I didn't want to break the bank, picked out a nice white wine for us: 2006 Domaine Robert Denogent Pouilly Fuissé "Les Reisses". While we waited, Vincent, the manager introduced us to another partner of Robuchon, Philippe Braun, who speaks English very well, thus making it easier for us to chit chat.
Robuchon showed up before my tardy friends. Before he greeted us he actually first looked at the wine bottle to see what we were drinking. I was just glad I let Benoît and Antoine pick the wine. After a slight nod of his head, I assumed this meant he approved, he said a quick hello.
Dinner began with an amuse: a steamed custard with small pieces of chicken topped by a wasabi foam. The first course seemed like a new dish, at least for me, a beautifully composed plate with rolls of shaved foie gras terrine, large chunks of artichokes, shavings of parmigiano cheese, julienne of radishes, and thin slices of toasted baguettes. The combination of cheese and foie was a nice surprise for me.
The second dish was a pumpkin velouté with three spinach ravioli that contained mushrooms and Fourme d'Ambert cheese. I really liked this wonderful autumn dish with vibrant colors of yellow and green. The slightly sour and bitter taste of the blue cheese gave a nice contrast and sharpness to the sweetness of the smooth pumpkin soup.
The pièce de résistance of the night was the Poulet de Bresse au vin jaune. Months ago, Chef Suga told me he was going to order some chicken from Bresse because he found the local chicken to be too tough. I eagerly wanted to have a taste of this famous tricolore chicken from France. It is hard to get to eat a Bresse chicken outside of France. Even in New York, fancy restaurants don't import Bresse chicken, and typically use the American blue-foot chicken. As Benoît explained, the chicken pieces were cooked with Chateau Chalon wine in a Staub cocotte, and that was how it was first presented to us. The servers then brought the chicken back to the pass to be plated. This was a very fragrant dish. The chicken was meatier than I imagined. The chicken was served with a light jus with mushrooms and Robuchon's famous mashed potato. My friend wondered how much butter was in the potato. This seems to be a question on many people's minds, even Anthony Bourdain asked Robuchon about it in his meal at L'Atelier in Paris. The portion of potato to butter is roughly 4 to 1 in weight; I suspect Robuchon is probably tired of answering this question. It is often been said that sometimes the simplest things are also the most difficult. The dish of chicken with mashed potato was a simple and classic dish beautifully executed by a confident team at L'Atelier. This delicious dish is often not served in fancier places in the current age of molecular gastronomy and celebrity chefs; just a pleasure to eat it at L'Atelier.
After the pre-dessert, Chef Kazutoshi Narita sent us a new dish that he has been working on. Narita explained that typically in France, diners tend to split into two camps: some prefer to finish dinner with savory cheeses while others may prefer the sweet desserts. He wanted to offer something in the middle, thus taking elements from both sides. First of all, it was a visually attractive dish. Different curvilinear elements: dices of poached in-season quince, circular puff pastry tart with fresh cheese, quenelle-shaped sorbet, individual berries, and chopped pistachio nuts were placed linearly on different horizontal lines, almost like a musical score. The composition was served on a round plate with rectangular indentations, echoing the compositions of the dessert. The combination of the sweet and savory were further emphasized with some drizzles of olive oil. Since the different elements were laid out individually on a plate, it allowed the diners to play with different combinations themselves. I enjoyed the dish very much and it was a revelation for me.
After we finished our espressos and caramel macarons, I briefly talked with Suga, along with Robuchon. Suga introduced me to Robuchon as the blogger who thought all the food was good but complained about being served too fast; he still remembers my first blog entry on the restaurant. Robuchon joked the problem must have been the chef is no good and that's why he is leaving. I tried with my rudimentary French to explain to Robuchon que je ne suis pas un "real" blogueur. C'est dommage que le restaurant est parfait maintenant, mais Chef Suga quitte Taipei.
Outre le délicieux dîner, il s'agit d'une soirée mémorable et amusant. Au revoir Chef Suga. Merci pour tous les merveilleux repas à L'Atelier. Nous nous reverrons à Paris.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Repeat
Recently we worked on a new project for an old client. When the client, who is always very supportive, saw the design, he half jokingly said, it looks like the project we did for him a few years ago. Since the programs for the new and the old projects are the same, and we only had three weeks to work on the design, we used the old project as a starting point. While we didn't reinvent the wheel and certain characteristics of the old project are evident, the skin, siting, contextual relationships, circulation, and concepts about materials are all new. Therefore, unlike the client, we thought of the new project as very different from the old. Nevertheless, the client raised an interesting question about repeating oneself.
To some degree, every architect not only repeats him or herself but others. This can be at the level of detailing or on much larger scales. The best example of repeating oneself is probably the late work of Mies van der Rohe, who famously said, "One does not reinvent a new architecture every Monday morning." Even Rem Koolhaas who prides his firm on their abilities to invent new things, recycled and reworked the design of a house for the Casa da Música in Porto.
To some degree, every architect not only repeats him or herself but others. This can be at the level of detailing or on much larger scales. The best example of repeating oneself is probably the late work of Mies van der Rohe, who famously said, "One does not reinvent a new architecture every Monday morning." Even Rem Koolhaas who prides his firm on their abilities to invent new things, recycled and reworked the design of a house for the Casa da Música in Porto.
It seems this question is asked more often than I thought as I read an interview today that Renzo Piano did recently with Metropolis Magazine:
LIFSON: You’re criticized for repeating yourself in your work.
LIFSON: You’re criticized for repeating yourself in your work.
PIANO: Of course we repeat; we repeat what we like! It’s not because we are lazy people; it’s not because we want to repeat ourselves. But as an architect, you rely on your own experience. It’s like a writer or a painter or a filmmaker.
Therefore, the next time when a client says we are repeating ourselves, maybe I should be less defensive about it and just repeat Renzo's answer.
Therefore, the next time when a client says we are repeating ourselves, maybe I should be less defensive about it and just repeat Renzo's answer.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Changes at Eleven Madison Park
The New York Times reported on the changes being made at Eleven Madison Park. The article is titled, "At Eleven Madison Park, Fixing What Isn’t Broke." I disagree with the title because there are problems and they should be fixed.
I wrote about my disappointing experience at the restaurant in an earlier entry. In short the lunch experience was definitely not four-star. I am glad to learn that Chef Daniel Humm and General Manager William Guidara agree with me. As they said in the Times article, the à la carte menu that was served for lunch was a "disservice to the diners who make a gastronomic pilgrimage to the restaurant." Mr. Guidara went on to say, "they might have a completely different experience than they would have at dinner. That doesn’t feel appropriate.” It is nice to see them contradict many bloggers' glowing reviews of the lunch at the restaurant.
According to the Times, they knew about the problems for quite some time and decided to make the changes early this year. It was too bad the change didn't come early enough for me. Nevertheless, I applaud their decision to change course and fix the problems. I am glad they convinced one of the owners, Danny Meyer, to support them. While the restaurant isn't broke, it can and should be better. Just when I thought I would never go back to the restaurant for lunch, now there is a reason to. Hopefully the next time, they will serve us some petits fours.
I wrote about my disappointing experience at the restaurant in an earlier entry. In short the lunch experience was definitely not four-star. I am glad to learn that Chef Daniel Humm and General Manager William Guidara agree with me. As they said in the Times article, the à la carte menu that was served for lunch was a "disservice to the diners who make a gastronomic pilgrimage to the restaurant." Mr. Guidara went on to say, "they might have a completely different experience than they would have at dinner. That doesn’t feel appropriate.” It is nice to see them contradict many bloggers' glowing reviews of the lunch at the restaurant.
According to the Times, they knew about the problems for quite some time and decided to make the changes early this year. It was too bad the change didn't come early enough for me. Nevertheless, I applaud their decision to change course and fix the problems. I am glad they convinced one of the owners, Danny Meyer, to support them. While the restaurant isn't broke, it can and should be better. Just when I thought I would never go back to the restaurant for lunch, now there is a reason to. Hopefully the next time, they will serve us some petits fours.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Qingdao
Recently I went on a business trip to Qingdao. It was my first trip back to the city since 2007 when I was still working at Tsao & McKown. I used to go to Qingdao periodically as I was the Project Architect for the IMC Centre.
The last time when I was at the site, the project was just starting to come out of the ground.
The design of IMC Centre actually started at the end of 2004. This large project, roughly 200,000 square meter in total floor area, consists of four levels of basement, and above grade, a 51-story office tower and a 29-story residential tower linked by a four-story retail podium. It is a very difficult and complicated project. Nevertheless, I was very happy to see the project again. Below is a picture of the project taken in August by my former colleague, who is still on the site trying to get what we designed built properly. Construction will probably continue until early next year.
The last time when I was at the site, the project was just starting to come out of the ground.
The design of IMC Centre actually started at the end of 2004. This large project, roughly 200,000 square meter in total floor area, consists of four levels of basement, and above grade, a 51-story office tower and a 29-story residential tower linked by a four-story retail podium. It is a very difficult and complicated project. Nevertheless, I was very happy to see the project again. Below is a picture of the project taken in August by my former colleague, who is still on the site trying to get what we designed built properly. Construction will probably continue until early next year.
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