Tom Sietsema is my favorite Washington Post food critic. In this posting
he describes a few restaurants that did not make the “Top Ten” pantheon this year.
Inspired by his writing I ventured to the Government Kitchen - my favorite dining location and a five-star destination. Together with my companion we headed there for a meal to reaffirm our long standing commitment to this establishment. Yet the experience left us puzzled and wondering whether the Government Kitchen still belongs to the “Top Ten”.
Here is how it went….
One thing about the Government Kitchen - the place is not graced with great looks or good ambiance. This is not where you go for a romantic dinner but rather to spread your wings and to broaden your experience. However, the rumors have it that the Government Kitchen is relocating to a new building. Could it be the change that will raise the dining experience to a new level? Unfortunately not, as this is the last of the designers concerns. Titanium bars will keep the hoi polloi out, reinforced glass will provide protection from explosives and armed guards will be performing full cavity searches if their suspicion is even slightly aroused. Perhaps not as stimulating environment for a diner as one would hope for. For that reason we are planning our visit before the move to see the Government Kitchen naked, vulnerable and taunting her enemies with an underground garage that is still open to the public!
But let us concentrate on the meal. Government Kitchen has a lot to offer but on this occasion we settle for a five-course prix fixe meal on the 10-th floor. It is a pricey affair, about 1.3 billion dollars, with about a third of it being a mandatory tip for the administrative staff.
These days the Government Kitchen gives a lot of attention to the local ingredients and domestic personnel and we are full of expectations. The first course is Physics and of course Higgs boson is the most anticipated ingredient. We poke in our plates but there is no sign of Higgs. Finally, a staffer with a German accent explains that Higgs is a foreign ingredient and she offers Higgs infused oil as a closest approximation. A great disappointment, as on our recent trip to Europe we noticed poached Higgs, marinated Higgs, and Higgs dried and stuffed with neutrinos being available even in roadside inns.
The next course is Astronomy. It is an interesting interlude as the serving includes only one very expensive ingredient being farmed in northern Chile. In the end it might be pretty tasty but at the moment it is still not quite ripe and our server assures us that it needs at least a decade to fully develop. For that reason the dish feels stringy and rather bland, clearly missing companion pieces that would make it whole. Yet most possibilities for these companion pieces were sacrificed to bring up the main dish and the menu includes a long list of items that will not be served anymore in this century. Thus we are gnawing dutifully on the Astronomy offering trying to imagine it in full glory while residual sand from Chilean desert grinds between our teeth.
The next two courses are Chemistry and Materials. This is supposed to be the pinnacle of our meal, partly because nearly all chefs are chemists. They all come out and sing us “Happy Birthday” to erase less than the perfect impression of the first two courses. All is well until the dishes show up and what a surprise! They are nearly identical - same spices, same ingredients and the same chefs as it turns out. Ouch! It looks like Chemistry and Materials are just ploys to charge for a five course tasting menu while providing only four courses. The food is acceptable but lacks novelty and a grand vision. And did I sense a microwave oven being used to infuse heat into our meal? Is that possible?
The backbone of the dish is a set of rather stale solicitations spiced with diversity and broadening participation agenda. Definitely not enough for a Michelin star!
For desert we get Mathematics. From the distance it looks attractive but upon closer examination the ingredients are not particularly fresh and many are past their prime. Desert is a piece that ties the meal together and brings you back for more but this is where the Government Kitchen decided to "go on the cheap" and it is a disappointment. The taste of desert is determined not by what is in it but more so by what it is missing - an interesting idea but perhaps not one to be adopted by a pastry chef. A staffer explains politely that Mathematics absorbed a brunt of sacrifices to make the remaining courses better, and helpfully comments that mathematical ingredients have the longest shell life and some actually never go bad. "But many of our customers do not last till desert," he adds sadly "and so this is where we decided to economize.” His apron emblazoned with names of chemical elements is a clear statement of where his sympathies are.
We pay about fifth of our budget for this meal and wonder whether it was really worth it. Top chefs are leaving the Government Kitchen in droves and formulaic and tired cooking takes hold of a place where discoveries used to begin. Just when we finished mourning an opportunity for a great dessert that could have saved the meal and redeemed what was overall a pretty shaky experience we are struck by a realization of a colossal lacunae that makes all of the above faults feel like minor imperfections. What the hell happened to the wine pairings?!?!?
he describes a few restaurants that did not make the “Top Ten” pantheon this year.
Inspired by his writing I ventured to the Government Kitchen - my favorite dining location and a five-star destination. Together with my companion we headed there for a meal to reaffirm our long standing commitment to this establishment. Yet the experience left us puzzled and wondering whether the Government Kitchen still belongs to the “Top Ten”.
Here is how it went….
One thing about the Government Kitchen - the place is not graced with great looks or good ambiance. This is not where you go for a romantic dinner but rather to spread your wings and to broaden your experience. However, the rumors have it that the Government Kitchen is relocating to a new building. Could it be the change that will raise the dining experience to a new level? Unfortunately not, as this is the last of the designers concerns. Titanium bars will keep the hoi polloi out, reinforced glass will provide protection from explosives and armed guards will be performing full cavity searches if their suspicion is even slightly aroused. Perhaps not as stimulating environment for a diner as one would hope for. For that reason we are planning our visit before the move to see the Government Kitchen naked, vulnerable and taunting her enemies with an underground garage that is still open to the public!
But let us concentrate on the meal. Government Kitchen has a lot to offer but on this occasion we settle for a five-course prix fixe meal on the 10-th floor. It is a pricey affair, about 1.3 billion dollars, with about a third of it being a mandatory tip for the administrative staff.
These days the Government Kitchen gives a lot of attention to the local ingredients and domestic personnel and we are full of expectations. The first course is Physics and of course Higgs boson is the most anticipated ingredient. We poke in our plates but there is no sign of Higgs. Finally, a staffer with a German accent explains that Higgs is a foreign ingredient and she offers Higgs infused oil as a closest approximation. A great disappointment, as on our recent trip to Europe we noticed poached Higgs, marinated Higgs, and Higgs dried and stuffed with neutrinos being available even in roadside inns.
The next course is Astronomy. It is an interesting interlude as the serving includes only one very expensive ingredient being farmed in northern Chile. In the end it might be pretty tasty but at the moment it is still not quite ripe and our server assures us that it needs at least a decade to fully develop. For that reason the dish feels stringy and rather bland, clearly missing companion pieces that would make it whole. Yet most possibilities for these companion pieces were sacrificed to bring up the main dish and the menu includes a long list of items that will not be served anymore in this century. Thus we are gnawing dutifully on the Astronomy offering trying to imagine it in full glory while residual sand from Chilean desert grinds between our teeth.
The next two courses are Chemistry and Materials. This is supposed to be the pinnacle of our meal, partly because nearly all chefs are chemists. They all come out and sing us “Happy Birthday” to erase less than the perfect impression of the first two courses. All is well until the dishes show up and what a surprise! They are nearly identical - same spices, same ingredients and the same chefs as it turns out. Ouch! It looks like Chemistry and Materials are just ploys to charge for a five course tasting menu while providing only four courses. The food is acceptable but lacks novelty and a grand vision. And did I sense a microwave oven being used to infuse heat into our meal? Is that possible?
The backbone of the dish is a set of rather stale solicitations spiced with diversity and broadening participation agenda. Definitely not enough for a Michelin star!
For desert we get Mathematics. From the distance it looks attractive but upon closer examination the ingredients are not particularly fresh and many are past their prime. Desert is a piece that ties the meal together and brings you back for more but this is where the Government Kitchen decided to "go on the cheap" and it is a disappointment. The taste of desert is determined not by what is in it but more so by what it is missing - an interesting idea but perhaps not one to be adopted by a pastry chef. A staffer explains politely that Mathematics absorbed a brunt of sacrifices to make the remaining courses better, and helpfully comments that mathematical ingredients have the longest shell life and some actually never go bad. "But many of our customers do not last till desert," he adds sadly "and so this is where we decided to economize.” His apron emblazoned with names of chemical elements is a clear statement of where his sympathies are.
We pay about fifth of our budget for this meal and wonder whether it was really worth it. Top chefs are leaving the Government Kitchen in droves and formulaic and tired cooking takes hold of a place where discoveries used to begin. Just when we finished mourning an opportunity for a great dessert that could have saved the meal and redeemed what was overall a pretty shaky experience we are struck by a realization of a colossal lacunae that makes all of the above faults feel like minor imperfections. What the hell happened to the wine pairings?!?!?
