The Price Of Perfection

MOVEABLE FEAST
Manrico's Price of Perfection
By Jeannine Kadow
Aspen Daily News Culinary Critic
A funny thing happened to me at Manrico
Cashmere in Aspen. I went into the store
one evening, and when I came out three
hours later the only thing I had bought was,
well, dinner.
One does not typically go shopping for
cashmere and end up seduced by cooking
- but then again, the Italians have a talent
for sensual seduction, and Aspen too is
always full of surprises. Manrico by Massimo
Masciaga on the second floor of the store
has boldly launched an assault on all of the
senses, intertwining spectacular cashmere
and sublime cuisine with the opening of
a restaurant and lounge that are virtual
extensions of the store. The chef, just 32,
comes to Aspen from Stresa, Italy, but his
culinary pedigree is intensely French. He
trained under the venerable Alain Chappell
as well as with Alain Ducasse in Paris and
at the Louis XV in Monte Carlo. From my
home in the south of France, I have followed Ducasse loyally over the years in his
incredible ascent from a one star chef to the
patron of a multi-starred international restaurant empire - and now in Aspen, I am
intensely eager to experience the cooking
of his young protégé.
I take my time inside Manrico Cashmere,
caressing four play pullovers, marveling at
the colors and textures - and mentally making up my Christmas Wish List should
Santa ask what I would like to find
under the tree this year. (Cashmere!
Cashmere! Santa, size extra small
please, in black.)
A fireplace glows, the centerpiece to a
champagne and caviar bar smartly integrated
into the main floor of the retail space. Deep
sofas, massive pillows, and cushy armchairs
entice. I settle in. A class of iced champagne tastes wonderful as I give myself over.
Soft music and dancing flames ease the last
twinge of urban angst from my travel-weary
muscles and overstressed mind. It is a room
made for sinking in, unwinding - an ideal
prelude for what awaits upstairs. Guests are
free to wander the store with champagne in
hand, but I don’t because I am too comfortable in front of the fire, and I cannot
bear the thought of spilling bubbly on that
gorgeous cashmere.
At the appointed hour of my reservation,
the hostess escorts me up to the dining
room where I am instantly embraced with
sophisticated Luxe. Sconces cast light so
soft the candles on the tables appear ethereal. The view is the art. Glass doors and
windows look out on snow tipped trees,
Aspen Mountain, and the pedestrian plaza.
Tables are spacious and set widely apart,
offering an intimate privacy. Comfortable
armchairs imported from Italy are covered
in black leather and black cashmere. Mine is
discreetly fitted with a custom piece on the
side that holds my handbag so I don’t have
to dine with it in my lap or on the floor. It
is an echo of Ducasse and reminiscent of the
thoughtful little handbag stools he provides
for women at his Louis XV in Monaco.
The menu is offered, a tome the size and
depth of an art monograph, with this one
covered in black cashmere to match the
chairs. Like Manrico’s fashion, lines are
clean and pure. It’s all about texture - and
texture is felt in every aspect of the room
from the wood floors, walls, and vaulted
ceiling to dazzling starched white table linens
that emphasize the beautiful Laguiole sterling silverware and delicate German crystal
glasses. There are no tricky centerpieces, no
cloying blooms - the table is not decorated
- conversely, the table has an austere beauty
with a single candle sheathed in glass and
polished silver lined up in classical order.
Three small white bowls with tiny spoons
hold two salts and one dark spicy pepper.
Ducassian To The Core
I see from the start that Masciaga is Ducassian
in his use of global product. Fleur de Sel
salt from Britanny sits alongside deep red
lava salt from Hawaii. Butter is Irish; one
of the three breads offered is Portuguese.
Olive oil in a small dish for bread dipping is
hand-chosen from Monteverina, Italy - an
oil so subtle and soft it can be described as
buttery. I dip and taste as I discuss wine with
the sommelier.
I am distressed that only one red is offered
by the glass - a super Tuscan that turns out
to be drearily light, not super at all - and
certainly not big enough to make a match
with Massimo’s bold food. The list restrains
with only one red by the half bottle - and
the majority of the list is Italian and French.
California has a limited representation
notably tipped to high price points in excess
of a hundred dollars a bottle - many in the
$200-$250 range.
I am surprised, given that the classic
Ducassian approach to wine is to offer
spectacular value at all ends of the price
spectrum. Alain Ducasse once told me with
pride that he wants his clients at the Louis
XV in Monaco to feel they can drop in
for a roast chicken and a bottle of simple
Beaujolais. The same guest may return a
second time that week for fois gras and
a Petrus, but it’s all about options with
Ducasse. At each of his restaurants he offers
excellent choices for wines by the glass. His
wine lists are creative, pulling in big value
from diverse areas such as Chile, Australia,
and Spain where the wine dollar goes much
further than in France or Italy these days,
given the turbo-powered Euro.
Granted, there are a number of wines under
$100 in the Italian portion of Manrico’s list,
but even those simpler wines feel overpriced
for what you are actually buying. Massimo’s
sommelier assures me that his list is a work
in progress and that he has more wines coming in to offer by the glass, and more bottles
at gentler price points. For the moment, the
Miner Oracle Cabernet is the best choice for
this night. We come to an agreement, and I
reverently open the dinner menu.
A degustazione leads, a winter tasting
featuring truffles in each dish. An eight
course and five course tasting are priced
at $275 and $175 respectively, including
house-chosen wines.
The á la carte menus follow,
divided into sections. The diversity dazzles.
To start, there is a timbale of ricotta
and mascarpone with crunchy vegetables, a warm thin tuna tart with aged
balsamic and sherbert of tomato, and a
Maine lobster paired with pigeon in a salad
and dressed with black Norcia truffle.
There is scampi with prosciutto paired
with seasonal fruit and vegetable cocotte.
Soups are morels consommé or broccoli
cream with poached quail egg.
As I page through to the fish, meat,
and fowl offerings, my waitress delivers
an amuse bouche - a gift from the Chef
- a zucchini blossom delicately plumped
with a creamy white cheese, served on a
swirl of vivid orange carrot emulsion with
drizzles of bright green essence from the
stalk. Three breads are presented, all freshly
baked and hot: a sourdough rye baguette,
a Portuguese sweet roll, and a pain feuilleté au sel, a buttery flaky pastry style bread
seasoned with salt. I sample one of each and
am still paging through the menu when the
next gift from the kitchen arrives: a truffled
scrambled egg topped with Oscetra caviar,
served in the shell with a mother of pearl
spoon ideally sized for the tasting. It is
soft and succulent, and by the time I have
finished, Massimo himself appears tableside. We talk at length in French of France,
Ducasse, Italy and many shared loved places.
We talk of product, of the market. For the
main course, Massimo wonders if I would
like the Cornish Hen Grandmére, the herb
crusted rack of Lamb, the Barolo beef cheek
en cocotte - or perhaps fish. His selection
is exquisite, including choices that are not
available at other Aspen restaurants: Turbot
and John Dory. I am partial to fish, but
can’t decide because they are all tantalizing.
Massimo chooses Turbot for me. We talk
more, of cooking with the seasons, taking
the very best the terroir - the earth - has
to offer. At this moment, Massimo swears,
truffles are a must.
Do you like them? he asks. The expression
on my face is his instant answer. He softly
clasps his hands together in anticipatory glee
and announces that if it is truffles I love, it
is truffles I shall have.
But first, to prepare the palette, something
clear and bright and clean: Massimo sends
out a carpaccio of St. Jacques. Thin shavings
of scallop are artfully drizzled with curls of
red and white Belgian endive, and dusted
with Oscetra. The scallops are a bit too thick
for my palette, more like sashimi than paper
thin carpaccio, and the simple oil dressing
feels as if it’s missing an astringent counterpoint, but the flavorful counterpoints
of crunchy endive, velvet caviar and silky
smooth scallop are wonderful together.
One of Massimo’s staff arrives next,
holding a gorgeous polished wood box.
Massimo appears and opens it. Truffles,
he announces, and there they are, a
spectacular stash - black truffles from
Oregon on the left and white from Alba on
the right. He plucks one out and wafts it in
the air. The perfume is heady.
The next time I see my truffles they are
in a perfectly cooked risotto crowned with
a sparkling square of edible 24-karat gold
leaf. Portions are overly generous - the scallops alone could have been a main course. I
was cautious with them, leaving half uneaten, but the risotto utterly undoes me and I
cannot resist cleaning the plate with a swipe
of pain feuilleté au sel. Good as the bread
is, served wonderfully hot, I can’t help but
pine for something simpler than the rich
pasty-like feuilleté, the strong rye or overly
sweet Portuguese. Massimo’s flavors are
so powerful on their own, they demand a
plain simple crusty country bread.
When the Turbot arrives, I definitely
wish there was a little less product. The
plate is cluttered: handmade rolled pasta
stuffed with mushrooms competes for
space with the artichokes, tomato and fish.
The pasta is too much after the sumptuous
risotto and overshadows the truffles and
fish. The crowded plate is a miscalculation
born of the chef’s desire to display the full
spectrum of his culinary talents. As a very
famous writer once told me: “You don’t
have to put everything you know into the
first book.”
The philosophy extends to the kitchen. Less is more. I want the essence of
Massimo’s superb products to stand out.
Turbot is a delicate and difficult fish to
cook correctly - too hasty a hand, too high
a flame and the silky meat suffers. I feel
some of the kitchen’s opening weekend
tension in the cooking but I instantly
forgive. It is the restaurant’s maiden voyage, every table is taken, and yet the
service has been smooth, elegant,
confident, assured.
Just when I think I have it all, desert
arrives, a warm chocolate molten cake with
creamy white warm saucing - the culinary
equivalent to nesting snug in front of a
fire on a stormy winter’s eve wrapped in a
four-ly cashmere blanket.
Massimo has his clientele acutely targeted - one that cares less about price than
perfection. They want to be more than
amazed: they want to be seduced, to travel
far in that perfect cashmere seat. Massimo
is determined to do just that. The prices
justly reflect the quality of product from
all over the world. His restaurant is an
event. Dining lightly upstairs in not really
an option. But this is Aspen where every
night in season is an event - and as such I
suspect Massimo will quickly win his just
position as a destination for discriminating diners. And, too, the room is questionably, dramatically romantic.
I was by myself at the table, yet far from
alone: Massimo and his staff did more
than feed me; they made me feel welcome
and special and loved - so much so that I
forgot to buy a sweater. But then, maybe
I’d rather have dinner at Manrico’s again.
Dear Santa....
Manrico’s Restaurant by Chef Massimo
Masciaga.
Telephone: 970-5445494 Starters from $22.00 - $95.00.
Handmade Pastas from $28.00 - $38.00;
Fish from $37.00-$48.00; Meat and
game from $37.00-$58.00
Aspen Daily News - December 22, 2004