Michel Richard Citronelle
3000 M St NW
Washington, DC 20007
202-625-2150
It is an unfortunate circumstance that the weight of expectation can sometimes crush an otherwise perfectly enjoyable experience. I have been to too many restaurants where a combination of reviews from other people and my own – sometimes unrealistic – expectations have not been met, resulting in me walking away somewhat disappointed. It is perhaps a harsh way to judge a restaurant, but it is unavoidable.
By all accounts my dinner at Citronelle was set up to fail this way. I had, for as long as I have lived in DC, heard only glowing recommendations about this place. I had made the reservation two months in advance, and had spent all that time reading about Michel Richard and his food. I must have spent a good three hours perusing the winelist beforehand to pick out what I wanted to try, and what was good value for money. If this meal had been anything short of extraordinary, I would have been let down. Yet I am happy to report that this bastion of Washington cuisine was everything I expected it to be, and more.
It was my birthday this past weekend, and several good friends indulged me by visiting. Morgan, Reed and Simon all made the trip down from New York, while Matthew came back from Pittsburgh. It was a reunion of sorts, perhaps made a little bittersweet by my impending departure. Personally, it was also my theoretical last day at work. So there was a lot to celebrate and commemorate, and as I dressed for the event (Citronelle has a jacket-required dress code for gentlemen) I thought it only fitting to wear a suit and tie.
Citronelle is located right-smack in the middle of Georgetown, within a boutique hotel called the Latham Hotel. The building façade is perhaps not the most attractive – a block-ish, staid red brick building that is somewhat lackluster next to its architecturally diverse counterparts on M St. But upon walking in we get that sense of being transported – the lighting is warmer, the background noise more restrained than on the busy street we had just left behind.
It was not only appropriate to start with some champagne, but rather necessary, I thought. In addition to the big houses Citronelle had a sizeable list of small grower-producers, which was very intriguing. I did not know enough about these to make a decision and so went with the “Brut Premier” – a non-vintage champagne and the lowest-end offering from Louis Roederer, the same house that makes Cristal. Now, I am not a regular drinker of champagne and do not know enough about it to comment but this was really delightful. This had more vinosity, more character than the champagnes and sparkling wine I am used to – and I could actually appreciate it as a wine in addition to appreciating it as a glass of bubbly. It was very cool, very smooth, with hints of golden apple and the finish was longer than I was used to in champagne.
I put our sommelier in charge of the actual wine selection after that – while specifying what I wanted. We were going to go champagne, white Burgundy, red Burgundy and then finish up with a Bordeaux – and I told him what I liked in each of those wines. Sometimes expectation can work wonders. As you grow older you learn how to manage people, and get the best out of them. Nobody likes being told what to do and how to do it – and they like it even less if the person who does it either micro-manages or is too prescriptive. Far better, I think, to outline the parameters of what you want, and give people the freedom of expression and the expectation to produce. I think most people will surprise you if they were only given that expectation of producing greatness. Our sommelier certainly did bring us some beautiful wines, toasted our health with each bottle, and was an all-round credit to his profession.
It is always difficult deciding what to order, and this task was made even more so with the lack of detail on the menu. None of the dishes were described in more than seven words, with mentions only of the major ingredients and then sometimes not even that. I liked to think this allowed for creativity in the kitchen – where the chefs could change the preparation of any given dish on any given day – and it certainly allowed for some banter with our servers to discuss our options. As we were to find out, it really didn’t matter that the food wasn’t described well on the menu because everything was incredible and it didn’t matter whatever you picked because whatever choice you made was sure to please.
We weren’t made to wait long for our appetizers, which arrived with minimal pomp and splendor. Reed and I both got the Lobster “Begula” pasta, which consisted of tiny balls of pasta dyed in squid ink to resemble caviar and served in a can. It was apparently a house signature and characteristic of Michel Richard’s culinary wit, a trompe l’oeil dish that confounded your expectations. Hidden under the layer of pasta were chunks of lobster meat and a poached egg that held the mixture together. The can was plated in the middle of ellipse-shaped ice cubes – and was an indication of the dedication to presentation so evident in the kitchen’s cooking. The pasta was done to the perfect texture – difficult when you consider its miniature size, and the lobster perfectly seasoned to bring out and not mask its natural flavour.
Hunter and Simon both got the abalone, which I was surprised to see on the menu. Abalone is a highly prized food, almost revered, in Eastern civilizations, and a treat for special occasions back home. It is, however, not used extensively here. It has a meaty texture and absorbs flavour very well while retaining its own distinctive mildness, making it the perfect conduit for many intricate preparations. At Citronelle it came with cubes of cuttlefish and crunchy daikon radish. The saltiness of the cuttlefish was a perfect foil for the abalone, which was in turn perfectly cooked and a pleasure to sink your teeth into.
But the standout appetizer was surely the “Mosaic” surf and turf that both Morgan and Matthew ordered. This was individual carpaccio circles of beef, scallop, eel, radish and salmon, arranged in an explosion of colour. On the square plate, it resembled a stained glass tile and was absolutely stunning in its presentation. It did not flatter to deceive, either. The one bite I had of the eel was heavenly, a punch of tart citrus, savoury umami and an underlying sweetness that enhanced the flavour of the meat. Words could do the Mosaic no justice, and I had to search Flickr for a photo of this dish that we almost did not order if not for the waiter explaining its construction and composition to us.
The sommelier followed up the champagne with a Chardonnay from Puligny-Montrachet (“Sous le Puits”, Domaine Larue, Puligny-Montrachet, 2003). This was very refreshing in a forest-glade kind of way – with a cool, dry mouthfeel and lots of minerality. It was wonderfully versatile and I believe it complemented all of our appetizers.
We had a little more variety in our entrées and I was lucky enough to try at least a bite of everything. Reed’s paella was a more-than-generous helping of seafood and pinenuts for rice, with every little squid, every little piece of seafood cooked just right time-wise, no more, and no less. Matthew got the squab, which came with gourmet tater tots – an absolutely charming touch. I have a long and lovely history with tater tots, and to see them make an appearance in fine dining brought a smile to my face. I myself got the lamb – bite-sized and almost identical spherical chunks of lamb loin atop a jalapeno and white bean sauce, with summer vegetables and a side of polenta. I admire a kitchen that respects its vegetables. In this case they were prepared with care, and each vegetable was seasoned and prepared individually, not treated as part of a medley. The tomatoes were drizzled with balsamic and roasted till tender, while the fennel was lightly prepared so as to retain its crunch.
Morgan, Simon and Hunter each got the veal three ways – shank, cheek and sweetbreads. I love all of those preparations. Special mention must go to the sweetbread, which was out of this world. I remember introducing Greg to sweetbreads at a restaurant in Montreal, only to have him say “This tastes like chicken.” I wanted to punch him in the face. But then I tried it and you know what, it did taste a little bit like chicken – but only in that it had a mild, sort of nondescript flavour. The sweetbread at Citronelle, though, was unlike any other I had tasted before. It had a buttery mouthfeel and a tender center, and was seasoned so exquisitely that it made my heart ache.
For dinner we had first the red Burgundy – Domaine Jacques-Frederick Mugnier, Chambolle-Musigny, 2000 – another excellent recommendation by our sommelier. The wine caused Hunter to comment without prompting on how good it was, which I took as a good sign, for Hunter does not drink much wine, and his praise was pure and unadulterated. I love the colour of a good red Burgundy Pinot – it has a pale brilliance, almost fragile and ethereal compared to the darkness and fullness of a Bordeaux or a Brunello. The wine had good earth, tasted of cranberries and a little licorice, and had a certain vibrancy that was hard to place. Needless to say, it went too soon.
I overruled the sommelier for the third wine, disregarded my original budget and picked what I thought was reasonable value for a second growth Bordeaux – a 2000 Chateau Leoville-Poyferré, St Julien. The youngest of the three vineyards that made up the original Leoville estate, it was the only one I had not tried, and what better occasion, really. It was rich and full-bodied, with lots of dark fruit and a creamy mouthfeel. Its medium acidity and tannic levels made it a perfectly pleasurable experience to drink, and it had a long, opulent finish.
Michel Richard Citronelle is not cheap. In fact, it is the absolute opposite. I read so many reviews online referencing its “regulars” and I thought to myself: how nice it would be if I made enough money to be a regular of this restaurant. For that kind of money, the restaurant must always live with a set of astronomical expectations. What a dangerous place to be in, where the only way is down – you are expected to produce nothing but quality, expected to innovate constantly without losing your soul. The non-regulars who visit the place, myself included, expect nothing short of a magical, unforgettable evening. Fortunately for us, the restaurant more than delivered.
- Me, looking rather bemused at all the fuss over yet another birthday
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1 comments:
Excellent review. Makes me want to move there.
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