Per Se, Chef Thomas Keller’s three-Michelin-star restaurant in New York, leaves a Filipino gastronome in a jubilant mood—and with a much lighter wallet

Half a year’s worth of yearning and anticipation hinged on that one resplendent morsel, its ebony sacs on a once-pulsating bivalve glimmering in the afternoon sun. One bite and the surge of briny ambrosia would flood my palate, rendering me entranced as the mysteries of the universe would be whispered into my ear, and my life transformed. Nothing would ever be the same again, I’d been warned. I was ready and willing  . . .

The success of a chef and his restaurant depends in large part on that one (usually) anonymous mouth—capable of catapulting a career into the stratosphere or bogging it down in quicksand. This mouth, which scorned chefs despise yet whose approval they ultimately crave for, belongs to the food critic.

Four scantly seasoned lamb medallions—doused tableside in an insipid red pepper sauce with barely more flavor than tinted water—were cooked perfectly pink but gave off such a sweat-sock stench, I couldn’t interest anyone in the table in taking a bite.
– Jay Cheshes on The Palm Court
Time Out Magazine
May 2007

I fall under the category of this particular culinarian, having made the transition over the years from budding cook, to serious foodie, to now restaurant reviewer has been a fun and exhilarating journey of rediscovery, every facet of my gastro-netic makeup building on the experiences of the other. I still fire up a stove every so often and still rhapsodize about preparing a delectable Prime-Rib Roast slathered with duck fat for my friends, but seeing how the odds were stacked against my surviving the beating of a real-life, high-stress professional kitchen, this side seemed to provide much safer cover, not to mention a most welcome alternative. I’ve done my rounds of Manila’s restaurants the past two years, although I admit I can only aspire to join the upper echelons of food authority (Craig Claiborne, Gael Greene, and Frank Bruni being cornerstones): their writings have become Decretum.

It was on one of these assignments last year that talk of experiencing a once-in-a-lifetime meal in one of the world’s most renowned restaurants surfaced. My friend and restaurateur Abba Napa ran off a list of suggested dining spots to try in New York. Fried Cod with Spicy Eggplant and Egg at Prune, Sheep’s Ricotta Gnudi with Brown Butter and Sage at The Spotted Pig, and Chili Crab at Fatty Crab, etc.

We had just begun tucking into our main courses when she exclaimed: “Hey, what about Per Se?” “What about it?” I asked myself. You mean that restaurant consistently ranked as the top table in America? The one accorded 3 Michelin Stars? The one whose prix-fixe menu cost almost as much as the all-new iPhone I was planning to get during that trip? No thanks. Several return-trips to The Shake Shack for its burgers and custard may definitely stunt my palate, but what it certainly wouldn’t do is burn a hole in my pocket. After a few moments of nudging and arm-twisting, she somehow got me to relent. I’m not really sure what was in the stew that night, nor do I clearly remember what she said to indoctrinate me. All I know was that a few weeks had passed when I was unexpectedly greeted by her text: LUNCH IS ON! 30 MAY, PER SE AT 12:30.  

Nothing could derail me in the slightest . . . not even the seductive aroma wafting from Bouchon Bakery and its promise of serving the best Pecan Sticky Buns in town was enough to elicit more than a mere glance from me.

Thomas Keller is perhaps the most recognized and respected American chef today. Having won numerous awards for his restaurant The French Laundry in Yountville, California (3 Michelin Stars), as well as personal ones (James Beard Award, 1996; America’s Best Chef, TIME Magazine, 2001, etc.), he pursued other ventures such as Bouchon and Bouchon Bakery. It is his New York outpost, Per Se, however, that remains one of the most-lauded restaurants in the US and beyond. Serving “Contemporary American Cuisine with French Influences,” it has garnered an enviable list of accolades. Just to name a few:

• Zagat Survey—New York City Restaurants
  Highest Overall Rating for American Cuisine

• Michelin Guide New York City
   *** Rating 4 years in a row

• S. Pellegrino World’s 50 Best Restaurant Awards
  #6 Best Restaurant In The World

• Restaurants and Institutions
   Ivy Award Winner

• Mobil Travel Guide
   ***** Rating

Finger up in the air, I casually hailed a cab at the corner of 28th and 2nd. Biting my fist, I tried hard to suppress my excitement as I rode in the back seat. “The day is upon us,” I whispered as my mind drifted away while I basked in the fantasy of eating at such an esteemed locale, swimming in a profound cornucopia of flavors. On the way, I texted a couple of my chef friends that shared my obvious excitement. After a few carefree minutes, we turned on 8th Avenue. It was then that I sensed the vehicle steadily grind to a halt. Returning to the here and now, my excitement suddenly turned into a bout of anxiety as I looked through the windshield. I shuddered to my very core at the horror that met my eyes—traffic!—backed up for several blocks. My heart thumped loudly as I checked my watch. “My reservation!” I yelled, at no one in particular.

Fumbling out of the cab with three minutes to spare, I composed myself and straightened my gray jacket, anxiously brisk-walking to the entrance of the Skidmore, Owings & Merrill-designed Time Warner Center at Ten Columbus Circle. Looking up at its massive steel façade, which also housed the CNN offices, the Mandarin Oriental hotel, an exclusive Equinox Gym, and the Lincoln Jazz Center, this seemed like any other ordinary Friday. The lobby was teeming with visitors caught up in the rush of their daily affairs, every one of them unaware of the significance this entry held in my culinary memoir. Of how I was to savor every single bite of this indulgent nine-course meal, unlike the brevity in which their typical New York lunch hour would afford. As I scrambled up to the fourth floor, I was flush with nervous excitement upon my revisiting the building, an acute sense of awareness coming over me. The brightly colored produce at Whole Foods Market still caught my eye, as did the hustle & bustle at Border’s and the state-of-the-art equipment at Bose. Everything was so familiar, so attractive, yet secondary and unimportant. This was no casual browsing visit, and nothing could derail me in the slightest from where I was to go. Not even the seductive aroma wafting from Bouchon Bakery and its promise of serving the best Pecan Sticky Buns in town was enough to elicit more than a mere glance from me.

I remember the last time, when after enjoying late-afternoon cocktails at Porter House on the same floor, I had found myself drawn to the ethereal archway of Per Se. Much has been said about it in food magazines and reviews. Being the top restaurant in the US that year, diners wrote sonnets about their meals (“It lavishes attention on every aspect of the meal . . . this restaurant shoots straight for the stars. And it soars high—and often—enough to grab four of them,” Frank Bruni–The New York Times). This place was the stuff of dreams. So just like a cephalopod would to shimmering harbor lights, I mindlessly lurched forward. Drawn by its lore and legend, I stopped short of peering through the darkened window with my hands cupped around my eyes, my warm breath misting up the glass. Fighting back my primal urge to run in and steal a menu, or any memento that presented itself while the maitre d’ was out of sight, I quickly awoke from my stupor and resigned myself to better judgment. “Two hundred seventy-five bucks for a meal,” I thought, watching patrons make their way through the sliding doors. “Who would be foolhardy enough to pick up the tab for that?” I slowly turned away as I took a few steps towards the escalator and with a brief look back over my shoulder, proceeded to head out into the late-autumn chill.

As I stood at the threshold of this hallowed temple, I took note of the bright-blue doors at its side, reminiscent of The French Laundry. The second half of the food brigade waited for me inside. I was predestined to have this meal; never had I imagined to be standing here once again.

The maitre d’ escorted us through a long walkway by the bar and salon, which opened up to the very spacious 64-seat dining room by famed hospitality designer Adam Tihany (among whose credits include Daniel, Le Cirque, and Charlie Palmer at The Joule). The room boasted spectacular views of Central Park and Columbus Circle as the warmth of the late-spring sun illumined the wood and muted walls within a contemporary and polished setting. Part of the experience of Per Se is watching the changing of the seasons while enjoying cuisine that employs ingredients that are highly reflective of this ritualistic passage of time.

We saw servers make their way from table to table with their offerings, all done in perfect sequence, like a well-rehearsed ballet. 

From our plush, elevated couch-seating area, one had a perfect view to bear witness to the entire storyline as it progressed. We saw servers make their way from table to table with their offerings, all done in perfect sequence, like a well-rehearsed ballet. How diners’ eyes gleamed in wonderment as they were presented each course, and how they inevitably closed in rapture with each first taste. We both settled into our spots and with utmost reverence, placed ourselves in Chef Keller’s very capable hands. We both ordered the deluxe Chef’s Tasting Menu. Abba went on to choose the Wine Accompaniment, which included exquisite bottles such as the Pierre Gimonnet, Blanc de Blancs, Cuis, 1er Cru MV; Domaine de Montbourgeau, “Vin de Paille,” L’Etoile, Jura 2002; and Channing Daughters, “Meditazione,” Long Island 2006, to name a few. Not wanting to feel left out of this transcendental experience—the wine methodically paired to heighten every aspect of the meal, I shrugged my shoulders and waved an indifferent “Why Not?” I had no pen and notepad with me this time, as I refused to be encumbered by my duty to pause and inconspicuously scribble notes in between bites. Answerable to no one, this was to be a sensually harmonious experience. Just my food and me. I was to rely on taste memory alone to remember it all by.

We started our meal with the popular Salmon Tartare Cornets—an ode or “reference point” to a simple ice cream cone. As soon as we popped the delicately crispy tidbits into our mouths, and the flavors of the salmon belly and red onion crème fraiche tantalized our senses, we were we at once introduced to Chef Keller’s creativity and whimsy, coupled with precision and attention to detail under the watchful eye of Chef de Cuisine Jonathan Benno (Food & Wine Best New Chef ’06). Thus would be the imprint of the entire menu. We couldn’t help but let out a few laughs at the reality of this meal . . . and hold our breaths for the surprises yet to come. Next in line was the much-written-about Oysters and Pearls—sabayon of pearl tapioca with Island Creek oysters and white sturgeon caviar, a playful dish famously associated with Per Se, and one I was most eager to indulge in.

Truth be known, food reviews and diners’ past restaurant experiences likewise heavily influence me. Not for a lack of personal opinion, of which I supply to a fault, but rather, for the joy of setting myself up for certain expectations and having them met in the end. Turning that premise on its head, however, I have also come to terms with the fact that people’s opinions are purely subjective and open to various interpretations that may subsequently turn to one big letdown on my end. So, here I was: about to partake in what could be the most memorable meal of my life—with this entire thought process running through my head. Did I wrongly set the bar too high, and were my entire hopes and aspirations—the very foundations of this meal—about to be shaken? I had to do something! I quickly shifted gears and changed my whole approach, which was now to keep an open mind and to manage all expectations.

“Here are your Oysters and Pearls. Enjoy!” exclaimed our attractive blonde server. I took a deep breath as I gently lifted the tiny spoonful to my mouth, blocked out all cognitive activity . . . and simply savored. It was then that I was led to a discovery. No, I did not reach an altered plane of consciousness, nor did I begin to understand Einstein’s Infinite Mass Paradox. But what I did come to realize at that seminal moment was how a single beautiful piece of oyster, along with the caviar and sabayon—the sum of its decadent parts—tasted just like it was supposed to: clean, fresh, straightforward. So much like the sea. Thomas Keller’s approach to food is to gently coax out their natural flavors, not lose them in a helix of spices and sauces to achieve his goal.

What came next was a mélange of masterfully created dishes such as the refreshingly exotic Salad of Hawaiian Hearts of Peach Palm served with compressed Gros Michel banana, Hass avocado puree, and Thai basil with Persian lime salt. Then came the Torchon of Elevages Perigord Moulard Foie Gras with Tokyo turnips, pickled ramps, pine nuts, field mizuna, and toasted brioche. It was expertly cooked, retaining its pure qualities while resonating with such deep complexity as it melted, its flavors dancing in my mouth. Sauteed Fillet of Atlantic Halibut followed. Prepared with precision, what resulted was a fork-tender, flaky serving of fish that was properly executed and well balanced along with its accompaniments of fennel, Holland eggplant, Nicoise olives, and a sauce rouille.

Per Se is mindful of the Law of Diminishing Returns, which means that the more you have something, the less you want it. Comprised of several small bites, each course is served in just the right amount wherein after finishing it, the diner is left wanting just one more bite. This is exactly the kind of craving that befell me throughout the entire meal, none more pronounced than in my Butter Poached Nova Scotia Lobster. I thought I’d reached the zenith of my lobster appreciation at a New England clambake some years ago—crustaceans and mollusks perfectly steamed under piles of sand and seaweed. A simple squeeze of lemon and some melted butter was all you needed to draw out its succulence. That was in the period Before Keller. Cooked a semi-opaque coral hue, his version’s texture was somewhere between raw and right about done. A picture of sublime perfection coupled with a luscious mousseline Béarnaise, it hit all the right sweet and savory notes. By far, the best interpretation of lobster I’d ever come across.

Did I wrongly set the bar too high, and were my entire hopes and aspirations—the very foundations of this meal—about to be shaken?

The greatness of my last course, however, easily overshadowed the complexion of the next dish. As far as the anticlimactic Saddle of 24 Carrot Farm’s Rabbit goes, I learned early on during a trip to Brussels, where I was obliged to sample some alongside a bitter endive salad, that rabbit was among my least favorite of game meats. So it came as no surprise that this dish elicited the least amount of fanfare. Notwithstanding, it was equally well prepared as what came before. Its flesh was plump, unlike the bony, stringy version I’d been exposed to. This was served alongside sunchokes, Meiwa kumquats, watercress, and savory rabbit jus. The Elysian Fields Farm’s Selle D’Agneau Rotie Entiere was a well-crusted, amazingly tender piece of lamb cooked a rare pink that had just the right amount of gaminess to it. What drew my attention to the plate were the colorful heirloom cauliflowers in yellow, green, and purple. The spring garlic and piquillo pepper coulis with flavorful lamb sauce further enhanced the intricacy of the dish.

Next came the cheese course signifying a gradual transition to the denouement. The Robiola Fia served with buckwheat pancake, red-wine-poached Brooks cherries, endives and cherry gastrique was a mild and pleasurable combination of contrasts wonderfully paired with Jorge Ordonez & Co. Moscatel and Ramos-Pinto, “Quinta do Bom Retiro” Tawny Port. Resisting the onslaught of food fatigue after a serving of Apricot Sorbet with Nyons extra virgin olive oil pate de fruit with Tellicherry pepper sable breton, we carried on, sampling each other’s desserts of Caraïbe Meringue Mousse, Caramel with Devil’s Food Cake, and Glace a la Fraise with strawberry biscuits, toasted almond panna cotta, and Tristar strawberry ice cream. Our eyes were glazed right about now, our palates run so roughshod and taken through an amusement park of flavors and new sensations that it was hard to get down from that gastronomic euphoria. Chef Thomas Keller’s ostentatious presentation shattered our standards of what we consider a good meal. From start to finish, a perfect dining experience befitting its reputation. As we sat there, catatonic and recovering from all the revelry, along came our blonde server holding a tray of mignardises, or bite-sized chocolate candies, to close out our feast. She proceeded to explain: “And this one in the middle is our very exotic kalamansi flavor.” We looked at each other and exchanged amused smiles. “Interesting,” I said, reaching over for a piece, “I don’t think I’ve ever had one.”

I never did get that iPhone. Looking at myself back then, my face ashen and my mouth agape as I stared widely at the total cost, questioning the insanity of that wine pairing that jacked my bill up to nearly double, I ask myself this: was it all truly worth it?

Per Se is an institution that prides itself in elevating the event known as the meal to an unforgettable experience by rendering impeccable service amidst sheer luxury. Most importantly, it is a restaurant that treats its food with the utmost integrity and respect . . . and for this there is a price to pay. Like the famous 19th-century “King of Chefs,” Marie Antoine Careme, an early proponent of haute cuisine, Keller wishes to leave a legacy.  Once asked during an interview what trend he adheres to, his answer was simple: “Good food is a good trend.” A basic, yet all-important credo for generations of chefs to remember and follow.