All restaurants want good reviews, and Spago was no exception, but what Spago did to ensure a good review was nothing short of a culinary and service miracle worthy of the greatest tent show faith healers. We were makers of miracles. The restaurant had a hive mind. All workers focused on one goal: win over the reviewer. We knew the personality quirks of all the major reviewers. Some were easy to impress, like Sunset Magazine, Los Angeles Magazine, and your run of the mill travel guides. Others required gastronomic jujitsu. These were the heavyweights like Ruth Reichel from the New York Times, Irene Virbilia of the Los Angeles Times, Bon Appetit, Gourmet Magazine, Michelin reviewers, and other famous wine makers, chefs, and restaurateurs.
The Spago journey always began from an earthly plane with destination: the stars. Upon pulling up to the restaurant, valets would greet you. As you stepped out of your car, one could see the high garden wall and century old olive trees offering an air of natural Mediterranean beauty and a guarantee of privacy from any paparazzi. If the valet manager recognized you– it was his job to know people!–they would serve as impromptu doormen. The heavy hardwood doors with the “Flame of Life” etched into the beveled glass would swing open and a remarkable scene would unfold. The long, narrow wooden bar stretched out on the left of you. The French doors on the right opened up to the garden. These doors surrounded the garden where the olive trees bookended a fountain etched to look like a flame.
Immediately upon entering there was the host stand. The Maitre’d at Spago Beverly Hills was Jenny Lee Bonaccorsi. Checking in would trigger a time warp where the difference between a small delay and an hour could be subdivided by a simple twenty dollar bill. A hundred would make time go backwards. Once this portal was passed, the guests were escorted through the bustling, loud dining room and seated.
If we knew that the guest was having a tasting menu, or if it was a reviewer–who had no choice but to have what we served them–then the table would be set simply, with a classic mis-en-place, and a champagne flute. Old school joints like Chasens began with an empty table. They would take a cocktail order or champagne order and begin with oysters or the famous seafood platter. Then the appropriate mis-en-place would be set. Times had changed though. Even VIPs wanted bread brought out right away, but I digress…
A true tasting menu always begins with champagne. Cocktails were actually bad-form. It was absurd to have a Negroni lingering on the sidelines like some vagrant on a piazza in Florence; however, a wise waiter navigates these waters carefully. You don’t want the guest juggling their cocktail, a taste of Billecart-Salmon, and their miso cone with ahi tuna tartare. And by the way, that miso cone is called an amuse-bouche. Its purpose is to “amuse” the senses. So the champagne is proffered with a small introduction. “We are happy to offer a world renowned cuvee Bille-Cart Salmon Brut Rose.” And the 2 oz. pour is then made in one pass. Contrary to what one might imagine, a cuvee is more representative of the Champagne House’s style than a vintage champagne. Cuvee’s are often a blend of 5 years’ worth of champagne. That way every bottle of Krug cuvee ever opened should taste like the one served at your wedding. Vintage champagnes are a recent phenomenon in the history of champagne.
So as we pour the fine bubbles of the Billecart-Salmon race to the top, daring us to twist the bottle back just before overflowing. If all goes well, the table will be aglow with an effervescence beckoning the diner to a higher state of consciousness. Something truly wonderful is about to reveal itself. If the stars have led us towards a fusion of cultures, then maybe the sesame miso cone with Ahi tartare will manifest itself, or perhaps the strong pull of traditional European cuisine rises , then it might be a potato gallette with crème fraiche, smoked sturgeon and black osetra caviar. Either way, the champagne and the crunch of these amuse-bouches rocket the diner into another realm. If it has all played out correctly, the diners have entered an astral plane. They are rising and flying, like honeybees racing, towards the warmth of the sun.
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