It is a rare but beautiful thing when every element of a meal not only come together, but harmonize. It's as if the service, food, and ambiance at Quince fed (<-- pun) off one another to create a more perfect result. In fact, each aspect needed the other to prosper; the food would have been less thrilling had it not been delivered so precisely. Now I'm feeling far too philosophical for my own comfort, but what can I say, after eating at Quince I can't help but feeling closer to God. If nothing else, it's nights like this that affirm my passion for dining out.
I had a special feeling about Quince literally before I walked through the door. The hostess must have seen Adrienne and I approaching, because as I was about to exert energy (oh no, not that!) to open the front door, a smiling hostess appeared from the inside and did it for me. There was nothing creepy or robotic about this gesture; it made me feel welcome. This was just an indication of the impeccable service to follow through the last bite. Napkins were re-folded while I was in the bathroom, the sommelier patiently explained each wine in a language I could understand, and the chorus of servers were ever-present - but in a subtle, dignified way. Not once did I feel rushed or have to wonder where our server was.
Once seated in the main dining room, I needed to take a moment to take it all in. Roughly speaking, the restaurant is a giant square. There's a smaller, open square room smack dab in the middle, where Adrienne and I sat. The spatial difference in the two squares leaves roughly four hallways between the two. One side for the bar, the front side for a more casual lounge area, the back for more dining tables, and the last is occupied by the staff to carry food to and from the kitchen. The grand chandeliers coupled with the neutral-to-dark-brown color schemes creates a simple elegance. One knows this wasn't a cheap interior design, but there's still a refreshing sense of simplicity. The focus is on the food.
I will remember the service as much as I will remember the food. It seems obvious as I write it now, but it wasn't until tonight that I realized how the two truly depend on each other. It was almost as if the positive momentum of the service staff inspired the food forward as well. Shortly after being seated, our server appeared to explain the menu options (a four course prix fixe of your choice or a set five course chef's tasting menu). Shortly after relaying our choices to him, he returned with a half glass of Champagne. Shortly thereafter, he appeared with a bite size fish (I forget which variety) with a shot glass of chilled corn chowder soup. It always amazes me how something so small - even comically small - can taste so good and flavorful. The sip of soup was actually a highlight of the night for each of us. The corn flavoring was so powerful yet chilled and refreshing. The fish was accompanied by literally a square centimeter of watermelon; best nibble of watermelon I'll have in my lifetime.
The four course menu allows each diner to choose from three options per course (and a wine pairing for each). My choices: mushroom sampling to start; Fagotelli with lobster for the pasta course; Black Sea Bass as my main; and milk chocolate semifreddo for dessert. Of the four courses, the mushroom was my least favorite taste-wise but still interesting. The mushrooms are prepared five different ways and the tastes seemed fairly indistinct across the five (especially when compared to the explosion of flavors in the following courses) but this let me really focus on the varying textures of each. It is really amazing to me how a chef can take a seemingly simple vegetable and turn it into a chameleon just by its preparation. The accompanying white wine (a rare 1998 vintage) definitely added to the overall quality of the course.
The second course is when things got eye-popping good. I have always believed pasta is where one can really separate fine dining from the rest and this course supports my theory. There's no doubt the pasta is hand-made and that someone rolled the filling in it shortly before it came to me. About six pieces of Maine lobster-filled pasta pillows were delivered underneath a warm orange soup concoction. The bites of pasta were delicate yet delivered a powerful crab flavor because the pasta is thin and the lobster is generous. At first glance, the dish is more soup than pasta, but it works. The vibrant - and hopefully edible flowers - added an exciting garnish. I had one bite of Adrienne's cheese tortellini and I proclaimed at the time it was one of the best bites I've ever had. Still stand by that.
The next flawlessly-timed dish was Black Sea Bass. The fish itself was a large, juicy fillet with perfectly seared crisp skin. The various accouterments (more mushrooms, a garlic sauce) added a necessary flavor punch to the mild fish. Adrienne was speechless about her lamb - and I could understand why in my bite.
For dessert, I ordered the milk chocolate semifreddo and Adrienne the cheese course. The crust layer of my dessert had such a nice, unexpected crunchy texture which paired well with the smooth top layer. What really impressed me about the cheese course is, after Adrienne chose her four, I joked "those are the four I would have NOT chosen!" and our cheese expert then asked me which ones appealed to me and proceeded to slice me a few complimentary tastes. He didn't have to do that. A more uptight staff probably wouldn't have. It was a small gesture that had a lasting impact on me.
I can't help but compare all fine dining experiences to Gary Danko. Having thought it over for a few days, I'd rather revisit Quince than Danko. All aspects considered, it was simply an overall more pleasing culinary experience.
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