Why do we live? I ask
myself this question often. There are variations of this, some of which are
more tortured than others: what am I doing here? Where am I going? What’s the
point? I do not ask these questions flippantly as if to make existential
dilemmas a plaything in the world of food blogging. Or to grandstand and
overreach about what the scope of this platform is. I ask them because it is
important to know the direction to take, the goals to set, the way to move
onwards and ever upwards never forgetting where you have been or what you have tasted.
To answer that question, I
have some answers that I tell myself – to write, to be a good husband, son,
brother, uncle, cousin, to enjoy life, to take pleasure, to teach, to
experience, to be, to savour, to embrace, to give, to nurture, to inspire.
Sometimes it is hard to keep one’s eyes on the prize, to think about whether
the suffering is worth it. And I say that as someone conscious of my privilege
– as someone with opportunity, wealth, health, access, capital in all facets of
my life and body. But, some days it feels hard to get up and at them, to wake
up in a cold apartment, to see whether the water is hot, to realise there is no
food in the fridge, to struggle for the daily existence that is our bread as
writers far from home. And this feeling
is compounded in the festive season, when the tyranny of distance is keenest
and the temptations of the city are just beyond reach with the sun setting
earlier than I am used to. I miss the long days at the beach, the home caught crayfish,
the family around the table. But, to lament as much when one is in a great city
of the world is to be a pessimist and a whinger, something I never want to do.
Luckily, K and I have had some visitors of late – Y, S and C are in town. It
feels good to be surrounded by family and friends, with people you can trust
and collaborate with. They help us answer the question I opened with – why do
we live? We live with and for other people. We also live to enjoy food, to take
pleasure in eating and drinking, to share stories over a common table. And we
have been doing that in spades today. Y, who is a chef, takes us to Cosme. He
has worked in their mother restaurant, Pujol, in Mexico City and this New York edition came highly
recommended, with a reputation as being one of the best in the world (40th
at last count).
The lighting is dramatic
and intimate. The service is impeccable and welcoming, with every server being
aware that we have a nut allergy at the table. We order liberally – Y and I get Tecates, K
gets a margarita, S a martini and C a whiskey. The sommelier and I share a
laugh about Tecate and how good it is despite its formerly odious reputation. To be in one of the world’s best
restaurants and able to order a $6 beer is truly sensational – quality does not
need to be expensive and for easy drinking there is nothing I prefer, not even
Emu Export.
The menu is divided into
three sections – raw, vegetable, meat. We get an uni taco; a cobia al pastor
with yuzu and pineapple puree; and a salad with cactus, cheese and avocado. The
flavours work well together in each of the dishes and as a whole. They are all
to share – the rich and refreshing uni with a deep flavour, the cobia is sweet
and citrusy in equal measure, the salad doused in oil of the finest quality.
Our second course is a
beef short rib with onions; a deboned duck with radishes; a honeynut squash
tamale; a mushroom huarache; a 300 day old mole (a 300 day mole!). There is balance, harmony,
joy. They are all served with the best tortillas I have ever eaten. There is
something light and fulfilling in this bread, an evenness and calm that is
delicious. We order a second round and mop our plates until we can eat no more.
The conversation is flowing and the share plates allow us to relax, be
comfortable with each other, to celebrate this place and the greatness of
Mexican civilisation in company that gets it.
We finish with the husk
meringue and corn mousse. It is plated beautifully, like some sort of yin yang
cross, a pale purple colour that reminded me of lavender. The texture is
full and creamy, it is smooth and sophisticated, refined and smart, accessible
and delicious. There is something touching in it. Y says 'what is going on with that' and is incredulous and impressed in equal measure. K simply says 'oh my god, what the fuck' and C lets out a declamatory 'damn'. S and I recline, sigh with happiness. This dish might be the best thing I have eaten all year. It is a pillow of dreams. It is unforgettable like Ben Shewry's kangaroo tartare, Paul Iskov's marron, and Dan Barber's nine grain risotto. It ranks as one of my all time eating experiences.
And so, this meal is the answer to our question. This is why we live, to eat like this. Cosme is an affirmation of what matters, a place of welcome in a cold city, a kind of homecoming that allows one to breathe life in, to take a break from the familiar and get on with the hard labour of helping make our place a little easier for everyone to find pleasure in.
And so, this meal is the answer to our question. This is why we live, to eat like this. Cosme is an affirmation of what matters, a place of welcome in a cold city, a kind of homecoming that allows one to breathe life in, to take a break from the familiar and get on with the hard labour of helping make our place a little easier for everyone to find pleasure in.
Cosme
35 E 21ST St,
New York, NY 10010
Subway: 6 at 23rd.
~ $110 per head
No comments:
Post a Comment