A Wild Mushroom Cigarette Kind of Evening

I discovered the finer things in life one evening in the bar of Jonathan at Gratz Park when Chef Jonathan sent a brownie pot pie to my table.

Oh. My. Heavenly. Father.

I wish I could melt back into that memory the way the warm chocolate housed in the brownie shell melted in my mouth. I remember I ordered Rocksalt Roasted Chicken that night, because chicken was familiar and I knew I liked salt. Mack ordered Beef Wellington, which I'm not sure if it is supposed to be capitalized, but judging from the taste of it, it should be. The flavors exploding off of his dish put my pathetic little chicken to shame, even though it was delicious. That's when I realized my flavor fear had seriously left me in the dark about the magic that is food.

Since then, I've been a committed food adventurer. Sometimes I end up at the equivalent of a Wal-Mart parking lot, but sometimes my tastebuds get to explore every nook and cranny of the "Goddamn Grand Canyon," as Louise so eloquently refers to it. Because I exist in a state of perpetual broke, my dinners out rarely get to be extravagant, but this weekend was an exception. My friend Charlie came to El Ley, bringing with him his taste for the finer things and standards that can't be shaken. He likes a tittle of wine poolside before dinner, an education on the menu before ordering, and food that makes you feel like royalty -- or at least like a critic. Charlie generously invited me and Mack to have dinner with him at a place du jour called Grace.

It was heavenly. I perused the menu and mingled flavors in my mind that I'd never associated before. Prosciutto wrapped figs. Pumpkin, sea urchin, sweet Maine shrimp risotto. Wild burgundy snails. Hemp seed, pink peppercorn tofu. What in the world?

Since Mack is a fish-eating vegetarian, we all heartily agreed on Sashimi of Japanese Hamachi. The description underneath all these imi, achi words said "wild mushroom cigarette, yuzu gelée." What in the world?

Who cares. They brought out an eight-inch joint of crispy mushrooms wrapped in the most delicate pink fish I've ever seen. After my first bite I wanted to throw it back up and eat it again. Even the vomit of that bite would have been good. The fish practically melted in my mouth. The mushrooms crunched in a way I didn't think mushrooms could. The pineapple enhancements wrapped up the palate with respect to the dish. It was food in harmony, the way chef's intend food to be.

For dinner I ordered a less exotic grilled tenderloin of wild boar with roasted Brussels sprouts, herbed Yukon Gold potato spaetzle and violet mustard sauce. Violet mustard sauce sounds a little freaky, and Brussels sprouts haven't even made the bottom of my list of Foods I Crave, but after Saturday, I'm willing to eat anything starring violets, mustard or sauce and plan to enroll in Brussels Sprouts Roasting 101.

If anyone has any outrageous must-try foods, let me know. My appetite is definitely whet.