elements

Well, last night Rich and I were feeling low and in the dumps, so we decided to try elements, on Bayard Lane. From start to finish...just great. I'll quote Rich in an email he sent his mom.

Dear Mom, I thought I had better write to you before you started seeing the stories in the papers, the cellphone-camera videos on youtube and, of course, the inevitable parody on Saturday Night Live — you know, all the things that always happen when Lolly and I go out on the town.This occasion (last night) being a kind of early Valentine’s Day celebration, it was just the two of us (and I will thus redeem that specific coupon from your generous and ever-tempting Christmas portfolio). Your absence was, of course, noted -- starting with my call to make a reservation: When I specified a table for two, the maitre d’ heaved a tremendous Roman sigh and said, “Does this mean that la signora di St. Louis will not be accompanying you?” I confessed that it did. I had to call back three times before he agreed to seat us. “Only if you promise to bring her next time,” he said, with a tone reminiscent of Don Corleone’s in Godfather I.I hasten to add that said promise will be a joy to keep: This restaurant is worth the trip — from St. Louis or anywhere else. It’s called elements (yes, with a lower-case “e.” Here’s a link to their website, for visuals, if not, alas, victuals: http://www.elementsprinceton.com), and it just opened on Bayard Lane in Princeton, about a mile from our house, just over past Valentina’s old grade school. It’s a beautiful setting, very cleanly designed and all quarry stone, wood and glass in crisp, right-angles. The chef and co-owner, Scott Anderson, was the chef at the Ryland Inn (that wonderful restaurant in central Jersey that we went to with you). He has brought the same philosophy, it seems, of local ingredients, simple presentation ... but with some very creative touches.Everybody there was, despite their disappointment at your absence, as nice as could be, starting with the hostess, who took great pains to make sure Lolly’s groundhog-shaped knit cap (from her stopover in Punxsutawney on Feb. 2, on the way home from Clarion) was secured at the coatcheck. We were seated at a table by the window in the center of the restaurant. There were parties at several other tables, but the room was big enough and so nicely designed that we didn’t feel in the least crowded. (And if it hadn’t been for the mayor, clearly in hizzoner’s cups, who kept lurching over to our table and asking, “Sch-where’s my Jeannie?” we would scarcely have noticed anyone else!) Lolly was beautiful, sparkling from the cold outside and the thrill of such a special outing on a Wednesday night, and I was happy just to look at her. It occured to me last night, by the way, that I always have such a good time when I go out to eat with her — and it’s because ... I’m with her. I marvel at how nice and friendly everyone is and then I realize it’s because they’re reacting to Lolly. I’m lucky to be along for the happy fallout.And speaking of fallout, we started the evening with a cocktail. I ordered a classic martini, while Lolly, after deliberating over some of the restaurant’s “not so classic” specials (the pink queen, the dirty lychee, the mountie, etc.), settled on an “aviation.” (Gin, lemon, and maraschino liqeur.) She was soon ready for takeoff!What followed was just glorious; It started with the bread basket, a lovely little collection of foccacia, flatbread, cheesestraws and a kind of breadsticky item, all baked on the premises and all really different and delicious. There was the first amuse-bouche, a bit of haddock over tiny fingerling potato bits that did, indeed, amuse our bouches. I started with short-rib ravioli, which was superb —three plump ravioli filled with short-rib meat and settled in a very taasty broth. Good as that was, though, it was overshadowed by the astounding appetiser Lolly had: the house-made charcuterie platter. A sampler, if you will, of single, elegant slices of various sausages, all made fresh by the chef. It was incredibly good, and we split it, bite-for-savory bite. Lolly, by the way, saw the sense of pairig this hearty, richly-flavorful offering with the crispy, cold, bubble-osity of a glass of champagne, while I, traditionalist that I am, went with a glass of Italian red; we agreed that there was merit in both our approaches.As if our mouths were not happy enough, the waiter (who, by the way, was delightful in a very smart, non-smarmy, but friendly way) produced a second amuse-bouche, this one a selection of tuna that was—and I am not making this up—bred in a laboratory in Japan! Lolly, who is deeply (and rightly) concerned about the issue of seafood sustainability (to the point of having sworn off most fish), was free to eat up. Evidently, there are only three or four of these tuna brought into the US every week, and elements gets part of one of them—one of only a couple of East Coast restaurants to do so. It was really, really good!Then the main course: Lolly had 48-hour short ribs; I had the duck, which was served with a cassoulet and then bits of duck prepared three ways arranged separately on the plate. Lolly maintianed her allegiance to the bubbly, with a second glass, while I ventured across the Alps to try a glass of pinot noir. Again, we congratulated each other on the inherent wisdom of our respective approaches.Of course we were full now, but somehow the room, which had taken on a deep, golden glow, sort of swirled around a bit and, well, we found ourselves with a couple of desserts. One was a jelly doughnut (made on the premises and, in its exquisite blend of crispness and melting deliciousness, as far from something you’d find at Dunkin Donuts as a Ferrari is from an old minivan), the other a banana presentation (Foster was the name it went by, I believe) that turned the humble yellow fruit into a kind of ambrosia-and-candy concoction. I think that’s about when I read the Thomas Moore poem I had printed out to Lolly (“...Then fill the cup—away with gloom!/Our joys shall always last;/For Hope will brighten days to come,/And Memory gild the past.”), and about when the sous-chef came out to say hello and to invite us to tour the kitchen. (Like the Ryland Inn, they have tables right there in the kitchen if you want to do a tasting menu.) Our pockets full of the little, artful, homemade cookies that they brought with the coffee, we finally bid our farewells, bundled back up against the cold and set out for home—wishing, like Lolly’s Groundhog, that we could just settle back in for another cozy six weeks right there!

What he forgot to mention was the THIRD amuse bouche, and incredible dessert in an egg shell, served with a delightful piece of frenchified toast with bacon. I cannot do it justice, but it was so much fun.