Tuesday, July 19, 2011.
Leave One Hotel, Move Upscale. Dinner At The Royce.
Mary Ann's search for a hotel for the second half of our week in Los Angeles turned up a century-old resort property in Pasadena. The Huntington is set athwart an arroyo in a neighborhood full of architecturally distinctive houses. It was opened in 1906 by the Huntington family, one of the founders of the Southern Pacific Railroad. These days it's called the Langham, and is part of a group of luxury hotels based in London.
The Langham qualifies as a resort, and it was what the Marys had in mind. Were it not for all the walking necessary to get around (I'm still limping along), it would have been great for me, too. It had the amenities of a cruise ship, but on dry land. The dining rooms and bars were exceptional--a good bit better than cruise food, even in the all-day restaurant. And the beds were so comfortable that I slept extraordinarily long and well.
And the Langham offered a nice surprise: the place was only ten dollars a night higher than the place we'd come from. The prices in the restaurants were a bit stiff, but not painfully so.
For once we skipped lunch, having had a big farewell breakfast in the Sheraton. Our first exposure to Langham hospitality came in its lounge, whose substantial outdoor component looked onto an expansive lawn that begged for bare feet. In the distance were mountains, with a relentlessly blue sky above.
I was pleased to note that the first item on the cocktail list was the Sazerac. Made right, too, with rye whiskey and Pernod. I almost ordered that, but I am not in New Orleans. It's warm and dry here, and I needed something colder and wetter. A request for a Negroni was fulfilled without delay. (In less than ten years, this old classic has gone from being something I had to explain every time to popularity.) We sat there for a couple of hours, already enjoying the place.
Then dinner. The Langham's flagship restaurant is The Royce. It's managed by a couple of French guys--Chef David Féau and dining room/wine manager Eric Espuny. The entrance is dramatic, flanked on both sides by glass-walled wine cellars. I think that dinners can be had in those. Also here is a chef's table where a $250 paired wine dinner can be had.
That was out of the question, of course. I am the only one in my family who would approach such an opportunity with eagerness. The Marys were particularly concerned that they might not find anything edible on the menu.
But they did. In fact, everybody thought that this was the best hotel restaurant we'd ever encountered. I could not have been more pleasantly surprised. The menu was both adventuresome and accessible--two qualities that don't come together often.
About the only part of the dinner that didn't amuse my little philistines was the amuse. I thought it was just fine: a green bisque of artichokes, a little cracker with salmon caviar, and a small cube of beef. I got everybody's soup and caviar.
Only two appetizers were ordered. Jude, showing off that he now eats raw fish, got a slablet of bluefin tuna, seared on two of its six sides, flanked by a plum sauce and a chunky cool hash of onions and tomatoes. For me, a soup of morel mushrooms with a very soft boiled guinea hen egg. The bowl was lined with upland cress--a different leaf from watercress. The upper surface was foamy. The best part of this was the generous population of morels. I love them and we don't get them often in New Orleans.
The Marys both were enormously pleased by their entrees. Mary Ann's was an eye-catching fillet of grilled turbot, surrounded by little bean pods, seared ramps (big scallions), and diced ham. That was the dish of the night, I'd say. Certainly the recipe I will try to duplicate when I get home. Mary Leigh played it safe as usual, with a sirloin strip cut New Orleans style, served au poivre. Wait! Isn't that what I served her yesterday at Jude's house? Yes, sort of, but not really. The sauce was a peppercorn demi-glace--different from the creamy sauce I made. She liked the way they pureed the potatoes, which came out almost runny.
My entree was a baby lamb loin, with all the bones removed and the eyes tied together. The jus was flavored with chocolate mint (the leafy kind), and the thing that looked like a white carrot was parsley root. Good bit of garlic in here, too. It was just right with the Cornas I chose from the very extensive wine list. It was one of the least expensive wines here, but still $70.
Jude had the most visually arresting dish of all. It was a poussin--a baby chicken, the size of a Cornish hen. It was steamed, they said. When they brought out the entire bird for show-and-tell, it appeared to have been inflated. The skin was pale and uncrusted. Jude had some trepidations about this.
The Royce employs an interesting service touch I've never seen before. Kinda cool, too. Plates are mostly assembled in the kitchen, but the sauces are applied at the table. The waiters do this with some artistry, not merely spooning the sauce over the proteins and vegetables, but adding a little plate decoration as they do.
Jude's dish had three different sauces, all administered this way. One of them had a less-than appealing texture, looking like oatmeal (it was actually barley). Jude doesn't go for complex food, and became more and more distressed by what went on in front of him. But when he tucked into it, he said it had a great chicken flavor. High praise from him, as a fan of chicken.
The desserts were much simpler and lighter than the rest of the repast. Mine was a minimalist floating island: a cube of meringue in a soup of fruit juices, plus the fruits themselves and a sorbet. The girls got a study in chocolate. The bitter chocolate lesson was salted--a current trend we need not worry about, because it won't last long.
We came within five bucks of spending $400 on this dinner. I would hear about that for the remainder of the trip, even though Mary Ann was the one who said we should eat here, because I ought to get one dinner my way.
My favorite part of the evening was the complete lack of whining that usually accompanies my dinners with the family in places like this. But the wine and food aspects of it were also marvelous. I continue to be distressed by the absence of tablecloths in restaurants of this caliber.
The Royce at The Langham. Pasadena, California: 1401 South Oak Knoll Ave. 626-585-6410. www.roycela.com.
It has been over three years since a day was missed in the Dining Diary. To browse through all of the entries since 2008, go here.
