Nonesuch- in which we have a meal like no other

 

Last night, Eric and I spent the evening with the young gun chefs of the new, and I’d say up-and-coming, restaurant, Nonesuch. The chefs have a clear and simple concept- creative, beautiful, and exquisitely prepared food sourced from growers and farmers within a 50 mile radius of Oklahoma City. At the moment, they offer a ten course tasting menu with the option of wine, beer, and uniquely, kombucha.

THE RESTAURANT itself seats about 20 guests, and reservations are required. Places are set along the U-shaped high counter, and guests are seated in lofty chairs, and given a helpful push in by the host. The decor makes it clear that the center of attention is meant to be on the food- unadorned dark slate colored walls, and dried bunches of herbs and flora hanging from exposed wooden rafters are the highlights of the design, save for the jars of various items in states of pickling and fermenting that border the door to the open and spotless kitchen. Though the music playing is upbeat, there is a pervading sense of calm in the dining room, and focused energy among the four chefs as they plated up their exquisite food.

And now- full disclosure. Eric and I were so swept up in the atmosphere and the impeccable timing of the courses to take adequate notes on the meal. The time between one incredible bite and the next was mostly taken up with reverential sighs, much smacking of lips, and high anticipation for our next culinary treat. Please forgive the somewhat fuzzy descriptions;  I hope that you will get the essence of our most enjoyable food venture to date.

THE FIRST COURSE,  Alium Mayonnaise Filled Courgette and Its Blossom Stuffed with Dill Ricotta, was presented to us by one of the chefs, who explained that the block of squash was compressed and left to marinate in its own oils. There was a small hollow in the block that was filled with creamy mayonnaise with a delicious onion flavor. The squash blossom had been very lightly grilled, and the ricotta filling had a strong essence of dill. The crunch and freshness of the compressed squash  was a beautiful foil next to the delicateness of the blossom.

THE SECOND COURSE delivered a food experience that neither Eric nor I had ever had before. The Bison Tartare Over Sable Cracker was a revelation. As the second chef presented it to us, I felt a twinge of doubt, a subtle nudge of reluctance, before I was reminded of my new-found dedication to more adventurous eating. I had never had a tartare before, and the faint trepidation I originally felt quickly turned to delight as I beheld the stunning dish before us.

The bison itself was cut to a fine dice, and was smooth and tender, and perfectly seasoned. The beautiful mound was adorned with delicate, young cornflower blossoms and the gorgeous, pink-veined leaves of baby sorrel. The thinness of the sable cracker gave a delightful crisp texture, and provided the perfect vehicle for getting one of the most perfect bites of food I’ve ever had into my mouth. And though the presentation was artful, colorful, and a thing of real beauty, the absolute star was the bison.

THE THIRD COURSE was entitled Seared Daikon, Duck Yolk and Kale Nori. A nice little bite, but anything following on the heels of the heavenly tartare was sure to get short shrift. I appreciated having daikon for the first time, and though the kale was billed as nori, there wasn’t a particularly Asian flair about the taste. Crunchy, smokyish daikon, creamy duck yolk, thin, dry kale- interesting, but not earth-shattering.

On to the FOURTH COURSE, Chilled Cucumber Soup. Intense cucumber taste, which, I know, sounds like an oxymoron, but somehow, this verdant, silky soup was loaded with the light and floral flavor of a food mostly used for its crunch factor. The soup was seasoned, almost aggressively, with some kind of salt with depth, and was rounded out with mild garlic (in my opinion, though Eric found it a bit strong for his garlic-intolerable palate:). And for texture, the most adorable, tiny, baby cucumbers 🙂

THE FIFTH COURSE was A Tartlet Filled with Soft Scrambled Eggs and Black Garlic. The first, real test of the night. You see, for all the years I’ve known Eric, I have never witnessed him eat an egg. Of any kind. Unless, of course, it was baked into a cake or pastry and so was invisible and indistinguishable. So when two delicate tarts arrived in front of us that were clearly and unquestionably filled with just barely cooked, glisteningly soft eggs, I sneaked a peek at his face. When he hadn’t collapsed on the floor in quivering disgust, I knew I was about to witness his true, and fairly recent, commitment to new food experiences(although, truth be told, I had hoped for him to succumb to his lifelong hatred of all things eggs, in the selfish hope that I could scarf down both delectable bites).

This incredibly simple looking course, I’m sure, took a great deal of thought and technique to pull off to such success. Having scrambled an egg or two in my day, I know the process of making these would have taken time and patience, and a lot of butter. Now that I think back, I’m not entirely sure the texture of these eggs could have been achieved in a mere pan over low heat, with someone dedicated to the glorious result constantly stirring, stirring, stirring, so that the curds were virtually nonexistant provides. Perhaps this was accomplished by sous vide?

The tart shell itself was thin, browned, nutty and roasty, with the characteristic snap of perfectly made pastry. The black garlic, as explained by the chef who presented it, had been fermented in a vacuum bag for at least three months, and then gently microplaned over the top. Eggs, pastry, garlic, elevated to the very heights of perfection.

THE SIXTH COURSE, Marinated Radish, Buttermilk Sorbet and Sorrel Juice, served as something of a palate cleanser, being light and clean. For the presentation, the dainty radish had been carved into the petals of a rose, and nestled against a petite quenelle of buttermilk sorbet. The chef presenting this course brought a small jug of vibrantly green sorrel juice atop a bowl of fancy looking ice, and after explaining the dish, theatrically poured some into the bottom of our bowls. This course was a delight in that I’d never had any of the main components before, but following, as it did, some real knock-out dishes, it felt more like a brief pause in the excitement than anything more.

THE SEVENTH COURSE was an inspired creation of familiar flavors alongside a novel take on jam. The Plum Yeast Sourdough with Butter, Jam and Pickles elicited groans and sighs of deep contentment as our teeth sank into the slim baguette. The crust was shiny and crisp, with a fluffy interior that melted in our mouths. The butter was charmingly formed into a tiny heart, and was sprinkled with flakes of Maldon sea salt flakes. The thinly sliced cucumbers were ever-so-lightly pickled, tasting freshly floral. The dollop of green jam is what took this dish from comfortably known flavors to something more current. Another first for us- shishito pepper. Strongly flavored, and a taste unique from anything I’d had before. Smoky, roundly piquant, with a bitter note to end. Combining butter, pickle, jam, and baguette created a most satisfying nosh.

THE EIGHTH COURSE, it seemed, was to play the part of main dish. The Pork Chop, Cabbage, Peaches, and Mustard Sauce was petite on the plate, yet came together as a nice, cohesive culinary thought. Pork and peaches and mustard, fairly classic, though the mustard in this case came in the form of a mustard green puree.  And crunchy, purple cabbage lightly kissed by the grill for texture (though thinking back now, not sure how cabbage is seasonal). The slice of ripe peach (seasonal for OK in June?) was adorned by individual marigold petals- beautiful to behold, tedious to plate, I’m sure, and adding a whimsical detail to the otherwise straightforward presentation.

The chef who explained this dish was excited to share the story of the pig itself, who had been farmed for the restaurant by a friend. Said pig was fed on scraps from Nonesuch, and had been allowed free rein of the surrounding woods. Probably had been a most happy pig. I wonder, though, since we only had a small portion of the chop, what had become of the rest of it? Surely a restaurant such as this would make good use of the whole animal, and I am most curious to know where all the other bits ended up.

THE NINTH COURSE marked the official start to the dessert dishes. The Hot Herbal Tea Alongside Herb Biscotti  served as a nice transition from the savory part of the meal. The biscuit was crunchy without being dry, and the liberal amount of herb in it kept it from straying too far to the sweet side. I am not really a tea drinker, and do not typically like mint in anything other than toothpaste, but this tea was well-balanced, and served as another version of a palate cleanser. Other than mint, the herbs were unidentifiable to me, so I’m guessing they were along the lines of subtle ones like chamomile. And, like all the other courses, this one was thoughtfully plated, with the biscotti tucked into a dish filled with baby peach pits. Very earthy.

THE TENTH COURSE was so simple, and yet so impeccably balanced. Lemongrass Yogurt with Blueberry Sorbet heroed just three ingredients- lemongrass, blueberry, and elderflowers. The blueberry was aromatic and floral and tasted of  pure, unadorned fruit. The yogurt beneath was silky smooth and puckery, and when on the same spoon as the sorbet, created the most luxurious and flavorsome version of blueberry yogurt imagined. This dish left me wanting to eat a whole bucketful.

And to our very great delight, we were treated to a surprise ELEVENTH COURSE🙂 And in this case, they certainly left the best- dessert, anyway- for last (though this dish was absolutely in my top 3 of the night). Mint Ice Cream, Pizzelle, and Chimichurri was, to my taste, genius. Again, a simple concept, but elevated beyond what I could ever imagine for an ice cream and cookie. The ice cream was flavored with chocolate mint- the herb- and if that had not been explained by the chef, I would have assumed it was actual chocolate with a pop of mint. By using this wonderful variation of the ubiquitous herb, they were able to offer a classic taste while staying true to the concept of their locally sourced food. The beautifully smooth ice cream sat upon the perfectly crisp pizzelle cookie, which in turn, hid the fabulously complex chimichurri at the bottom of the bowl. To eat, we drove spoons into the ice cream, broke apart the cookie, and scooped up some chimichurri, and then savored the fascinating taste combination. I wish I could remember what the chimichurri was made of, because even a week out from eating this meal, I still think of it. Thick, sticky, herby, with a bite that would have been too sharp if not balanced perfectly by the ice cream. Total rock star of a dessert.

And so…an experience to remember. Thoughtful, creative, gorgeously plated food with a vision. A surprising and sophisticated take on the local, farm to table concept. And all thoroughly enjoyed with the best company I could have hoped for 🙂