The shake-up at Shaya is having an impact on the kitchen, it seems. The day we dined there, the beautifully conceived dishes were poorly executed. An unsurprising development when the originating chef departs under a cloud of ill will.
Shaya is meant to take the canon of Israeli, Palestinian, and other Middle Eastern dishes and elevate them to new heights. I can see how these riffs on old standards once worked brilliantly. But new improvisations still have to come together in their own right. Here are some examples of how they don't quite do that any more.
Pita bread: Shaya makes their own pita bread in a special oven, on view at the back of the restaurant. The loaves are served warm and slightly charred; from the outside they seem perfect. But the oven seems to be cranked up a little too high, because the insides are not quite baked through. To someone familiar with the texture of Palestinian pita (hubz), these are just a beat off.
Hummus with lamb ragu: The lamb in its luxurious sauce is meant to elevate the more modest "hummus b'lahme" - a Palestinian dish traditionally made with bits of simply grilled lamb. Shaya's sauce is amazing, and somehow combines haute cuisine with rusticity. It is to the dish's credit that I was still able to appreciate this, despite it being over-salted.
Schnitzel sandwich: Oy! I am willing to bet money that Alon Shaya would have ensured that the chicken breast was properly beaten with a meat tenderizer to produce a thin, elegant slice of meat. All those who remember their Ashkenazi grandmothers preparing this dish will find this thick slab to be a travesty of their childhood comfort foods. To make up for the dryness of the too-thick chicken breast, the kitchen has schmeered on a hefty layer of harissa mayonnaise. But the proportions are off and there is no bringing them back.
It seems clear that, absent the chef's personal orchestration of the kitchen, the cooks are trying to play the notes, sometimes missing them, definitely not playing music. The parade has passed by, and we are into the second line here.
Shaya is meant to take the canon of Israeli, Palestinian, and other Middle Eastern dishes and elevate them to new heights. I can see how these riffs on old standards once worked brilliantly. But new improvisations still have to come together in their own right. Here are some examples of how they don't quite do that any more.
Pita bread: Shaya makes their own pita bread in a special oven, on view at the back of the restaurant. The loaves are served warm and slightly charred; from the outside they seem perfect. But the oven seems to be cranked up a little too high, because the insides are not quite baked through. To someone familiar with the texture of Palestinian pita (hubz), these are just a beat off.
Hummus with lamb ragu: The lamb in its luxurious sauce is meant to elevate the more modest "hummus b'lahme" - a Palestinian dish traditionally made with bits of simply grilled lamb. Shaya's sauce is amazing, and somehow combines haute cuisine with rusticity. It is to the dish's credit that I was still able to appreciate this, despite it being over-salted.
Schnitzel sandwich: Oy! I am willing to bet money that Alon Shaya would have ensured that the chicken breast was properly beaten with a meat tenderizer to produce a thin, elegant slice of meat. All those who remember their Ashkenazi grandmothers preparing this dish will find this thick slab to be a travesty of their childhood comfort foods. To make up for the dryness of the too-thick chicken breast, the kitchen has schmeered on a hefty layer of harissa mayonnaise. But the proportions are off and there is no bringing them back.
It seems clear that, absent the chef's personal orchestration of the kitchen, the cooks are trying to play the notes, sometimes missing them, definitely not playing music. The parade has passed by, and we are into the second line here.
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