Dallas Food - Upscale Vegetarian: California Calibration

DFW Food Links

Upscale Vegetarian: California Calibration
Posted on Wednesday, March 26 @ 18:58:26 PDT
Topic: Vegetarian

Prior to this series of reports, I had little experience with vegetarian fine dining. Towards the end, I felt I had a pretty good handle on the strengths and weaknesses of the local options, but didn't know how Dallas would stack up against a top-tier food city with a robust vegetarian community. A trip to Northern California offered a chance to broaden my perspective. We begin in Yountville, California. On to the food...

The French Laundry may well be the most thoroughly documented restaurant in the world. Print articles abound about the food, the chef, the notorious reservation process, the latest accolades. But they're a drop in the bucket compared with the countless online reports from food bloggers and discussion group participants--reports that often contain minute detail, course by course descriptions, and a barrage of photography (some unapologetically amateurish, some quasi-professional).

Despite the flood of words and images, surprisingly little has been written about the "Tasting of Vegetables," featured prominently in Keller's menus. That's unfortunate, since it's as impressive a display of virtuosity as the more popular "Chef's Tasting Menu."

A great vegetarian meal requires great vegetables. Though Keller has cultivated relationships with quality suppliers, I was particularly impressed by the French Laundry's efforts with their own garden, directly across Washington Street. This was no token herb patch. Tomato season was coming to a close, though some fruit still lingered on heaped tangles of indeterminates. Pumpkins and winter squashes were starting to hit their stride. Beautiful peppers and eggplant. Walking the rows and taking photos (some of which I've uploaded as a Flickr slide show), I was excited to see how it would all be integrated into the menu.

Service at the French Laundry is formal, but warm and respectful. Waitstaff never seem hurried, impatient, or flustered. There's serenity, bordering on reverence, to every movement, every communication with the customers. Few American restaurants are so successful in establishing this kind of tone, drawing customers into a shared sense that they're somewhere important.

Of course, everything is done precisely right. Every opportunity is taken to exceed usual expectations. Instead of a single rose in a simple vase, there's an elaborate floral arrangement on every table. When a customer requests a pen, instead of a Bic, he gets a Waterman. Bread that has been sitting on the plate for a while is quietly replaced with a new, warm piece. Butter is served at room temperature, so it's spreadable; and the salted butter has the selected salt incorporated throughout (rather than lazily sprinkled across the top). Care is taken with every detail.

At the time I made the reservation, I was asked about any dietary restrictions. So, upon being seated, the waiter was already aware that I was dining as a vegetarian. He quickly confirmed my parameters, then explained the menu. When I had been to the restaurant before or occasionally perused the menu online, I can't say I paid much attention to the "Tasting of Vegetables." So I was a little surprised to learn that it is actually not a vegetarian menu. Though intensely veggie-centric, meat can creep in here and there. On the menu that day, three courses were not strictly vegetarian: hand-rolled potato gnocchi with baby artichokes, tomato raisins, crispy Spanish capers, and squid ink essence; Belgian endive sous vide with pearl onions, Marcona almonds, green orange, and cocoa-foie gras emulsion; and Vermont Shepherd with fennel bulb, mâche, country ham croquette, and black truffle coulis. Directly above each of these items was a distinct, true vegetarian alternative (which I chose, in each case).

Seconds after the waiter stepped away from the table, a version of the signature cornet arrived. The thin shell was filled with red onion crème fraîche, topped with a scoop of minced fennel and mâche, and garnished with the tip of a chive. As elegant and balanced as the salmon original, though perhaps a little more cool and refreshing with the aromatic fennel.

The gougères came next. Light as air, very moist inside, and with the aroma and flavor of well-aged Gruyère. A simple thing, done well.

The first course was sunchoke soup with garnish of black truffle puree, toasted pine nuts, minced chive, and Fuyu persimmon. The waiter explained that the peculiar density of the cubed persimmon was achieved by compressing the fruit with a vacuum packer. The waiter poured the soup over the garnish at the table. The soup itself was straightforward and delicious, with subtle, balanced complexity added by the sweet, nutty, and aromatic garnishes. (After the meal, I passed back through the garden, where I found the dried, fallen stalks marking the sunchoke pantry. Hard to get much more local than that.)

A warm roll arrived with the first course. Light, crisp, and with a pain au lait sweetness. The waiter also presented two butters, one sweet and one salted (throughout, as previously mentioned). Though I can't recall the details, I think one was made with milk from unionized cows somewhere in the northeast, while the other came from a local bovine commune. Both were good enough to eat straight out of the cups.

Next came a light salad with a base of thinly sliced Asian pear, topped with sliced matsutake mushrooms, shaved ribbons of purple-top turnip (from the garden), mizuna leaves, and a turnip seed vinaigrette. Unusual, but enjoyable.

Vanilla-glazed salsify with chestnuts and watercress arrived next. A little sweetness came from the vanilla glaze and scattered pomegranate seeds. The dominant flavor came from the chestnuts, which appeared in three forms--roasted halves, thin shavings, and a seasoned puree.

This ended up being my favorite course of the meal, as well as one of the best things I ate in 2007. Gratin of marrow bean agnolotti. The pasta was impossibly thin and the marrow bean puree filling silky and rich. A few sliced yellow and green pole beans were scattered over the top, along with crisp chips of garlic, flat leaf parsley, and bread crumbs. Preserved Meyer lemon added an acidic zing to the creamy sauce. Unbelievably good.

This dish featured Chinese eggplant from the garden, along with quartered baby carrots, Kakai pepitas, and a cilantro and sultana raisin curry. The carrots, curry, and maple glaze on the eggplant made this the sweetest course of the night. Not bad, though I would have preferred more contrast in the flavors.

One of the simplest courses of the night, three cubes of roasted celeriac were draped with roasted romaine lettuce leaves and plated with a Dijon mustard hollandaise. Enjoyable flavors, though it seemed an odd way to cap off the savory phase of the meal. I expected something with a little more gravity.

The cheese course featured Bartlett Blue, a fantastic domestic cheese (like all from Jasper Hill Farm), along the lines of a firm Stilton. The cheese was served with poached apricot, marinated peppers, and a pimentón sauce. Sweet, savory, and spicy. A very nice composed cheese course.

Next came buttermilk sherbet, served with a crispy puck of white polenta, and huckleberry compote. The sherbet and huckleberries meshed beautifully. The polenta, though delicious standing alone, didn't integrate as well. Enjoyable enough.

The first of the sweets was a trio of frozen desserts. Butterscotch semifreddo was sandwiched between two thin, crisp tuiles, dusted with powdered sugar. On top of that, standing on edge, was a mint chocolate ice cream sandwich (with some cacao nibs embedded in the chocolate cookies). Then there was a round, white chocolate-coated crème glacée, topped with Valrhona perles croquantes. One side of the plate was garnished with a strip of cacao nibs. The other side had a pool of chocolate sauce. (The menu identified it as Amedei Chuao, though it turned out to be Valrhona.) Each component was executed well.

That was followed by a bonus course of the oft (and sometimes badly) imitated "coffee and doughnuts." A perfect cinnamon sugar coated doughnut and doughnut hole, fried to order, are plated with a cup of cappuccino semifreddo topped with steamed milk. As classy as it is clever, this dessert deserves its iconic status.

A small after-dessert arrived next--vanilla pot de crème set over cranberry compote, with a cranberry glaze over the top. Quite nice.

Next, a perfectly executed mini-crème brûlée.

Then the mignardise onslaught began. First came a black olive financier, warm and just about perfect. Then the macadamia nut dragees pictured above, with a crisp caramel layer around the nut, then a layer of chocolate, then a light coating of powdered sugar.

Next came a three compartment box, with pumpkin pâte de fruit, Champagne truffles, and calissons.

And then an array of molded chocolates--coffee, banana, peanut butter, pistachio, et al. Then a pot of Valrhona hot chocolate, in lieu of coffee.

The meal ended with a takeaway package of light, very buttery shortbread cookies.

The French Laundry delivered what was expected--carefully crafted, delicately balanced dishes, extraordinary service, and an atmosphere of understated elegance. I'd happily dine there again as a vegetarian.

While in California, I had two vegetarian tasting menus in San Francisco proper. The first was at Michael Mina, the second at The Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton.

Service at Michael Mina was passable, at best. Though the waiter wasn't aware that I would be dining as a vegetarian (despite the fact that I specified this when making the reservation), he quickly adjusted and told me about the vegetarian tasting menu option. Dishes throughout the night were often described incorrectly and waiters were unable to answer basic questions about the food. Clearing of plates and course timing were unacceptably slow.

The first item out was a demitasse of spiced pumpkin soup. Simple, a little sweet, and modestly enjoyable.

Next came tempura of haricot vert, served with yuzu aioli. The aioli was fine, with only slight acidity from the yuzu. The batter on the beans was nicely light and crisp. Not much to the dish, but it was executed well.

By the time this course arrived, 45 minutes had passed since I placed my order. Course timing remained sluggish throughout the night, despite the fact that more than half of the tables were empty.

This was a tomato salad with green olives, oak leaf lettuce, a drizzle of olive oil, and a dollop of burrata. The tomatoes were good. The olives added an interesting lactic zing. A decent tomato salad.

Next was a salad of caramelized heart of palm, with candied hazelnuts, chile-spiced avocado puree, mango puree, mango foam, and fried shiso leaf. Attractive plating, but the dish didn't really gel. Not bad, but nothing I'd care to repeat.

That was followed by small falafel, fried pita, pickled red onion, and tzatziki. One would think that the kitchen talent and ingredients available to a restaurant with two Michelin stars would translate into flawless falafel. Not so. The falafel were almost inedibly salty. The pitas were slightly greasy. The garnishes, like the focal points of the dish, suffered in comparison with any number of versions I've had in much humbler circumstances. Pointless.

Next came casarecci with smoked fennel, broccolini heads, broccoli rabe, and a cream sauce, topped with shaved parmesan. This was among the worst pasta dishes I had last year (at any price point). The pasta was thick and gummy. The cream sauce was heavy and one-dimensional. The fennel was extremely oversmoked--borderline creosote.

The final savory course proved to be the most disappointing of the night. Mushroom pain perdu with chanterelles, green and wax beans, and a mushroom emulsion. The beans and chanterelles were okay, but not really tied together in any way. The pain perdu was a soggy mess--like a piece of bread dipped in mushroom stock and tossed on the plate. A total flop.

Dessert was an unremarkable apple tarte Tatin. Mildly sweet apples, dry crust, superfluous apple cider foam. The best thing on the plate was the apple cinnamon ice cream.

The final bites of the night were a pair of ice cream pops. One was lime ice cream, coated in white chocolate, with a crust of candied lime zest. The other was espresso ice cream, coated in dark chocolate, crusted in cacao nibs. Great texture and flavor to the ice creams and nicely thin chocolate shells. Very possibly the best course I had at Michael Mina.

My vegetarian experience at Michael Mina was a disappointment. I could look past the inconsistent service if the dishes connected more solidly. But there wasn't a single homerun all night--just a couple of singles and then a lot of swings and misses. On every course, there seemed to be more attention to presentation than on sound conceptualization and execution. Though considerably more expensive than any vegetarian meal I've had in Dallas, Michael Mina was superior to Dallas's second-tier vegetarian fine dining options in presentation only. (I have a much fonder memory of my vegetarian breakfast earlier that morning.)

I'm not going to dwell on the meal at the Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton. The room was too dark to take photos. And, while the presentations were fine, not a single course made much of an impression.

First course was salsify soup with leeks and Meyer lemon zest. A workmanlike soup, though it suffered in comparison with the salsify soup I had at the French Laundry that week.

Next was a roasted beet salad with quince confit, apple, goat cheese, and balsamic. Though the menu description was much longer, this was a pretty basic beet salad. Not bad.

Fuyu persimmon carpaccio with pomegranate seeds, cucumbers, radishes, and lime foam. The carpaccio-style presentation was interesting to look at. Good balance of cool and sweet.

Kabocha squash ravioli with sautéed apples, Brussels sprouts, and maitake mushrooms. Nice filling in the ravioli, though the pasta was too thick (particularly around the edges). I'm not sure why the Brussels sprouts were there, other than that they were in season. Too much going on, with no coherence.

Zinfandel sorbet with coconut-lime seltzer. Meh.

Spiced custard with apple consommé, Asian pear, caramel popcorn, and Muscat grape sorbet. The custard was too firmly set--almost rubbery. The apple soup, I could understand. The pear, I could understand. Both of them together, even. But caramel corn and grape sorbet? With spiced custard, apple soup, and pears? Less would've been more.

I can't remember the details of the mignardise cart. I just remember thinking that most of the ones I tried looked better than they tasted. The take-away soft caramels, however, were nice.

This meal at the Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton wasn't bad. But, as was the case at Michael Mina, none of the dishes really impressed. Across the board, the dish concepts were extremely conventional. The soup was just a soup, the beet salad just a beet salad, and so on. I'm fine with that. But the baroque menu descriptions and "kitchen sink" ingredient lists seemed to indicate that the kitchen might not have been. The meal was better than what I had at Michael Mina, due to generally smoother service and the lack of truly bad courses. It was also, thankfully, a little less expensive. But would I go back for the vegetarian menu? Probably not.

Manresa (in Los Gatos) has won a great deal of praise in print media, online forums, and blogs. Writers frequently mention David Kinch's deft hand with vegetables and the restaurant's close relationship with Love Apple Farm, making it sound like an ideal destination for a vegetarian.

Despite identifying myself as a vegetarian when I made the reservation, the waiter was unaware of this when I was seated. This was the first (and least troubling) of several service slips through the night. Once the waiter learned I was vegetarian, he ran down a list of foods to determine what was and wasn't permissible for me (e.g., eggs and dairy were okay, but gelatin was out). I chose the vegetarian tasting menu (priced the same as the standard tasting menu) and the meal soon began.

The opening bites were the signature black olive Madeleine and red bell pepper pâte de fruit. The savory repurposing of traditional after-meal items was clever and successful. The olive flavor in the moist, warm Madeleine was subtler than expected. And the intense pepper pâte de fruit was sweet, without feeling dessert-like.

Next came a "float" of shiso soda with cucumber granita. Gimmicky, bearable, but not really enjoyable.

As the waiter presented this, he described it as "Foie gras royale with garden greens velouté." "Foie gras?" I asked. He began describing the preparation, when I interjected, "I'm a vegetarian." Mortified and apologetic, he took the cup back to the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later, apparently with the same cup, telling me that the kitchen had made the dish without the foie.

So, without the foie, this was a soup of unidentified greens, baby lettuce, and sunchoke puree. It was astonishingly good. Rich, a little sweet, with mellow greens...I don't know what the trick was. But it was an over-the-wall, out-of-the-park home run.

Then the egg--barely cooked, with runny yolk, chives, Sherry vinegar, maple syrup, and topped with cream. Richness, sweetness, a little acidity, and nice temperature contrast between the warm egg and cool cream. Delicious.

Tomato salad with fire and ice radishes and seaweed pesto. The heart of this dish was the collection of interesting, perfectly ripe tomatoes, sprinkled with salt. Everything else was unnecessary embellishment. But what tomatoes!

Red kuri squash soup with nasturtium ice cream. Nice smoothness to the soup. Quite sweet. Had the nasturtium been more pronounced in the ice cream, it might have provided some balance to the sweetness. As it stood, it just added richness and temperature contrast. Not bad, though not totally satisfying.

In this dish, roasted beets, julienne of apple, and a beet and apple puree were blanketed with a warm layer of light potato puree. Rather awkward, but not inedible.

This was the biggest flop of the night. Quinoa, overcooked into mush, was formed into quenelles, then garnished with huckleberry compote and grilled leeks. With complete dissonance among the main components, this was an irredeemably bad concept for a dish.

Things started to get back on track with another of the restaurant's signatures, "Vegetables from the garden, their vegetable juices." (See here for the chef's explanation of the dish's inspiration and evolution.) The dish consisted of a wide assortment of seasonal herbs and vegetables in varying forms--raw, cooked, solid, pureed, liquefied, foamed, etc. Bringing everything from the garden onto the plate was an interesting conceit, despite some incoherence among ingredients. Still, it was an attractive and fun incoherence--like a food-lover's parlor game, picking out all the different ingredients (e.g., nasturtium, chicory, parsnip, bell pepper, radish, carrot, basil, potato, fennel frond, cherry tomato, sunchoke, et al.).

The waiter described the next course as "confit of porcini mushrooms." When I asked about the preparation, he explained that the mushrooms had been slow-cooked in butter and duck fat. "Duck fat?" "Yes, sir; along with butter." "I'm a vegetarian." More "deepest apologies" as the dish was returned to the kitchen. Moments later, the waiter returned with the same dish (now cold), saying, "Chef says that, since you ordered the vegetarian menu, he slow-cooked the mushrooms with just butter." Hmm.

The mushrooms were fine, though a little greasy. The beans were excellent. The garnish of tapenade paired reasonably well with the other ingredients. So-so.

The final savory course was a collection of roasted root vegetables and amaranth, with squash puree and citrus foam. This is what the meal was building towards? Diced rutabaga, carrot, parsnip, and radish buried in foam? The whole was less than the sum of the parts. A let down.

The first dessert course consisted of walnut meringue and quince sorbet in cranberry consommé. Presentation was impractical, since the shallow plate made it difficult to scoop up the consommé. However the flavors came together reasonably well. A decent dessert.

Next came a sesame cake with huckleberry coulis, milk foam, and honey ice cream. Another one that looked like it should be interesting, but didn't really connect.

Next was chocolate brioche bread pudding with almond milk and Teeccino ice cream. Basic flavors that went well together. Nothing fancy, but nicely done.

The meal ended as it began, with a Madeleine and pâte de fruit. Dessert-appropriate flavors this time--chocolate for the Madeleine and strawberry for the jelly. Both were very good.

Manresa was frustratingly inconsistent. Flashes of brilliance were interspersed with mediocre or ill-conceived dishes. Creativity and ambition were ever present, but often with dissatisfying results. I suppose it's "creative" to smother beets and apples with warm, runny mashed potatoes. I can't say I'd ever had that before; nor would I care to have it again. Shiso soda with cucumber granita was a new one for me. But it's well short of being an "instant classic." Quinoa, leeks, and huckleberries? Give me a break.

The service lapses were troubling. At the prices Manresa charges, a customer that identifies himself as a vegetarian and orders a vegetarian tasting menu should not be served--or be told he is being served--dishes that are not vegetarian. That instantly destroys the customer's trust and confidence in the kitchen and waitstaff.

Because the scattered high points were as high as they were, I'd be more likely to return to Manresa than to Michael Mina (which was also inconsistent, but without highs) or the Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton (which, though consistent, lacked notable high points and was ultimately forgettable). Perhaps in spring or summer, with a wider produce palate to work with, the kitchen would better deliver on its promise.

I didn't know much about Cyrus (in Healdsburg) when I made the reservation, other than that it landed two stars from Michelin and four from the San Francisco Chronicle. Online reports were mixed, but generally positive. I was unable to find any reports on vegetarian meals at the restaurant. As the date approached, I even considered dropping the reservation. I'm glad I didn't.

A few comments on service, first. Of my meals in California, the service at Cyrus was rivaled only by that at the French Laundry. They were genuinely striving for that kind of all-out service experience, and not without success. The table never wanted for anything. Timing was impeccable. Waitstaff were extremely knowledgeable about the menu, preparations, and ingredients. Exceptional in every way.

The hostess and waiter were already aware that I was dining as a vegetarian. The waiter handed me the menu, telling me that I could do a full vegetarian tasting menu, look at the regular menu for ala carte courses that could be adapted, or allow the kitchen to come up with three or four vegetarian courses. I opted for the tasting menu (which was not itemized in the printed menu).

The meal began with a trio of opening bites. One was a "tart" with a parmesan frico shell, berry-sweet cherry tomato compote, micro-basil, and grated parmesan. Then there was a warm gougère that, when bitten, released a liquid Gruyère center. Lastly, a chile gelée (made with agar agar, the waiter volunteered). All were good, with the gougère being the standout.

Next came an amuse bouche of sesame oil, shredded ginger, julienne of parsley, and cucumber. This was a small and strangely appealing spoonful that opened cool, warmed with the ginger, then trailed with a slightly nutty aftertaste.

Few restaurants respect butter for what it is: a slightly richer cousin to a triple-crème cheese. Those that "get it" carefully select their butter for flavor and texture, provide salted and unsalted butters for guests to choose from, incorporate crystals evenly in salted butters, serve butter at room temperature (both for spreadability and to avoid the flavor-dulling effects of coldness), and pay attention to presentation. However, it's far more common for restaurants to treat butter as an afterthought, serving rock hard chunks of the same pedestrian stuff they use in the kitchen, perhaps with some salt lazily scattered over the top.

I've always believed that butter service is one of the most reliable indicators of a restaurant's quality commitment. (Regular readers of this site may recall prior references to The Butter Rule.) It's not a hard thing to get right. It just requires a measure of care.

That's a long preface to short praise for the butter service at Cyrus. Two great butters--a local caprine sweet butter and salted cow's milk butter from Normandy--were attractively molded and served at room temperature. Bravo. Breads were very good and, as a nice "above and beyond" service touch, were quietly replaced throughout the evening so they were always warm.

The perfect clarity of this gazpacho "consommé" led me to fear it would be weak and watery. Wrong. Intense, well-rounded flavor from tomato, garlic, and pepper, and a surprising degree of chile kick. Absolutely delicious. In a world full of lily-gilding and half-assed "deconstructions," it's refreshing to see a traditional dish transformed in a challenging way, but without sacrificing what made the source of inspiration great in the first place.

A warm cauliflower soup came next. The soup was poured tableside over a caper and golden raisin emulsion, slivered almonds, and tiny, caramelized cauliflower florets. The cauliflower base was rounded out with leeks and thyme. The sweet, salty, slightly tangy emulsion cut through the rich base very effectively.

Next came matsutake mushrooms, julienne of water chestnut, shaved burdock root, Szechuan peppercorn, and pickled white asparagus, with a sudachi broth. This was a brilliant balancing act of sweet, spicy, and sour. Clever presentation element in the pickled asparagus, cut on the bias to resemble lemongrass. Despite the complexity, the dish felt effortless and natural.

This was a tomato trio. On the far right, flawlessly fried green tomato with watercress, romesco, and pickled red onion. In the center, heirloom tomatoes with buttery croutons, Maldon sea salt, and Bellwether Farms crescenza. On the left, basil pot de crème, covered with a thin layer of tomato jelly. Classic flavors across the board. Though the basil custard is most memorable to me now, because of its uniqueness, my notes show that the fried green tomato was the one that impressed me most at the time.

The hits kept coming. This was maple-glazed, braised endive (trussed with chives), with roasted baby turnips and a panko-breaded puck containing perfectly textured chopped collard greens, served over mascarpone-creamed spinach. The sweet endive and richness of mascarpone contrasted nicely with the pleasant bitterness of the greens. Outstanding. (See this Food & Wine article for Keane's recipe for the panko puck and mascarpone-creamed spinach.)

For an intermezzo, the waiter presented a cranberry lime popsicle protruding from the back of an albino hedgehog-like serving piece. Nice flavor, but basically just a piece of ice on a stick.

The final entrée was a broad pasta ribbon folded around sautéed porcinis, Brussels sprouts, and shaved chestnuts, with a porcini foam and Madeira reduction. Not the most impressive dish of the night, but enjoyable enough, with the porcinis and butter as the dominant flavors. It did have the satiating quality one expects in an entrée, which can't always be said of a vegetarian dish.

The cheese cart was above average, with a good mix of imported and domestic (including local) cheeses. My only complaint is that many of the soft-ripened cheeses weren't fully ripened. I opted for Brillat Savarin, Stilton, and Sweet Grass Dairy's pecan chevre. The cheeses were good, but I was really impressed with the attention to accompaniments. Panforte and fig walnut bread. Spiced pecans, walnuts, and almonds. Gingered apples and gorgeous dates. Excessive, but in a good way.

Great dessert. Brachetto infused with ginger and lime, reduced, then poured into a dish with cardamom cream, lime granita, and a ginger snap tuile. Just a few flavors, but all in perfect balance--sweet, spicy, acidly tangy, and slightly aromatic. The shallow serving dish was a little unfortunate, making it hard to scoop up the soup; but it was worth the effort.

The final dessert course was a Valrhona soufflé with Brandy crème anglaise. Nothing trick, but about as well done as a soufflé can be. More interesting was the nibble to the side--a bite of roasted quince, with a bit of dark chocolate, candied orange zest, and candied walnuts. The chocolate and walnuts provided a little bitterness to offset the sweetness of the quince and orange. No main event, but it definitely beats a lazy sprig of mint as a garnish.

The mignardise cart impressed, but also overloaded. I didn't have room to try everything offered, though everything I had was good. Here we have a mint cream filled chocolate, a praline meltaway, salted caramel, and then an array of pâtes de fruit (i.e., passion fruit/lychee, apple/cinnamon, and blood orange/mango).

The evening ended with a takeaway Valrhona brownie in an attractive box, along with a printed copy of the menu for the meal, dated and customized by party name, and folded neatly in an envelope.

If I had to choose the best vegetarian meal I've ever had, I would say it was at Cyrus. The dishes and menu progression demonstrated preparation, creativity, and ambition. There wasn't a bad dish all night, and many were extraordinary. Service was flawless. This wasn't just an exceptional vegetarian meal; it was an exceptional meal, period.

The French Laundry ran a close second to Cyrus in this trip. The meal and overall dining experience were excellent. Though the clean, direct approach of most dishes at the French Laundry appealed to me, I have to give the edge to Cyrus for dishes that, while generally more elaborate, succeeded just as well and often better. (And, though I'm not sure how much sense it makes to talk about "value" at restaurants like these, the vegetarian tasting menu at Cyrus was about half the price of that at the French Laundry.)

Manresa came in at third. Though the highlights of the menu were among the best dishes of the entire trip, they were surrounded by too many courses that came up short. Service was below average for a fine dining restaurant--far short of the curve-blowing, all-around service experience at the French Laundry or Cyrus.

The Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton fell behind Manresa. Though service was average and there were no standout dishes, it was a consistent, modestly enjoyable meal. If I were just looking for a "good meal," I might rank the Dining Room slightly higher than Manresa. But for interest level and occasional home run dishes, Manresa made more of an impression on me. (The best test is to ask myself which restaurant I'd rather return to. That's Manresa.)

Michael Mina brought up the rear. Despite appropriate attention to presentation, several dishes fell flat due to flaws in conception or execution. (I don't think I'm ever going to forget that mushroom pain perdu, try as I might.) Dishes that weren't bad were not especially good.

So how do the Dallas vegetarian options stack up against what I had in Northern California? Surprisingly well, all things considered--a couple of the key "things considered" being (a) most of what I had in Dallas was improvised and (b) the cheapest of the California meals was double the price of most of the Dallas meals. That disparity in preparation and resources manifested itself most in dish complexity and presentation. But a meticulously plated twenty-ingredient dish is not always more enjoyable than something plainer in appearance and conception. In terms of pure food enjoyment, the better vegetarian meals I've had in Dallas fell short only of Cyrus and possibly The French Laundry--a far stronger showing than I expected.

Links to Upscale Vegetarian reports: Introduction; Aurora (Not Recommended); Stephan Pyles (Not Recommended); York Street (Recommended, With Qualifications); Bijoux (Recommended, With Qualifications); The Mansion on Turtle Creek (Recommended); Q&A with John Tesar of The Mansion on Turtle Creek; Abacus (Recommended); Lanny's Alta Cocina Mexicana (Recommended); Q&A with Lanny Lancarte II of Lanny's Alta Cocina Mexicana; Nana (Recommended); Lola (Recommended); Q&A with David Uygur of Lola; The French Room; Q&A with Jason Weaver of The French Room; and California Calibration (The French Laundry, Michael Mina, Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton, Manresa, and Cyrus).