The personal touch.

My experience at MISTRAL, Seattle, Washington.

For a restaurant to not have a printed menu is very risky. The menu is an expression of the chef's talent and wisdom. For the viewing public, a restaurant can be summarized within the appetizers section alone. Some menus come off as uninspiring while others are a bit intimidating in their splendor. Through all the interpreting, a menu should always be a thing of pride on the kitchen's side. It is a place where rare ingredients can be explained through creative combinations. Those who read a well composed menu are then shown a small piece of the mind and personality of a chef. Through the listing of options we gain comfort with choices and calmness with selection. But, there are those few places where decisions aren't allowed. It is not what has been taken away at a menu-less restaurant, but what is given. There is such a strong notion that one is there for the purpose of experiencing food that has been personalized without discrimination. The bold restaurant: MISTRAL conveys this point with complete conviction.



I walked though the door of MISTRAL and knew I was in for something different. The waiter greeted me and seemed happy I was there. WIth assuring eyes he led me though the calm dining room to my table. I was taken before I even sat. I was given time to take in my surroundings and then the waiter explained how dinner would unfold. He informed me of the only options available: Wine by the bottle, 7 courses, 8 courses and flights to accompany. He described the structure of the courses (fish, foie, meat, cheese, dessert) while hinting at the possible proteins (lamb, squab, duck) that were ultimately up to the chef's choice. I smiled and surrendered myself, I was ready to accept all they felt appropriate.

I realized at this moment how excited I felt. Lacking the ability of making any choices filled me with a large amount of anticipation. Chef William Belickis was able to enforce his vision even before any food was served. The sun-set tones of the walls and celling calmed my nerves. The artwork of distant islands set among the horizon of a grand sea was interesting without being distracting. The interior of the restaurant was intentionally subtle in its presentation, the chef didn't want to focus on anything but the food.



It all began with a fragrance of freshness. Sashimi style Fluke, with finely Julianne asian pear, shaved fennel, watercress, pomegranates and incredibly concentrated celery foam. Chef Belickis concern of the textural aspect of each item was well planned. The soft bite of an asian pear, the paper thin delicateness of the fennel, fresh leaves of watercress, dissolving celery foam and the sweet explosion of the pomegranates all worked with the meaty-like-quality of the fluke. Fantastic way to begin the meal.



A soup of brown butter-parsnip-chestnuts, Hake, Pumpkin oil and carrot foam. The foam, again, was brilliant. I couldn't pick out individual flavors of the soup mainly because I felt they were all understood at what they could contribute, and then brought to an equilibrium that was deep and majestic. My waiter told me the fish was seared on one side and them placed (cooked side up) onto the soup to finish. The hake was mellow (seasoned wonderfully) and felt so smooth with the soup. The oil was nutty and distinct and varied from how much was on each spoonful. A bite by bite pleasure.



This dish made me so happy to be alive. Cod, matsutake mushrooms, cauliflower, tarragon, and two drips of a saffron reduction. So much flavor in the mushrooms (I also found numerous leaves of thyme), the cauliflower was calming and rich, and the tarragon was used in just the right amount. The fish was miraculous, big flakes that opened like pages in a book and the saffron was sweet like honey. Amazing, one of most well composed dishes I have ever had.



I love meat that has been cooked sous-vide. (Although I do feel too many kitchens are overusing the technology, but that discussion is for another day). This particular sous-vide assisted squab breast was an "8 hour poached" delicacy. The firm pink flesh surprisingly gave very little 'wild' flavor. The 'provencal' veggies (eggplant, red pepper, sweet onions) were uniform in size and necessary in giving that southern French feel. I found pieces of pancetta hiding throughout the medley that sat atop a small parsley puree. This was the base flavor holding it all together. Drops of orange 'sauce' were sweet and they contrasted with the squab's unique flavor. As heavy as some of the flavors were, this was actually quite refreshing.

I noticed the table next to mine were one course behind me. After my Squab was cleared, and I awaited the next item, they were served all the same components only fish taking place of the bird. This was amazing for me. The chef made dishes on the spot and changed them just as easily. I must say the one waiter on the floor did a phenomenal job of following the chef's lead.



The fifth portion was the 'ever controversial foie-gras' course. I don't know who would not get a smile on their face when being handed a plate of fattened duck liver. This was the good stuff, Hudson Valley foie, the best in America. It was a shame that the only real hiccup in my meal happened during this course. The foie was sliced too thin and while achieving a crunchy crust, they overcooked most of the portion. The center was soft and succulent but the edges were just a bit too harsh. I also found the squash puree to just be good (not great), the quince mixture unmemorable and the passion fruit syrup just got lost among all the activity.



A thinly sliced duck breast glazed in honey with drops of reduced red wine atop market vegetables (carrots, leeks, spinach) and a decadent fingerling potato puree. It seems overindulgent to puree fingerling potatoes but after tasting them in this manner, I will never reach for an Idaho-russet when making mashed 'taters ever again. There was also a middle-eastern spiced streak that brought the unmistakable sweet licorice flavors of sumac and zahtar to the forefront. This dish (just like the squab) utilized heavy flavors with a light accent of sweetness.



The beauty of a cheese plate, from 9 o'clock going clock wise are Idiazabal-Spanish-sheep (the sweetest of the five and my personal favorite), Bucheron-French-goat (All the basic elements of goat's milk from this simple cherve), Brillant Savarin with black truffle-French-Cow (I didn't sense much truffle, but I did think it was smoother than the regular Brillant Savarin), Saint Agur Blue-French-Cow (The flavor was light but distinctly blue. Rich and memorable, I will keep an eye out for this one), Brescianella-Italian-Cow( I was told that this was chosen as a finisher to the progression because it was strong enough to top the blue while also cleaning the palate.) Great selection with simple accompaniments (Apple, dates and very thin pieces of walnut bread).



Intense passionfruit sorbet with orange 'soda'. This little glass washed away the lactic notes leftover from the cheese and got the palate salivating for the big finish.



Coconut soup, coconut noodles, olive oil-chocolate gelato, sesame seed nougat and black Sicilian sea salt. I didn't taste olive oil but the gelato was smoother than normal (even coming from a paco-jet it was different), and actually lighter as well. The salt intensified the chocolate and was balanced from the rich coconut milk. The 'noodles' were firm and unmistakably there, but not very interesting. The sesame seeds would have been great but they got stuck in my teeth are were more annoying they enjoyable. With or without the noodles, this was a great pleasure and a proper way to finish.

This was not a meal, this was an experience. The chef took away the aspect of choosing dinner, instead, he gave moments of tense anticipation and sudden surprise. Each dish was completely personal and unique to that single moment. In this world of obsessive-compulsive-disorders, taking away ones ability to control what they are eating for dinner could ultimately upset some. After making the plunge and realizing that a great level of trust is created when dining in this style, it makes all the regular places of set menus suddenly seem deceitful. MISTRAL is a location that needs to be prepared for. It is a small place with a large concentration on food. My wonderful experience was not without flaws, but they felt justified though the successes of everything else. My server gave a standing applause worthy performance that evening. He was one man that juggled tables, poured wine, opened doors and remembered on-the-second plate changes, and he was dead on. If the chef could, he would talk to everyone on the floor (as a matter of fact, he did). His love is expressed though his work, his passion explodes with every bite, and we are left feeling like a true interaction took place. MISTRAL will always be remembered.