V.I.P.
Have you ever gone to a restaurant and felt special? You walk in the door, and it's like your living room -- only you pay people to bring you things. I've had a few of those places. The Hamlin Pub, the Olde Peninsula, and for a short time this little deli in Rochester (they had damned fine beef barley soup). If you've never had that at a restaurant, I highly recommend it. There's nothing quite like it. At the pub, there were nights that I literally walked in, took off my shoes and had the manager serve my underage friends. To have that kind of influence at a restaurant it just cool. It's not possible to get it undeserved, and it's always (almost) as much fun for the folks that work there. Makes the place familial. For as much influence as I've had at a restaurant, I've never experienced anything like what Doc has over at the Five Lakes.
Running late to one of the special event dinners (the Wild Game Dinner to be exact), we pull into parking lot, five minutes after the dinner was supposed to have started. I was tucking in my shirt, Doc was dressed as he always seems to be going to the Five Lakes, Erin was wearing something that couldn't ever be described as typical, except that she always seems to be able to dress to impress, and Jamie was wearing the clothes that she had with her. She hadn't been planning to go to the dinner when she left her house on Saturday morning, she wasn't planning on not getting back home by Sunday night, this was Monday -- and we had a dinner to go to.
Walking into one of the least pretentious fine dining restaurant I could imagine, we're greeted by Laura. Laura is Doc's waitress. She scolds us for being late, then escorts us to our table. To say that we were out of place would be like saying that seeing Freddy Krueger at Disneyland is "a little out of the ordinary." The four of us bring the average age in the room down by at least 3 years, and there are about one hundred people in the room. I also think we may be one of three tables in the place to not have someone dressed in hunting gear in honor of the wild game theme. Mostly, however, it's that the whole show seems to have been waiting on us, the young-uns seated at the the best 4-top in the whole room. As soon as we're seated, Chef Brian walks to the center (and right in front of us) and starts his presentation. At some point, Doc got Chef Brian to make fun of Erin, that may have happened after the dinner, but I can't remember. The main thing to note here, however, is that at one of the most popular events at one of the best restaurants in Metro Detroit was held up by us, or -- more accurately -- Doc. Sir, I salute you.
"All of that's fine and good, Doc's the man, I get it... what about the food?" I hear you ask. Well, to say that the food was good would be like calling The Shawshank Redemption "a pretty good flick." To call the food absolutely fantastic beyond description would be like saying that the Cuban Missile Crisis was kinda scary.
First Course:
Roasted Garlic Soup with Piperade Puree, soft boiled quail egg and smoked duck ham. This dish came with a warning. The warning was, "Don't worry, even though it looks like your egg is bleeding, that's just the Piperade puree." This was quite simply put the best soup I've ever had. The Piperade puree was, essentially, a red pepper puree that was put on the bottom of the bowl, with the soup poured on top. The quail egg was placed dead center with the smoked duck ham on top of that. It was incredible. It was fantastic. It was Chef Brian's take on Bacon and Eggs.
Second Course:
Poele of Squab with Pan-seared Foie Gras, crisp granny smith apple and roasted yellow beets. I, still, don't think I'm entirely sure what Poele of Squab is. I know that Squab is a bird, and my guess is that "Pole of Squab" is either a certain part of the Squab, or a certain way of preparing/presenting said Squab. Am I typing out Squab more that I have to? Yes. I like the sound of the word Squab, and this whole "Squab" business is amusing me. (Squab, squab, squab) Silliness aside, the Squab was really really good. It reminded me of Turkey, only more tender, moist, and tastier. And smaller. And it was Squab and not Turkey. The crisp granny smiths and roasted yellow beets were incredible. Sweet, tart, savory; any and all expectations I had for apples and a root were, quite simply, blown away. This leaves us with the Foie Gras. To describe the Foie Gras with words would be doing it a disservice.
Third Course:
Slow roasted Loin of Port Huron Fallow Deer with Grilled Cepes, celery root gratin, sweet potato and venison pancetta gnocchi, Chestnut puree and red current demi. So, once again, I'm at a loss to describe (or, more accurately just don't know) what all this course was. I saw it, ate it, and enjoyed the hell out of it. But there was some orangeish-yellowish stuff that I'm not sure if it was the celery root gratin, sweet potato gnocchi or what. It was fantastic, and I think that it was my favorite part of the course. I just don't know, exactly, what it is. The veal, best I've ever had. It was just incredible. If you've never liked veal, you'd have loved this. If you love veal, you'd have pee'd your pants with delight. It was simply incredible.
Fourth Course:
Salad of Pheasant Confit, Mache, caramelized root vegetables, Salsify white truffle vinaigrette. This was really good, and a complete change of pace from the rest of the dinner. Most of the dinner was rather heavy. Not in a bad way, but venison, Foie Gras, Squab -- these things are dense. They're fabulous, wonderful and tasty as hell, but also very dense. This was an extremely light salad of mixed greens, with the Pheasant Confit. Pheasant Confit, in my mind, could most easily be described as extremely high class jerky. Only, that doesn't begin to describe it. Anyways, it was a really good salad, the dressing was (I think I've used this word a lot) incredible, and the Pheasant Confit was just great. I've written a lot so far on this night, and I'm loosing steam...
Fifth (and final) Course:
Warm Fig Turnovers with Dried Strawberries and strawberry sorbet. This is the easiest course to describe, I know what's in it and you know what's in it. But knowing fig newtons and Hagen-Daz does not an expert make. Just imagine the best strawberry sorbet you can imagine and make it better. You're getting the idea. The turnover was also, in the vein of the evening, splendid.
That night I ate like a king in more than one way. There were a myriad of people just scuttling around waiting to do my bidding, I was eating wild game -- like Kings did, and the whole shindig was on hold because of me... ... well, Doc. So, I was probably eating more like a high ranking Duke, but still.