Le Pigeon – http://www.lepigeon.com/
House Baguette and Salted Butter
Dry Blood Orange Soda
Hamachi – Pineapple, Foie Gras, Toasted Coconut (with Kimchee, White Chocolate Clam Espuma, and Pepper Puree)
Rooster Stuffed Shells, Ricotta, Black Walnuts, Pickled Mushroom (with Parmesan Gel, Mushroom and Cabbage Salad)
Smoked Mackerel Tart with Apricots, Hollandaise, Caramelized Onions, Bacon
Sous Vide Turkey, Prosciutto, Matzo Ball, Mushrooms, Sage
Foie Gras Profiterole with Salted Caramel and Coconut Miso Cake with Green Tea Compressed Pineapple
House Made Black Truffle Chocolate
I’ve dined out enough to know how much I can and should eat, what I do and do not like, and while some seem taken aback by the amount such a “small” guy can eat I generally do not think much about it; I simply go to the places where I expect to find greatness and thus far, with the rare exception, I think I have done pretty well. With those things in mind, on February Fourth I walked into Gabriel Rucker’s Le Pigeon and expecting great things I found just that, yet a minor miscalculation on my behalf almost derailed the whole thing.
Small and decidedly cramped – to those who’ve been to Momofuku Noodle or Minetta Tavern at 8:00pm on a weekend, you may have an idea – even on a Monday I arrived at Le Pigeon just after eight o’clock to find Rucker, clad in a Los Angeles Kings cap, plus two other chefs hard at work in the tiny kitchen and with a spot reserved at the chef’s counter where the chef would literally be serving me directly I was quite happy to be back from a long trip to the Oregon coast, not particularly famished but ready to eat. Seated immediately and presented the nightly menu I quickly deferred alcohol, instead opting for a Blood Orange soda recommended by my server and ordered the chef’s tasting menu while person after person to my left and right indulged on the famous burger.
Beginning with the arrival of bread – a truly Parisian quality baguette, warm from the oven – and my beverage it would not be long before I realized that my personal sensitivity to both heat and carbonation was going to factor into my enjoyment of the meal and ditching my jacket while taking it easy on the soda certainly helped, though at my vantage I’d still guess the temperature to be hovering around 90F as the first course arrived; a truly complex composition of shaved liver over shimmering, lean fish paired with flavors at once spicy, briny, sweet, and smooth – the chocolate particularly intriguing as it lingered on the palate with the coconut and foie gras like some sort of funky Mounds Bar.
Clearly not afraid to pair dissimilar ingredients the next two courses would prove equally as exciting as the first and unsurprisingly just as rich. Beginning first with the stuffed shell, a fist sized noodle stuffed to near bursting with bitter walnuts and dense, gamey bird while a pungent slaw helped to temper the rich cheese sauce and then moving on to the shockingly sweet but oddly delicious smoked fish pastry I’d be hard pressed to name a restaurant aside from those helmed by Gagnaire where a chef takes so many chances with his flavor profiles and continually finds success.
Starting to feel the effects of a long day in the car, plenty of food earlier in the afternoon, and the heat of the room I informed my server that if possible I’d prefer pass on the seven-course menu in favor of the 5-course option I was jokingly jeered by Rucker that I must not like the food but assuring him that this was not the case I was given the option of Rabbit or Turkey to finish and deferring to the expert I was served a flawless slice of heritage bird resting atop a dense matzo ball crowned with sweet onions, crispy sage, and dehydrated pork – a sort of reinterpreted thanksgiving dinner with stuffing that was the most traditional course of the night, but still tremendous.
Finishing up the evening with a pair of small desserts plus the most aromatic “truffled” truffle I’ve ever experienced I knew immediately that I needed to experience more of Rucker’s cuisine before I left Portland and happy that unlike “Monsieur Flatulenzi” the foie gras profiterole did not cause my little pigeon heart to explode – instead wowing with its unctuous balance of sweet and salt – I booked a seat at Little Bird for the following evening.