Over the past month, dining editor Mary Malouf has been following the Mist:Salt Lake project, Chef Gavin Baker’s attempt to bring local chefs together to provide a culinary experience unlike any seen in the city at the Metropolitan for a limited time. Mist only lasts until Feb. 19, and tickets are sold out. Luckily Mary was there to review the food.

Click here for the first half of the review from saltlakemagazine.com, the rest is reposted below.

One surprising aspect of this dinner was the sense of camaraderie shared by all the diners—we were all there to embark on the same adventure together. That made it a lot less formal than you expect an expensive meal to be, and the service matched the mood. Servers explained every dish, kept your glass filled and fulfilled every request, but without any stiffness, even when there were mistakes (a missing garnish, for example).

Anyway, writers are supposed to show, not tell, so I’m only going to add to the dinner’s narrative that any good meal is about experience as much as nourishment. This is a basic truth, and probably cornerstone, of human culture, and something that the 21st-century has largely forgotten. The Mist Project makes you remember.

Sixth course: On paper, this course looked a lot like a miniature golf hole. “Where’s the windmill,” was the common quip at our table. Actually, the green was avocado puree, with an obstacle of tuna tartare, a disc of yuzu-soaked pomelo and a marvelous cluster of globes like tiny cannonballs on a courthouse lawn: Lebanese couscous, tapioca, salmon roe and wasabi tobiko and flying fish roe marinated in wasabi.

My two cents: It’s hard to get excited about tuna tartare anymore, for a million reasons, even though this was pristine. But the mixed orbs were pretty thrilling–all about the same size, every one a different texture. Some popped, some were chewy, some were soft.

Seventh course: A scallop, on a tangled bed of mild choucroute, sparked with sprinkles of thyme, pancetta and shallot, topped with a froth of mushroom foam and accented with a slick of apple gel.

My two cents: Honestly, these were hearty flavors, classic in their balance and contrast. The surprise was the mushroom foam. Foam is one of the molecular cuisine tricks that has been pretty widely adopted and hence, duh, abused. Here, it worked perfectly, giving an unexpected earthy whiff without the protein chew of an actual mushroom, just an odor, like you were eating shellfish in the woods.

Eighth course: This is the wild card course; guest chefs create it and introduced it every Monday. Then it’s served until the next Monday. Our course, by Colton Soelberg, was an angularly cut bite of rare squab, cooked sous vide, with braised Swiss chard and a sherry gastrique.

My two cents: I felt lucky to be eating the work of Chef Soelberg, owner of Communal, and a chef whose food seems to be the antithesis of the orchestrated Mist menu. Certainly a written description of this dish doesn’t sound shocking in any way. But Soelberg’s absolutely meticulous attention to detail segued into the detailed Mist style perfectly and made this one extraordinary pigeon.

Ninth course: Presented en cloche–under a ceramic dome–a raspberry-colored round of Idaho lamb loin, a tomato-honey confit, curried yogurt, garnished with a fried sweetbread, chile, garlic and a caper-raisin puree.

My two cents: Again, this doesn’t look like a plate of familiar food, but the contrast of tangy yogurt, fragrant spice, sweet and heat is home plate for anyone who loves Thai or Indian food. One of the differences is that the diner is in control of the balance–make it heavy on the sweet or on the heat, or one after the other. You could create your own forkful.

Tenth course: It looked like an old-fashioned glass, but the menu said it was short-rib and it was both: beef cooking to melting softness topped with nearly liquid potato mousse and a frisson of chorizo.

My two cents: Somehow the idea of drinking your meat is hard to swallow. I know: soup. And I may feel differently in another 40 years when I’m living on borrowed time and teeth. But this was more like a milkshake and though the flavors were nice, I would have preferred a little more chew or crisp.

Eleventh course: Here we entered into real fantasy land. The large plate, meant for sharing between several diners, was made of granite and rubbed with beef fat. The course is called “Campfire,” and the plate is centered by a plain aluminum can of beans surrounded by coffee-cured beef on broccoli and watercress undergrowth and edible coals and ash.

My two cents:: Until now, this had mostly been food taken very seriously. Well, except for the diapered bread. It was a bit of relief to see a sense of humor coming from the kitchen, and no less tasty for the laugh.

Twelfth course: Intermezzo: Taking us into candy land, the dessert courses, was a tall clear column holding a smaller glass in the top, with a coarse spiced apple granita, eau de vie and unsweetened meringue.

My two cents: Mild and pretty, and unassertive, a link between showpieces. Just what you expect from the term “intermezzo.”

Thirteenth course: Called “Sunrise from my plane window,” the plate is sprayed with sky-blue cocoa butter, the sun is a yellow half dome of thin candy filled with passionfruit mousse with a lychee heart. Wisps of creamy meringue and spun sugar form clouds.

My two cents: What fun!

Fourteenth course: This one was labeled “Palate cleanser,” and it was presented on a little easel. Propped on it was a graham-hazelnut cracker framing an edible photograph–a copy of one of the panels of Adam Finkle’s giant photo-mosaics used to decorate the dining room. With it, a glass of floral juice with a tab of fruit.

My two cents: This course had all the comfort of kindergarten cookies and juice, but for the artist’s sake, I would have liked the connection between the art and the edible to be clearer. Did everyone understand that the art is for sale? and, like the food, is a statement about perceived value?

Fifteenth course: Another communal course, the edible forest, was conceived by Rebecca Millican, pastry chef at Amano Chocolate: Dirt made of cake crumbles, chocolate twig trees, boulders of candied hazelnuts, powdered pistachio and powdered sugar snow and a minor muddy flood of hot chocolate sauce.

My two cents: Eating this offered the childlike delight in destruction, like knocking down your block castle–break off trees, swirl them in the mud and scoop up the dirt.

Sixteenth course: Mignardise. A little something sweet at the end, in this case a hollow chocolate aspen log anchoring petits fours, truffles and treats made by local pastry genius Romina Rasmussen.

My two cents: The absolutely gilded lily.

Posted: Friday, January 27th, 2012 @ 6:22 pm
Categories: On the Table.
Tags: Chef Gavin Baker, Dining, food review, mary malouf, mist:salt lake, review, Utah.