The butter-poached Nova Scotia lobster at Ai Fiori looked cute: knuckles of meat red and round, snuggled up to baby carrots, turnips, rutabaga and a stray little piece of loose crustacean.
I remembered butter-poached lobster at Per Se, and wondered: Can “Italian” chef Michael White top the dish that Thomas Keller made famous, inspiring innumerable copycats around the world?
One bite, and I forgot Keller. Critics like to crank up their metaphorical machinery and learned jargon in a vain effort to convey the untranslatable pleasures of the palate.
Ai Fiori’s lobster is a dish to shut us all up. It’s fine to know that it’s poached in beurre blanc, or to say its cohesiveness lies in the unexpected mineral affinity between lobster and root vegetables.
All the words fall short. For those of us who enjoyed it more than once, White’s astice was just the greatest dish in the world.
White’s at the zenith of his creative powers at “Riviera”-inspired Ai Fiori. Some might howl that it’s neither Italian nor French, but a mishmash for tourists clueless about his Italianesque style. They’d have a point with Dover sole, a $49 snore.
But for my money, Ai Fiori’s best dishes top the ones at his celebrated Marea. Expect to spend a bundle of your own: dinner with entrees $31-$49 can easily top $150 a head. (The lobster is $37.)
The warm waitstaff knows its stuff. Roving sommelier Emilie Garvey guides you smoothly through the rich wine list assembled by beverage director Hristo Zisovski. Meet them now, before White’s frequent travel and corporate strain take their toll.
Ai Fiori sprawls on the second floor of the newSetai Fifth Avenue Hotel, up an elliptical white staircase. Black-oak flooring, precious linen, tolerable art and gauzy curtains over tall windows can’t make a party out of a space as “world capital”-institutional as it is comfortable.
Blue and green accents aspire to a “Mediterranean” look. There’s no stuffiness, but no sizzle, either. Avoid the room’s Siberian south leg that stretches forever; like many new eateries, Ai Fiori is just too damn big.
The menu, though, is much smaller than at White’s previous places. Of a mere four pasta choices, lengths of twisted, squid-ink trofie nero were tossed in pitch-perfect shellfish ragout to which White lent his signature breadcrumb crackle. Cotechino and tiny escargots had the run of toothsome risotto; parsley purée bore a strong whiff of spring.
Executive chef Chris Jaeckle runs the kitchen with a sure hand. It sent out “mare e monte,” a sea-and-land dialogue “which we hope to become our signature.” Count on it. Identically sized circles of ocean scallops, black truffles and celery root alternate in a marrow bone, topped with thyme and marrow and finished with truffle vin: craftsmanship worthy of the greatest.
Glistening rouget crowned aromatic fish stew little resembling the rough bouillabaisse of the south of France. The filets concealed a sea of black and green olives and were sprinkled with crushed rosemary fleur de sel that permeated every morsel.
The refined-rustic impulse popped up again in an ordinary-looking but luscious veal chop. It came with a cabbage leaf enfolding luscious veal sweetbreads and apple as finely diced as if they’d gone through a paper shredder.
Yet, some fish entrees, good enough, seemed to have taxied down from Marea. Chicken was dry. Foie gras torchon wanted more thrills than a few spiced figs.
Robert Truitt’s desserts give nothing away to the savories. A brief spike in one’s blood sugar seemed a small price for “tartaletta” of anise-tinted dark chocolate ringed by grapefruit and hazelnut gelato.
The pleasure might not last forever.
White was “in Hong Kong scouting Asian markets,” the waiter told us. His corporate partner, Altamarea Group, just split with savvy former partner Chris Cannon and seems bent on global conquest.
But forget all that. In a venue feeling less like Anywhere, Earth, Ai Fiori might deserve more stars than three. Pretend it’s the Riviera, and let Mr. White show you the stars.