Seasoned chef's sense of taste puts Park 75 back on A-list
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Published on: 12/16/2004
SOMETIMES A MOOD strikes us and we want to eat hot dogs off the back bed of a pickup truck. Sometimes we want to drink and to taste little plates at the bar. Or maybe we're in the mood for pizza in our pajamas.
At other times, though, we want to act like a grown-up. We want to be catered to, pampered, but not so lavishly that we feel intimidated. We don't want to walk away feeling guilty, just more mature.
Jenni Girtman/AJC | |||
| Among the 'grown-up' treats to savor at Park 75 are (from left) grilled snapper, braised salmon and crispy black bass.
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Jenni Girtman/AJC | |||
| Roasted organic beets layered with sweetgrass goat cheese, port reduction and candied walnuts. | |||
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My favorite place to be treated like a grown-up is Park 75, inside the Four Seasons Hotel.
I admit I was a little worried about Park 75. The restaurant recently lost chef Kevin Hickey to a posh spot in Chicago at the Ritz-Carlton. In the short interim it took to replace him, the menu suffered and Park 75 fell off a lot of foodies' radar screens, including mine.
Enter the restaurant's former sous chef, Robert Gerstenecker, who left for a two-year stint at the Four Seasons Resort Palm Beach and has returned as the Atlanta property's executive chef, with Camron Woods as sous chef. What a difference a chef makes.
Eating Gerstenecker's cooking feels a little like watching an Olympic ice skater: He makes it look so easy. Never mind that a venue such as the Four Seasons, or any large hotel, makes it difficult for a talented chef to tweak in just the right spots to make a name for himself without stirring up the corporate atmosphere.
Gerstenecker is too subtle for that. His food is as grown-up as the restaurant: sophisticated, but not over the top. His eye and well-trained hand treat the offerings so delicately that you're left smitten without even realizing it, like getting a little giddy on a glass of champagne.
He shows a deftly handled respect for the seasons, too. A salad of frisee and watercress crowned with pears poached in a heady, vanilla-scented red wine, then slivers of fresh pear is the perfect girlie lunch bite, especially when Gerstenecker adds the sharp contrast of blue cheese to offset the sweetness.
Actually, lunch is every bit as special as dinner. Not only can you indulge in the grail of all grilled cheeses, the Monte Cristo (here with a Dijon dip laced with maple syrup), but the flavored lemonades and excellent service also make it the perfect place to take your mom (who will marvel at the array of fresh flowers) or your broker (who will love the fact that you can get in and out within an hour).
Mom can share bites of her seared diver scallops, perfectly plump, over a heavenly, creamy risotto with a pristinely cut dice of butternut squash, fresh walnuts and tiny leaves of savory, fried sage. Your broker won't share bites of a half-pound cheeseburger (Vermont cheddar, no less) on a fluffy brioche bun.
And forks will be flying over the foie gras: served over a tiny corn cake (think seared polenta) and an over-the-top reduction of Elysium wine finished with a whisper of butter flavor. It's a pretty little number no one will want to share.
Here's what Gerstenecker does best, though: He manages to make accompaniments a higher love. Under a perfectly acceptable fillet of flaky black grouper covered in a thin sheath of prosciutto, he places a dab of corn risotto, made with the Cadillac of rices, carnaroli. Carnaroli makes the creamiest of risottos, offset by crunchy corn niblets that literally burst when you bite into them. It's so good it makes the grouper an afterthought.
And with Georgia white shrimp, his grits show up as an oversized version of arancini, the fried rice balls so popular in Sicily. Batonnets of crispy fried chorizo dot the perimeter of the plate. A forest mushroom ragout that accompanies a towering filet is juicier and more flavorful than the meat.
And how nice to find a souffle on a menu. The art of making one is becoming extinct for lack of practice with most pastry chefs. So toques off to David Jeffries for offering one in the first place. But what's up with his peanut butter-and-jelly rendition? The peanut butter doesn't make for that fluffy feel all souffles should strive for, and the layer of jelly inside gets so hot it burns your mouth.
Inside information from my dining companion led me to order something off the menu: Coca-Cola cake, an Atlanta and Park 75 signature. Tasting this rich, old-time chocolate favorite, delicately enrobed in a shiny ganache, inspired me to look up the recipe and make one for myself, although mine won't have little red-and-white-painted white chocolate disks emblazed with the Coke emblem on it.
That would be too civilized, which is what I like most about Park 75. I want to dress up and act civilized when I eat there. Sometimes, that's just what the mood calls for.
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