Aubergine, the French restaurant in Bonifacio Global City, is the kind of fine dining place that attracts certain food writers if only for its location. Above a McDonald's in what is basically a strip mall, it could be missed if you were merely driving around or were distracted by the smell of French fries. Or you might detect it in the corner of your eye on the way to St. Luke's Medical Center across the street or as you're loading your car with hardware from the Home Depot kitty-corner to it. It's strangely situated enough to provide an opening paragraph for a writer desperate for an angle.
But its quirk ends with its exterior. Once you enter its doors, the establishment's darkly modern interior announces the restaurant's mission as a purveyor of serious cuisine or that its designer is absolutely in love with dark wood.
The slightly surly or merely baffled maitre d' offered me a seat immediately after I declared I was dining alone. I didn't even get a chance to ask if I should sit at the bar as what some kitchens would call a "loser" (a lone diner--see Bill Buford's "Heat"). I'm glad I didn't. The supple red leather chair, provided for most of the tables except the booths, was just the signal my body needed to take a mind-clearing breather after an afternoon of hectic and hot shopping along the outdoor walkways of nearby Serendra mall.
The comfortable dining room was a quiet space paralleled by the buzzing kitchen, which you can see through a long wall of glass. Toques sped past each other, hands and arms in a blur of dish-making frenzy. I had a chance to visit the interior of the kitchen and talk to Samuel Linder, the personable and accommodating sous chef who commanded the chaos into efficient order. He told me the staff was composed of about half graduated professionals, while the other half were students from ISCAHM, the culinary school that trains future chefs and hotel service professionals. Linder himself, I was told, studied in Switzerland.
The menu's breadth is quite breathtaking and deeply French, ranging from foie gras appetizers to classic dishes such as duck confit, many of which are tinged or bathed in elaborate and rich French sauces. However, I decided on the restaurant's current degustation or tasting menu, made up of four dishes, supplemented with an amuse and an intermezzo, dessert, plus coffee or tea at the end accompanied by a couple of bite-sized surprises from the in-house patisserie. With the relatively generous portions and the wines, I soon found out this was a lot of food.
The night's meal began with two amuses: seared foie gras with sea salt and foie gras ice cream on toast. Though the former was cooked perfectly--the salt provided a surprising crunch to the buttery fattiness of the foie chunks--the real star was the latter: cold, creamy and savory on slightly warm brioche. Linder later told me it wasn't in the most ideal condition as it should have been, but I was satisfied.
The fattened liver mini-fest continued with the first course of foie gras terrine shaped like thin sushi pieces with smoked eel fillets stuffed in the middle. Two of these pieces sat atop a tangy-sweet mango and papaya relish, the only tropical touch I found throughout the evening. The rest of the large plate was generously layered with deep red and ultra-thin ostrich carpaccio discs flecked with truffle (I think it was truffle oil). (Oh, there were some garden greens somewhere on the plate, but I can't really remember.) I had forgotten that the ostrich was truffled, so each bite bowled me over with an intense but ephemeral truffle essence. This must be what those truffle pigs feel like when hunting for those elusive fungi. The foie gras terrine seemed to fade to the background here, partially because of the intensity of the carpaccio. My palate could hardly detect the eel fillet's smokiness nor the eel itself, which was squeezed within the rich terrine.
Hot cream of asparagus soup, enticingly green and topped with white champagne foam, was next. It was creamy but not thick, just the way I like creamed soups. It came with a brie profiterole that sat precariously on the wide lip of the soup bowl. There was no other way to relieve my anxiety that it might fall into the soup except to pop it all at once in my mouth. This, too, had a flicker of truffle as the soft brie lusciously coated my mouth, the profiterole offering enough of a buffer to shield me from utter fat-shock.
Sauteed tiger prawns, tangled together as if in the throes of decapod love, were a welcome lighter fare. A carrot ginger mousseline lurking from beneath and a curry-apple froth brought out the sweetness of the prawns whose slight chewiness unfortunately kept the otherwise tantalizingly flavorful dish from becoming sublime.
I made quick work of a small serving of passion fruit and watermelon sorbet. The yellow and red concoction, served in a small glass espresso cup, was just the right intermission before the big act: oven-roasted honey-glazed French duck breast. The duck was moist and tender, with an invitingly pink meat that yielded easily to my bite and a concentrated wine jus that made it stellar. By the time I finished the dish, which was accompanied by a delicious barley risotto and rather uninspired sauteed vegetables, my mind was nearing the equivalent of a food brain freeze. But like some brain freezes, this hurt so good.
Surely the transcendent strawberry-caramel delight--a small square of an unbelievable caramel-ginger ice parfait, layered with phyllo millefuille, then layered with marinated strawberries, topped with another square of creme brulee--was just the thing to put me over the edge. I finished about half of it and was disappointed with myself for not being brave enough to wolf it all down. Coffee, a chocolate praline treat and a macaron rounded out the evening's delights.
Staff members were attentive and accommodating, even allowing me to take pictures of the interior of the beautifully tall wine cellar and the immaculate kitchen. Through my dinner, however, I noticed several of them asking me how each dish was or how the progress of my dinner was--too many times for my taste. And near the end of my meal, as the restaurant started to get busier, the service seemed to fade; the dessert and coffee took a lot more time than the previous dishes. Despite these missteps, the service here is the best I've had so far in Manila.
The wine selection is impressive and extensive, with prices ranging from just under ₱1,000 for a Spanish red to stratospherically priced Bordeaux in the form of a Carruades de Lafite Pauillac. A few are offered by the glass and carafe, which I took advantage of: a glass of Cremant de Bourgogne and a carafe of Cotes du Rhone (about two glasses), both of which I picked myself, went with my dinner.
I've told many of my friends about this place already and can't wait to take them all here when they're in Manila. The restaurant provides the kind of blissful dining experience that only gets better when shared with others. The real stars here are the food and kitchen staff. There's a sharp precision in the cooks' technique that's quite startling. But this precision is always married with a soulful attention to the best ingredients and a mindfulness in the cooking, which translate to a delicious and memorable meal.
*******************************************************
Aubergine Restaurant & Patisserie
http://www.aubergine.ph/thecon.htm
*******************************************************
Update: Samuel Linder has since left, replaced by young German sous-chef Michael Schmidt. I visited once and the food was even more amazing. It may be time for a new review, the food was 80% new. Check it out if you're in the area.
But its quirk ends with its exterior. Once you enter its doors, the establishment's darkly modern interior announces the restaurant's mission as a purveyor of serious cuisine or that its designer is absolutely in love with dark wood.The slightly surly or merely baffled maitre d' offered me a seat immediately after I declared I was dining alone. I didn't even get a chance to ask if I should sit at the bar as what some kitchens would call a "loser" (a lone diner--see Bill Buford's "Heat"). I'm glad I didn't. The supple red leather chair, provided for most of the tables except the booths, was just the signal my body needed to take a mind-clearing breather after an afternoon of hectic and hot shopping along the outdoor walkways of nearby Serendra mall.
The comfortable dining room was a quiet space paralleled by the buzzing kitchen, which you can see through a long wall of glass. Toques sped past each other, hands and arms in a blur of dish-making frenzy. I had a chance to visit the interior of the kitchen and talk to Samuel Linder, the personable and accommodating sous chef who commanded the chaos into efficient order. He told me the staff was composed of about half graduated professionals, while the other half were students from ISCAHM, the culinary school that trains future chefs and hotel service professionals. Linder himself, I was told, studied in Switzerland.
The menu's breadth is quite breathtaking and deeply French, ranging from foie gras appetizers to classic dishes such as duck confit, many of which are tinged or bathed in elaborate and rich French sauces. However, I decided on the restaurant's current degustation or tasting menu, made up of four dishes, supplemented with an amuse and an intermezzo, dessert, plus coffee or tea at the end accompanied by a couple of bite-sized surprises from the in-house patisserie. With the relatively generous portions and the wines, I soon found out this was a lot of food.
The night's meal began with two amuses: seared foie gras with sea salt and foie gras ice cream on toast. Though the former was cooked perfectly--the salt provided a surprising crunch to the buttery fattiness of the foie chunks--the real star was the latter: cold, creamy and savory on slightly warm brioche. Linder later told me it wasn't in the most ideal condition as it should have been, but I was satisfied.The fattened liver mini-fest continued with the first course of foie gras terrine shaped like thin sushi pieces with smoked eel fillets stuffed in the middle. Two of these pieces sat atop a tangy-sweet mango and papaya relish, the only tropical touch I found throughout the evening. The rest of the large plate was generously layered with deep red and ultra-thin ostrich carpaccio discs flecked with truffle (I think it was truffle oil). (Oh, there were some garden greens somewhere on the plate, but I can't really remember.) I had forgotten that the ostrich was truffled, so each bite bowled me over with an intense but ephemeral truffle essence. This must be what those truffle pigs feel like when hunting for those elusive fungi. The foie gras terrine seemed to fade to the background here, partially because of the intensity of the carpaccio. My palate could hardly detect the eel fillet's smokiness nor the eel itself, which was squeezed within the rich terrine.
Hot cream of asparagus soup, enticingly green and topped with white champagne foam, was next. It was creamy but not thick, just the way I like creamed soups. It came with a brie profiterole that sat precariously on the wide lip of the soup bowl. There was no other way to relieve my anxiety that it might fall into the soup except to pop it all at once in my mouth. This, too, had a flicker of truffle as the soft brie lusciously coated my mouth, the profiterole offering enough of a buffer to shield me from utter fat-shock.
Sauteed tiger prawns, tangled together as if in the throes of decapod love, were a welcome lighter fare. A carrot ginger mousseline lurking from beneath and a curry-apple froth brought out the sweetness of the prawns whose slight chewiness unfortunately kept the otherwise tantalizingly flavorful dish from becoming sublime.
 |  |
I made quick work of a small serving of passion fruit and watermelon sorbet. The yellow and red concoction, served in a small glass espresso cup, was just the right intermission before the big act: oven-roasted honey-glazed French duck breast. The duck was moist and tender, with an invitingly pink meat that yielded easily to my bite and a concentrated wine jus that made it stellar. By the time I finished the dish, which was accompanied by a delicious barley risotto and rather uninspired sauteed vegetables, my mind was nearing the equivalent of a food brain freeze. But like some brain freezes, this hurt so good.Surely the transcendent strawberry-caramel delight--a small square of an unbelievable caramel-ginger ice parfait, layered with phyllo millefuille, then layered with marinated strawberries, topped with another square of creme brulee--was just the thing to put me over the edge. I finished about half of it and was disappointed with myself for not being brave enough to wolf it all down. Coffee, a chocolate praline treat and a macaron rounded out the evening's delights.Staff members were attentive and accommodating, even allowing me to take pictures of the interior of the beautifully tall wine cellar and the immaculate kitchen. Through my dinner, however, I noticed several of them asking me how each dish was or how the progress of my dinner was--too many times for my taste. And near the end of my meal, as the restaurant started to get busier, the service seemed to fade; the dessert and coffee took a lot more time than the previous dishes. Despite these missteps, the service here is the best I've had so far in Manila.
The wine selection is impressive and extensive, with prices ranging from just under ₱1,000 for a Spanish red to stratospherically priced Bordeaux in the form of a Carruades de Lafite Pauillac. A few are offered by the glass and carafe, which I took advantage of: a glass of Cremant de Bourgogne and a carafe of Cotes du Rhone (about two glasses), both of which I picked myself, went with my dinner.
I've told many of my friends about this place already and can't wait to take them all here when they're in Manila. The restaurant provides the kind of blissful dining experience that only gets better when shared with others. The real stars here are the food and kitchen staff. There's a sharp precision in the cooks' technique that's quite startling. But this precision is always married with a soulful attention to the best ingredients and a mindfulness in the cooking, which translate to a delicious and memorable meal.
*******************************************************
Aubergine Restaurant & Patisserie
http://www.aubergine.ph/thecon.htm
*******************************************************
Update: Samuel Linder has since left, replaced by young German sous-chef Michael Schmidt. I visited once and the food was even more amazing. It may be time for a new review, the food was 80% new. Check it out if you're in the area.
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