Sometimes I worry that if I don't jot down my thoughts on a delicious experience soon enough that I wont remember what it made it so great later. That I'll forget why I fell silent for a few seconds after taking a bite or what it was about a certain dish that left me craving it hours after determining I'm full beyond belief.
I thought that might be the case with Mistral Kitchen given I went weeks ago. Not so.
I can still feel the little kusshi and Chelsea Gem oysters coming off the shell and into my mouth. I can still see the beautiful bed of fennel that the Hamachi Crudo came on, despite the fact I was too distracted (by the scene, the open kitchen and/or maybe even the waiter?) to snap a picture. The acidity from the lemon squeezed over a simple arugula salad with cremini mushrooms and Pecorino is still prickling my tongue, and I'm still awing over the mixture of textures that came with a dish of perfectly seared scallops with black quinoa, creamy puree and halved grapes. And the perfectly cooked veal chop--the one with the truffle mushroom relish and potatoes that might as well have been whipped butter--well, that still has me salivating.
I'll be back for a seat at the bar, a go with the prix-fixe menu and perhaps even a special occasion at the chef's table.