On Mio

Every once in a while, you have a meal that you know, from the moment you walk in to the restaurant, you will remember. My husband and I have had a few of those meals in our lifetime, and we always recall them in quiet moments together. "Mmmmm...," one of us will say. "Remember those oysters/that lamb/that pork belly/those kidneys/that steak." And the other will respond with a emphatic, "Oh, yes," continuing to rave about the brine, the tenderness, the flavor, the surprise or the sear. We do this for meals we make together, John predominately recalling baked goods I've made. He'll put his hand on his stomach, look at me with great love and say, "Remember that king cake? Mmmmmm... King cake." Unfortunately, King Cake comes but once a year, and that's not until tomorrow.

The day before Thanksgiving, Friday the thirteenth, we had such a meal. We went to Mio, a cozy spot very near to us where we've been before. Our first trip to Mio was set up as a suprise to me, because on their bar menu, they have an upscale version of chips, cheese, and gravy. He had me dress up on a random weekday, and walked me the short walk to the restaurant. Outside, he pointed to the menu, and I did a happy sort of squeal. The dish was fantastic - lovely portions and flavors, with homemade cheese curds, very light gravy, and fresh fries. We, as we so often do, talked ourselves into staying that night, and had a housemade charcuterie plate, some delicious seared calamari stuffed with potatoes and salami, and some samples of the meatball dinner being served in the loft portion of the restaurant. I was the first to sample a wine they had just received, a grenache, called Bitch, appropriately, and we had a lovely rapport with the bartender and the owner, Manuel, who spoke to us at length while we ate.

Our second trip, we took it easy, just ordering the sweetbreads and a plate of chicken liver pate and pork rillet. We loved everything about the place - the philosophy of it, the decor, the friendly staff - and we knew that if we had the money, we'd have a standing reservation there. So, we decided to save up our Mio desire, and have a blowout for Valentine's day, a holiday we usually barely celebrate, maybe some wine, gifts we pick up around the house, a reminder to be romantic. Once there on Friday night, we embarked on yet another of those meals, both choosing the tasting menu.

We love tasting menus. While we like a good prix fixe menu, we both love the idea of handing your meal over to the person in the position to know what is best in the kitchen that day - the chef. We rarely have the opportunity to partake of a tasting menu, due to budget constraints, but there was little question of whether we would order the menu that night.

The amuse-bouche came out first, just after our bottle of El Primavera tempranillo was opened. Tempranillo is one of my favorite wines, as it can be so easy that it complements a wide ranging meal, as this one, or so heavily taste of tobacco that it can only truly be enjoyed with a good cigar in fresh air.

The amuse-bouche was an oyster, topped with California caviar and a bit of onion relish, seated on just the right amount of brine. A small, bright little mouthful, a sensuous start, a reminder of the erotic elements of food before the full on feast began.

And a feast it was - the first course was creamy house made mozzarella, topped with crispy bacon and chunks of braised chestnuts atop a chestnut puree. Sweet and rich and salty, with the chestnuts and the nutty mozzarella bringing out each others high notes, this I could have relished many times over. It was followed far too quickly by a radical change in pace: egg ravioli over blood sausage. The change in pace was a little thrilling - here was a chef obviously interested in pushing a willing palate, but it was also a less of a jump than it seemed. I'm certain that the blood sausage was house made, as most sausages and charcuterie are at Mio - they do most of their own butchering, and the egg ravioli was such a display of skill (I'm still bending my head around how it must have been accomplished - I supposed a good sturdy ravioli could have an egg gently cracked into it, be sealed, and then poached. But the timing was spectacular - the yolk was perfectly runny). Also, the dish showed a great understanding of balance. Just as the chestnuts and the mozzarella had melded together, the yolk running from the ravioli, despite what one would think, tempered the richness and saltiness of the blood sausage. It was not a dish I would have ordered from a menu before, but it would be in the top choices now.

Following that came, again too quickly, a dish I would never have ordered. I find white chocolate cloying and too sweet, so when the bowl full of white chocolate risotto topped with crisp sweetbreads came out, I initially balked. One bite, though, and I was a believer - rather than sweet, the risotto tasted almost cheddary, and the exterior of the sweetbreads gave way to a creaminess that matched the risotto. Only problem: the dishes had been coming out one after another, and there was nearly a full serving (real serving, not restaurant serving) of risotto. We were perilously close to full with 3 courses left. We asked the server to slow it down a tad, and the kitchen responded beautifully.

(This is a bit long, I'll save the rest for tomorrow - I'm making myself hungry!)