Amass

There some tidbit I heard that goes: you only remember your first and your last bites of a meal. In-between, the action of eating is so automatic that the brain barely registers chewing, much less storing the mouthful in long term memory, like a cortex chipmunk, cheeks stuffed of neurons and demi-glaze. Thus the only time you form memories for food are when it first touches your tongue and the last lingering taste before another swish of wine.

I can imagine this to be true on most meals, it rings true enough in my own life that I'd trust my anecdotal experience.

But when the dining experience is so worthwhile, so finely tuned, I must force my brain to remember it. At Amass, it was easy to be consistently present, to be fully engaged in the courses that were presented to me. Every plate was intentional. Each bite was transformative. Balance, expression, purpose, all of the ten courses were chapters of a riveting storybook.

Matt and his staff are telling an epic of seasonality and sustainability that it gets more impressive the closer you examine each element. From the outdoor garden, feed by the compost scraps of the kitchen, to the research center that finds industrial ways to reuse/reduce food waste, to the rotating artists that decorate the walls. Every bit of detail is meticulous, crafted to be nurturing towards the earth and the future of humanity.

The crew is more than happy to explain what you're eating, and often light up with an unfettered, authentic enthusiasm about the particular method of wine maturing or where the ingredients were sourced or what techniques were used to create the food.

There aren't many artistic expressions that inspire me long after engaging with them. An experiences might be totally enthralling in the moment but taking it home, reminiscing about it in the subway, having it change my regular habits, those are the hallmarks of an exemplary experience. Paintings that inspire you to return to a sketch pad. Photos that mark new bucket list locations. Music that elicits dance moves, whenever and wherever the song comes up on shuffle. Sentences that become mantras, guideposts for a life you wish to live. This is the tier of artistry that Amass exemplifies.

When I returned from Amass and Copenhagen, I bought fennel in the market which I roasted, grilled, sauteed. Mom, God bless her heart, shared her yield of tomatoes, which I ate with fresh and raw topped with chopped long beans and herbs or with seasonal strawberries in oil and salt. I found shishito peppers and shiso leaves, rekindling romance with fond flavors. I was more inspired by the sunflower and its entirely edible nature, greeting the radiant florescence with new respect. I was reminded of my love of marigolds, cheerful flowers I would grow in elementary school, bought from the school fair in individual plastic containers and planted outdoors in the backyard.

In some ways I was making desperate attempts to recreate anything that I had been blessed with at that table. Something that would retrigger the memories formed at dinner. I was also trying to explore new flavor combinations, shop locally and more seasonally. Eat food that not only fulfilled my nutritional requirements but brought me joy and excitement. Feelings that, for me, had always been associated with mealtime but were now reignited with passion.

Amass is a showcase of mastery, of exceptionalism, but they are also telling such a strong story of sustainability, woven into its core, that it inspires. I am more thoughtful of my choices, from choosing less meat to ordering less take out.

I probably can't turn fishbones into noodles at home but I might find something fun to do with the onion skins or at least push my building for a compost bin.

Wifey and Wine

Course began with a cold, light glass of champagne from old French techniques. “Come quickly, I am tasting the stars” might even be over played at this point, but it is a lovely sentiment and a reason I dearly love champagne. It’s always delightful.

I’m not much a wine person, I don’t know a lot about its growing seasons, processing methods, regional differences, etc. However, Amass was welcoming, the staff were very knowledgeable and being treated by their careful hands, you could taste the differences in the wines, they were great accompaniments to the plates, and I could really enjoy all the flavors.

The fermented potato bread with smoked shishito pepper butter is our first plate, it’s a soft and chewy delight, the tang from the yeast is pleasantly comforting with small chucks of tuber. The green whipped butter isn’t necessarily spicy, but warm and delicate. We mop up the spread with glee.

They also serve a shrimp cracker made from reconstituted vegetable scraps that were delightful. Unmistakable for anything other than a prawn cracker, yet made from an entirely absurd method, it was recycling and chemistry that you could eat.

The first real course was a tempeh and sunflower seed chew. It sat on top of a shishito puree and a shiso leaf with fennel blossoms and a single bail leaf on top. The roasted seeds added texture and caramel tones to the tempeh which was roasted itself. The flavors were discordant, things I had never experienced together, the shiso and shishito on basil and fennel.

Next came one of my favorite bites, the tomato bowl. In in bowl, nestled in straw from the garden, were three different tomato varieties, including a dehydrated, rehydrated tomato raisin, fresh summer strawberries, and basil leaves. At the bottom a fantastic scallop and tomato dressing, that was light and simple but savory and flavorful, panning from tomato to shellfish perfectly. The tomato raisins had intense flavor and texture. The strawberries were sweet nuggets. The tomatoes were perfectly ripe. The umami of the scallops played perfectly with the tomato reduction. The whole dish had this level of restraint, the complexity was nuanced. Yet it also felt like a simple summer harvest in a bowl, just enjoying the bounty of late summer nature.

At the mid-point, a raw mackerel resting on a shiso leaf and sautéed chanterelle mushrooms in an herb oil. The skin was blistered which reminded me of how some sushi and sashimi I’ve had would torch the top to release and intensive the oils in the fish and add a charred flavor. The flesh was raw, the oily mackerel paired nicely with the oil made from a collection of herbs in the garden. The chanterelles bite paired well with the raw fish fleshy texture.

The next dish was thin sheets of dehydrated beetroot over a walnut and lobster mousse. This dish was beet centered, with the earthy and sweet beets being the most prominent taste. The dehydration process had turned the vegetable to something similar to fruit leather. The chew and the prominent sensation meant that it was the first and last impression of each bite. The mousse was too delicate to stand up, and was mostly forgotten, both from texture and taste.

The fish bones noodles are a highlight of food at Amass and for good reason. The dish’s base was a scallop and fish stock that was deeply delicious. The rich broth was warming, deeply satisfying. The noodles had an unbelievable texture, not just a bite, but a bounce. Made with ground fish bones, chili paste, and flour, the spice being a part of the noodles was unique, something I had never tasted before. It shone through, giving the pasta another level of flavor I had never imagined possible. Can I even call it pasta?

For dish eight we were treated to a roasted hake on top of an herb puree. The fish was flakey and perfectly cooked. It melded well with the herb paste.

Pre-dessert was a marigold custard with wild blueberries, bee pollen, and lavender honey that was light but luxurious. The layers worked really well with each other, and it’s was innocent, sweet, and floral, nicely encapsulating the summer.

One of the final courses was a black currant leaf ice cream, topped with marigold leaves, barley crunch, and fennel flowers. The ice cream was similar to matcha, with a hint of bitter to balance the sweet. The crunch gave good texture and reminded me of the sour dough bread ice cream bar that Amass’s science and research division had recently created.

Finally, they brought out a not chocolate chip cookie. Made with barely and wheat, it’s gluten free. Its soft consistency recalls the Chips Ahoy! soft cookies, but its mild sweetness is much more pleasant. I prefer my cookies with chewy. It’s delectable, something I could eat a sleeve of with a tall glass of whole milk for dipping. It’s also just amazing that it doesn’t contain any chocolate at all, because your palate unmistakably tastes a chocolate chip cookie.  

The staff were amazing. The open kitchen displayed their precision and dedication. Those cooking would also serve food to the guests, reducing even further the distance between consumer and creator. Matt was extremely gracious, conversing with all the guests before he left the restaurant.

Sometimes, art becomes so contrived it is unapproachable. We’ve all gone to a gallery that left us more confounded than awestruck. Amass, for me struck both. At a technical level, the food was so astonishingly engineered that it was near science-fiction. Except you could experience it with your senses. And all of it under this theme of sustainability that was simple and intricate in the same mouthful.

It was a rewarding dinner, a huge pleasure to be engaged in the meal and to meet some of the team behind Amass. I look forward to going again and continuing to be amazed by the work they do.