Restaurants

Seventh Heaven

The Chef's Tasting Menu at Lola is a religious experience all its own.

By Elaine T. Cicora 

It's a flawed and blemished world we're living in: a world where water mains blow up, cars break down, and spouses turn into strangers overnight. Amid the daily chaos and commotion, the disappointments and disasters, what could be more comforting than a few hours spent in a cozy realm where absolute perfection reigns as the natural order?

"Ah, yes," you say, "but where can such happiness be found?" Why, as Dorothy from Kansas discovered more than a half-century ago, it's right in your own back yard -- you lucky Clevelander, you -- at the comfortably exotic Lola.

Chef-owner Michael Symon, an irrepressibly boyish charmer whose rugged good looks belie his extraordinarily tender touch, is gaining recognition daily as one of a handful of national culinary superstars. A friend and spiritual confrere of the country's reputed top chef, The French Laundry's Thomas Keller, locally born and bred Symon is becoming something of a regular on the Food Network, and his work has caught the eye of reviewers for such publications as Bon Appetit, The Wine Spectator, Food and Wine Magazine, and The New York Times.

As with any fine art, it's hard to distill into words exactly what makes Symon's cooking so remarkable. After all, top-shelf ingredients and skillful preparation are no longer rare in area restaurants. To these essentials, however, Symon adds an uncommon capacity to develop unusual but perfectly compatible flavor and textural combos -- say, crispy sea bass on a bed of artichokes and cardoons, kissed with truffle butter -- that bathe the senses in small explosions of aroma and flavor. This is, indeed, food so good, so surprising, yet so right, that a thoughtful diner must simply shut his or her eyes and let the sensation of each mouthful wash across the palate like a small orgasm.

Symon's menu changes frequently, although certain standards, like Coriander-Crusted Tuna and Slash-and-Burn Grouper, reappear regularly, the result of popular demand. And while the menu selections hardly shortchange his skills, what, we wondered, could Symon do if released from its constraints?

To find out, and to enjoy his work at its most liberated, we opted to have Symon create a Chef's Tasting Menu for our party of four -- a dining alternative available to any party that has made arrangements in advance. In secret negotiations with Symon's partner and wife, Liz, we decided upon a $60 per person price tag for the evening's feast (less expensive options were also available) and gave him free rein to wow us with any creations he cared to devise. Our reservations were confirmed under a fictitious name, and Liz -- an enthusiastic partner in our little deception -- swore to keep our identity a secret.

Like Symon's food, the dimly lit restaurant is an exciting swirl of classic and modern elements. Its three cozy dining areas include a handful of prime tables on a raised platform with a direct view into Symon's open kitchen, a few tall tables near the bustling candlelit bar, and another cluster of seats in a narrow space defined by a roughly plastered wall the color of hot paprika. All tables are topped with candles and white linens, while soft overhead lighting comes from distinctive lamps shaded with long stretches of what appears to be lacquered cheesecloth.

Our dinner began with white Asian-style bowls filled with piquant Egg-Drop Soup: a pale lemony broth based on lobster stock, with a chiffonade of spinach and bits of pickled onion. At first sip, the soup was almost shockingly sour, but within moments the silken richness of the egg yolks rolled across our excited taste buds and made us yearn for the next spoonful. Adding a dollop of luxe were the three breaded and fried oysters that garnished the soup: crisp, succulent, and a perfect complement to the light, sweet-and-sour broth.

Next up was a savory "napoleon": layers of finely cubed red beets and apples, and crumbles of blue cheese, divided by thin "crackers" of baked pasta that had been brushed with essences of apple and blue cheese. The diminutive faux pastry, with its mouthwatering combination of salty-sweet flavors, was topped with a jumble of peppery organic beet greens and drizzled with both a heady infused chive oil and a flavorful beet vinaigrette that echoed the flavors of the main ingredients and had us surreptitiously running our fingertips across the plate to capture every last drop.

Part of the excitement of a tasting menu is not knowing what is coming next, and this evening's meal was no exception. Flavors and textures, so far intense but playful, began to build with the next course: a potato-and-lobster pierogi on a bed of buttery caramelized onions. The tubby little pierogi had been gently sautéed so that it was crisp and savory in some spots, and buttery and tender in others. A perfectly prepared, whole, shelled lobster claw -- a meltingly delicious garnish that helped intensify the flavor of the filling -- beautifully complemented it. The entire dish was set off by three fat drops of chive-oil-infused cr&eagrave;me frâiche and came to the table on a black, rectangular Asian-inspired plate.

The momentum continued to build with the next course: the small, incredibly delectable rectangle of Crispy Sea Bass, topped with a tangle of pea sprouts and served on a large, yellow, triangular platter. While the moist interior of the fish was perfect, it was the ephemerally crisp, tissue-paper-thin pan-seared skin -- simply seasoned with salt and pepper -- that reduced my usually talkative party to a reverential silence. Of course, such a stunning piece of flesh requires an equally riveting accompaniment, and here it was found in the underpinning of lush chopped artichoke hearts and bottoms, and cardoons (a celery-like vegetable closely related to the globe artichoke) panned with a whisper of earthy truffle butter.

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