Starting the deathwatch now.
A tomato and truffled burrata salad is equally confounding. Whole, uncut tomatoes sit in dashi gelée with plum slices, surrounding a mound of burrata that has the texture of a clay face mask. It’s all covered in some diesel-y shredded black truffles. An order of crispy fried chicken is anything but crispy, and has a distinct bready, black pepper-heavy flavor that recalls the hot food section at an Albertson’s.
The attitude toward much of the food seems to be, if you blanket everything with something that looks expensive, it will distract diners from noticing the taste. Truffles and gold leaf, therefore, abound. But the truffles don’t seem fresh, and are put on dishes where they don’t belong. The haphazard deployment of gold leaf is the kitchen’s way to try to put lipstick on a pig. It’s still a pig.