Good things come in small packages
AMUSE BOUCHE | More Chicago chefs are surprising diners with a little bit of love at first bite
It appears on the table almost seconds after you place your order and hand your menus back to the server. It's a bit of preserved baby artichoke with blood orange at Tru. Perhaps a deviled egg at Table 52, or a nibble of hamachi sashimi with yuzu vinaigrette and black Hawaiian salt at Sola.
Wait a minute. You didn't order this.
(Scott Stewart/Sun-Times)
The amuse bouche has traveled across the Atlantic from France and become a fixture in Chicago's finest restaurants, and many more casual places as well. Food prices might be soaring, but chefs continue putting together these elegant little bites to pique guests' palates and set the tone for the meal. Chefs use the amuse to impress, experiment, reward or just make good use out of a few tasty morsels left in the fridge.
Amuse bouche literally means "to amuse your mouth." The amuse is the chef's whispered preview to the diner; you don't order it and it doesn't show up on your bill.
Chef Aaron Browning of Beverly's Koda Bistro gives a more practical translation.
"It's something to whet your appetite, to get your juices flowing," he explained.
Browning sends out an amuse on special evenings like New Year's Eve or Valentine's Day and the odd evening when he has extra ingredients or feels inspired. He has surprised tables with marinated white anchovies and red roasted pepper on crostini, a taste of duck rillette or a diminutive portion of soup in an espresso cup.
When Browning sends out amuses he makes sure the customer isn't confused. He usually comes out to the table and "straightaway explains what it is."
In the tight world of restaurant margins, the amuse doesn't necessarily cost a ton, Browning said. "You have to be creative with what you've got."
Leftover duck confit or four ounces of smoked salmon too small to turn into an appetizer may surface in a complimentary tasting portion that night at dinner.
"It's something special," he said. "I guarantee there isn't another restaurant for miles that does an amuse bouche."
Browning said he fell in love with the amuse bouche concept during his previous stint at the four-star Everest downtown. Diners at Everest regularly receive no less than three amuse bouches, usually presented in small white spoons on an oblong plate.
Bastions of fine dining like Tru, Alinea or Charlie Trotter's serve an amuse as a matter of course; it's a nicety designed to prepare guests' palates for a memorable meal.
"It has become something that in fine dining is absolutely expected," said Christopher Koetke, dean of the School of Culinary Arts of Kendall College. However, the amuse pops up in all sorts of restaurants, even if servers don't use that precise term. Koetke frequents the Lalo's Mexican restaurant in Oak Park and is always pleasantly surprised by the small offering of house-made chicken soup that greets diners in all Lalo's locations at the start of a meal.
While the term amuse bouche and its more casual synonym, the amuse geule, clearly came from France, Koetke said the exact origins are unclear.
"Amuse as we know it is a recent invention," he said. And yet, "there has always been this idea of having a little something small before you get into eating."
The amuse, in his opinion, springs from a restaurant's sense of hospitality. A chef wants diners to feel welcome and appreciated, rather than simply part of a food-for-payment business transaction.
Appreciation is at the heart of chef Paul Virant's philosophy on the amuse bouche. At Virant's restaurant Vie, in Western Springs, he estimates one-third of his diners receive a little something special when they sit down. It may be a bit of house-cured duck speck with caramel apple jam and pickled onions, or something more delicate, like shavings of marinated porcini mushrooms with a Sardinian sheep's milk cheese and olive oil.
These minuscule treats generally go to patrons who are regular diners, or perhaps someone celebrating a special occasion. Virant leaves it to his servers' discretion.
The policy, he said, is a business decision. "I don't want anybody to feel they are not as special as the next individual but the bottom line is your repeats are what keep you going."
Virant's amuse creations generally marry two flavors or textures and focus on vegetables and seafood, which he believes "have a little more refinement."
Like other chefs, he uses the amuse as a test vehicle. Some fried Brunkow cheese curds that won raves as pre-dinner treat may soon make a formal appearance on the menu as an appetizer. If an early arrival of squash blossoms catches Virant's eye at Green City Market he will surprise diners with fried blossoms until he can craft a seasonal dish for his menu.
An amuse also can be a chance for a chef to get especially creative, showing off a creation diners may be hesitant to order for themselves. Vie's bar manager Mike Page said customers "really dig on" brandade beignets-fried salt cod pastries.
"You hope everyone tries it," Virant said. "It's about educating."
While the typical amuse bouche is something small, seasonal and elaborate, chefs aren't afraid to bend these rules to suit their restaurant's style. At Prosecco in River North, chef-owner Mark Sparacino's amuse comes in liquid form -- each diner is served an ounce and a half pour of the restaurant's namesake sparkling wine.
It may not contain intricate layers balanced on a tiny spoon, but Sparacino says his amuse "Does cleanse your palate a little bit and get your appetite started."
For such a tiny offering, the amuse demands great logistics from a restaurant's kitchen and staff. Mary Mastricola, chef-owner of Hyde Park veteran La Petite Folie limits her amuses to special events but dreams of working them into her restaurant's regular operation.
"Part of the reason it's the realm of the really high-end restaurants is the labor it takes to put something like that together," she said. "It depends on how much time you have, how much staff and how much china you have."
For home chefs throwing a dinner party, the prospect of whipping up, say, a frog leg terrine with sherry vinaigrette can be a bit daunting. Nonetheless, omnipresent Chicago chef Rick Tramonto is so enamored with amuses that he authored a 2002 cookbook consisting solely of amuse recipes.
At Kendall College, Koetke said his students learn amuses should be seasonal and "it should really pop. And of course it should be beautiful."
That being said, the amuse bouche seems immune to the trends and preferences that shape a restaurant's regular menu.
In Chicago, "we have so many unbelievably talented chefs who are so creative and individualistic," Koetke said. "In amuses they do everything from solid to liquid and back again."
Allecia Vermillion is a local free-lance writer.