29 October 2009

Better Living Through Chemistry: Molecular Gastronomy

More food fun with my houseguest C., this time at Bo Innovation. This place, also featured in No Reservations (at its previous location), was recently awarded two stars in Michelin's first-ever guide to Hong Kong. Quite an achievement for any chef; particularly so for this chef, Alvin Leung, because he is completely self-taught, and the restaurant is allegedly his side job (his day job is acoustic engineer). His "deconstructivist," über-trendy culinary style is heavily influenced by molecular gastronomy.

Molecular ... what? Yeah, I didn't get it either when I first heard about it. The trend seems to have started in Spain, with a chef named Ferran Adrià and his restaurant, El Bulli. I heard weird stories of desperate people hoping to book a table there so they could eat ... foam. And jelly, or capsules, and other textures that, for me, have never been labeled as food. But this is a little of what molecular gastronomy is about: applying science to food to come up with innovative ways to serve it. So the flavor of a vegetable, perhaps, is added to a dish in the form of foam, or the essence of a condiment is captured and served as a slab of jelly. Chef Leung has taken this concept and applied it to Chinese cuisine, no doubt infuriating purists along the way.

Perhaps it's best to show what I mean with photos of my favorites from the menu, and a description of the night in general. The restaurant itself is the typical, ultra-modern place that is so common in Hong Kong. But, I knew it was a Serious Restaurant because the waitstaff were dressed in chic black suits, and at the table next to us, a man was taking notes on everything he ate and had long conversations with the waiter about every dish, and the wine.

Your only menu choices (in the regular dining room, anyway; there's a Chef's Table as well) are the Chef's Menu or the lighter Tasting Menu. We decided to go for the entire 14-course Chef's Menu to sample everything we could. The waiter recommended a glass of Pinot Noir to go with the whole dinner, then we sat back and awaited developments.

First up: Mou-Tai Sour. The waiter explained that mou-tai is a very strong Chinese whiskey. Here it's presented as a foamed cocktail in a shot glass, prepared and served tableside.


Not a real "wow" opening here, in my opinion. It's a whiskey sour, that's all, turned into foam. Hard to believe they awarded Michelin stars for this. But it became much better, starting with the next course:

This is a tiny smoked quail egg, nested into crispy taro root, and topped with a bit of caviar and microscopic pieces of spring onion.
It's like a way more upscale version of the more usual caviar accompaniments of toast points, minced hard-boiled egg, and onion or chives. The waiter instructed us to just pick it up with fingers and have it in one go. (Actually, he gave us detailed instructions on how to eat every course, for which I was very thankful.)

This little amuse-gueule was simply delicious. A really interesting mix of flavors and textures: warm, creamy, smoky egg yolk with crunchy taro, plus the bright contrast of the caviar. Things were definitely starting look up.

Next: the oyster course.

One fresh oyster was accompanied by a spring onion and lime sauce, then this incredible "ginger snow" was sprinkled over. The "snow" was like a finely powdered ice, with an intense ginger flavor. The onion, ginger, and lime exploded against the briny taste of the oyster, and the cool temperature of the ice and the oyster was just the right background to these flavors. I had always experienced ginger in "warm" dishes, such as curry, so to find it used in a "cold" way was very interesting.

This following dish was called "Iberico 36," and consists of a meltingly-smooth piece of Iberico ham wrapped around a filling of morel mushrooms and vermicelli, topped with an onion foam. I couldn't taste much flavor in the foam so I didn't think it added much, but the ham and mushrooms nearly made me swoon.

This is perhaps the restaurant's signature dish: xiao long bao. In ordinary life, xiao long bao shows up as a steamed dim sum dumpling, often filled with pork. Here, it's prepared like this:

Again, you eat it all in one go. And then something extraordinary happens: the little yolk-like ball simply dissolves. My mouth was suddenly flooded with the pure flavor of a xiao long bao, in liquid form, complete with a dash of red wine vinegar -- the small red strip garnishing the top. The result was so unexpected, and yet also so delicious, that I started to giggle. It was just such a surprise. How did they do it? It was like a magic trick. There was no membrane or other encapsulation I could see.

Amuse-gueules over, now it's time for the main courses. Of the three on the menu, the standout was "Iberico Secreto":

A perfectly prepared fillet of pork, topped with a layer of tiny, jelly-like pellets with a sweet-and-sour flavor, plus another layer of lychee fruit jelly, and a garnish of dehydrated pineapple. (Oh yeah, and a bit of gold leaf.) In other words, it's sweet-and-sour pork -- the staple Chinese takeaway -- but given new textures and a more sophisticated form.

This next dish was my favorite. The waiter placed a lidded glass jar at our places, then told us to inhale once he lifted the lid with a flourish:

Smoke poured out of the jar, smoke that smelled intensely of sandalwood incense. Then I tasted the substance at the bottom, and it turned out to be toasted almond ice cream. I was startled to find out what a difference it made to the ice cream's flavor when I had my sinuses filled with the "flavor" of sandalwood. The tannins in the wine further intensified the flavors. This dish is a remarkable demonstration of how smells and tastes are so closely related, and how each influences the other.

Also playing on the theme of scents and flavors, here's what I took to be the palate-cleanser: something called a "jasmine kiss":

A small bowl filled with jasmine oil and flower buds was placed between us, then the waiter poured another liquid on top, something that looked very cold. The resulting cool "steam" was literally a breath of fresh air, a jasmine-scented cloud that enveloped our table and spilled over to our neighbor's, making everyone smile. This "dish" was as every bit as refreshing as the traditional lemon sorbet, and perhaps more so.

A selection of petits fours and coffee completed the meal. The best ones of the batch were the sesame balls. I've seen these before, filled with red bean paste, but these were filled instead with a rich chocolate ganache. It made for another pleasant surprise when I bit into it.

It's hard to picture myself, or anyone else, eating this kind of cuisine every day. Everyday food is comfort food, and it's comforting precisely because it consistently lives up to one's expectations about food, and what good food is. But I think the point -- and delight -- of Bo Innovation is the way the cuisine messes around with one's beliefs about food, toying with tastes and textures and challenging one's beliefs about what good food should be like. If this sounds like fun, then round up your most adventurous friends and head over to a molecular gastronomy restaurant near you.

Bo Innovation
Shop 13, 2/F, J Residence
60 Johnston Road
Wan Chai
(Entrance via private lift at 18 Ship Street)