29 Mar Hot Buns
Once upon a time, a spotlight shown on the db burger, whose “supersized” version (the Royale) was the most expensive in New York. Crafted with such decadent ingredients as foie gras, short ribs, and shaved truffles, the deluxe version sold for $99 (it is now $69). This blessed creation from Daniel Boulud was one of the most sublime comfort foods on the market, and when db bistro moderne first opened, I was delighted to know it was just 2 blocks from my office.
But the bun — oh, the bun. A wondrous creation of yeast and flour studded with toasted parmesan cheese and heady goodness.
I have a particular attachment to this masterful piece of baked dough, because I was in the kitchen at Daniel the day its final version was completed. But it pales in comparison to my deep feelings of lust for Daniel’s olive rolls.
I had decided to spend the day there because the restaurant was part of my program at L’Ecole des Chefs, and I was eager to see how a former hotel kitchen (the Mayfair) had been transformed into the heart of a culinary empire.
It is probably safe to say that it is the largest kitchen in existence for a haute cuisine restaurant: Two floors (the main kitchen has a “skybox” for Daniel to oversee his troops), a prep area bigger than my living space, a pastry prep and finishing kitchen, a chocolate room, and its own bread kitchen.
Mark Fiorentino, Daniel’s boulanger, is the master of the bread domain. His space, at first glance, is a tranquil respite from the cacophony of activity upstairs. He has the appearance of a scientist hard at work in the lab, crafting artisanal wonders with his hands. His corner appears to be a white-powdered paradise, and its vibe is reflected in his calm, warm personality. Such a spirit is necessary for the delicate crafting of bread.
As a self-admitted bread freak, I swooned at the sight of the steam-injected, stainless steel ovens, overwhelmed with desire to know what was baking.
You see, whenever dining at Daniel or its siblings, I await the bread basket with fervor. There is a texture and aroma to Mark’s olive rolls that sends me into a sensual reverie, with their crackly crusts and pungent flavor. I’ve never experienced such a powerful draw to a baked good.
Lo and behold, that’s what came out of the oven (!). Delighted with my good fortune, I was quick to grab one as a tray passed by, fresh from the hearth. Were it not for an extreme amount of self-discipline, I would have inhaled the whole tray.
I was supposed to return to Daniel for a day in the bread kitchen with Mark, but have not yet done so. I’m not sure my senses could take it. All those olive rolls…