It’s really just a case of simple math.
10 spots.
For a 10-course tasting menu.
Divided by only one seating per night.
To the power of cocoa-butter-poached lobster.
Equals the kind of night we can get behind.
Put down your #2 pencil and enter Compose, a new restaurant in existence for one purpose only: to usher you through a different omakase multicourse culinary journey every night of the week, starting this Friday.
Once you’ve secured your golden ticket, given chef Nick Curtin a heads-up on your dietary preferences (you’re into waffles for dinner this month) and pocketed your favorite semi-illegal wet-naps, the only thing standing between you and your rightful spot at the coveted U-shaped marble bar is a pair of 100-year-old etched doors. Thankfully, they open just like brand-new doors.
Now, it’s important that you don’t get too comfortable, because over the next two-and-a-half hours, your services will be called on from time to time. You may find yourself selecting wines from an in-house iPad. Or entering into deep discussion with your bartender, as you two create a personal “dialogue-based” cocktail while he hand-shaves your ice (and hand-makes your tiny umbrella, should the libation take a turn for the tropical).
And as you watch your foie gras, jamón ibérico steak and aforementioned cocoa-butter-poached lobster make the short trip from the open kitchen to your counter place setting, you’ll inevitably be left with one persistent thought.
Poor, poor number 11.
10 spots.
For a 10-course tasting menu.
Divided by only one seating per night.
To the power of cocoa-butter-poached lobster.
Equals the kind of night we can get behind.
Put down your #2 pencil and enter Compose, a new restaurant in existence for one purpose only: to usher you through a different omakase multicourse culinary journey every night of the week, starting this Friday.
Once you’ve secured your golden ticket, given chef Nick Curtin a heads-up on your dietary preferences (you’re into waffles for dinner this month) and pocketed your favorite semi-illegal wet-naps, the only thing standing between you and your rightful spot at the coveted U-shaped marble bar is a pair of 100-year-old etched doors. Thankfully, they open just like brand-new doors.
Now, it’s important that you don’t get too comfortable, because over the next two-and-a-half hours, your services will be called on from time to time. You may find yourself selecting wines from an in-house iPad. Or entering into deep discussion with your bartender, as you two create a personal “dialogue-based” cocktail while he hand-shaves your ice (and hand-makes your tiny umbrella, should the libation take a turn for the tropical).
And as you watch your foie gras, jamón ibérico steak and aforementioned cocoa-butter-poached lobster make the short trip from the open kitchen to your counter place setting, you’ll inevitably be left with one persistent thought.
Poor, poor number 11.
