João Wengorovius

Many dishes caught my eye on this new menu by Hans Neuner; the Marreco Prawn (Plesionika martia) with pumpkin, beurre noisette and curry, or the elegant, minimalist take on the ‘francesinha’ (with scarlet prawns, black truffles and chouriço), the precious barnacle tartlet, with green almonds and garlic confit, or the “Piri Piri Quail”, an haute cuisine interpretation of the ‘franguinho da guia’… but it was the Garfish, with caviar (subtly placed beneath the fish), horseradish and kohlrabi that completely won me over (pic 4.) Less

Recollections from four incredible days with chefs Pia, João and Hans in the lead-up to the first dinner of season 3 of Residências João Rodrigues.
Another rich and insightful immersion in a region of Portugal – this time, the Algarve – as seen and interpreted by guest chef Pia Leon from Peru, the local perspective of Hans Neuer, the host chef at his restaurant Ocean, and João Rodrigues. Less

@restaurantgresca
What a joy of a meal.
The pan con tomate, the anchovy, the marinated mackerel, the glass Grenache Blanc and Gris with the curious name of Babel L’étranger, a tribute to the essential dialogue between grape varieties and soils, which coexist in the same space.
Then came, the unexpected profiterole with anchovy, stracchino cheese and roasted red pepper, the reassuringly good tomato salad, the pilpil cod, the pan-roasted veal sweetbreads, another glass of a light, natural red wine, the grilled quail and caramelized torreja with vanilla ice cream with a Moscatel from Malaga to finish.
Product, flavour, rhythm, pace, unfussiness, friendliness, pleasure.
Gracias.

#rafapeña
#restaurantgresca Less

There are restaurants where, for reasons that aren’t always easy to explain, you get the feeling that something isn’t quite right. You sense a certain tension in the air, moments of uncertainty in the service, rehearsed smiles, dishes with overly contrived creativity, and staff who don’t seem very happy.
Then there are others where everything simply seems to flow, where the drinks, the dishes and the conversations slot together in a natural succession, like scattered pieces coming together in this complex jigsaw that is the art of hospitality.
And perhaps that is why starters such as the shrimp vol-au-vent with garlic sauce and tosazu strike us as superb. And the octagonal plates on which they are presented look beautiful.
And a dish such as ‘Iberian ham, roasted melon consommé and lardo’, in which the ham is a jelly made from its own consommé, cut into noodle-like strands, served with lardo and crispy pieces of chicharrón in a cold broth seasoned with rice vinegar and basil, takes us by surprise.
And there’s a real pleasure in discovering more about Spanish wines, such as that Chupadero Listán Blanco from Lanzarote. And time to delve into the richness of traditional surf and turf dishes, such as ‘Pintada amb gambes’, which Fran Agudo reinterprets and perfects in his commitment to ‘haute cuisine at the bar’. And there’s pure joy in spreading the smoked tuna belly with pine nut emulsion over a slice of toasted bread.
And there’s room to finish with the dessert of coffee, mucilage and umeboshi. And to reflect on what Iván Castro told us when I asked him about the team: “I look for good people; it doesn’t just matter that they’re very good at this or that, I want good people”.
Fran Agudo was a regular at this bar. When Tickets closed, Iván challenged him to come here. In a few years, they earned two Michelin stars. Both thought first about ‘who’, then ‘what’.
It’s always the people (who, as I understand it, all have three days off a week here) who make the difference.
And with the right people, you can go anywhere. Less

Ten years have passed.
São Lourenço do Barrocal. An independent hotel project, the creation of something new and special, built upon what is already there, what has always been there: family, land, agriculture, livestock, olive oil, wine, the local community.
And then, there’s Souto de Moura’s architecture (Pritzker 2011), adapting the buildings that had stood there for 200 years - stables, wine presses, workshops, barns, ovens and workers’ cottages - to new functions and uses, the interior design by the Anahory Almeida studio, Susana Estebán’s wines, the impeccable and understated good taste throughout, the ingredients from the kitchen garden overseen by Xico Zé, the cooking that transforms them with skill, and Alentejo hospitality at its very best.
A bold idea, in a place ‘in the middle of nowhere’, far from the most hyped tourist destinations. Far from the bling and the showiness. Close to what really matters.
Congratulations. Less

I will remember you every time I see 3 ingredients on a plate.
I will remember you every time I taste the flavor of a vegetable, clear and pure.
I will remember you every time I make a drawing, because it was there at Septime that I started drawing, keeping in my notebooks everything that was on the plate, and gradually, too, what lay beyond it. The wooden tables, the spiral staircase, the tiny kitchen, the flower arrangements, the glass walls that separated us from the bar, the blue windows and doors that looked out onto Rue de Charonne.
I will remember you every time I go to Paris, because going to Paris always meant paying you a visit.
I will remember you every time I recognize beauty and simplicity on someone’s table, because sparking an aesthetic and creative emotion through cooking was a gift of yours that always disarmed me.
I will remember you.
Thank you for everything, Bertrand. Less

In that enchanted garden where a girl from far away landed one day, many years ago, visitors were welcomed with very thin grissini, dusted with bee pollen and elderflower. And with fluffy focaccias weighing no more than 25 grams.
At the entrance, there was an impatient prince with three magical oranges that held princesses inside, and a chubby cat in shades of gold, brown and white who slept happily in front of the kitchen. From which came overlapping petals of green asparagus, caviar and lemon gel, with a creamy, indulgent sauce of sour milk and charred lemon. Just nearby, another cat, of gigantic proportions, frightened every child who misbehaved.
There was fire and embers and green ovens. And braids of ponytails made by a mischievous supernatural being, small and furry, who delighted in causing chaos wherever it passed. And a clear capon stock with stones, which turned out to be bread. And always, from beginning to end, many herbs from that magical garden: dill, sorrel, lovage, thyme, oregano, verbena, rue…
There was a humble shepherd who, with cunning, bent the arrogance of the powerful lord. And the sweetness of the lamb and the tang of the mustard. And the creaminess of the sweetbread and the saltiness of the capers. And a purifying liqueur, bitter and fresh, of cucumber, ginger, lime and tonic water, that invigorated us on that hot late-May afternoon.
And cones resembling the nose of a wooden boy. And a marvellous spaghetti with clam cream. And tiny drops of kumquat garum, mandarin vinegar and orange zest oil, to season our spirits.
There was a green ‘tigella’ concealing a cod brandade. And a superb orange wine from Sardinia that reminded us “Al Sol Brilla”. And the feeling of having seen a woman dressed in white wandering in the distance. And the fennel flavour of thin slices of “finocchiona” melting in the mouth.
There was the rice pudding of our childhood, at least mine. But this was creamy like a risotto, with a hint of vanilla and an unexpected green undertone of tarragon with notes of aniseed.
And the chubby cat, who had woken up in the meantime, leapt into the girl’s arms. She smiled and stroked him.
And all of this was imagined, or perhaps not. Less

There is something of John Coltrane’s “It’s Easy to Remember” about the menu at Hiša Franko.
Something that gives the impression that everything flows effortlessly - that the menu unfolds, note after note, dish after dish - welcoming us, inviting us to let go, carried along by that melody.
The seduction begins with the extraordinary freshness of the plants that define the opening courses.
Biting into the bouquet of “Garden leaves,” tasting the contrast between the bitterness of raw radicchio leaf, the earthy depth of truffle, and the sweetness of egg yolk; picking up, with your hands, the kohlrabi and wild plants “taco,” feeling the pungency of horseradish.
There is something that imprints itself immediately. And lingers.
In the way the sommelier, in her uniform adorned with drawn flowers and plants, casually bends down to table level whenever she comes to explain the why behind the wine that follows.
In the pleasure of encountering again some of the house classics—the “Corn beignet” or “Potato and hay.” Or the indispensable “Trout the Queen.”
In the sweetness and acidity of the “Spring Harvest” salad. It is possible to shine with a salad.
In the tagliolini with (a lot of) saffron—delicious, with just the right amount of spiciness—followed by the “Cappelletti, saporito delle valli and tonka.”
There is something that flows with meaning. Naturally, without fanfare, without pretension. A mellow tone that binds the dishes together, without obscuring the identity of each one.
There is something that is hard to forget. Less

There were truffles and caviar—staples of haute cuisine, supposedly meant to assure guests that no compromises were made in selecting the finest ingredients. But what I really enjoyed was the squash.
It was filled with tiny pork cracklings and pickled quince, and topped with thinly sliced almonds (raw?) - a perfect example of the thread of acidity that runs through most of the menu. And of the technical rigor and time that David Žefran puts into each dish.
“I’m very technical. Even though I’m self-taught”, he tells me.
“Everybody can just put a leaf on a plate and put a sauce and that’s it. And for me...it devalues it. I take pride in honing my craft. It’s really a simple dish, but all of those elements have five different ingredients that build complexity.”
David has an unusual background: no culinary school training, no more than five years’ experience in other restaurants—two of those in a burger house—and a brief two-month stint at Frantzén in Stockholm.
And yet, his restaurant in northern Slovenia got its first star a few months after opening in 2022, and a second one the following year.
“It was learning a lot about flavour combinations, learning about techniques, spices, things like that, broadening the knowledge about different cuisines, how to do this sauce, how to do that sauce, just trial and error, trial and error. But what I think that I have is that I know flavours.”
I tend to agree as I taste the pork head with crayfish and pickles in the tiny kitchen populated by several young chefs.
“How do you see yourself as a mentor?”, I ask.
“I like to tailor my approach to different people. I want to be kind with a person that needs that kindness and tough with a person that needs that toughness. And that means adjusting yourself quite a lot on a daily basis”.
Interesting approach, I thought to myself. But it must be a challenge.
“Leadership is actually a hard thing. To do it right, it’s really hard. Because you need to have yourself under control, like, in those moments, you know how it is, especially if you are a bit of a control freak, a bit of a perfectionist, and passionate.”
Indeed. But it seems to be working. Less