João Wengorovius

Tell me what it was like to eat at Quintonil?
Did you start with the chileatole de huitacloche? This corn fungus, grey in colour and earthy in flavour, with chillies and Mexican herbs? And have you tried the grilled pickled mussels tostada, with mole de mar? What a good idea. How did it taste? I want to know everything.
What did you think of the dish with very thin slices of butternut, bright yellow in colour, with a certain acidity and spiciness that contrasted with the creaminess and sweetness of the horchata rice? It must be wonderful.
And the tuna with aguachile de brassicas? And the spider crab with blue corn tostadas? And the pibil duck tamal with young corn cream?
Oh, the food of Mexico! And Jorge Vallejo sure knows how to make us love it!
And what about all the insects?
The Chapulín (corn locust), the Jumil (shield bugs), the Cocopache (a type of cockroach) and the Chicatana ant? And the escamoles (ant larvae)? A feast, no?
Tell me about it! Is it really good?
And afterwards? Did you have the arroz a la tombada with sea urchin, lobster and chilhuacle rojo, those medium-hot chillies with a delicate, smoky flavour from Oaxaca? Lucky you!
And isn’t the mole chichilo negro mind-blowing? With perfectly cooked rib eye and a quenelle of pico de gallo.
Don’t tell me you finished with the cactus paddle sorbet, tangy and sweet!
I’m told that it’s hard not to be taken in by this country and this culture, so fertile, so rich and so welcoming, after eating at Quintonil.
Tell me all about it, is it really like that? I want to know.
Well... words fail me, you just have to go and see for yourself.
I definitely want to return. Less

Several pots of maize, soaked overnight in water and cal (calcium hydroxide or limestone), are scattered across the floor of Maizajo’s kitchen.
Santiago Muñoz’s beautiful, popular, laid-back taquería in CDMX is known for its mission to revive maíz criollo, Mexico’s heirloom corn, and perfect the nixtamal technique, which has its roots in millennia-old Mesoamerican indigenous cultures, to make corn more digestible and increase its nutritional value.
Salmon-coloured tiles cover the walls, counters and façade of the place.
We eat at a table in the middle of the open kitchen, which isn’t really a table but a counter because there are no tables here and everyone eats standing up. I have a cocktail with mezcal and something else I can’t remember, having already had a shot of pure artisanal mezcal.
The tacos arrive at a rapid pace, served on fresh, hand-pressed tortillas made daily, as I can see to my left, next to the plancha.
The first came with melted cheese, a sure way to seduce you, followed by an irresistible ‘shrimp taco with mojo isleño & habanero mayo’ and a ‘Campechano rib eye with longaniza’ (spicy sausage) on a blue corn tortilla. A little smoky salsa matcha here and the spicy salsa verde verde there, and I’m happy. Everything is sooo good! Then comes a quesabirria (birria with Oaxacan cheese), a suadero and a flauta de papa.
Finally, a wonderful vanilla flan.
It’s not easy to describe what makes a place special, but you know when you’ve found it. Less

Tell me what it was like to eat at Quintonil?
Did you start with the chileatole de huitacloche? This corn fungus, grey in colour and earthy in flavour, with chillies and Mexican herbs? And have you tried the grilled pickled mussels tostada, with mole de mar? What a good idea. How did it taste? I want to know everything.
What did you think of the dish with very thin slices of butternut, bright yellow in colour, with a certain acidity and spiciness that contrasted with the creaminess and sweetness of the horchata rice? It must be wonderful.
And the tuna with aguachile de brassicas? And the spider crab with blue corn tostadas? And the pibil duck tamal with young corn cream?
Oh, the food of Mexico! And Jorge Vallejo sure knows how to make us love it!
And what about all the insects?
The Chapulín (corn locust), the Jumil (shield bugs), the Cocopache (a type of cockroach) and the Chicatana ant? And the escamoles (ant larvae)? A feast, no?
Tell me about it! Is it really good?
And afterwards? Did you have the arroz a la tombada with sea urchin, lobster and chilhuacle rojo, those medium-hot chillies with a delicate, smoky flavour from Oaxaca? Lucky you!
And isn’t the mole chichilo negro mind-blowing? With perfectly cooked rib eye and a quenelle of pico de gallo.
Don’t tell me you finished with the cactus paddle sorbet, tangy and sweet!
I’m told that it’s hard not to be taken in by this country and this culture, so fertile, so rich and so welcoming, after eating at Quintonil.
Tell me all about it, is it really like that? I want to know.
Well... words fail me, you just have to go and see for yourself.
I definitely want to return. Less

Several pots of maize, soaked overnight in water and cal (calcium hydroxide or limestone), are scattered across the floor of Maizajo’s kitchen.
Santiago Muñoz’s beautiful, popular, laid-back taquería in CDMX is known for its mission to revive maíz criollo, Mexico’s heirloom corn, and perfect the nixtamal technique, which has its roots in millennia-old Mesoamerican indigenous cultures, to make corn more digestible and increase its nutritional value.
Salmon-coloured tiles cover the walls, counters and façade of the place.
We eat at a table in the middle of the open kitchen, which isn’t really a table but a counter because there are no tables here and everyone eats standing up. I have a cocktail with mezcal and something else I can’t remember, having already had a shot of pure artisanal mezcal.
The tacos arrive at a rapid pace, served on fresh, hand-pressed tortillas made daily, as I can see to my left, next to the plancha.
The first came with melted cheese, a sure way to seduce you, followed by an irresistible ‘shrimp taco with mojo isleño & habanero mayo’ and a ‘Campechano rib eye with longaniza’ (spicy sausage) on a blue corn tortilla. A little smoky salsa matcha here and the spicy salsa verde verde there, and I’m happy. Everything is sooo good! Then comes a quesabirria (birria with Oaxacan cheese), a suadero and a flauta de papa.
Finally, a wonderful vanilla flan.
It’s not easy to describe what makes a place special, but you know when you’ve found it. Less

Through the train window to Ostend, I gaze at the endless plain that is Belgium.
I wonder what Willem Hiele’s food is.
The surfer chef, almost two meters tall, with long hair and a Viking look, who once told me he loved the beaches of my country when I first met him a few years ago.
Coming from a family of fishermen, seafood reigns supreme in his kitchen.
“My mountain is the sea,” he told me when we were talking about another chef whose identity is rooted in the mountains.
Scallops (first in their shell with smoked plums and tomatoes, then with truffles and walnuts), clams, razor clams, mackerel, mussels (with their own miso and pumpkin), monkfish, sea bass, oysters, langoustines (with radishes and caviar) and the essencial small Ostend shrimp.
Meat plays a subtle yet thoughtful role: smoked duck paired unexpectedly with mackerel, tender hare with Trompette de la Mort mushrooms in cherry sauce, and a pristine wild goose consommé with mushrooms and apple.
And then that intriguing vegetable dish, perhaps the most original and accomplished of all, whose correct name I can’t remember, but it would be close to ‘Still life of all the fruits and vegetables of last summer’. Pumpkins, tomatoes, beetroot and figs, and perhaps something else, preserved through brining, drying, and smoking, were thinly sliced and layered like abstract brushstrokes on a small rectangular canvas.
The idea came to Willem when he saw a painting by the French painter of Belarusian origin Chaïm Soutine called ‘Carcass of Beef’.
In fact, there is little or nothing in common between it and the dish, apart from its bold, faded colours. But it was enough to awaken something in Willem, a lateral thought. Things that happen when you look outside your own bubble.
In all of this, the fire.
In the courtyard, as the day draws to a close and the light fades. In the wood-burning oven to my left and in the fireplace lined with pots, pans, and hanging fish bones. The fire he uses to impart unique textures to ingredients—those mussels!—and subtle smoke notes throughout his dishes.
No strict rules, conventions or obvious classical references. A cuisine that is intrinsically intuitive, I felt. And his own. Less

Maybe it was the langoustine with koshihikari rice underneath (puffed?) and ginger.
Or the otoro crudo with Japanese turnip, raw and in the shape of a flower, with fermented strawberry and coffee oil.
Or the turbot “barigoule” with shio kombu & pine.
Or the most perfect Chawanmushi with smoked beef broth and caviar.
Or the king crab with saffron beurre blanc, sea buckthorn and ikura.
Or the duck. Ohhhhh! The duck! With foie gras, kampot pepper & wasabi (and some stunning lemon condiment - I have to ask them what it was) in that fabulous sauce you want to soak your bread in until there’s no bread left.
Or perhaps it was the impeccable Nordic design of the dining room. The fire cooking in the open-plan kitchen (flawless extraction, by the way).
And the wine pairing. The clever mixing of wines and non-alcoholic drinks on a single pairing.
And the little things like the “old style”, very welcome, table-side finishing and plating.
And of course, the playlist. The “Sultons of Swing”, the “I was made to lovin’you”, the Rick James’ “Super Freak”…
Or was it the party I was fortunate enough to share a table with?
I don’t know.
I do know that I had such a good time at @restaurantfzn a few days before it officially opened last Friday at @atlantisthepalm
The way @bjornfrantzen and @torstenvildgaard combine Nordic, French and Asian cuisine is superbly balanced and utterly delicious.
The way they combine fine dining with a sense of playfulness and casualness is sure to make @restaurantfzn a special place indeed. Less

Through the train window to Ostend, I gaze at the endless plain that is Belgium.
I wonder what Willem Hiele’s food is.
The surfer chef, almost two meters tall, with long hair and a Viking look, who once told me he loved the beaches of my country when I first met him a few years ago.
Coming from a family of fishermen, seafood reigns supreme in his kitchen.
“My mountain is the sea,” he told me when we were talking about another chef whose identity is rooted in the mountains.
Scallops (first in their shell with smoked plums and tomatoes, then with truffles and walnuts), clams, razor clams, mackerel, mussels (with their own miso and pumpkin), monkfish, sea bass, oysters, langoustines (with radishes and caviar) and the essencial small Ostend shrimp.
Meat plays a subtle yet thoughtful role: smoked duck paired unexpectedly with mackerel, tender hare with Trompette de la Mort mushrooms in cherry sauce, and a pristine wild goose consommé with mushrooms and apple.
And then that intriguing vegetable dish, perhaps the most original and accomplished of all, whose correct name I can’t remember, but it would be close to ‘Still life of all the fruits and vegetables of last summer’. Pumpkins, tomatoes, beetroot and figs, and perhaps something else, preserved through brining, drying, and smoking, were thinly sliced and layered like abstract brushstrokes on a small rectangular canvas.
The idea came to Willem when he saw a painting by the French painter of Belarusian origin Chaïm Soutine called ‘Carcass of Beef’.
In fact, there is little or nothing in common between it and the dish, apart from its bold, faded colours. But it was enough to awaken something in Willem, a lateral thought. Things that happen when you look outside your own bubble.
In all of this, the fire.
In the courtyard, as the day draws to a close and the light fades. In the wood-burning oven to my left and in the fireplace lined with pots, pans, and hanging fish bones. The fire he uses to impart unique textures to ingredients—those mussels!—and subtle smoke notes throughout his dishes.
No strict rules, conventions or obvious classical references. A cuisine that is intrinsically intuitive, I felt. And his own. Less