Throwdown: Puck v. 750 ML

Two versions of one incredible dish
+ authentic French bistro fare

Taste & See: This is not a fair competition. Wolfgang Puck, celebrity chef with dozens of restaurants, vs. a cute little French bistro/wine shop in South Pasadena (that organizes its wine by adjective: luscious, divine, bodacious)? Totally not fair.

That said, the Sweet Corn Agnolotti I had at 750 ML the other night put up a darn good fight. The agnolotti didn't have quite the mascarpone-smoothness or summer-truffle magical fleeting flavor of WP's version but it was lovely in its own right, and a bit more in the league of the average gal than Spago. I liked the crunchy walnut bits and bright freshness of the leaves on top for contrasting texture and colour, though I wasn't sure what kind of leaves they were.


What's more, if you go to 750 ML you can look forward to a spunky waiter named Kip (I think . . . I was given the name after a long night of enjoying 750 ML's thoughtful wine list) who promised we'd like the bottle he recommended (and pronounced in a perfect French accent). . . and if we didn't, he'd take it to the back and drink it himself. Way to take one for the team.


Ask for bread; it comes only on request but those who ask are in for a treat.

750 ML also gets props for its innovative menu. By innovative, I mean 750 ML serves old classics that are not so de rigor in modern America: bone marrow, sweet breads, etc. Their Sweetbreads are, I am told, quite tasty, if you like sweetbreads. Sweetbreads, in case you don't know, aren't exactly breads that are sweet. They are the pancreas &/or thymus of an animal like a calf or lamb.


My party was trying to guess the origin of the name, and the consensus was that it must just be a humourous euphemism, a term as far from the actual food as possible. Plausible, but as it turns out, wrong. According to this etymology site, they are actually so called because 1) the thymus & pancreas are actually quite sweet and rich, and 2) 'bread' is from the Old English for flesh, as opposed to the savory muscle normally eaten.

In any case, I didn't take advantage of the opportunity, but I appreciate that it was there. I was too busy enjoying my insanely rich Duck with Almond & Garlic Sauce. I thought the proper little deck-of-playing-cards portion would leave me hungry, but I was wrong. Each little crispy-skin & fat topped meaty bite topped was compact with quite a punch and I was full barely half way through.

The almond-garlic sauce on which it rested was, as is so necessary with duck, a light, clean counterpoint. (To recreate see the recipe below.) In the waiter's words: "If there was no such thing as cholesterol we'd serve it as a soup." It really wasn't that rich . . . bring on the soup!


On the dessert end of things, the Panna Cotta, ordered with the best of intentions, was more or less ignored by our table:


More popular was the inventive Apricot Consomme'. Soup for dessert sounds weird and (maybe) wonderful, but at the end of the day, it is just the more elegant cousin of good old canned fruit in syrup.


750 ML made a pretty smashing rendition of what you already know is one of my all time favs: Chocolate Melting Cake with Salty Caramel. We devoured two orders of this with nary a crumb left over. I'm tell you folks, give the salty caramel a go; you'll thank me.


Do it yourself: Almond Garlic Sauce:

Blend in electric blender or food processor for about 10 seconds:
1-1/4 cups (125 g/4 oz) ground almonds
1/2 cup (30 g/1 oz) fresh breadcrumbs
6 cloves garlic, chopped
Salt and freshly ground white pepper, to taste

Whisk juice of 1 lemon and 3.5 fl oz (a little more than 100 mL) extra virgin olive oil in a bowl and, with the motor running, slowly add to the almond mixture until incorporated.

Add the remaining 3.5 fl oz oil, still with the motor running. The sauce should be fairly thick, even more so than hummus.

Adjust the seasoning with approx. 1 tbsp red wine vinegar or to taste.

Enjoy with grilled chicken, fresh cut vegetables, on sandwiches, etc.