The Artistry of Corton

It's been almost two weeks since we dined at Corton and I think it's taken me this long to fully process the meal we ate.  Or should I say it's taken me this long to digest the considered, complex and overwhelmingly beautiful fare we experienced.  

I've wanted to dine at Corton ever since I saw A Matter of Taste, the documentary that follows the wandering, madcap wunderkind Chef Paul Liebrandt on his journey to craft a curated culinary sanctuary.  The film follows Liebrandt for over ten years.  Ten years!  And it begins with him at a semi-humble point as the chef at a lackluster and stifling tavern, follows him deep, down into trying times while he was between jobs until it ultimately delivers you to his present triumph at Michelin-starred Corton.  The film really brings you on his journey and leaves you speechless, inspired and ultimately redeemed by his earned successes.  I highly recommend the film.  I less emphatically but still strongly recommend an evening at Corton -- and not because it doesn't live up to the hype but because the cost and the preciousness of the evening should be reserved for a time in one's life when the experience is really earned.  This is not your average Saturday evening celebratory dinner.

Walk into Corton and the first thing you notice is the static hum of silence.  Followed by the stark whiteness and bright lights.  You're not sitting in a restaurant with reveling diners.  You're perched atop a delicate pew in the church of culinary precision.  Every detail in the place from the staff's subdued demeanor, to the shoulder height windows peering into the pristine kitchen, to the neutral color surroundings is crafted so the food is the focus.  Akin to being in the presence of the Mona Lisa, when the room surrounding her seems to dissolve into your periphery, the setting seems to fade as the food is placed at arms length.  


It's hard for me to recap individual courses or bites.  Their complexities do not lend themselves to recounting.  I do recall the seven masterpieces, each plate painted as wildly as a Miró canvas yet designed as deliberately as a Gaudí building.  The courses were punctuated and accented by mid-course bites of minute edible sculptures.  It was as if we were ingesting works of art - full of flavor and complexity and equally pleasing to devour with our eyes.    

Having finally dined at Corton and given myself ample time to process the experience I can say that Paul Liebrandt's work does belong in the pantheon of the painting and architecture greats.  Because just like those visionaries, his path to Corton is one of a storied odyssey and the result is pure artistry. 

Corton
239 West Broadway