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As a rabid carnivore, I tend to ignore the vegetarian offerings when dining out, mostly favoring anything that once walked or swam. When a vegetarian friend lauded Per Se’s daily-changing flesh-free prix fixe, I scoffed, opting to indulge solely in Thomas Keller’s omnivorous selections on my rare visits (plus, the two nine-course menus cost the same $250). But her recommendation stuck with me, and on my latest foray into Manhattan’s most touted restaurant, I tried on veg for size.
Going meatless at Per Se requires double-pronged judgment. First, for strict vegetarians, there’s the inevitable comparison with other New York options—bearing in mind that Per Se’s is likely the most expensive meat- and fish-free menu in the world. Second, food agnostics must evaluate what economists would call the opportunity cost—the meal we’re getting compared with the meal we’re giving up. Hence, I scrutinized Per Se’s veggie offerings both on their own merits, and against a pseudoscientific control—my dining companions’ animal-laden eats.
Immediate observation: Keller, always a devotee of immaculate ingredients, shines especially brightly with his vegetables. In his hands, even traditional garnishes take center stage. Exhibit A: parsley. Keller makes a velouté-like soup from parsley root, blanches diced pieces, which, when combined with lemon zest, taste like gumdrops, and tops the entire concoction with a parsley-olive-oil–flavored crème fraîche. Exhibit B: heirloom radishes, lightly pickled and amazingly fragrant, dominated an otherwise merely pleasant artichoke-and-olive bruschetta.
Accents as arresting as those pop up everywhere. In contrast with the meats, Keller’s vegetarian dishes, like great wine, provide distinct, lasting finishes than can ring in your mouth for up to a minute. I found an endive salad, bolstered by a red-onion marmalade and garden mâche, relatively boring, save for some profoundly rich Italian hazelnuts whose unctuous finish I can still conjure in my mind. I had a similar experience with Keller’s soft-boiled egg. Stunningly beautiful, coated with a thin plaster of dehydrated potato, it opens like a Cadbury egg, the yolk at once glistening but not runny, served in a shallow pool of mushroom broth. It looked better than it tasted—the mushroom, potato and egg flavors were muted. But the dish was saved by a wave of brandy-like wamth, thanks to a generous splash of robust Jerez vinegar.
But when all the elements work together—ingredients, complex flavors, presentation—it’s magical. One stunning success was the peeled heirloom tomato, stuffed with candy-sweet corn, summer squash and chopped eggplant, its flavors united by a powerful smoked tomato coulis that tastes like the world’s most elegant barbecue sauce.
Despite the flaws (portions not being among them—the seven appetizer-sized courses before dessert were just filling enough), no dish was uninteresting, and many were delicious. The intelligent service and dud-free wine list remain givens, and in terms of vegetarian meals, Per Se rates with the best I’ve ever had (I count among these pasta feasts in Italy and the finest meatless restaurants of India.) It even competes with Per Se’s meat menu. Course by course, the vegetarian bites held their own against my dining partner’s carnivorous vittles. In fact, given that Keller even offers different cheeses and desserts for each menu—I was particularly fond of the carrot cake, complete with sweet, raw carrot slices—it’s advisable for parties to order both, and share.
While Per Se didn’t cure my flesh-eating ways, if I could trade meat for a lifetime of Keller as my personal vegetable chef, I would certainly consider it.
