Twinkle, twinkle little star

Michelin recently announced it had awarded stars to 18 Los Angeles restaurants. Usually, things like that don’t impress me. After all, a single star, according to Michelin, only means that the establishment is “a very good restaurant in its category.” However, two awardees (The Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton. Huntington Hotel & Spa, which on Tuesday will be renamed the Langham Huntington Hotel & Spa, and Tre Venezie) were in Pasadena, so I decided to try some “hautel” dining.

Driving up to the Huntington is awe-inspiring, like being invited to some local prince’s palace for a meal. The edifice is immense, and the distance from entry gate to front portico seems vast. The panoramic grounds and facade are magnificent.

When you leave your car with the valets (who seem happier to see you and your vehicle than valets usually are), they request your name to give the automobile that “special” identity. (What happens when seven Smiths show up? Maybe there’s sub-identification, like the Smith Bentley, the Smith Rolls, the Smith Lamborghini, etc.) They barely flinched at the Wayne Toyota but made sure it was out of sight double-quick!

The Dining Room
The Langham Huntington Hotel & Spa
(Formerly the Ritz-Carlton,   
Huntington Hotel & Spa)
1401 S. Oak Knoll Ave., Pasadena
(626) 568-3900
Full bar/Major cards.

Heading down the plushy hallways, dressed in hardwoods and crystal and lined with paintings that look like copies of those in the Huntington Gallery (but given the opulence of the Langham, could be the originals — perhaps the museum has the copies), we felt inclined to whisper and tiptoe like children on good behavior.

We were ushered into The Dining Room (like its siblings The Terrace, The Lounge and The Bar, it goes simply by capitalized generics) and shown to an elegantly set table. The complex architectural design, with high coved ceilings and immense double wooden piers creating lateral drape-framed niches, dwarfed the diners — a subdued lot, most in cocktail attire.

The large, heavy menus were impressive in appearance; but once we opened them, sipping champagne from a cart of vintages wheeled to the table for selection, we were slightly less awed. Imagining myself as a business-account hotel guest from America’s heartland, I figured I could recognize most of the nouns on the menu, ignore the adjectives and have a relatively familiar meal.

For instance, grilled New York steak with fingerling potatoes, sweet and sour shallots, Brussels sprout leaves and bordelaise sauce ($42) or wild king salmon with spinach risotto, roasted quince, kabocha squash puree and beurre rouge ($34). Even Muscovy duck breast ($36), served here with basil potato mousseline, cipollini onions and huckleberry instead of orange sauce, has been served up in Indianapolis.

We, however, are coasters and went straight for the star-stuff: Chef de Cuisine Craig Strong’s tasting menu — five courses, $150 with wine pairings and a mere $95 without. One problem: Sautéed foie gras (with Asian pear-persimmon-ginger salad, onion marmalade and orange sauce) was one of the items. Much as I love the stuff, I no longer eat it or veal or killed-for-me critters.

And here’s where savoir-faire shows. Our waiter soothingly assured us that we could substitute ANYTHING on the à la carte menu for ANY course. Wow! I went right for the poor little ducky who, I hope, died with his liver unimpaired. And, since I also rejected the Sancerre that came with the foie gras, he poured me some lovely pinot noir instead.

Olive-oil-poached shrimp with vegetables à la Greque and a crisp New Zealand sauvignon blanc came first. Venison loin with braised red cabbage, celery root raviolis, roasted apples and a sauce “grand veneur” with cream and red peppercorns was paired with Chateauneuf-du-Pape. And dessert was chocolate and brandied cherry clafouti with FRESH mint ice cream and smooth French-pressed coffee.

But, of all the courses and mini-courses (a teensy seared-tuna amuse-bouche, a dollop of orange sorbet and some decadent sweets) that added to the splendid excess of the meal, our favorite was the cheese — a small sampling of six different types served with a spiced fruit compote by a server who could elucidate both provenance and fabrication.

The chef made rounds as we finished. Too sated to stand, we were delighted to chat for a few moments. Strong seems very young, as do most of his team, and their enthusiasm breaks through the stodgy formalism that the decor and menu language you might deem inevitable in a grand hotel Dining Room with a Michelin star.

When our bill arrived, we agreed that of all the impressive things we’d seen during our visit, this was by far the most stunning. The price for our culinary extravaganza was $358 before tip (our champagne added an extra $46), plus $12 to redeem the car, about four times our usual splurge.

Was it worth it? Well, my stepdaughter just bought some $150 jeans and my sister spent $200 at a day spa. In the realm of such things, a $400 pampering isn’t going to break anything except, perhaps, John Edwards’ chances of becoming president. My advice? If you’ve got it, flaunt it and try the Dining Room. Those Michelin guys know a stellar experience when they see one.