Author and Photographer: Miranda Yuan

Situated next to the haughty Bank of America, we knew Bazaar Meats was not messing around with its culinary assets. After taking the elevator from Bar Mar on the ground floor, we were confronted by a vast glassed-in cabinet exhibiting a museum of meats: the dangling carcass of a suckling pig, rolls of well-marbled beef rib steaks, and colossal chunks of Iberic pork loins. Once we managed to tear ourselves away and walk to our table, with our mouths still open, we found ourselves in a grand dining room with a golden ceiling that was draped with elegantly illuminated scarlett chandeliers and downward blooming flower lamps.

After an in-depth walk-through of the menu by Bazaar Meat’s knowledgeable and cordial staff, followed by an arduous discussion about what should be ordered, we awaited Bazaar Meat’s allures with impatience.

The first dish to make entrance was the “Philly Cheesesteaks,” which were delicately nested within a stainless steel zig-zag mold. I held the torpedo-shaped roll in my hand, experienced the lightness of an air-bread for the first time, and bit into its crust. The crispy shell of the air-bread deflated and crumpled with a single bite, causing the cheddar cheese to simultaneously roll down our throats and onto our plates like golden rivulets. The subtle saltiness of the seared Kobe beef atop the bread complimented seamlessly with the buttery and creaminess of the melted cheddar cheese. It was only after we devoured them that I realized an amusing sleight of hand embedded within this performance – the subtle affair of the vanilla potato foam.

Next was the ‘Not your everyday Caprese,’ consisting of cherry tomatoes and liquid mozzarella. We were presented with an impressionist artwork - is this meant to be eaten? Each and every cherry tomato is incredibly fresh and juicy. They were sliced with laser precision delicately sliced, impaled with pipettes full of liquid mozzarella, laying in a pool of pesto with the perfect ratio of basil and pine nuts and olive oil. In three swift motions, or a spoonful from each of us, the canvas was reduced to its original state - clean and blank.

Then it was Jose’s Tacos consisting of two sheets of glittering seaweed embellished with Osetra caviar and gold leaf. While I did not try this dish, my friends swallowed them whole with impressed nods. In their words, Jose’s Tacos were “Extravagant, expeditious, and obnoxious, one could even say.”

Everything was excellent up until this point of the meal, but nevertheless, you are going to want steak because everything about Bazaar meat primes you for the meat. The Tartares, in its decomposed state, finally arrived. A trolley holding important and sophisticated-looking pottery and utensils were wheeled beside our table. We peered inside a wooden bowl and “ooohed” at an impeccably cracked egg yolk accompanied by finely crushed capers, herbs, onions, and most importantly, the raw beef sirloin cubes. After a thorough explanation and demonstration from the waiter of how the Tartares was to be assembled, he melded these vital ingredients together in an engaging and playful performance and finished the last touches of salt in the viral action of salt bae. What great execution! The now-composed beef tartares were a mess of gorgeous meatiness atop a marble plate served with a side of crispy bread and fried lettuce. It was certainly a carnivorous affair.

Next was the Coffee Rubbed Skirt Steak. Perhaps I am still an amateur in the realm of extraordinary culinary concoctions, but I have never seen a more peculiar piece of edible work. Here was a slab of slightly over-charred steak with insides that were perfectly medium rare, just chewy and bloody and crispy enough, tasting of an animal well lived. But it was the foam gently rising in billows around the meat that was the focus of the dish for me. Coffee foam! On Steak! Although I was not sure about the cohesiveness of the taste of this dish as a whole (only because I am obsessed with coffee and believe that it shines most brightly as a lone character), the curiosity of Jose Andres’ invention is certainly worthy of a standing ovation.

I loved the Amish Chicken Thighs. There were four tender slices of chicken thighs, fully melded with dates at the center and adorned with miso and mustard caviar. While every chef in town has flirted with dates in their savory dishes, this is one of the best versions that I have encountered (second only to Avec’s Bacon-Wrapped Dates Stuffed with Chorizo). Though each piece was fragile in its construction, it packed a hell of a punch. I gushed over the sweetness, spiciness, and meatiness of its flavors. Somehow, this multiplicity of sensations could not have produced a more cohesive unit, and I am all here for it. It was bloody brilliant.

Conclusions

Now, for the more observant readers, you may have noticed by now that I have carefully, actively, and deliberately avoided any descriptions of the portion size of these dishes. And your assumptions are correct. For while we felt rich consuming all of Bazaar Meat’s allures, we were inevitably made poor; For while it had felt right to feast, we had nothing left-over; For while we were full on rapture from this exquisite experience, we were still hungry.

As much as I enjoyed this meaningful adventure provided by Bazaar’s Meats, I must shamefully disclose that we did indeed make a trip to Popeye’s straight after to acquire a spicy chicken sandwich, followed by a stop at Five Guy’s to conclude the night with a hearty milkshake. Take this disclosure how you will, but I deem it a fair warning.

Bazaar Meat

Author and Photographer: Miranda Yuan

Conclusions

Cheers!