Aster walks the tightrope
Brett Cooper creates a spark with bold, intricate creations
Luxury today means something very different than it did a decade ago.
It’s an interesting phenomenon. As rents increase, less money is spent on decor and spaces become more organic and casual.
If I were to show 10 photos of Brett Cooper’s dishes at Aster, you’d probably conclude that the surroundings would be posh and tailored. Ingredients are meticulously sourced, preparations are painstakingly rendered and they’re plated on a similar type of pottery you’ll find at the four-star Coi.
The food has a spark that gives it a distinct edge. The space says something different.
The scarred aquamarine-color wood trim looks as if it’s had about a dozen sloppily applied coats of paint. The burlap covering the walls is fraying, and the plywood booths have a second-hand patina, but aren’t scarred enough to be cool.
Yet the tables are walnut, and the cushions on the banquette seats look like leather. A modern installation of tiny filament lights on the ceiling resembles flower petals that are reflected in mirrors on the walls, adding a jarring, Las Vegas touch. It feels as if the owners tried to make the most of a small budget to transform the storefront space that in its last incarnation was the Beast and the Hare.
Yet, that’s the way it goes today, whether it’s Jason Fox at Commonwealth, Aaron London at Al’s Place or Manny Torres Gimenez at the Palace. The chef’s stage is what’s on the plate, not what’s in the room.
No restaurant drives that home as forcefully as Aster, a partnership between Brett Cooper and Daniel Patterson of Coi.
The food is refined, with a bold edge that often teeters on being too acidic, and is served in tasting-menusize portions.
On my first two visits, the menu offered six appetizers, grouped together, followed by four main courses. After two savory courses and dessert, we should have ordered more to be satisfied.
On my third visit, the waiter said the menu had been reformatted. There were still six appetizers, but they were divided into two groups. He said the idea was for diners to select one dish from each appetizer group, and one main course. It was the right decision for filling the stomach but, because the appetizers are $11-$16, it depletes the wallet.
The midcourse re-envisioning of the menu is reflected in other elements of the experience. The service in some cases was disjointed; some waiters didn’t seem well-acquainted with the offerings and they had a way to go to match the sophistication of Cooper’s food.
The cold appetizers include a dramatic combination of cucumber and cherries ($11), the elements knitted together with preserved Meyer lemon and coriander ($15). It’s a dish that offers a surprising juxtaposition of elements and it works on all levels.
Porchetta di testa ($14) reminds me of a Chihuly garden scene, with loose rosettes of cured meat arranged between plantings of pickled summer squash, nasturtium and pumpkin seeds. Everything around the paperthin slices was perfectly rendered, but the star ingredient flopped — the pork was mostly fat and had the texture of uncooked bacon.
King salmon chopped and formed into a timbale ($15) also lacked seasoning and was upstaged by the topping of peaches, green tomato, chile and basil.
Warm appetizers struck a more finished note. Green garlic soup ($11), which looked like a swampy garden with wispy white flowers, pickled fennel and stepping stones of olive oil croutons, was one of the best combinations of the evening.
A soft-cooked egg ($14) barely peeked out over crisp potatoes, nori and caviar vinaigrette; the combination came across as having too much acid, but the runny yolk eventually pulled the flavors back into line.
Rabbit meatballs ($15) looked like a palette of spring, verdant with pea shoots interspersed with purple and yellow violas scattered over the top, all buried in an orange carrot curry with morels and fava beans. On another visit, the array of flavors was just as dynamic, but the meatballs were a bit rubbery.
The four main courses include a vegetarian option — black pepper potato dumplings ($23) with the texture of chewy gnocchi, topped by a green lace of arugula, purple frisee, peas, maitake mushrooms and charred scallions. It was good on the first bite, but became a little monotonous by the end.
In another dish, precise ovals of lamb loin ($26) were arranged over green farro porridge with pioppini mushrooms, which turned out to be the most compelling aspect of the plate. Three pieces of pork shoulder ($24) were shrouded around and under chunks of sweet potatoes, florets of grilled broccoli and slices of rhubarb, getting a boost from umeboshi that subtly lifted it to something special. Unfortunately, on two occasions the meat had a funky refrigerator taste.
The star of this set is black cod ($27). Its flaky white flesh, outfitted with a coat of chard leaves, sits on a thin slice of miso levain set in smoked bone broth freshened with a hit of lemon.
Desserts include a compelling combination of raspberries on a buckwheat cookie base ($12) with creamy farmer’s cheese and thin sheets of white meringue dusted with Sichuan peppercorns.
Beet and rhubarb cremeux ($12) developed its complexity with every bite. The first hit — the intense earthiness of the beets — recedes with white chocolate, hazelnuts and the natural sweetness of the beets. Each bite became more integrated.
As good as some things are, it feels as if Aster is still trying to find its way. On just about every course, the combinations walk a tightrope as they try to balance one another. At times the flavors don’t merge, but the tension makes Cooper such an interesting chef to follow.