He’s baaack!
I wasn’t sure I could say that after looking at esteemed San Antonio chef Andrew Weissman’s inaugural menu for Max’s Sister in Alon Town Center.
Yes, one of the city’s brightest culinary stars is allowed to play in the sandbox from time to time. The success of his Mr. Juicy, basically an upscale burger joint, reminded us of that.
But the smugly sophisticated among us couldn’t help but think back to Le Rêve, Sandbar and Il Sogno, Weissman’s early and influential efforts. Le Rêve, especially, made it seem the Alamo City was ready at last for freshly reimagined French-influenced cuisine impeccably prepared.
So, as revelatory as platonically perfect chickenfried steak and fried calamari might be, it was a surprise to see them among the debut offerings at Max’s Sister. Adding gold flakes to a risotto seemed an insincere way to add a touch of class.
Now, three months into what I hope will be a long and prosperous life, Max and his sister have matured. Yes, formally attired calamari and chicken fried steak are still there, as is a burger tricked out with pork belly and fried egg.
But so now are plates and specials such as Hudson Valley foie gras and roasted rack of Australian lamb.
Snobby as it may seem, it’s been while since I’ve had a proper foie gras. And Weissman’s is transcendent, especially accompanied by a lozenge of tangy labneh, sauteed apple and tartly complementary cider gastrique. It featured a perfectly seared exterior, still roseate interior and a lush texture worthy of quietly ecstatic moans.
I resisted licking the plate in public, but know I considered it. Know, too, if anyone’s keeping track, this definitely goes on my list of last-moments-on-earth dishes.
It’s hard to be quite so effusive about a salad, especially as inoffensive-seeming as one of baby spinach, candied pecans and red onions. And yet, when everything is in perfect balance — earthy roasted-garlic dressing, disarmingly sweet poached pear, parmesan shavings and all — a salad becomes an object lesson in, well, the essence of salad. That it was thoughtfully presented was only a plus.
I’m occasionally asked where to find the best seafood in town, and my response is usually this: Don’t go to a dedicated seafood restaurant but rather look for the best restaurants, period. Max’s menu currently includes Sandbar-style oysters, a crisp-skinned trout and salmon.
Having grown up with wild salmon, I’m usually disappointed in its pale farm-raised imitation and try to avoid it. But when it’s beautifully blistered and “wild-caught” King, salmon is a thing of beauty. Weissman’s preparation was a flaky beauty indeed, and its serving with “melted” leeks spoke eloquently of both earth and sea.
If I tend to avoid salmon even when expertly cooked — which is to say not too — I’m rarely disappointed with lamb. Max’s Australian roasted rack, offered as a special along with deftly and crisply fried pommes Anna, only reconfirmed my prejudices.
Unlike overt plate licking, don’t hesitate to get down with these bones, as some of the best stuff is found in there. Getting to it requires picking them up and gnawing — an act that does leave the fingers blissfully greasy. (More licking.)
That also means grease finds its way onto the stemless wine glasses Max’s offered even with wines priced over $100 per bottle. Sorry, but no. Chosen from a thoughtfully composed list, the lightly peppery Domaine Sarrazin Cote d’Or pinot noir that was such a perfect bridge between salmon and lamb would have been even happier with proper stemware.
Yes, I know: picky.
I couldn’t have been more pleased with desserts, though. The same Pacific Northwest upbringing which established a kinship with wild salmon did the same with blueberries, and I’ll put my pie up against anyone’s. Except maybe Andrew’s.
The wait for a fresh one to come out of the oven was well worth it. Max’s was really all about the berries — that and a perfectly flaky crust. The addition of vanilla-bean ice cream was the equivalent of icing on the cake.
Which we also had in the form of frosted chocolate buttermilk cake with a puddle of passionfruit sauce. As good as this was — and it was good indeed — I’ll take the pie any day.
A brief conversation with Weissman at meal’s end revealed that the menu is still an evolutionary object as he responds not only to guests but to his own creative urges. Look for more “interesting things” to come — including his justly famed “torchon” of foie gras. The first of them to come was marinating in cognac as we spoke. Maybe I’ll put that on the last meal list as well.
Fried calamari need not apply.
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