Chambers

Probably even better if you’re into wine.

People tend to assume that since I spend so much of my waking hours eating food, thinking about food, reading about food, writing about food… etc., I would be an excellent cook. But, my secret’s out: I’m not that skilled in the kitchen. I appreciate the art of food—because it is art—like one appreciates Monets: with great awe, knowing that my hands could never produce work like that with all the oil paint in the world.

And because perfectionism is one of my greatest flaws, I’ve found it hard to work on my cooking skills, knowing that whatever I whip up would not be up to my own standards. But, over the past few years, I’ve started to enjoy coming home after a long day in the office to the ritual of cooking a meal. (Having a kitchen all to myself, sans roommates, helps; I prefer to keep my cooking failures to myself.) There’s something grounding about how real it all is: the touching and smelling and tasting that happens throughout the cooking process completely unlike the cold hostility of a laptop screen.

I’m happy to report that I’m getting better—practice makes perfect, or however the saying goes. I’ve started experimenting more, going on whatever journey my fridge takes me. Last week, I made mapo tofu, consulting the first result when I searched up a recipe and then deciding immediately to not follow it, letting whatever ancestral instincts I have left grab the wheel… or spatula. The end result was probably not mapo tofu at all, but an adjacent creation that was nourishing and comforting and made all the more special because I had made it just for myself.

The secret, by the way, to homemade mapo tofu is a jar of doubanjiang: a punchy, store-bought sauce can heal any imprecisions from an amateur cook.

Perhaps I’ve overcome my perfectionist tendencies when cooking at home, but my standards are incredibly high when I dine out. Calling a restaurant perfect is impossibly high praise, and a recent evening I spent at the chef’s kitchen counter at Chambers was perfect.

I made a reservation at Chambers on a whim—embarassingly (maybe), I think I saw a post about it on Instagram, and noted that it was near my apartment. Viraj seemed impressed when I reported that we would be eating at Chambers, but I didn’t realize just how on-another-level our meal was going to be until the first sip of my cocktail.

I usually book the counter option, if available, for me and Viraj. I find that watching the kitchen staff at work is a mesmerizing alternative for when the conversation runs out, and Viraj has a tendency to monitor restaurant kitchens like another man might covertly peek at the score of a basketball game, so might as well give him a front-row seat. The chef’s counter at Chambers isn’t for the faint of heart though, it was the most immersed in a restaurant kitchen I’ve ever been, so I’d only recommend it if you want to almost literally be in the kitchen for your meal. (We had a great time.)

One thing that separates us amateur chefs from the professionals is their ability to coax out the delicate flavors of their ingredients, rather than adorn them with other seasonings and sauces to make them palatable. And, the theme of my meal at Chambers was a true reverence for ingredients, and expertise in how to elevate their natural flavor.

I don’t think Viraj and I have ever been so overwhelmed trying to place an order. We would have ordered the whole menu if we could, and maybe we should have, stomachs and wallets be damned! Viraj and I got matching cocktails—the “continental baths”—to start: gin and yuzu sake so light, refreshing, and reminiscent of the yuzu-flavored sparkling water we always have at home. The free (!!) bread was warm, fluffy, and healthily covered in sesame seeds, but the meal really began with our first starter, raw Spanish mackerel on a bed of horseradish cream and paired with black radishes.

I feel pretty hesitant about beets normally, but trusted Chambers enough to order them. The dish became one of my favorite bites of the meal, the beets paired with ‘nduja, pine nuts, and Camembert cheese, the beets not being the focus of the dish, but rather the connective tissue between each distinct flavor. The true highlight, if I had to pick one, was the beef tartare, which was a special for the night. It was an untraditional beef tartare in its simplicity—high-quality beef, labneh, olive oil, and sweet potato chips—but out-of-the-world delicious.

We focused most of our meal on starters, their small plates looking too good to pass up, but the one main we did order was the lamb saddle… and holy shit. It’s a lamb dish for serious lovers of lamb, the signature gamey flavor is front and center, undisguised by a yogurt sauce that often comes with the protein. It’s just… lamb of the highest quality, cooked with great care and draped delicately with lamb jus to allow you to truly taste the flavor of the meat. A side of indulgent creaminess comes from the gratinated endives the dish is served with—my first time eating cooked endives, I think.

And after a comprehensive overview of the wines they had by the glass, Viraj and I settled for different reds to pair with our main. Chambers is most known for their wine program, and the $40 glass of wine I got was special and rare in some way that was lost on me, but it was wonderful. And wonderful with the lamb.

We ended the meal with more classic flavors: a black sesame chiffon cake with layers of toasted rice ice cream and malted milk. Wine amateur that I am, I tried it with the remaining sip of my wine… don’t do that.

Wine snob or not, go to Chambers to taste classic ingredients in its purest form. But definitely go if you’re more knowledgeable about wine than me, and report back.

Bite It!

Book Chambers on OpenTable here.