Rus News Journal

Knowledge tower

Underfoot Manhattan. Life in a megacity does not stop for a second. The chain yellow kebov streams on close 52 - j to street. People on sidewalks not to make out - only tiny points randomly sliding on a surface are visible. The heated sun, having blinded the patch of light reflected in the mirror concrete giant, with hissing it is dissolved behind skyscrapers. On next 51 - j an avenue again stoppers. The thunder-storm gathers. The flaws which have flown suddenly break foliage from uncombed trees. After an instant the first drops of a rain with a ring break about glass. JAppi, the organised barbecues open-air in a penthouse in one hundred metres more low, have begun to fuss. Even a minute - and in a raging city begins fussy Brownian motion. The lead sky makes an incision the first electric category. It followed by a deafening uterine roar which is there and then replaced by a rustle of secants on glass of deposits. Tiny figures start to get off in shapeless black stains. I am by the window and I observe, how the elements wash off general calmness and break habitual pulse of a megacity. It seems, as if there the panic, below, begins.

having darted last glance at the flooded city, I go to the lift. The cabin falls with 54 - go a floor on the first for few seconds, paternal puts ears and the head starts to be turned. Leaving in a dark hall, I get absolutely to other world, rather than that I saw a minute earlier through show-windows panoramic sjuta. Here in twilight - high life epicentre. The dazzling young ladies which age it is already impossible to define, whispering defile on velvet carpets, tinkling ornaments. Gentlemen in tuxedos, sip burbon, ringing ice cubes in glasses. Time approaches a supper, and gourmets take the positions. All of them have come in Gilt, noted by two stars Michelin. A culinary legend of Manhattan where all is flown down nju - jorkskaja the nobility: Congressmen and bankers, fops and aristocrats, women of fashion and secular lionesses.

it is impossible to present this restaurant where - that still. Only in The New York Palace, erected in 1882, there could be an ideal chamber space where the high kitchen would find so deep sense. The vaulted ceilings polished to shine parquet floors, a tile of a XIX-th century of handwork correlate with resolute innovations which were categorically introduced in an antiquarian interior by the genius - architect Patrick Zhoen. In each detail, whether it be the vintage silver candelabrum or an ultrafashionable design plate, is hidden the sacral sense allowing better to be adjusted on a tonality of a future supper. As a tuning fork can act and dashing molecular amjuz - bush, submitted at the very beginning of a meal the headwaiter - the aristocrat.

the conductor of a culinary symphony - Justin Bogl - the ardent avant-gardist preaching ultramodern American cuisine. Piously having believed in idea of globalisation, the head cook has visually proved that true haute cuisine wanted to spit on geographical integrity. An Aljaskinsky black cod of Bogl fills with the Indian spices. Australian ribaj the stake is served with Spanish sheep manchego. Each dish shows absolute culinary harmony on a joint of structures, temperatures and nationalities. Simple and simultaneously very difficult kitchen with honour passes test by seasonal prevalence and a creative. A cod with green apples, fua - gra with fenhelem and pistachios, striplojn with seasonal vegetables - all these dishes show in magnificent interiors a celebration culinary perfektsionizma. After a disturbing meal it is necessary to soar up only upwards on the high-speed lift that, looking at a city, to scroll in a head disturbing memoirs of the past supper.