I went back to that aquarium for the first time four days ago when my mother was in town. I was taller and she was shorter, but not much else had changed since our last visit so many years ago. Unfortunately for us, the only thing that changed was the disappointment we felt. We went in expecting a wide-eyed wonder only to find that the sprawling underwater adventure we thought we remembered was not the colossal, majestic theatre we remembered. The worst part was, we had built it up so much in our heads that we would have been disappointed no matter what we got.
I think that’s what happened to me at Ten Tables too. Amidst the eager cries of “But you MUST go to Ten Tables if you’re a foodie!” and “OMG it’s sooooo good!”, that followed me through four whole years in Boston, I tried not to expect a paragon of a meal, but I did expect something worth a four-year wait.
I couldn’t believe I had waited for four years for this Spring Vegetable Terrine. The chunks of raw vegetables gelled together by a sterile aspic was the color of iodine and rudely reminded me of hospital antiseptic. I had never seen anything like it, but when combined with a gelatinous crème fraiche and a nondescript pile of arugula, this dish fell flatter than the Luhrmann’s interpretation of The Great Gatsby. I found this dish as bizarre as Gatsby’s penchant for pink, but overall it captured the essence of the raw spring vegetable to a (pale pink) tee. But unlike The Great Gatsby, a little more interpretation would have been very welcome here.
It was not my lucky day. Construction at the aquarium had forced the penguins into a temporary habitat, one that we weren’t allowed to see. Only the little blue penguins remained, and I fully expected to be greeted by their outstretched wings as they waddled on the rocks. Instead I found them tucked away behind a glass window, in a tiny room with rubber mats and an industrial sink full of water. When I ordered the Braised Octopus, I also expected it to greet me with outstretched tentacles, but instead I found a mealy mouthful that must have been soaked in an industrial sink full of vinegar. One bite and I felt like I stuffed an entire bag of salt n’ vinegar chips into my mouth and inhaled deeply.
After abysmal appetizers, we waited with bated breath for the sea lion show. The so-called show turned out to be a talk on training behaviors to help make medical procedures less stressful for the animals. The talk was about as un-special as could be, and the similarly disappointing Ten Tables Bourride turned out to be my father’s spinach egg drop soup minus the msg. The only difference was that someone dropped a delicious, flaky chunk of cusk in the middle. And while this cusk certainly smelled better than my sea lion kiss, (because you never forget the smell of something that feasts on dead fish), it didn’t add much to the soup. The mussels were so perfectly tender that they were easily the best mussels I’ve ever had, but they also failed to contribute to the dish as a whole. I enjoyed the dish, but I don’t have daddy issues so I was really missing the msg.
The aquarium was beyond saving itself, but Ten Tables ended my disappointment after a single bite of Hanger Steak. My favorite underrated cut was strategically seared on both sides, leaving the center a ravishing red. Salt and peppered to perfection, this tender, juicy meat simply melts in your mouth. Two weeks in Argentina, and I’ll still say I’ve never had a steak this perfect.
The lack of penguins plus the lackluster sea lion show may have devastated me to no end, but the pretty tanks of coral brought me right back to scuba diving in Thailand. There was no panna cotta in Thailand, but Ten Tables’ Goat Cheese Panna Cotta combined with sweet rhubarb compote did bring me back to a tiny restaurant in a nameless town of Tuscany where I had had one of the best meals of my life.
After a spectacular steak and a promising panna cotta, I approached the last dish with renewed hope. My faith was rewarded with a phenomenal Chocolate Terrine, and I couldn’t believe that the same restaurant of the miserable vegetable terrine could finish with something like this. Topped with smooth Thai basil ice cream and sprinkled with specks of sea salt, the salt provides the perfect contrast to the rich chocolate, and the sweet n’ savory ice cream brings it all together.
I’ll never regret eating at Ten Tables after this amazing end, and I’ll never regret revisiting the aquarium either. My mother and I laughed at our lofty expectations, but we also marveled at how much more of the world we’d seen and at how many aquariums we’d been to that made this one seem so small. I’ve come far as a foodie too, I think. If I had come to Ten Tables four years ago, I may have dubbed it the best meal of my life, with a caveat for the terrible terrine.
Despite failing to wow me, Ten Tables is the only restaurant I’ve ever been to where the dishes are so different. Half the dishes earned a full five stars while the rest barely merited a two. I’m torn by the amazing things I tasted, but also bitterly disappointed by the others, and it was hard to come up with a rating that was fair for a talent so half-way repressed. In the end, my 3.5 stars are as lukewarm as the start of my review, but I wouldn’t let me stop you from going. Just try not to build it up too much – Ten Tables may be a JP legend, but take what you’ve heard with a grain of salt and try to see it through a pair of bright eight year-old eyes.
