Sona
Anthony Bourdain once wrote about his interpretation of the two major schools of chef thought. You are either a Blood–cooking with nothing but local produce, hopefully vegetables you have grown and chickens you have slaughtered yourself– or a Crip, a cook who looks for the best, most interesting ingredients at their peak deliciousness, no matter where they come from or how much they cost. The fine folks at Sona are avowedly Crips, and so am I.
I chose Sona based on sample menus I read online, which detailed use of molecular techniques and wildly diverse ingredients, a must-try for me. Those samples did not prepare me at all for the experience that was to come. Here James and I are posed at Bryce’s house, with no idea what is about to hit us:
The interior of the restaurant is disgustingly trendy- very dark with strategic mood lighting. For me these things are bad signs. It was also irked me that I was seated next to some beardo in jeans and a hat. I think it was Rick Rubin, but fuck him. Just as I was thinking that he should show a little respect, someone showed me more than a little, placing my napkin on my lap for me. I should also mention that when I told her my name at the podium, the hostess said “Happy belated birthday,” as I had mentioned that this was a belated birthday celebration when making my reservation.
James joined me from parking the car, and was also immediately napkin-ed. Once we were both there, we received bread in short order. And what bread! Tiny tomato-flavored rolls encircled with brambles of dough were like having bread and a bread stick at once, both slightly acidic, almost like a sourdough. That was nothing compared to the black tea bread. When our server (or rather one of them- we had in the ballpark of ten different people bringing us food, all seemingly delighted to do so and to chat us up while they did) brought the challah-soft, egg washed roll, I thought he said it was black bean, due to its purplish hue and black speckles. But black tea it was indeed- sweet, but nothing like dessert and far more complex than I could ever describe. The closest comparison that I could make is to the apple tobacco my dad smoked before his three heart attacks, quadruple bypass and valve replacement. We kept asking for more, and when they had nearly run out, they saved the last two for us, rather than giving them to new arrivals. The maitre’d told us that their bread baker is an old Japanese man, so obsessed with bread he can barely communicate. It warms my heart when obsession pays off.
We chose to order the six course tasting menu. That means that we were actually given twelve different dishes, as they are served side-by-side, so diners can taste from each other’s plates. The maitre’d asked us if we had any specific requests. We said that we were meat and chocolate people, and that I like game especially. He then asked us our favorite drink ingredients, and swiftly brought our first-edition drinks to us. James said that he was fond of rum and got something that our bartender named The Third Quarter. Consisting of rum, lime and grenadine, it was a little fruity for James. I liked my three-berry lemonade better. It was essentially lemonade with whole blueberries and pieces of straw and raspberries in it. I thought this a creative move on the bartender’s part, having been asked to make a non-alcoholic cocktail.
We were presented with an amuse bouche on what looked like huge plates of seaglass.
Patty Pan Squash Stuffed With Cous Cous and Pickled Ramps was a great play on texture, with the
pearls of Israeli cous cous offsetting the meaty squash. It was all brought together with sprinkles of crispy konbu. The ramp sauce added zest to what might otherwise have been a bland dish.
I apologize to the chef, Kuniko Yagi, that my pictures are so fuzzy. It was dark and I was afraid to bother people in the dark dining room. My greatest failing as a photographer is starting to eat before I can take the damn picture. As you can see with Marinated Big Eye Tuna, Eggplant Marmalade,
Preserved Meyer Lemon and Shiso, I did just that. This medley of lightly sour flavors complemented the tuna (which reminded me more of steak tartare than any fish I have ever eaten) beautifully. I was especially fond of the lightly fried shiso leaf.
I apologize that the next few dishes do not have accompanying pictures- me and my big mouth. I regret this especially because the Alaskan Halibut with Truffled White Asparagus and Hand Made Orrechiete blew my mind. I have only in the last year or so begun to get over my fear of fish, both living and dead. Long story, traumatic childhood memories… This halibut was the first fish dish that I have ever truly loved. The fish was crispy on the outside and melt-in-my-mouth moist on the inside, with a mild flavor. The asparagus was slightly crispy and topped with Bearnaise foam, which is an encapsulation of two very important things in my life. The handmade orecchiette proved why restaurants should be required to make their own pasta. These elements may sound like they do not add up to a whole, but it was all united with little more than a hint of lemon.
Kurobuta Pork Loin with moro miso vinaigrette was another learning experience. Kurobuta pork is created when a nearly endangered breed of black Berkshire pigs are afforded the same luxuries as
Wagyu cattle. All the beer and massages make a happy pig, who leaves a minutely marbled, luxuriously tender corpse. The loin that I ate was somewhere between a normal tenderloin and pork belly in texture and taste. The pork ball was a play on takoyaki (fried squid balls), and both teamed in an umami-luscious way with the miso vinaigrette. The onion was a sweet foil and the buckwheat added exciting texture.
James’ kazusuke duck (marinated in sake lees) also found an interesting texture in the use of black 
barley. The red wine and cider vinegar reduction brought a satisfying combination of sweet and sour, while the celery puree was just plain sweet.
The highlight of the night for me was not the most creative dish on offer, but it was without question the best beef short rib I have ever eaten, and I have had more than my share. 
The earthy, cloud-soft hunk of flesh was wrapped in a horseradish leaf to give a wasabi-like zip to the hearty sauce (it tasted somewhat like carbonade, so I’m assuming it was beer-based). The fermented garlic-potato puree was surprisingly comforting, like a great garlic mash on hallucinogens.
James has only recently fallen in love with balsamic vinegar, (he used to complain about the smell 
when I cooked with it), and was mighty pleased with the reduction accompanying his gorgeously medium rare venison. The white bean puree was like a cuddly pile of warm hummus. The carrot chip was a fun dot of sweetness. Chef Yagi is so good, she even tricked James into eating an artichoke.
With the kitchen now aware that I am a foam girl, my first dessert was centered around a grapefruit one. I hate grapefruit. I think it tastes like poison, but the foam was so nice and light that I didn’t even mind, like Dimetapp and other medicines I enjoyed as a child. I was a little afraid of the
Indonesian Long Pepper ice cream, but not to fear, it was more aromatic than spicy and blended with the cream into something like a very sweet, mild Thai red curry. The best thing on the plate was the pistachio puree, the mild nuttiness of which tempered the big flavors of grapefruit and long pepper.
I had just made James quinoa for the first time a few weeks ago. It gave him the creeps, and now here it was in his ice cream. 
The lavender-honey parfait was given a great crunch by the crispy quinoa, even James liked it. The bubble gumm-y flavor of the cherimoya puree made the dish seem like food from the Mars County Fair.
Yes, we did each have two desserts. James’ second was a warm chocolate mousse, made from 
Valrhona’s bitter Araguani bar, with strong hints of licorice. The black olive powder, blackberries and orange puree all combined for a bittersweet dessert, which James–usually a major sweet tooth–adored.
Look how much care they took with my finale:
My dish was also based on a Valrhona chocolate, this time the Caraibe, which is less bitter and more nutty than the Araguani. Those green things are pickled young almonds, which tasted a bit like cabbage. The almond ice cream was seriously decadent, and the chocolate shavings beneath reminded me of that childhood horror, “Worms in Dirt”, but in a good way. No, really.
Just as we were about to pay our bill and go back to Bryce’s, we were presented with this adorable plate of mignardises. The drink was very unpleasant, James and I agreed that it was lemon-lime
Airborne. The s’mores were great, but the victor was unquestionably the chocolate-chile macaroon. I am a love-struck fool for spicy chocolates of all kinds, and this was a fine example.
Bravo to Chef Yagi and every single person at Sona who made for an incredible, educational and mind-bending night.