Benu restaurant delivers bold, intricate artistry

A valet stands at the iron-gated entrance to Benu, marked only with a small sign, greeting diners and leading them from Hawthorne Lane into the enclosed encampment of the San Francisco restaurant.

On the right is a kitchen sequestered behind floor-to-ceiling windows, gleaming like a satchel of diamonds, with white tile, polished stainless steel and a cadre of chefs in jackets so vibrant they could be used for a Clorox commercial.

The valet escorts diners past the outside view of the kitchen and into a patio - a checkerboard of concrete and manicured grass interspersed with benches and five perfectly symmetrical Japanese maples. As diners walk up the stairs to the restaurant, the door glides open, courtesy of a host who graciously greets each party.

The dining room exudes the tranquillity of a Japanese teahouse, sleek and minimal. White walls and gray banquettes create a subdued neutral palette. Structural support beams cross near the rear of the restaurant, looking like a modern sculpture.

Tables, generously spaced and cloth-less, are made of black resin-like material trimmed in light wood. The 66-seat dining room is serene, modulated by the subdued buzz of conversation. It appears everyone got the memo, because not a single diner defies the apparent black, white, gray and beige dress code.

This pared-down minimalism - no tablecloths, flowers or much art on the wall - is becoming the new definition of luxury. Instead of the finery of a decade ago, chefs are spending their money on showcasing the food.

The bare walls and soft lighting, more flattering to the food than to the diners, draws all eyes to the plates meticulously crafted by Corey Lee. The chef-owner was at the French Laundry for eight years, the last four as chef de cuisine, before opening Benu in August.

Some continue to make comparisons between Benu and the French Laundry, but Benu is a very different restaurant. The food looks east for inspiration, perhaps paying homage to Lee's Korean heritage.

Lee offers an a la carte menu with 16 savory dishes divided into four categories. Prices for the smaller courses range from $10 to $18; the seafood and poultry courses start at $24 and generally top out at $32. Most people will need to order at least three courses to be satisfied.

12 courses for $160

The 12-course tasting menu is $160 and includes some dishes from the a la carte menu and some that are created for the tasting. Wine pairings can add $110 more a person, depending on the menu, so with tax and tip you can easily spend more than $300 a person.

It's hard to describe Lee's handiwork. He employs so many components, unfamiliar ingredients and cutting-edge techniques that each dish requires a diner's total concentration.

The first dish to arrive on one visit was a cool dashi broth with a single peeled tomato, an "egg yolk" of tomato water, a scattering of herb blossoms, a single chervil leaf and an orange nasturtium petal. The dish pinged every sense: the cool pop of tomato, the gush of liquid from the enclosed yolk, the herbal pop of the flowers.

As you move further into the tasting menu, the flavors get even more complex.

You'll find a "1,000-year-old" quail egg served in a spoon and accented with a fresh hit of ginger and scallion. Lee makes an anchovy gelee and cuts it into perfect squares that glisten like polished amber, accenting them with a few peanuts and lily buds, tiny leaves of cilantro and curls of red chiles.

He's found a way to replicate the brittle yet elastic texture of shark's fin by making an intense broth and adding a hydrocolloid such as locust bean gum. He then squeezes the thick liquid into cold water, which sets it in fine threads. These become the star of a Chinese-inspired soup where the mahogany broth is filled with hunks of crab, cabbage and ham that cover a black truffle custard.