Minutes after the Spitzer blockbuster hit, both client9.com and clientnine.com were registered, up, and running (clientnumbernine.com and clientnumber9.com were also registered). But at present, there's still no profile for "Client 9" on Facebook. Exactly the reason I keep deactivating my account.

Eater is fortunate enough to have a relationship with Dave Chang, Mayor of the East Village, as we say, and perhaps the most talented chef experimenting with food in New York at this moment. The relationship is simple: we like what he's doing, a lot, and he's generally tolerable of what we do at Eater. As a bonus, he's also a friend: I find him to be a genuine, humble, and kind person. With an absolute shit ton of talent.

Anyway, this has Steele and I among a very lucky few who got a seat at Momofuku Ko for friends and family. [steele's photos]. What has to be said about this place is that it is an epiphany. The tempo, intimacy, presentation, philosophy, and flavor profile of Ko is spectacular and new—and I think it's something that other restaurateurs have seen coming and themselves tried to capture with less success. Robuchon NY, for example, or the evolving idea of the chef's table. It is a restaurant where raw fluke with whipped buttermilk, poppy seed and soy, good enough to be the envy of most kitchens in the city, fades into obscurity here. The show-stopper, and the point of this post, is the shaved foie gras with lychees and pine nut brittle. In 8-12 months, variations of it are going to be all over the city. See also, what Nobu Matsuhisa's Miso Black Cod did for sablefish. Everyone and his mother is going to be shaving foie gras. By virtue of it being frozen and shaved, the first spoonful is ice cold, rich, creamy and vibrant like a good gelato; then you want to dirty the dish up, mix the lychees, brittle and the foie. The foie softens in consistency and temperature a bit and so you're eating a nutty, crunchy melange of fruit and foie. Cereal for a king.

Back to Chang for a moment, who's watching us eat this from behind the bar, his arms folded in a kind pose of perverted satisfaction. Beaming despite his lower back being in shambles and, by the way, drinking diet Coke with ice out of a plastic take-out soup container.

Written as much for my own reference as anything else. 1. No photos of me, especially not self-portraits, series of self-portraits, and/or photos of me just woken up. 2. Nothing too long, introspective, preachy. 3. No series of posts offering a chronicle of a milestone event and/or undertaking in my own life. 4. Where possible, invoke the name of Matty. 5. Help non-readers keep tabs on our blogs.