About two months ago, I was invited to join Jean-Georges Vongerichten in his restaurant's kitchen in Shanghai as he demonstrated a few new dishes. I had some trepidation that the lionized chef would be arrogant and distant, all-too-aware of his own celebrity, a master deigning to grace a few journalists with his presence. We were ushered into the kitchen, and there he was in his neat kitchen whites, hair precisely combed back.

Within moments, it was clear that my assumptions were wrong. He gave us a warm smile. He answered questions with ease. He has a quiet confidence, not a brash or unapproachable air.

We watched as he prepared recipes using spices and essences from all over, especially Asia, combined with the precision of French cuisine. He and executive chef Eric Johnson demonstrated a basil tempura shrimp (which included a powder made of fresh basil dried to a crisp in the microwave for 5-10 seconds).By the end of the sensational lunch, which ended with a relaxed conversation about his approach to menu-design(Shanghai's dishes are adjusted to be less salty for local palates), I was convinced that I must visit Jean-Georges in his New York City namesake restaurant.

Four weeks later, I was stepping into the Trump Tower at Columbus Circle. I have dined many times at Jean-Georges in Three on the Bund, but when I entered his Manhattan dining room, I was giddy with excitement.

My companion chided me for giggling like a "bumpkin" visit ing the big city. But my smiling and sighing continued throughout our dinner. The sea trout sashimi came smothered in trout eggs, lemon, dill, horseradish and curls of crispy fish skin. The skin is salty, the fish buttery. The brilliant flavors are alternately biting, bursting, melting. You can't eat this and have an unrelated conversation. Like many of Vongerichten's riveting combinations, such as foie gras wonton — char-grilled goose liver in a delicate sheet of pasta under smoky dashi foam sprinkled with crunchy green apple cracklings — you taste it and several discrete, sparkling flavors come together to create a novel multi-storied flavor. And that's not the denouement — there's a distinct aftertaste which lasts on the palate with clarity. It could be the heat of jalapeÒo plus the citrus bite of yuzu from a sea urchin dish — its long note stays with you and keeps the dish alive after it has been devoured.

Although many of Vongerichten's ingredients are luxurious, that's not the key to his culinary practice. Rather, his cuisine brings together distinct tastes and textures we normally consider to be miles apart on the flavor wheel, and creates a surprising harmony which we've never tasted before.

On top of everything, our phenomenal waitress Christina was so articulate and enthusiastic about the food she could be heard receiving praise for her service at the tables around us. Halfway through our meal, Vongerichten came to our table. "It's nice to see you again," he greeted me with a smile. "How do you like it? It's just very simple." I opened my mouth to protest. Then I just grinned. I realized it would take a whole article to convey the simplicity of a meal created by Vongerichten.

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