Dead Chefs Society

De Les Prés d'Eugénie

(Guérard's garden)

"1,2,3... Soleil!" is a kids’ game : they’re all running around but need to freeze when the master of the game says “1,2,3.. Soleil!”. Kids who are still moving when the phrase is pronounced are eliminated until there is only one left. I’ve come to believe that this is actually the game most restaurants are playing with the Michelin stars: at three, and sometimes a bit before, they just freeze, stop moving. I don’t know if, as some say, the Michelin “system” is to blame, but apparently, Michelin doesn’t change your rating if nothing changes, and so too many chefs actually are forever stuck in the time of their third star, condemned to the eternal damnation of imitating themselves until the end of days.

De Le Relais Bernard Loiseau

I hate to say it, but I must recognize that the last years of Bernard Loiseau were pretty much like that. Openly freaking out at the idea of losing the third star on which all his business, life, and apparently will to live relied, he stand there explaining that he would from now on stick to his “concept” and not experiment again. It would be only three ingredients in the plate, no cream or flour, etc. No more cooking, just formulas and recipes. Yet in the years before, Loiseau was still full on inventing, experimenting, and demonstrating his actual genius, with all sorts of recipes, of specials of the day. The vegetable menu in particular was where he was inspired, free, and wonderful. But in the last years, the genius only survived here and there, overshadowed by a henceforth systematic approach.

De Guy Savoy

(A Savoy dish that could have been great)

God knows I also love his buddy Savoy, but the same is true of him too – I remember the first time I went to Savoy, before the third star (and everybody was making fun of Michelin for having missed that boat when it sailed, probably ten more years earlier). There was a finesse, a magic to his food then, that is hard to imagine for the current visitor. Luckily that great entrepreneur designed a restaurant experience that is not about exceptional food but about an exceptional time, so that I still, often, recommend Savoy.

De l'Arpège

(This too is a great dish... most of the time)

I could go on and on. Even a very free man like Alain Passard, or a very focused and stable one like Bernard Pacaud, have in recent years turned into self-imitators, sometimes to the point of caricature. Inattentive eaters, or those you could call “concept-eaters” didn’t notice anything. They say it’s as wonderful (or as pointless) as it ever was, or they say that it’s not good anymore because it’s out of fashion. Some of them, being regulars, having a relationship with the staff, indeed still make extraordinary meals. And some anonymous clients also sometimes get lucky. After all, there’s a reason those chefs are as famous as they are, and sometimes it shows. During my last meal at l’Ambroisie, the six slices of carrots on the side of I can’t even remember what where truly divine.

De Les Prés d'Eugénie

I felt that way when I finally visited Michel Guérard’s Les Prés d’Eugénie. Granted, my expectations were unreasonably high, becauseI knew from reading and watching TV that Guérard was one of the great chefs in history. Our meal was very perfect, exquisite would probably the best word to describe it. However, only the amuse and the lobster dish were here to attest Guérard’s particular and impressive genius. The lobster, in particular, is plunged alive in Armagnac, marinated for over a day, and then served as a carpaccio with an Armagnac gelée. This was nothing short of brilliant, as were the “reconstituted” lobster legs on the side. Everything else, exquisite and pleasant as it was, felt familiar, easy to imitate, and even to enhance.

De L'Auberge de la Ferme aux Grives

Incidentally, Guérard’s bistrot, l’Auberge de la Ferme aux Grives, was revoltingly expensive crap – bad ingredients, including bread and wine, poor preparations, Disneyland setting, and a 46€ mandatory prixfixe to which you should add 13€ for a bottle of water.

De Chapel

(Alain Chapel's ghost... en gelée)

In fact, Guérard felt pretty much like Chapel or Loiseau today: the namesake chefs at those two excellent restaurants are both dead. But they remain excellent restaurants through which you can imagine the original genius, pretty much like you imagine what music actually was like when you listen to very old recordings. It’s the same feeling at Passard’s, Pacaud’s, Guérard’s, or Robuchon’s... with the possible advantage that, those chefs being alive and sometimes there (which does not always mean non-absent…), maybe you have a higher likelihood to experience their actual genius.

De Ledoyen

After all, those are places where you’re paying for the possibility of a wonderful meal (or course) rather than for the actual meal. Come to think of it, it’s exactly what happens with other non profitable arts, like theatre, classical music or opera. And while we have to accept that wonderful moments can never be guaranteed, this, more than the stellar prices, is what make those places really exclusive: it’s one thing to have to pay 100eur for an entrée, it’s another thing to have to have five or ten 300€ meals in order to experience the true wonder. Yes, the rest of the time, those restaurants are still good (most of them) – but they’re not delivering on the promise of a unique, life-enriching experience.

Pour en finir avec le poulet rôti (et avec l’Ami Louis)

C’est vraiment juste une façon de parler : je n’ai aucune intention d’en finir avec ce chef-d’œuvre de civilisation. Au contraire, continuons. Mais une visite au fameux L’Ami Louis, rue du Vert-Bois dans le 3^ème arrondissement, m’a donné l’envie de revenir sur le poulet rôti, qui est la star de ce restaurant. Comment est-il ? Il n’est pas mal. Comme tout ce qu’on mange à l’Ami Louis, ça part sur des ingrédients de qualité absolument exceptionnelle : le poulet est un coucou de Rennes, comme chez Passard à l’Arpège, et puis ici et là on voit des escargots ou des asperges tellement gros qu’on se demande si on n’hallucine pas, des fruits de compétition posés sur un buffet, etc… quant aux préparations, elle sont simples, précises, et sans finesse.

De L'Ami Louis

En somme, pour ceux qui pensent que la cuisine, ce n’est que des ingrédients et des techniques rudimentaires, l’Ami Louis est le sommet du restaurant. Enfin, il faudrait ajouter: "pour ceux qui pensent que la cuisine, c’est des ingrédients en grande quantité", parce que l’autre caractéristique de l’Ami Louis, ce sont des portions qui font passer Gargantua pour un curiste. Si l’on veut bien prendre cette quantité et cette qualité en compte (je sais, peu de gens le veulent),  les prix à l’Ami Louis ne sont pas scandaleux, et relèvent d’une marge brute un peu au dessus de deux, à vue de nez (ou d’œil, ou de fourchette, comme vous voulez). Les cris d’orfraie qu’on entend ici et là sur ces prix sont même un peu benêts, à mon humble avis de mec pas contrariant et sans opinion arrêtée.

De L'Ami Louis

Mais revenons à notre sujet : il y a deux principaux problèmes dans la cuisson du poulet. Le premier, le principal, c’est que la poitrine et la cuisse ne cuisent pas le même temps. C’est comme la pointe et la queue de l’asperge. C’est pourquoi on trouve en général le blanc de poulet sec et fade, et on le noie dans des sauces, des jus, des trucs pour compenser. Bien sûr, la qualité du poulet joue aussi un rôle essentiel dans la déroute du blanc, mais le problème fondamental n’est pas résolu par le choix de l’animal : quand le blanc est cuit à point, la cuisse est encore rosée.

De L'Ami Louis

La première réaction à ce drame, c’est de souligner que le poulet rôti est donc une recette absurde. Levez les filets et cuisez-les en papillote ou sous le grill, faîtes de même avec les cuisses, et vous pourrez obtenir une cuisson parfaite des deux (pochés, c’est environ dix minutes de plus pour une cuisse que pour un blanc). Une version moins radicale de cette réponse, c’est le service du poulet rôti en deux services – tiens, comme chez l’Ami Louis. Pendant que vous mangez les blancs qui, si tout va bien, sont tendres et juteux et brillants, les cuisses restent au four et terminent de cuire.

De L'Ami Louis

Mais il en est (j’en ai été, mea culpa) qui veulent qu’un poulet soit rôti entier et du même coup tout parfait à tous les étages. C’est là qu’on rentre dans les stratagèmes : larder la poitrine, la farcir sous la peau, ou brider le poulet à l’ancienne pour la rendre plus épaisse, toutes ces techniques ont le même but : ralentir la cuisson des blancs. Mais ce ne sont que des pis-allers, qui marchent mieux avec des cuissons douces parce qu’alors les blancs sont moins agressés (voyez en particulier le pochage, mais aussi la rôtissoire, j’y reviendrai).

Mais la seule vraie solution pour résoudre ce problème est dans la maîtrise de la cuisson : il faut faire cuire les cuisses plus que les blancs, ce qui vaut dire qu’il faut les montrer plus à la chaleur. Evidemment, si on enfourne un poulet à la chaleur tournante sans y toucher, ça ne risque pas d’arriver, quelque soit le nombre de cierges à Sainte-Rita qu’on allume. Il faut avoir une source de chaleur localisée, et faire bouger son poulet. Ca marche très bien dans un four traditionnel, qui chauffe surtout par le haut et le bas. On met le poulet sur une cuisse, puis sur l’autre, et seulement à la fin, très brièvement, on le pose sur les deux avec les blancs face à la chaleur. C’est la méthode que Christian Constant (le chef) appelle « 1-2-3 ». Une variante pour obtenir une coloration et une cuisson plus régulière est de retourner l’oiseau plus souvent (Ainsi je serai plutôt de l’école 10 min sur une cuisse, 10 sur l’autre, 10 sur la première, 10 sur la seconde, 15 minutes de repos dans l’alu, 7min sur le dos, servez).

Bien sûr il y a aussi l’arrosage (je ne suis pas sûr que ça serve beaucoup mais ça donne l’air d’un pro et l’occasion de se brûler), et l’assaisonnement (trois fois : avant la cuisson, avant le temps de repos, au moment de servir). Une autre variante qui repose sur le même principe est la méthode Passard qui consiste à griller le poulet entier sur le grill (donc en ne présentant les blancs que très peu à la flamme). On peut aussi commencer la cuisson à la vapeur, à l’étouffée, en pochage, et ne s’attaquer à la rôtisserie, toujours asymétrique, que dans un second temps.

J’ai parlé d’un deuxième problème fondamental (quoique je le juge moins essentiel que le premier) : la peau croustillante et dorée. Pour que la peau croustille, il faut bien entendu qu’elle chauffe. Mais contrairement à une croyance répandue, ce qui fait le croustillant, ce n’est pas haute température. C’est le type de chaleur (elle doit être sèche) et le fait que la cuisson dure suffisamment. L’idée qu’il faut rôtir à poulet à haute température pour avoir une belle peau est une imbécilité. Tout ce qu’on obtient, à haute température, c’est une peau brulée et une chair desséchée. Parfois même, le cœur de l’animal reste cru alors que le tour est déjà brulé.

Si il y a encore des lecteurs à ce point de cette chronique, je m’en vais donc les décourager avec un paragraphe de thermodynamique. Il y a en effet trois types de transfert thermique : la convection, c’est quand l’air chaud bouge parce qu’il est chaud et donc transfère de la chaleur ; la conduction, c’est quand ça chauffe par contact avec un truc chaud ; et la radiation, c’est quand un corps chaud émet des radiations qui ne sont pas chaudes mais qui réchauffent ce qu’elles touchent. Un four traditionnel est dit à convection parce que l’air chaud y circule naturellement. La cuisson à la poêle ou dans l’eau est typiquement faite par conduction. Enfin un barbecue cuit essentiellement par radiation, comme vous le voyez quand vous passez votre main au-dessus des braises : si vous la passez vite, nous ne sentez pas de chaleur. Mais si vous la laissez, les rayons chauffent rapidement la surface de votre peau et finalement ouille ouille ouille.

Dans une rôtisserie ou un barbecue, c’est la radiation qui est la plus importante (c’est pour ça qu’on les fait avec des braises et pas des flammes). Comme sur votre main, la radiation chauffe la peau très fort, mais cette chaleur ne pénètre pas beaucoup l’intérieur de la viande (ou du poisson). Du coup l’intérieur cuit doucement (par conduction depuis la surface), et d’autant plus doucement que, le barbecue ou la rôtissoire étant ouverts, l’air chaud s’en va, le transfert par conduction et convection ne se fait presque pas, et donc l’intérieur de la viande est à l’abri de la chaleur. Prends ça dans ta face, Hervé This!

Même dans votre four fermé, il est important de ne pas brusquer la viande, et donc de garder une température raisonnable et surtout de s’assurer que la radiation se fait bien (comme dans le cas du barbecue, glissez votre main et voyez combien de temps elle met à chauffer…). Ou alors une autre façon de ne pas brusquer la viande, c’est de multiplier les temps de repos. Bien sûr, à chaque fois, la viande qui se détend va remouiller votre peau croustillante. Mais en remettant la viande au four, la peau va re-croustiller (et oui, la viande va aussi re-stresser un peu – c’est pour ça que la rôtisserie ouverte est formidable – il n’y a pas besoin d’un temps de repos). Avec cette technique, on peut effectivement utiliser un four à haute température et obtenir à la fois un joli dorage et une viande tendre.

Good-looking young men can buy fancy ingredients (The OFF Feuilleton – part 2)

Humility and masterful skills, Cerruti style, were not everywhere during this food festival. One trend of current cuisine that could clearly be spotted in Deauville was the emphasis on charming, good-looking young men. To a point, this belongs to the very logic of such a cooking show, paradoxical in itself: food made here is not meant to be eaten, and does not impress by its taste of smell (which gets pretty much lost in a large theater, even when it’s onions or truffle). Chefs come here trying to impress by their gesture, their recipes, and their ideas. Now, of course this tends to turn into a fashion show.

De OFF 4- Day 1

The designated stars of this festival were pretty emblematic of that trend. Take Peter Nilsson, of La Gazzetta in Paris, chief among them. His demonstration last year, I was told, stole the show, was as a great moment. He got a standing ovation or something like it this time around. And it is indeed hard to resist that good looking, understated Swed who moved to France and refuses the categories of fine dining and bistrot. He has a very no-bullshit discourse about cooking, focused on simplicity.

De OFF 4- Day 1

At the same time, if you have the audacity of focusing on food, it’s hard to understand what the big deal is about grilling carrots and serving them with razor clams. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, mind you. But the enthusiasm is hard to justify on culinary grounds. It becomes even harder to justify when you actually eat at La Gazzetta, where many such “ideas” are implemented in a very casual manner (e.g. sand in the clams, under-aged beef, burnt vegetables…).

Another case in point is Gauthier junior in Boulogne sur Mer, apparently an old favorite of the organizers of the festival. You see this young genius can actually make sure that food is only served in one little side area of each plate. He can grade pumpkin and prepare it like raw carrots. He can half burn onion rings. He can deny it when an experienced cook and eater says the smell is strong. Pure genius, I tell you. Forget Guérard, Senderens or even Adrià, and rush to Boulogne.

De OFF 4- Day 1

There was Bertrand Grébaut, the chef at l’Agapé, newly Michelin starred. He’s a good-looking young-man too, like his business partner and maître d’(who is maybe slightly less young). Both are spin-offs from l’Arpège, and they opened together that Agapé place that has been all the rage in food circles last year. And indeed the young men have opened a kind of baby-Arpège, a not-so-hard discount of fine dining. Grébaut gave us a very Passard-like cooking demonstration, smoking an egg and slow-cooking some asparagus in pan with butter. He also slow-cooked a piece of yellowtail, wrapped it in lardo and served it with a Jerusalem artichoke purée.

De OFF 4- Day 1

That all looked like pretty decent cooking, if hardly revolutionary. Back in Paris, I went to check at their restaurant if there was more than meet the eye. There was not, but there was indeed a very-well trained cook, and they were using excellent ingredients. It may come as a relief that you don’t need to go to l’Arpège and pay Passard prices anymore to get the best of Bernard Antony’s cheeses (the Alsatian genius), or the wonderful veal selected by the posh Parisian butcher Hugo Desnoyer.

De L'Agapé

(Wonderful vanilla ice-cream)

But what l’Agapé demonstrates a contrario, is that slow-cooking, great ingredients, and a couple of other specific techniques, if they may make for good food, don’t make for a Passard. My meal still cost me something like 160€, which I’d much rather have spent at Le Cinq (see recent post) or La Grande Cascade (coming soon). Hell, I’d rather spend them on a lunch deal with tap water at the original Arpège.

Italians and almost Italians (The OFF feuilleton, part 1)

With delay, here is my feuilleton about the OFF4 – It has four episodes, or maybe five, we’ll see.

De OFF 4- Day 1

As I first told you, the overwhelming impression of the OFF4 was that the Danes stole the show, because of what I’d have to call their sincerity – their genuine passion for food and their country, and for exploring. There were a few other trends I should mention. For instance one common thing among the many Italian participants was that, no matter how inventive, different of convincing they were, they all proposed reinterpretations of classics of Italian cuisine. One was cooking without wheat, the other was reinventing the pizza, a third one was redefining risotto, some were pretty orthodox and some went wild, but it always seemed that you cannot cook as an Italian if you are not cooking a traditional Italian course. It’s OK if your recipe has no ingredient or technique in common with the original, but the name needs to be familiar.

De OFF 4- Day 1

Another thing I’d like to remember is the humility and devotion of a few chefs – but only a few. Chief among them was Frank Ceruti, he who ran the Louis XV (Ducasse’s flagship restaurant in Monaco) until recently. That guy has been a three star chef for almost twenty years, but it was moving to see him prepare a plate of pasta with vegetables in front of us. Now of course, he’s part of the Ducasse team, so there was a lot of memorized (internalized, even) marketing bullshit he gave us, like when he claimed that they just discovered the technique to rub your knife on garlic before slicing truffle at the Louis XV. But at the same time, he was indeed sharing this little known technique (mentioned, I should point out, in Ptipois’ book with Pébeyre, the truffle king), even though, in the context of a cooking show where dishes are meant to be photographed not eaten, emphasizing the taste and smell of the truffle did not make a difference.

De OFF 4- Day 1

So while the confirmed three star chef is cooking pasta, and Sébastien Démorand, the host of the show, asks him something about what he’s thinking about I don’t know what. And he says “right now, I’m thinking about not screwing this dish”. Seriously. Three star chef. Confirmed. Cooking show. I couldn’t help thinking that there might actually be something authentic, maybe even human, somewhere at the heart of the Ducasse empire. Really.

De OFF 4- Day 1

Cinq you very much

La version française viendra plus tard.

De Le Cinq, Briffard

(Photo Ptipois)

News from my favourite active chef : Eric Briffard. Followers of the Parisian food scene know that Eric Briffard, once the almost three star chef of the Plaza Athénée, then ousted for cause of Ducasse-isation of said palace, then lost in the Parisian desert, then sheltered at Les Elysées where he used to offer the best value in town, is now heading the many kitchen of the Four Seasons hotel of Paris, a hotel historically known as “George V”, whose gastronomic restaurant is called “Le Cinq”.

De Le Cinq, Briffard

This means that this brilliant, yet skinny, (maybe the two are unrelated after all?) chef moved from a kitchen with maybe six cooks where he finished every cooking himself and would let no one else chop the vegetable juliennes, to managing an army of app. 90 cooks: gastronomic restaurant, room service, bar, banquets, etc. Now, I won’t lie to you: it is a rough transition.

De Le Cinq, Briffard

This is made rougher by Briffard’s very subtle cooking. First he’s a Robuchon boy, which makes him demanding as far as ingredients and techniques are concerned. Second, his specific talent is one of bringing together a high number of ingredients and making the whole dish feel simple and obvious. He’s somewhat of a symphonist, in that sense. See for instance his raw foie gras dish, in fact a salad of vegetables, fruits and flowers with slices of raw foie gras. The experience of eating this dish is very basic and intense – it’s fresh and fatty at the same time. And it feels perfect and simple.

De Le Cinq, Briffard

How do you manage to get two or three teams of unionized palace cooks to implement and respect the subtle balance that your food requires? Since Briffard took over Le Cinq, there clearly have been tough times in that regard. This leads me to suppose that maybe, the reason the former chef, Philippe Legendre, left, had to do with the staff being difficult. The restaurant is open everyday and some friends and clients, taking advantage of this feature, went to Le Cinq on days when Briffard was off and only had so-so meals. Luckily the waiting staff is world class, led by the legendary Eric Beaumard and an army of Maître d’ who all manage to constantly look delighted to serve you and keep the goodies coming. And the wine list is unimpeachable.

I myself, on a sad February night, had the sad experience of spending a comfortable amount of money on a tasting menu that was a mean caricature of the food of my favorite chef. The subtle compositions of Briffard and their magical effect in the mouth had turned into arbitrary juxtapositions of incompatible flavors with approximate cooking and seasoning. Not to mention, a waiter came to us at the end of the meal saying it was on the house, and then a captain came to apologize – no, it wasn’t on the house and this was the bill.

De Le Cinq, Briffard

(That's good pastry: when there are toys inside)

Even when Briffard was in the house, food was not always as good as it was at Les Elysées, Briffard’s former restaurant. The good news that prompts me to write this post is twofold. 1/ The excellent meal I just had relied on perfectly conceived and typically Briffard dishes. There had been, in recent months, a temptation to offer courses that were fundamentally unworthy of Briffard’s talent; at least in the lunch menu (I remember in particular a pointless palace interpretation of Osso Bucco).

De Le Cinq, Briffard

(This is a whiting dish, but the stars here are the fava beans)

2/Even better, my latest excellent meal happened to be once again when Briffard was not in the house, which strongly suggests a leap in the hold he has on his teams. Maybe he got a new sous-chef, or the right one was handling business that day. I don’t know.

One good meal is not enough for a definitive statement, but this is going in the right direction and consistently has been in the last few months. And there is the precedent of the Plaza-Athénée, where veterans say the food was just great. And this was not my first great meal at le Cinq – just the first great one when he wasn’t in. This requires confirmation, but I have the same message I had in a recent posts about bistrots: you can go out again.

De Le Cinq, Briffard

One more thing: among the many traps of managing a palace kitchen is the sacred independence of the pastry chef. Apparently, Briffard just doesn’t have a say when it comes to pastry and dessert at le Cinq. That’s too bad, because all my experiences in the last year demonstrate that the pastry chef is nowhere near Briffard. Desserts are dull, academic, over-sugared. If you have a sweet tooth, rely on the mignardises: there’s more than enough. But just skip dessert until I tell you otherwise.

De Le Cinq, Briffard

(Feuilleté de pigeonneau, not for wusses)

Oh, I forgot: lunch menu is 85€, everyday. Go.

Alive and well

De Lasserre

La version française est ici.

Lasserre is a historical monument of a restaurant. It once was ZE top restaurant in Paris (say, in the 50s?) and it still is today a solid institution, who not only keeps its standing but also has loyal regular clients. From the moment you step in, you know they take French art de vivre seriously in here. It starts downstairs with this hall like in a cozy bourgeois mansion. This lobby is transition – you wouldn’t want to enter such an institution directly from the street. You are taken upstairs, where the dining room is, in a small elevator that is of course operated by one of the waiters in tail coats – you probably couldn’t manage the technical complexity. The tiny elevator leads to the large, generously decorated and flowered dining room, its large windows and mostly its spectacular opening roof.

De Lasserre

Like the house, like their outfit, the attitude of these waiters seems to be from another time, friendly in fact, but obviously distant, professional, somewhat ironic. Don’t let the attitude fool you: they’re here to please you, and they don’t act snutty or condescending when you want the75€ lunch menu with tap water. Neither do the cooks. Unlike other top restaurants in town, the value lunch at Lasserre regularly features the top hits of the house like the macaronis, the pigeon “André Malraux”, the “timbale” or strawberry.

De Lasserre

Despite the names and the setting and the tailcoats (did I mention them?), cooking is not stuck in the 1950s. On the contrary, it is rather modern, led by one of the best Ducasse boys, Jean-Louis Nomicas, a great technician but also a genuine food lover who does not get carried away by technology or fashion. Thus among the amuses is the foie gras simply served between two crispy ginger bread slices. Beyond the crisp, they bring a discreet seasoning. The quail egg, fried, lies on a sable. At the end of the meal, small profiterolles and lemon tarts are at the same time plain but modern and light, with flavours that are clear and intense if classical.

De Lasserre

The food welcomes you like the place does: it is accessible, familiar, but it is still special and made with extreme care. This is a place where you can come as a food lover obsessed with what’s in your plate, but you can also come for a civilized meal, family or business, where the food is not a conversation-stopper.

De Lasserre

Of course, you should expect no revolution – that’s no what they’re here for. Foie gras ravioli is thus immerged in a lobster bisque that, if its taste is clear and precise, is still heavily buttered and creamed. It comes with mushrooms and foie dices that are violently seared.
Lasserre is also home to the famous Canard à l’orange, carved tableside, a recipe which does seem unchanged from the times of André Malraux. The pleasure starts, and maybe ends, with the expert gesture of a maître d’ carving the duck in a way that not totally Chinese but also not quite French.

De Lasserre

The lambi s cooked with precision, wrapped in a herb crust, with a provencal side which demonstrates the validity of sucj traditional recipes. Too often olive, artichoke and sweet pepper are convoked for some kind of tasteless stew that only masks the taste of the meat. And sometimes it is exactly what the meat needs. But here you see why these vegetables, properly used, emphasize the taste of the lamb, put it forward. The juice with sweet spices is a demonstration of ancient skills – and significant manpower (you don’t get these juices by showing up just before the meal or hiring random cooks).

De Lasserre

The 75e lunch deal is clearly one of the biggest steals in town. Even with the less friendly à la carte prices, Lasserre is still worth a detour. In its warmth, it constitutes a sharp contrast with its neighbour Ledoyen. Sometimes I think that those two together represent the best of top Parisian restaurants – the Dionysian and the Apollonian dimensions, sheer enjoyment on one side and a more contemplative approach on the other.

De Lasserre

A good roll

De Jadis

I don't know why, but I've been on a pretty good roll lately with bistrots in Paris and elsewhere. An excellent one, actually, who reconciled me with dining in Paris -- regular readers will remember that I was slowly losing hope in the seriousness of French cooks. I was also worrying that maybe I was starting to develop the syndrom of the bored food critics, who grew unimpressed by a perfect roast chicken or anything good really, unless it is novel enough to wake him up and make him escape the boredom of his fate.

De Jadis

Turns out, I'm fine. And maybe the economic crisis made people in business everywhere, and in restaurants in particular, work seriously again. Or maybe I just got lucky. Anyway, time to share with you all those very good meals I had. I started the series, I think, after the OFF4 (about which I still have a couple of things to write, stay tuned) and an improvised lunch at Jadis: it was simple and really good, an honest, unpretentious, and very well mastered cooking -- oeufs pochés, rognon de veau, and a superb cheese platter, from no big name fromager, but sent from some shop deep down in Auvergne. Food, not names or ideas. Bravo.

De Joséphine et son pain

It was also long overdue, but I finally tried Joséphine Chez Dumonnet, a true Paris institution, with absolutely traditional Parisian brasserie food, and setting, and an impressive generosity. At first I thought that it did not look cheap, but then it turned out that the paté de campagne easily serves four and the canard aux choux actually consists of a whole duck, so it's actually pretty cheap after all. Also, they have a specialty of truffles (like in the andouillette in puff pastry you can see right upthere), and an excellent bread that they buy at the bakery next door (see the gallery for more pictures).

De Five guys, Bleeker street

In a trip to North America, I also let go of my fine dining/Internet researching way and hit more or less randomly (OK, with some recommendations) some very delicious places, starting with the renowned Modern Apizza in New Haven, Connecticut (best American style pizza I had), the excellent underground Thai restaurant at Fulton and Gold Street in downtown NYC, and the wonderfully "no BS" Five guys (picture), which made up for not having been to the West Coast and In&Out. You know I might actually like Five Guys even more than In&Out. I never had a burger with truly warm meat before ever, I think.

De Au Bon Accueil

Back in France, another long overdue visit what to Au Bon Accueil, a restaurant of which I only ever heard good things. At the same time, that was true of its neighbour in the same rue Monttessuy, Vin sur vin, which turned out to be pretty crappy. And I was still worried when I entered the very black and white restaurant full of old gentlemen in grey suits. But the menu was reassuring, and mostly, the food was perfect (freshness, cooking, seasoning), even in the less than 30€ prix fixe menu. I did not try, but they too appear to be versed in the dark arts of truffle, and with seriously friendly prices --their truffle and vegetable dish at ca 30€, the whole Coucou de Rennes roast for two with a risotto truffle for barely more. I'll be back, and if they confirm, it'll definitely be a new favourite.

De Au Dernier Métro

It kept going with a true bistrot like I did not think they existed anymore. Not a néo-bistrot, not a bistrot de chef, just a place where you'll eat consistently good frites, boeuf bourguignon and other standards, for less than 30€ pp for real, with wine, and dessert and all. Plus, they serve all day (don't you sometimes feel like having lunch at 3pm or dinner after 10pm without having to go to a MacDonalds or Le Pied de Cochon?) and they're open everyday. It's bd de Grenelle at the métro Dupleix. And it's called Au Dernier Métro. At that point it was clear that I was protected by the Gods, and even the new Big Mac with wholegrain bread I had at Saint André les Vergers (Aube) wasn't bad.

De MacDonalds, Saint André les Vergers (Aube)

And indeed said Gods then sent me to more places that I want to return to, and frequently if they serve me meals as good as the ones they served me the first time. In fact, I already went back to L'Auberge du Quincy chez Boboss, another institution that was new to me, and Boboss confirmed that I was not only lucky the first time. Auberge is a very tired word, but it has its meaning with Boboss, who is not only colourful but also obviously a fine palate and a demanding boss. A case in point would be the Parma ham that he has aged three years for him, or the goose foie gras that he serves (they're both on the picture because they were both on my plate, I wonder why). The Chef is former Benoit, and this is ZE place for old traditional dishes: cassoulet, escargots, pieds paquets, caillette, tête de veau...

De Le Quincy

Now something even less likely happened too: a modern bistrot, one that clearly belongs to the "jeune cuisine", as they say, actually impressed me not because of the good look of the chef or the audacity of his concept (more fashionable chefs bashing soon, stay tuned), but because of an excellent meal, with pleasant service and a wise offer of wines. That would be Le Bistral rue Lemercier, next to the Marché des Batignolles (17th). I grew up there, mind you, but that's not what made the meal special. In fact, I'll talk to you more abou that meal when the pictures are ready -- but let me tell you that the wines were natural and sincere, and the cooking, which looked unnecessarily complex on the black board, was balanced, subtle and delicious. While we're at it, I also confirmed l'AOC as an old favourite, with the caveat that this is one of those places where you have to know for themselves what they do well because they don't know it. That's particularly true of the very average beef they put forward as "bidoche" (slang for meat). But when it comes to bone marrow, to terrinnes and ham, to slowly rotissoired echine de cochon, it is solid and not even expensive.

Bottom line: it's safe out there. You may eat out again.

Lasserre, y en pas deux

De Lasserre

The English version is here.

C’est une maison historique et unique, que Lasserre, avenue Franklin-Roosevelt. Ce qui fut LE grand restaurant parisien dans les années 1950 est encore aujourd’hui une institution fidèle non seulement à sa légende, mais encore à ses clients. Dès l’arrivée, on voit qu’ici, ça ne badine pas avec l’art de vivre. Tout commence avec cette entrée de maison bourgeoise, bas de l’escalier, antichambre – on entre pas sans transition dans un restaurant comme celui-là. La pièce maîtresse de cette transition de la rue au grand restaurant est néanmoins l’ascenseur – étroit, tapissé, et manœuvré par un des serveurs en queue-de-pie et plastron nids d’abeille qui officieront pendant votre repas – votre visite, devrais-je dire. Comme leur défroque et leur maison, leur attitude est d’un autre temps, complice mais distante, professionnelle et un peu pince-sans-rire.

De Lasserre

Mais l’attitude ne doit pas vous tromper : ils sont là pour vous faire plaisir, et ne manifestent aucune contrariété ou condescendance quand vous êtes venus prendre le menu du déjeuner à 75euro et boire de l’eau. La cuisine non plus ne vous prend pas de haut quand vous venez en mode « budget ». En fait, les grandes spécialités de la maison sont régulièrement disponibles dans ce menu du déjeuner : le gratin de macaronis, le pigeon André Malraux, la timbale Lasserre.

De Lasserre

Et la cuisine ? Elle n’est pas vraiment prise dans les années 1950. Elle est même plutôt moderne dans ses techniques et ses préparations, menée par un des meilleurs cuisinier de l’écurie Ducasse, Jean-Louis Nomicos, un technicien hors pair mais aussi un gourmand sensé, généreux et qui ne se laisse pas entraîner par sa technique ou ses idées. Dans les mises en bouche et mignardises se démontrent justement cet à-propos dans l’utilisation de la technique. Ainsi le foie gras est-il servi entre deux croustillants de pain d’épices qui, outre la texture, n’apportent qu’un assaisonnement discret. L’œuf de caille, au plat, est posé sur un sablé. En fin de repas, petits choux à la crème et tarte aux citrons meringuées jouent la gourmandise franche mais moderne, lègère, aux saveurs claires mais classiques.

De Lasserre

De la même façon, la cuisine de Nomicos, malgré sa modernité, reproduit l’hospitalité caractéristique de Lasserre – elle est accessible, familière, mais quand même spéciale dans l’extrême soin qui lui est apportée. A Lasserre, on peut venir en gourmand obsessif et ne faire attention qu’à la cuisine, mais on peut aussi venir en assemblée civilisée, en famille, sans que la cuisine n’exige qu’on stoppe les conversation pour la regarder se trémousser.

De Lasserre

Il ne faut, dans tous les cas, pas attendre de révolution culinaire, ce n’est pas le propos de la maison. La raviole de foie gras se plante ainsi dans une bisque de homard au goût précis et clair mais quand même généreusement beurrée et crêmée, avec des quartiers de foie gras et de champignons poêlés violemment. Tout cela est familier et délicieux, soigné et généreux.
Lasserre, c’est aussi la maison du canard à l’orange, découpé en salle, un recette qui, elle semble vraiment inchangé et loufoque, mais dont le plaisir commence, s’il ne finit, avec les gestes experts d’un maître d’hôtel qui découpe un canard d’une façon qui n’est ni tout-à-fait chinoise, ni franchement française.

De Lasserre

Le canon d’agneau, lui, est cuit avec précision, servi dans une croûte d’herbes, et avec un assaisonnement provençal qui démontre l’intérêt de ces recettes banalisées et souvent massacrées – l’olive, l’artichaut, le poivron, relèvent l’agneau sans le masquer. Le jus aux épices douces est un de ces jus parfaits qui démontrent qu’on est dans une maison qui connaît la musique, qui maîtrise la grande cuisine, qui sait comment tirer parti de sa main d’œuvre.
Avec tout ça, je n’ai même pas mentionné le toit ouvrant, pourtant la caractéristique de Lasserre la plus unique, l’attraction. Même par mauvais temps, on l’ouvre brièvement deux ou trois fois pendant le service. Il ne sera pas dit que vous êtes venus chez Lasserre que le toit est resté fermé. Mais dans le fond, le toit ouvrant, ce n’est qu’un accessoire à côté de tout le savoir-vivre déployé, incarné même, pas la maison Lasserre.

De Lasserre

A 75eur au déjeuner, c’est définitivement une des affaires les plus éblouissantes de Paris. Même aux prix moins amicaux de la carte, c’est une maison qui continue à valoir le détour. Elle constitue aussi un contraste saisissant, dans sa chaleur sociale, avec son voisin austère du bas des Champs-Élysées, Ledoyen. Mais je me dis parfois qu’à eux deux, ils constituent un peu le meilleur de la grande restauration parisienne – le dionysiaque et l’apollonien, si on veut.

De Lasserre