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March 25, 2005
Pré-salé lamb from Mont-Saint-Michel - An exceptional produce
L’Agneau pré-salé is a mythic word to many gourmets. The lamb from the borderlands between Normandy and Brittany grazed on the salt herbal marshes, periodically drenched by seawater, and often whipped by the salty winds from the ocean.
Le grévin, grazed on the salt marshes surrounding the bay of Mont-Saint-Michel is perhaps the most famous of the four pré-salé lamb varieties or brands. The others are L’estran from the bay of Somme et d’Authie, the Agneau des herbus from d’Ille et Villaine and the Agneau des Havres du Cotentin from Havres du Cotentin. The total production is a little more than 10000 lambs a year.
Only certain more rustic lamb races thrive under the particular and challenging conditions on the salt marshes. The grévin is a cross from Suffolk.
The lamb’s high consumption of salt and iodine results in a meat with a more tender and juicier muscle cell tissue. The difference is quite extraordinary. Also, the particular flora with more than 60 different herbs results in a very particular and distinctive taste that is not too pronounced by lamb-like flavors but rather by the fresh herbs. Pré-salé lamb is generally commercialized at a slightly older age than other famous French lamb with a normal age of around 120-200 days old.
Pré-salé meat benfits from aging. It may not be sold to butchers before three days after slaughter. Two weeks after slaughter the texture of the lamb shows an exceptional tenderness and juiciness.
This legendary produce was served as Selle de pré-salé à la régence as the main course at the Nobel Prize dinner in 1910 apparently together with Chateau Lafite.
Pré-salé lamb is also produced in Wales, of which some seems to be exported to France, and in Northern Germany.
Pré-salé lamb racks with “epine”-artichokes enhanced by citrus emulsion and lamb jus and rosemary flowers.
For two:
One whole lamb rack of pré-salé lamb
4 epine artichokes or small violet artichokes
Lamb jus
For the citrus emulsion:
Juice from half an orange and half a mandarin
1.2 dl of Ligurian or any other elegant olive oil
1 tablespoon of Dijon mustard
1 egg white
Mix the egg white with the oil and mustard until it is emulsified like a very thick mayonnaise. Add the citrus juices to it. Season it with salt.
Let the pré-salé rest a good 45 minutes in room temperature before cooking to somewhat increase the temperature of the meat. Season it with sea salt 20 minutes before cooking.
Heat a pan with some oil. Sear the rack carefully on all sides until it is golden brown. Put it on a roasting pan and let it sit in the oven at 110-120 C until the meat reaches around 56-57 C inside. Take it out from the oven and cover with some foil or even better place it in a 55 C oven and let it rest for a good 15 minutes.
The artichokes are prepared during the meat's resting time. Turn the artichokes but keep them whole as on the picture. Rub them lightly with a lemon to avoid oxidization. Add two tablespoons of olive oil and a tablespoon of water to a pan on low heat. Cook the artichokes slowly under cover until they are ready. Season them with seas salt a couple of times during the cooking. When they are ready sear them a little on the top in the residual oil in the pan.
Dress the plate with the lamb. On the picture the bones were removed from the meat. Pour some citrus emulsion on and inside the artichokes. Citrus and artichokes is a classical combination and the almost metallic bitterness of artichokes is often in need of some freshness that the citrus possess. Sprinkle the rosmary flowers on top of the artichokes and the lamb. Rosemary and artichokes is another classical taste combination. The rosemary flowers taste slightly different than the sprigs and are slightly sweet and truly seductive to eat. They burst in flavors when crushed by the teeth.
Drink with a good Burgundy from Gevrey-Chambertin or Morey-Saint-Denis.
/MJ
The launch of Gastroville
Today is the launch of the Gastroville blog. We hope all readers will find this blog useful and we look forward to your comments. Preferrably mostly praises but constructive criticism is also welcome. We have a number of intersting restaurant reviews coming up over the next couple of weeks. To mention a few we will post reviews on:
Alain Ducasse at Plaza Athenee, Regis Marcon, two meals at l'Ambroisie with pictures, la Reserve in Beaulieu, some new discoveries in Venice, a couple of interesting little known restaurants in the Madrid region. We will also report from a big tasting of Burgundies from 2002 including Roumier, Dujac, Raveneau, Lafarge, Comtes Lafon e t c. So stay tuned.
Posted at 06:11 AM | Comments (1)March 23, 2005
Le Bristol - Paris (Rating: 16/20)
A restaurant located in a famous palace hotel with two marvelous dining rooms, one for the winter and one for the summer. A large and professional kitchen brigade headed since 2000 by Eric Frechon, backed up by professional waiting staff. A team up that ensures high expectations from diners.
Execution and presentation of the cuisine is as good as one can expect from such a professional operation; precise timing, perfectly cut garnish, good seasoning, very good if not exceptional produce and platings by a team attending to detail. Yet the characteristics often intimately connected with the large palace brigades are a bit too present; one-dimensionality, lack of style, lack of originality and lack of excitement.
After a few somewhat definition lacking nibbles, a Baba truffé, imibé au vin jaune et bouillon de poule, aileron de volaille farci was served. The baba was beautifully displayed under a small stack of truffle juliennes. The hen bouillon was poured over it. What gourmandize it could have been this showcase of classic taste combination with different textures, different taste nuances and truffles, dark black, as they should be late in the season. Truffles were only good rather than exceptional. The truffles were quickly overshadowed and overpowered by the much too smoky hen bouillon and smoked streaky bacon. After only a few spoons of the bouillon, the taste of truffles had vanished in the juxtaposition of smokiness.
A few scallops with clams (coques) on a watercress purée like sauce followed. Equally beautifully plated and cooked “à point”. Slightly rubbery scallops, which if I had to guess had been on land for three days, but still good although a shadow of what they can be. The watercress tasted clams and the clams tasted clams. The result was one-dimensional with no contrast, no support or enhancement to the scallops. Despite the general perception that scallops are bland, scallops have much flavor on their own and possess an incredible ability to grow in presence with several contrasting flavors. Here the scallops were left in dullness.
Next up was a sea bass from the Yeu Island. A superbly cooked piece from a 4-6 kg sea bass, but it was a sea bass in disguise, fully coated by tandoori powder and accompanied by cabbage enhanced with lemons and ginger and a shellfish reduction. Indeed the tandoori-taste was so present and much too long-lingering that the taste, not only completely masked any taste characteristics of a great sea bass, but was also, at least in my mind or imagination, much too present even after the dish that followed. Was the origin of the sea bass stated because it was unrecognizable? Why was this sea bass on a postmortem masquerade? Was it a bridal dress to disguise a poor quality fish? Well, the fish did not have that so seductive texture of a day-fresh sea bass, like firm mashed potatoes, which one can have at l’Ambroise with Pacaud’s fabulous caviar sauce. But sea bass can be equally interesting if it is a few days old and the texture has firmed up a bit. The back of the skin, impenetrable by the tandoori, smelt of fish but other than that there were no traces of a not so fresh fish. A pointless preparation in which the fish could have been replaced by a slab of Soya protein, the ultimate test of the presence of a massacre of a great ingredient.
The duck that took over the role from the poor sea bass was exceptional. It is indeed rare to encounter duck with such appealing texture, firm yet exceptionally tender and cooked to a pink perfection. Glazed turnips, a nice orange confit and a slightly over-sweetened fig accompanied the duck. A superb balance of flavours that lifted the duck a step or two. Bravo Mr. Frechon! But the pommes soufflées served on the side should never have left the kitchen. They will rest in memory as an antithesis to pommes soufflées that should be crisp, tasty and irresistible. Frechon’s version was much too over-salted and soggy.
The cheese board was delivered by Madame Marie Anne de Cantin. It is a good source for cheese but a class below the top suppliers such as Bernard Antony.
Desserts were the highlights. Especially the chocolate dessert prepared with Venezuelan Criollo chocolate provided a superb show of different chocolate tastes at different temperatures and taste nuances. A real treat.
This is a very good restaurant but it is too expensive for what it is and some of the ingredients could have been better. Gastroville score: 16/20.
Should you go? There are other palace-like restaurants in Paris that provide better food and better wine selections at approximately the same price but it is still worth trying.
/MJ
March 19, 2005
The Fat Duck - (Rating: 16/20)
Walking into the very small and very informal restaurant, which is really like a hole in the wall on the narrow streets of little Bray-on-Thames not very far from London, the expectations on the food is easily amplified. Subconsciously there is always a perception that food must be truly exceptional if several reputed guides have offered their highest ratings (Michelin 3-stars and Gault Millau 19/20) to a restaurant with such simple dining room and anti-palace ambiance. Sure, everyone knows that the ratings are supposed to be for the food only, but these guides have an obvious track record of awarding only palace-like restaurants the very highest accolades.
I had the menu degustation in early February. It consisted of essentially the following items.
NITRO-GREEN TEA AND LIME MOUSSE
ORANGE AND BEETROOT JELLY
OYSTER, PASSION FRUIT JELLY, LAVENDER
POMMERY GRAIN MUSTARD ICE CREAM, RED CABBAGE GAZPACHO
QUAIL JELLY, PEA PURÈE LANGOUSTINE CREAM, PARFAIT OF FOIE GRAS
SNAIL PORRIDGE
Jabugo Ham
ROAST FOIE GRAS
Almond fluid gel, cherry and chamomile
SARDINE ON TOAST SORBET
Ballotine of mackerel ‘invertebrate’
SALMON POACHED WITH LIQUORICE
Chicory, pink grapefruit, "Manni" olive oil
POACHED BREAST OF ANJOU PIGEON PANCETTA
Pastilla of its leg, pistachio, cocoa and quatre épices
WHITE CHOCOLATE AND CAVIAR
MRS MARSHALL’S MARGARET CORNET
PINE SHERBET FOUNTAIN
MANGO AND D0UGLAS FIR PUREE
Bavarois of lychee and mango, blackcurrant sorbet
SMOKED BACON AND EGG ICE CREAM
Pain perdu, tea jelly
Heston Blumenthal of the Fat Duck has in the media been intimately associated with the so-called science cooking movement or Molecular Gastronomy or Culinary Constructivism as Hervé This (the French food scientist) wishes to label it today.
Heston seems like a modest chef and he stood in his kitchen overseeing the work when I was there.
It is evident that Heston is under significant influence from the scientists. The published findings of the food scientists and researches are today to a greater or lesser extent practiced at most top restaurants. Heston takes it a step further in practicing those cooking methods and other principles preached for by the food scientists over the last 15 years and with the apparent use of laboratory like equipment as aids in the cooking. However, this does not necessarily show in the food. Most of Heston’s preparations stand with a very firm leg in traditional principles of what food should look like and that it should taste delicious.
Instead, it seems to be in the taste associations where such influence or second opinion from the scientists is shown. An evident theme in many dishes is the concept that two or more of the ingredients have obvious taste similarities (often only in theory) such as white chocolate and caviar, pancetta and pistachios, and perhaps foie gras and chamomile has the same underlying intention.
Another theme often used by Heston is the deconstructions or compositions of obviously English tastes, for example, the smoked bacon and egg ice cream with tea jelly, sorbet on toast and mustard and cabbage.
Technique wise and execution wise the meal was certainly very impressive and the served courses were clearly on par with or very close to were the chef intended them to be.
Despite the good execution, many courses can be subject to not trivial criticism.
One important observation is that there are only few very exciting or rare ingredients on the degustation menu. Many courses features a bit too much what could be characterized as pedestrian ingredients. Some elements that should be banned from ambitious restaurants such as dried morels were used in one of the desserts. Really, do chefs serving this acid smoke (from the drying process) and nasty-tasting crap think we eaters are idiots? Unfortunately, dried morels and the use of artificial tasting truffle oils and other such ingredients are becoming increasingly used on today’s restaurant scene.
A handful of nibbles preceded the meal and further nibble-like courses were presented during the meal. The first array of nibbles turned out to be a bit symptomatic for the nibbles to come.
The nibbles started with a small plate with two small jelly squares; one red and one orange. Many food writers have in detail described these. The waiter intructs you to eat the beet jelly first and the orange jelly after it. The jellies were in fact one red with the taste of blood orange and one yellow with the taste of yellow or golden beets. The idea is that you are supposed to be fooled by the perception that beets come in red and orange in orange, but the knowledgeable eater knows that beets come in different colors and have done so for long as do oranges. It is really difficult to see any culinary or emotional value but for those who do not know better, there is perhaps an educational value in this preparation. Secondly and perhaps most importantly, the jellies were somewhat cold, gluey and hard resulting in a jelly structure that broke down in the mouth into grainy texture instead of quickly melting to provide the so sought after texture and taste sensation of melting jellies.
The nitro green fluff-nibble as I call it was surprisingly tasteless. The fluff was meant to taste something but it didn’t, virtually tasteless. The culinary value of it is questionable. There is apparently quite a show effect intended with this dish and I can see some people finding it amusing to have it prepared by the side of the table. But the result of Heston’s original is about as interesting as the copy at el Bulli.
The oyster with passion fruit jelly was a pretty ill conceived preparation. The oyster taste was completely masked by a too sharp passion fruit jelly. It was absolutely impossible to judge the quality of the oyster and what characteristics it had. Annoying. From the shape of the shell it could be determined that it was a wild flat oyster. Can oysters and passion fruit work? Maybe, if the passion fruit is exceptionally perfumed and not too marked by hard acids and even then only if the oyster has a complex, pronounced and long taste such as the Gillardeau #2, which could stand chances to survive the sharpness of passion fruit.
The third quail jelly nibble was much better. The quail jelly on its own was exceptional although the accompanying mousses and purée could be improved. But nevertheless a very good amuse.
Another later inserted nibble was the much talked about chocolate and caviar disc that Heston serves. When I read about it some years ago it immediately captured my interest and prompted me to run out and buy significant quantities of caviar and white chocolate and try it myself. I was slightly encouraged by previous successful trials with white chocolate together with sea salt and also togheter with salt liquorice. In fact, in theory the combination with caviar seemed so obvious that I was wondering how on earth it could have been missed for so long. After many experiments my conclusion was that the chocolate and caviar had nowhere to go. Actually, afterwards my trials seemed like massacre of good caviar. Although a lot of skepticism I was curious as to whether Heston may have got a handle of this and found magic touch that would actually make it work. Well, I am sorry to report that he had not. White chocolate has a richness of cocoa butter and a very present perfume of vanilla (somewhat artificial). The two components completely seals the characteristic taste of caviar and in particular the slightly fish tasting iodine component of the caviar that is to die for. I can admit that the saltiness of the caviar comes through and perhaps enhances the taste of white chocolate. But to my palate it remains a massacre. Even for a much less critical palate, the chocolate and caviar disc may come across as an interesting combination but will hardly ever be to long for. A much better and quite unusual taste combination is that of caviar and almonds.
The more normal courses on the menu were overall significantly better than the nibbles. There were certain preparations that are potentially exceptional such as the salmon and foie gras dishes. For example, by using better quality salmon, scrapping the rubber-like liquorice coating of the salmon, using white asparaguses and morels (fresh) instead, Heston may turn it into divinity. Why not change the rubber-like black wrapping of the fish to clear light liquorice tasting warm but not firm thin jelly-square covering the top of the fish? If he ever does that, you read it here first. The foie gras dish is also potentially exceptional for its original taste marriage but the dish has some calibration to undergo before it will be there. It lacks well-defined tastes of almond and cherries and a needed contrast of sweetness and acidity to go with it. The chamomile needs to be brought out a bit differently. It should perhaps only be served during the season for the cherries that the French call griottes.
A superbly executed dish - from just technique point of view - was the squab dish. The poached squab was beautifully presented on the plate with pistachios and a sauce of pistachios. The squab meat was served without the skin and was light pink right through, although a bit too light due to too prolonged cooking. The first taste revealed an overpowering flavor similar to cured meat or rather a sausage-like taste. I asked what it was and the waiter explained that it had been wrapped in pancetta. Yes of course that is what it was; it was the pancetta that gave the taste to the squab. What a clever idea one might think. Well only clever if the desirable result is a sqaub tasting like a Frankfurter hot dog, because really that is what it tasted like. The texture was quite tender, but for those preferring the squab rosé, it was overcooked. I was never asked how I liked it cooked, I suppose because all squabs had been pre-made and therefore cooked at a certain temperature. But I admit, the pancetta did bridge the taste of the pistachio. Not because these are two tastes that all of a sudden have been discovered. No instead it is a quite familiar taste association found in sausages e t c. Personally, I think there is a very thick and clear line marking the out of bounds for chefs. On the wrong side of this line is indeed a squab that taste like a hot dog. Squab possesses great flavors even if it is a relatively young squab, which seemed to be used. There is no need to completely replace and hide that taste. The similar problem often arises with smoked produce. The smokiness easily takes upper hand and it is not desirable. Correctly balanced, it can provide a desired taste enhancement. But the pancetta cut through the delicate squab flavor hiding those so sought after and delicate flavors and the association with hot dog is hardly flattering. Having made those negative remarks about the squab, it is still a dish that with a different approach (and with an exceptional squab) could be an immortal dish. The quality of the squab was very good and on par with what is served at other starred restaurants in the UK but not on the most divine level that can be found.
The removal of the squab skin meant no taste sensation from a crisp skin. I can understand playing with a produce and remove the skin but a chef doing that should perhaps seek to achieve a preparation were the diner does not instantly long for the skin, crispy or not. The skin on birds is an important transporter of taste that should not be underestimated. Obviously, Heston's cooking technique compromised the skin but was the result desirable? Was the resulting meat more tender, juicier or more interesting than for example the exceptional squab pigeons at Le Louis XV or Michel Bras? Clearly not even remotely close to it.
Some of the courses concocted by Heston have been hailed as exceptional use of modern findings in cooking technique such as the duck’s liver which is poached in a sous vide bag and then gently seared. The custard like texture of the foie gras and the even “readiness” of the liver have impressed certain food journalists who have concluded that it is Heston’s use of this modern cooking technique that delivers this result. Well, it is not quite true. The same result can be had with just gentle pan-frying of the right type of foie gras. Michel Bras has served foie gras by the way with the same type of texture and he does not use any tricks. I do too in my home cooking.
Having said the above, what Heston does in terms of modern techniques is important. It is important because it enables chefs to serve a consistent result and to perhaps improve tastes and textures in the future. However, equally important to understand is that the science approach, if we call it that, will not replace the need for alchemy skills or the magic touch of the chef to find sensational taste calibrations, surprising taste marriages e t c.
Heston does seem to try to create a style of his own, a style that could be called British with clear accents from the British terroir and he should have kudos for that. It is no simple task. Although there are extraordinary ingredients to be found with roots in the British terrior, they are far from as plentiful as in Continental Europe with long traditions in producing such extraordinary ingredients. With those limitations, Heston has to go over the Channel to France to get squab pigeons from Loire and duck’s liver, to Spain for Jabugo ham, to Italy for Manni olive oil and elsewhere for dried morels (Turkish?). The menu is not particularly seasonal in the strictest sense. Out of season items on the menu I had include items such as dried morels with one of the desserts, cherries, almonds and peas. On the a la Carte menu there were further ingredients that are clearly out of season, even if we go to France for ingredients sourcing, such as ceps (from Southern Hemisphere?) and borlotti beans. One could argue that it is a bit troubling to stretch the seasons in this manner. It is usually an evidence of lack of creativity or imagination or it can be perceived as insecurity or a narrow repertoire of the chef. It is if certain taste combinations are so thought out that the chef does not know were to turn to replace them. In today’s world were raw material can be quickly ordered and shipped to a far away destination, there is little reason to argue that chefs, except perhaps for chefs exploring the local terroir, should only use local produce in season. On the other hand, it is arguably easier to find the most exceptional ingredients from a selection in season than from the produce imported in off-season from far away. I have never ever anywhere tried green peas even remotely close in quality to what can be selected on the Southern French markets in season. Everything else that is imported from far away, with lesser careful selection process and travel time invariably tastes bland in comparison.
It is quite evident that a lot of thought has been put into the food served at the Fat Duck. Even a bit too much. The magic of spontaneity and the exceptional taste calibration, which can be seen in creations by masters such as Passard or Gagnaire, is not there. I did not find the hallmarks of great compositions: the highlight of one or more ingredients and were the sum of the ingredients is brought to a new level. But as I have said, technique wise Heston is on a very high level, which makes the lack of true top ingredients, exceptional taste calibration and clarity in the preparations ever more sadening. In terms of originality, there are certain elements of originality in preparations and their presentations but there is a bit too much resemblance of other chefs’ styles or concepts that have become too generic. For instance, a lot of influence from Michel Bras can be found. Even though there is some originality, the food at the Fat Duck does not possess enough originality to be called a style on its own.
It is clear that Heston, if he works hard to renew his dishes and work on the same track may be on to something truly great one day. But the desire of his British colleges to search for celebrity status rather than to search for perfection in their cuisine does indeed not bode well for such development. Also, Heston is liked by many of the British food writer core that hails the restaurant as the greatest place on earth to eat in, which may prove to be rather deplorable for his development.
Putting a score on the Fat Duck is difficult. On the one hand the execution and the level of general interest is superior to a place such as Gordon Ramsay. But there are too many misses and the food overall lack a dimension to be compared with the very greatest restaurants in Europe. One could perhaps say that some of the preparations have a sense of industrial or lab character over them. Heston should try to balance and calibrate flavors to a higher level of complexity. Some dishes even lack a provoking element. Ingredients should be on a more interesting level.
Service was impeccable by the friendly and knowledgeable and caring staff. The wine list is superb without prices being exorbitantly high which has become the standard in Europe’s most prestigious restaurants.
The price for the meal is too high for what is served. But it is not too high for us to give thumbs down.
Should you go? If you are in the area, yes.
Gastroville rating: 16/20.
/MJ
