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April 28, 2005
Alla Testiere - Venice (Rating: 16/20)
The seafood of Venice and the Adriatic coast to the south is one of the very best and unique in the world, but it is not always easy to find authentic restaurants which make best use of fresh and local ingredients. One restaurant that had been recommended by some frequent visitors of Venice who are also discriminating palates is restaurant Alle Testiere. This place was on my radar screen for a long time, but we have never had a chance to get to Venice. Finally the opportunity came up when we were spending three days in the beautiful Venetian town of Verona, where one of my favourite contemporary writers, Tim Parks lives. (I recommend very highly his non-fiction “Italian Neighbours” for those interested in Italian culture.) We drove to Venice from Verona, parked the car in Piazzola Roma and then happily walked to the restaurant as the public boats or vaporettos were on strike. Alle Testiere is a small trattoria with only 6 to 7 tables, and the room is charming in a natural way without any artificial attempt to make it look “cozy” for the outsiders. These tables fill quickly, and one needs reservation even for lunch. Dinner reservations are very hard to get, so the restaurant does have multiple seatings for dinner during high season. We were seated by a young waitress in a nice corner table, and then a friendly (but without artificial excess) and easy going person came to take our order and recited the daily specials. His name was Mr. Luca, and it turned out that he is the co-owner (the other owner is Bruno, the chef) and also the wine buyer. Luca speaks both English and French fluently, which made communication easier. A few months later, in a more recent visit, we would learn that Luca is a consummate professional, and he discovered Bruno’s cooking as a client, and when the two joined hands, he as the manager and Bruno as the chef, they turned a cute neighbourhood trattoria into arguably one of the two best restaurants in Venice (the other being Da Fiore) and into one of the very best Italian seafood places. Although there is a written menu posted outside, Alle Testiere buys its seafood daily from the open-air fish market near the Rialto bridge and, therefore, the menu changes daily depending on the availability of fresh and seasonal products. So when Luca recited the six daily antipastas, or entrees, it turned out that they are all favourites of mine and some of them can only be had in the Adriatic. We ended up choosing five out of six beauties.
We started with the baby soft shell crabs (moeche), served at room temperature. Indescribably juicy and subtly seasoned, they were by far the best soft shell crabs I have had. Bruno rolls them in breadcrumbs and quickly fries them. He then marinates them in a zesty blend of olive oil, fresh pink grapefruit juice, orange juice and sea salt. Before serving them with a side salad of agrumes, the crabs are slightly rubbed with cumin. The result is so appetizing and tastebud tickling that in our most recent visit in end March we were elated to find them among the daily specials again, and we ordered a double portion!
Then we had the granceo (grancevola) or the spider crab which is an especially sweet and delicate creature of the Venetian lagoon. The preparation was classic, boiled, and the meat meticulously picked from the shell. The crab was squeaky fresh and was served inside the shell with its roe. Our server brought a bottle of Tuscan olive oil and pepper to the table as the only seasonings. The olive oil was very peppery and delicious and I soaked it up with my bread before she grabbed the oil back.
Then we had a favorite clam of mine: razor clams, or couteaux in French, called capelonghe in Venice. They were grilled in the shell with a touch of olive oil, herbs and salt. When I have them in the US, these clams are much larger and the meat more chewy, less interesting. The simply prepared version in Testiere is especially recommended to those who tried them in haute cuisine places, such as Gagnaire and Lucas Carton to see the quite unique taste of these clams when one devours dozens of them which are so fresh from the lagoon.
We continued with scampi or langoustines. The unfortunate trend nowadays, especially in 3 star French restaurants, is to experiment with variations of tempura (Lucas Carton version is especially unsuccessful as it is oily and too thick) or to offer the delicate creature as a foil to bring out the best in caviar (Ducasse—very decadent but not particularly a langoustine dish—rather a caviar dish). The Alla Testiere version was not the most imaginative preparation I have seen from langoustines which all seafood lovers adore, but a very good one. Indeed a dash of imagination helped to bring out the sweetness of the local Adriatic scampis and balanced it with some acidity as this dish was served in a broth with sweet/crunchy touches provided by red onion and orange infusion. As can be seen from the image with their antennas intact and their bright shining colours, these langoustines were of pristine quality and ultra-fresh.
Our final appetizer was the moscardino or baby octopus. (The season was over for seppioline or baby cuttlefish which is to die for if you can get it fresh in Venice). Alla Testiere prepared a creative but not fussy dish from the baby octopus by preparing a cold and first rate gazpacho with grilled baby octopus. The result was a minor masterpiece in terms of colour, textural contrast and appetizing taste.
Unfortunately this was all for the appetizers. At this point Luca came to our table and asked if we still wanted pasta dishes. I shook my head in disbelief. We were barely starting. How could not one have the middle courses? From a list of 4 pasta dishes we chose rigatoni with anchovy and thinly sliced artichokes (a variation on more traditional Venetian staple bigoli in salsa by substituting artichokes for onions) and tagliolini with white Alba truffles. The white truffles were first rate: firm, aromatic and abundant. The rigatoni dish was quite good, but I did not think that it was necessarily better than the traditional version with onions. The tagliolini was homemade and firm, but not as stunning as the versions in Piemonte (such as at the restaurant Antine) where they use high quality farm eggs which are almost orange in colour.
At this point our server asked if we wanted dessert. I must have given the type of stare that can freeze one’s blood that she asked for Luca’s assistance to understand why I looked unhappy. How can you expect us to leave without trying one of the daily special main courses that you recited at the beginning of the meal, I told Luca. Charming Signor Luca obliged and recited the specials one more time. The problem is that I am and was missing all he has recited so we ordered a mixed grill consisting of fresh wild prawns or gamberi, the rare cigale de mer or cannocchia, baby sole from the lagoon (sogliole), San Pietro (Saint Pierre, John Dory) and Coda di Rospo (lotte, monkfish).
No farm raised fish is served in this restaurant. I would say that both shellfish and fish were equally fresh and grilled just right. Even the potatoes and zucchini you see in the picture below were first rate. The only afterthought I had was that, given how interesting and subtle tasting the cigale de mar or cannocchia is, I should perhaps have ordered a separate portion of them since we had the chance to savour this very unique (and seasonal) delicacy from the lagoon. They are only available in very late fall and winter.
I wanted to have lemon sorbet afterwards. They had a light lemon torte instead.
I should add that the 2002 Vogler Sauvignon Blanc from Aldo Adige matched well with the appetizers and, incredibly, with the truffles. The rather aromatic Verdicchio, which is the house wine there, did go well with grilled fish.
For those who are looking for first rate fish and shellfish from the lagoon, prepared simply, executed proficiently, and with a dash of imagination which never goes overboard, Alle Testiere is very highly recommended. It is justifiably popular with both locals and discriminating visitors and let’s hope that prices continue to remain fair and quality so high despite their popularity.
Gastroville ranking: 16/20 (VM)
April 23, 2005
Isami - Paris (Rating: 15/20)
For people who wish to have a quick and light and high quality lunch, however, there is a better and cheaper (but not cheap) alternative than L’Atelier in Paris. This is however not an international style contemporary brasserie but Japanese fast food, a sushi place. Located in the touristic Ile Saint Louis, ISAMI is a tiny mom and pop and daughter type of place that only prepares sushi and sashimi. Thanks to Mikael who recommended this place I was able to secure a reservation and then watch scores of people, mostly Japanese and some French, get turned down since they did not have reservations. The clientele is in fact is mostly Japanese and the overall quality of sushi is very high with pristine quality fish and shellfish. They set standards high with the amuses: excellent bulots which taste as they do in Brittany and also a silky and rich and delicate foie de lotte or monkfish liver which will elicit oohs and aahs if it is ever served in a modern three star, such as Gagnaire.
We have tried 4 different sushis (ormeaux, sea urchinor uni, eel and oyster). We had more sea urchin with sepia or seiche or cuttlefish and also in a cornet (cone). The sea urchin in fact was of exceptional quality, and I am surprised that they acquired uni at all, because I had inquired about the availability of raw sea urchins in Paris that week by calling all seafood temples including Marius et Jeanette, Le Dome, etc. The answer was a definitive no. Unfortunately we did not have a common language with the family to understand their sources of supply of excellent sea urchin and cuttlefish, whose combination worked wonders by contrasting the sweet/salty tastes and creamy/slightly chewy and crunch textures.
The sashimi plate which featured prawns, calamari, octopus, daurade, mackerel, tuna, salmon and a fish which I could not identify but had the texture of lotte or monkfish was also beyond reproach in freshness. I had had better quality belly of tuna in a Japanese restaurant in Seattle at the States but, in return, the mackerel is superior in Europe and the daurade (which is meaninglessly translated as sea bream to English) can only be tasted in Europe. In return, I have never had in Europe a salmon as good as the Copper River salmon from Alaska that I had in Seattle at the Dahlia Lounge, and my friends from Seattle assure me that the Yukon River salmon is even better in May. So perhaps, if one can not go to Japan, then we can have a sashimi plate at Nishino in Seattle and then take the plane to Paris and compare it with sashimi at Isami. I would call it a tie!
Gastroville rating: 15/20
/VM
l'Atelier de Joel Robuchon - Paris (Rating: 12/20)
I was looking forward to my first meal at L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon with great expectations as I have dined several times in the past at Jamin-Robuchon and consider him to be a culinary force, perhaps one of the greatest chefs whose cooking I have had the privilege to experience. My expectation was such that L’Atelier was delivering a toned down version of the great chef’s cuisine to make it more accessible and in line with contemporary taste. I wish this were the case. Unfortunately, as it stands now, L’Atelier only bears resemblance to the old Jamin in naming some dishes after the original versions. But unfortunately the food at L’Atelier bears no resemblance as to why honed palates rightly held Robuchon at such high esteem when he cooked at Jamin, and, for a short time, at the Poincaré location before handing it over to Alain Ducasse.
My disappointment has nothing to do with uncomfortable seating and questionable service and the young teenage staff who can’t answer questions about dishes and seem intent on turning the seats as quickly as possible. The problem lies deeper in the way the enterprise is run. It looks like there are fundamental flaws in their ingredient sourcing and handling chain. One surmises that a complete disrespect for ingredients is part of a project of turning L’Atelier restaurants (which will continue to open up in major metropoles) into gourmet McDonalds. The correlate of this project is the necessary standardization of raw materials and ingredient supplies. One feels that this restaurant is managed from a purely “market oriented” point of view where young MBAs are on the constant lookout to find ever cheaper sources of supplies and are pushing hard their suppliers for lower prices and most importantly where there is no quality checkup when the raw materials and ingredients reaches the restaurant. The concern here seems to be “scalability” rather than the pursuit of excellence that one associates with the Robuchon name.
One surprising thing is to see two ex-Robuchon and two star Michelin chefs, Messieurs Braun and Lecerf, supervising the kitchen. In fact both were present on Monday lunch when I visited the restaurant although it was Lecerf’s turn to supervise the kitchen.
I have had three small and one big portion at l’Atelier and since some people recognized us from the old Jamin, they sent us several desserts, as a courtesy. The first two portions, a single coquille St. Jacques and also one single ravioli de langoustine, a favorite of mine from Jamin, both had problems to do with inferior products or questionable practices which enable the restaurant to serve dishes quickly to maximize turnover. That is, the scallop dish was served in the shell but this was for decorative purposes. The scallop was de-shelled long before cooking—or alternatively it was not fresh—as it was too chewy and not sweet. The apt salted butter infusion and the rubbery single and thin piece of tasteless and non-aromatic black truffle (which was either of poor quality or pre-sliced and stored for a long time, or both) could not save the dish but perhaps justified the 18 Euro price for the single scallop.
The langoustine dish was worse. The dough of the langoustine was technically good, in the sense that it was thin and feather light. The problem is that the mushy mess inside had seen better days and the heavy reduction sauce had acquired a metallic taste from the overdose of truffle oil. This dish with a single ravioli cost 25 Euro.
Fortunately the other dishes were much better, if not great. I found the tartine de pied de porc au parmesan et truffe quite tasty, a nice wine bar dish which delivered on its promise of gelatinous pork feet, and perhaps some pieces from the ear and jaw, and it is hard to resist the deliciousness of the toasted oval shaped small baguette. I did not need the tasteless rubbery truffles and the dry parmesan slices to enjoy this dish which was rustic and tasty and would have been even better had the restaurant offered higher quality reggiano shaved to order.
The large portion, macaronis au truffe, was actually more like cannelloni in the sense that the tubular shaped macaronis were stuck together and filled with a touch of foie gras and then baked in the oven with a touch of cream. There was nothing wrong with this dish other than the poor quality truffles, which did not justify the 35 Euro price tag for the small portion. The problem was rather the lack of silky, sumptuous mouth feel one associates with pasta with foie gras. A good Italian restaurant in San Francisco for instance, restaurant Acquerello, prepares a home made pasta with a foie gras sauce which tastes as decadent as it sounds. Part of the reason for the lack of culinary excitement in this dish may have been the scant amount of the liver mousse in the pasta, combined with the use of ready made macaroni.
They also served us a zesty and very refreshing lime-lemon-basil sorbet. Unlike the pasta, this was a clear winner, as good as one you can get in a good Italian trattoria. The fresh fruit compote that came with the sorbet was also top notch in freshness. They have then served several classical tarts which were all above average with the exception of an ethereal cinnamon tart which brought back cherished memories of the past.
The restaurant also serves several wines by the glass and, despite hefty prices and slim (3 to 4 ounces) servings, one can find nice wines such as a Condrieu from Vernay and a 2002 Aloxe Corton from Tollot Beaut.
So why is this restaurant so popular with tourists? My best guess is that L’Atelier provides a fine option for solo dining in a city which is not very friendly to solo diners. It is basically a high end fast food operation where the waiters try to talk you into ordering many dishes and the seats are deliberately uncomfortable to induce you not to linger so that they can maximize turnover. Indeed they succeed in this and perhaps one reason they compromise from the quality is that they want to deliver the food in the shortest possible time after it is ordered. This may suit a clientele who is used to eating in a hurry just as well. Presently then L’Atelier may fit the US and London better than it fits Paris.
Gastroville ranking: 12/20 (VM)
April 18, 2005
Asparagus Part II – Textures and Morels
Asparagus is as much about taste as it is about textures and the taste impressions these different textures of asparagus can give. The asparagus with most textural dimensions is the large green asparagus from Vaucluse or its equal, since it can be eaten raw, cooked and in virtually every state in between and least but not all, the tips have quite different taste from the green of stem and the inside of the stem. All are equally tasty but in their own way.
The most famous asparagus producer not only in Vaucluse but also in all of France is perhaps Robert Blanc in Villelaure outside Pertuis a 50 kilometres north of Aix-en-Provence. As Louisa Chu of Movable-Feast, working at les Ambassadeurs, points out, Blanc sells his asparagus under women names such as Brigitte and Danielle. There is a bit more to the names though. They are named after celebrities. Brigitte is voluptuous as Brigitte Bardot, Danielle is grande like Danielle Darrieux and Mireille is small like Mireille Mathieu. Marketing gimmickry? Maybe, but they are exceptionally good and prices are accordingly.
The green Vaucluse asparagus should normally be rather big and they actually taste marvellous even raw sliced in very thin slices. Make a risotto flavoured with a mild olive oil infused with fresh garlic and shave some of this exceptional asparagus thinly over it. Sprinkle a bit of sea salt on top and drizzle a little olive oil. It is such a treat that one almost stops longing for the white truffle season.
The large Vaucluse asparagus has very different taste nuances and textures when raw, when semi-cooked and when cooked. Combining them in intelligent ways enhances the appearance of this great produce. Ducasse often uses different textural combinations in his asparagus dishes.
The recipe below is a simple suggestion to marry three different textural and taste combinations; raw, semi-cooked and cooked asparagus. And yes, morels are a great accompaniment to it. If you want another textural component of asparagus, you can surely mix some cooked asparagus with a little bouillon into a velouté-like sauce.
It is very simple to do this recipe.
What you need for 2 people:
5 large green Vaucluse asparagus or their equivalents
10 fresh morels of good quality
2 tbl spoons veal jus
Olive oil
Butter
Cut 4 asparagus in two pieces. Peel the bottom of the part with the tip. Slice the parts without the tips of two asparagus into thin juliennes.
Cook the tips in butter with a little sea salt like our friend Sam Grimes suggested, rolling the asparagus constantly in the pan to cook it through. Remember to use low heat to avoid burning the asparagus. If you want you can surely as Grimes suggested finish with a little freshly grated parmigiano
Sear the morels in some butter on high heat constantly stirring the morels. Season with salt from the start. Deglaze with the veal jus. When reading this you may notice that I do not advice you to use shallots or onions like most other recipes call for even recipes from famous chefs. You may wonder if I forgot something. No certainly not. If you try exceptional morels cooked on very high heat in butter at a temperature just below that when the butter starts burning, and compare it with exceptional morels cooked with shallots or any other such popular addition, you will notice that the morels cooked without shallots actually taste morels whereas the morels cooked with shallots have a somewhat sharp edge of shallots to them that masks the true taste of morels. The practice of adding shallots to mushrooms is something that I have never understood. It does not enhance the taste of the mushroom. It only compromises it. Even worse is the fortunately not widely used practice of cooking ceps with shallots. That should be a criminal offence. Do not use dried morels. If you cannot find fresh morels omit them altogether. Dried morels have a sharp metallic acid and smoky taste derived from the drying process and it does not even remotely resemble the fresh ones. Unfortunately, many top restaurants use mixed dried morels and morels jus from dried morels to enhance the taste of fresh morels, but the result is often vulgar.
Lastly, sear the asparagus juliennes in a little olive oil and wrap them in a thinly lengthwise slice from the remaining asparagus.
Plate the components for example as shown on the picture below.
/MJ
April 15, 2005
L'Ambrosie - Paris (Rating: 19.5/20)
Arguably, to call this tiny place located in one of my favorite squares on earth, the regal Place des Vosges, a “restaurant” is misleading. In fact, L’Ambroisie is rather an institution which is quintessentially French, and one that can only be found in Paris. Like all institutions grounded in historical traditions, L’Ambroisie has its set of unwritten rules and codes of behavior. One salient rule is that customers at L’Ambroisie are perceived less as passive recipients of gastronomic delights whose needs have to be pampered at all costs, but rather as potential partners and friends of a culinary institution who will internalize the culture over repeated visits. It is therefore the client who should adjust his expectations to suit the mores/norms of the restaurant and not the other way around. To some, especially some non-French more steeped in individualist traditions, this attitude is seen as elitist and nationalist, and their first visit to L’Ambroise (if they have managed to get a reservation) is often the last one. Yet for others, the type of classic traditions that this restaurant epitomizes and stands for are perceived as a magical escape from the dictates of modern fads and realities of the marketplace, and they appreciate the type of professionalism and perfectionism that is expressed in this institution. Thus for many people, including this writer, the first visit to L’Ambroisie is the beginning of a journey whose rewards increase with each repeated visit and whose pleasures, both culinary and intellectual, may be savored long after the end of your meal.
The total capacity of the restaurant may not exceed 40 seats or so, divided in two equally attractive rooms and a tiny quasi-private room in the back. The first impression one can have upon getting seated is that although at first sight the room is not gilded or excessively decorated, every single detail seems to be just right. That is, the Aubusson tapestries on the walls, the oil paintings, the vases, the perfectly polished floors and the marble, the pristine linen and finest crystal glasses, are such that, nothing seems superfluous or excessive, but one can not easily think a way to improve on the decoration without upsetting the overall harmony.
The same can be said of the chef/owner Monsieur Pacaud’s cooking. My standard for dishes in Haute Cuisine restaurants is to ask the question “can this have been any better?” Over the years and after many meals I have reached the conclusion that this tiny establishment who shuns the limelight comes as close to perfection as any establishment to have such a claim. In fact so many dishes I have had the chance to try are such that one can hardly conceive a way to add or detract an ingredient from the dish. All of these dishes consist of 3 to 4 ingredients whereby one ingredient is clearly the “King” but the associative ingredients are also treated regally and form a perfect symbiosis with the leading part. Pacaud treats all ingredients with such an utmost respect that instead of making vocal statements a la Gagnaire or evoking baroque themes a la Ducasse, he works more like a miniaturist, working meticulously to bring out the details and full potentiality of each ingredient without losing sight of its unison with the main theme (I borrowed this analogy from an incisive reviewer who writes under the name lxt in culinary websites). Consequently and this may be the destiny of perfectionists, many diners may find Pacaud’s dishes to be “too simple”. I would sympathize with this statement if “simplicity” is the end product of an arduous artisanal process and if it denotes the ultimate in harmony and restraint. L’Ambroisie is not the place to savor tapas style degustation menus consisting of 10+ culinary fireworks experimenting with new textural contrasts. It is the place to savor one amuse and three courses (plus cheese and a dessert). Choose your courses in consultation with Monsieur Pascal, who is courteous, and he will not be shy about expressing his opinion about the proper sequence and overall harmony of your meal. Take advice and you will see that while each dish you savour will be harmonious in itself, in progressive succession, they will create a crescendo effect.
I am glad that, over the years, I listened to professional advice and, as a result, I have been rewarded by some perfect dishes, some exceptional dishes, and some very good dishes. I am not kidding. One amazing quality of L’Ambroisie’s is the incredible level of consistency. I have never seen a restaurant where the distance between the highs and lows is so minimal and the highs are always perfect.
A typical Pacaud dish displays three characteristics. First, Pacaud is obsessed with ingredient quality, and he is not prejudiced among ingredients in the sense that he will choose the best of the ingredients regardless of price and only serve them at their prime time and only and only if he is content with the quality of the delivery. So it is quite possible that the restaurant may not serve black truffles in mid-January if the chef does not think that they are fully ripe and complex. Second, he is obsessed with harmony without sacrificing the intensity and clarity of particular tastes. The emphasis on clarity may imply that most dishes there contain very little or no butter and cream, as the chef does not want to mask flavors. In this sense, it is apt to call Pacaud the last true nouvelle cuisine chef, and it is especially interesting to have a meal at Ducasse’s Parisian temple for many pre-nouvelle dishes, and experience the classic sauces in all their glory, and then try, say, a cream sauce with vin jaune at L’Ambroisie to see the contrast. And lastly, Pacaud is also obsessed with technique in the tradition of an artisan. Visual effects and techo presentations are not his style, and most dishes embody an element of painstaking research and long preparation times. It is in fact rare to find a Three Star Michelin chef who is not afraid of including in the menu bistro dishes, such as navarins, matelots, long cooked queue de boeuf, etc. But have some of these dishes at L’Ambroisie and you will see why they have been considered timeless classics.
My last two meals at L’Ambroise were on March 12 and March 19. March 19 was especially a memorable date for me because, one veteran waiter of the institution, the affable Monsieur Pierre (not to be confused with Monsieur Pierre Lemoullac who is the General Manager and the sommelier) is about to retire and certainly he will be missed. At any rate the meal was as perfect as it can be. Once the candle was lit and excellent Roederer house champagne was poured, we munched on the gougères which are fluffy and extraordinary given the high quality of the gruyere. Following a very fine amuse of “escalopine de saumon”, a thick piece of marinated Scottish salmon which is topped by crunchy hash browns and served by crème fraiche and dill we had the following dishes:
Veloute de Topinambours aux St. Jacques, copeaux de Truffe
Darne de Turbot aux Asperges
Feuillete de Truffes Bel Humeur
Fromages
Tarte Fine Sablee au Poire
Scallop dishes at L’Ambroisie seem to share the following characteristics: first, the quality of the scallops is impeccable and the scallops are served barely heated and retain all their sweetness and textural integrity when they are so fresh and come from certain places, such at the Brittany or the Galician coast. Second, Pacaud never over complicates the dish, and there are invariably three ingredients which interact in mutually supportive ways. Third, one of these three ingredients is a truffle: the white Alba variety in November and the black Perigord truffle in winter. Last November, in fact, Pacaud had served us a visually stunning and perfect dish of scallops with Alba truffles and a mousseline of broccoli. This time, with Perigord truffles, which are less ethereal and pungent, but more smoky and minerally than Alba truffles, he substituted veloute of Jerusalem Artichokes for the more delicate broccoli. The results were equally stunning in the sense that the subtle earthy tones of the Jerusalem artichokes and the earthy/cruchy perfect truffles accentuated the sweet nuances of the central element of the dish without compromising its unique shellfish qualities. This was a dish which is as light and ethereal as a first course can or should be, yet focused and intense at the same time.
The king of the sea, the Atlantic turbot, is a risky dish to serve in a restaurant because, unlike some other great fish, such as Dover Sol, it does not keep well, say for a week, and it has to be consumed in a two or four day period after the catch to taste as good as it can. Recently, given the current popularity of this fish, there is ample farming and the 10+ pounds Atlantic turbots and the superb Black Sea turbots with buttons, are getting rarer and prohibitively expensive. In the Black Sea region and in Turkey the turbot season is also rather short: March to June, and it tastes the best when it is caught in the cold waters of the Bosphorous in the second half of March. The connoisseurs usually suck the bone of the turbot, which contains the gelatinous fat, and the meat close to the bone tastes the best. Pacaud, when serving turbot, cuts a very thick piece from the bone, and on the day of my visit we were told that they had just received a turbot of 9 kilogram, i.e. about 20 pounds. The meaty turbot can also absorb well some meat jus and Pacaud sometimes serves it with a meat stock and aged balsamic vinegar jus and caramelized endives. He also crusts the turbot with mustard and some oriental spices, which contrasts well with the meaty turbot. But in early Spring he chose to create a lighter dish, serving it with two huge, very first of the season, green asparagus from Pertuis. The thickened olive oil based emulsion and the “tapenade” of chopped black truffles served on the side interacted with the turbot in symbiotic ways and compared to other great turbot dishes I have tried in great restaurants (one at the Italian Le Calandre is still anchored in my memory), this one certainly ranks at the very top.
Perhaps most significantly, Pacaud opted for a relatively “light” turbot dish with incomparable quality asparagus in order to enable us to fully appreciate our main course, which is, one of the most decadent and delicious dishes that I know. In fact, it is no exaggeration to say that time stands still and one can believe that Haute Cuisine is well and alive when the feuillete de truffe is served at L’Ambroisie. Cooked to order and encased in a buttery home made pastry, sits a whole truffle of about 200 grams (for two people) cut in two and, in the middle, a very flavorful thick piece of duck foie gras. The foie gras does not dominate the dish, but this dish is perhaps the ultimate expression of the incomparably smoky and minerally taste of black Perigord truffles supplied by Monssieur Pebeyre to the restaurant. When you cut the pastry in two, an intoxicating aroma fills the room and all heads turn towards your table in the small room, and Monsieur Pascal who serves the dish is rightly proud and equally concerned that if we worship the aroma far too long we may do a disservice to this exquisite creation of nature. Alas, all good things end…but memories linger at least.
It is hard to keep the momentum alive after the last dish (or any main course at L’Ambroisie if you listen to advice and give free rein to the chef to concoct a meal for you to experience the crescendo effect), so having the cheese course before the dessert is highly recommended. The restaurant buys cheese from Alleosse, and I was more than content that day with an exceptional, fully ripe St. Marcellin, a three years aged Swiss Fribourg which is on par with a Comte from the great Bernard Anthony and an artisanal Roquefort to finish.
Pascal also intelligently chose for us a fruit dessert to finish, and the long poached and sliced pears served with the sable tarte (like a millefeuille) filled with pear sorbet was the ideal taste cleanser and a very good dessert in its own terms. Pacaud also prepares a great sable au chocolat and if you do not order cheese, I recommend you try it to see how a chocolate based dessert can be made so intense and light at the same time.
It is hard for me to be unbiased about the quality of service at L’Ambroisie as I have interacted for some time with both Monsieur Lemoullac and Monsieur Pascal and they have become friends. But what strikes me most after so many visits is how gracious the whole experience of dining there is, and how smoothly things flow there. I always grin at people and establishments who take themselves too seriously and who mistake lack of fun and good humour for professionalism. Good humour and wit, on the other hand, exhibit an underlying intelligence and good will. I found these qualities to be quite pronounced at L’Ambroisie compared to the other Michelin three stars in France, and the absence of turnover among the staff may indicate that there exists an esprit de corps among the employees of this institution.
Finally, I would like to add a word on the wine list. I trust Monsieur Lemoullac to choose best matches within a price range as I found his palette to be in synch with mine. For instance, during the last visit I have summarized here, he chose a 1995 Leroy Auxey Duresse “Les Boutonniers” and a 1993 Trapet Gevrey Chambertin. The former was silky, smooth and clean with some agrumes notes and a touch sweet/spicy (my notes indicate anise and nutmeg) finish. It was an excellent match for the first two courses. The Gevrey was truthful to its terroir and also displayed the red fruit characteristics of this vintage which I like very much. The week before, again finishing with the feuillete of truffle dish, Monsieur Lemoullac has suggested a 1996 Pomerol, Petit Village. This wine had tremendous balance and good depth, and an intriguing mineral backbone which was even a more perfect match with Perigord truffles. At any rate wine pricing at L’Ambroisie is always fair, and I still recall how Pierre Lemoullac had liked the 85 Sassicaia and offered it on the list for about $100 before this wine became “Parkerized”, and its price went through the roof in wine auctions and all the remaining bottles were depleted. It is also commendable that, unlike many other French sommeliers, Monsieur Lemoullac is not prejudiced against other wines (or cuisines) and this is certainly another indicator of the self-confidence that this institution exhibits.
Gastroville ranking:19.5/20 VM
April 10, 2005
Alain Ducasse - Paris (Rating 18.5/20)
To tell the truth, when entering the abode of one of the highly acclaimed citadels of haute cuisine in Paris, restaurant Alain Ducasse at the Plaza Athenee, I was quite unsure of the prospects. This is because, the chef de cuisine I had admired, Jean Francois Piege, had left a year earlier to take the helm at Les Ambassadeurs in Hotel Crillon and I was not quite sure about the pedigree of the new chef, Christophe Moret, who had come not from a fine dining place, but from the Parisian brasserie owned by Ducasse, i.e. Spoon.
My first impression, which fortunately did not change throughout the course of the meal, was positive. In my prior visit, I had found the overall decoration of the room to be too much like a luxurious hotel ballroom, which in fact it is. The decorator had tried his best to hide this with a few gimmicks, but the overall result, well, was not convincing. My conclusion may have been shared by the management too as, instead of hiding the fact that this room is essentially a ballroom, they have decided not to hide its essential nature but tried to balance the gilded/luxurious elements with contemporary motives, such as well chosen wood paneling depicting a stylish and anonymous man and woman, quite avant-garde but very comfortable chairs, wall to wall carpeting with geometrical designs, etc. In addition, some original sterling silver sculptures, designed by Folon, decorated each table and added a sense of contemporary chic. In short, in the new dining room which had received a successful face-lift, the old and the new coexisted in fine harmony.
The same can be said about the cooking style. In fact, I always associate Ducasse with a certain Cartesian cum Baroque tradition in the sense that, among the notable chefs of the time, he is probably the one most concerned with harmony and symmetry and excellence in the details of execution, and, at the same time, his traditional dishes in his Parisian temples tend to be quite elaborate and display a sense of grandeur. To some, such qualities may denote a lack of originality and perhaps may border on being boring. But close attention to his dishes reveals extraordinary qualities. Especially the most successful dishes one can get in Paris or Monaco at Louis XV reveal a certain subtlety and attention to detail which flirts with perfection. These dishes are quite complex and attempt to balance several tastes, but the combinations are well thought out and never fussy or random. That is, typical Ducasse dishes try to bring out the inherent intricacies of the main ingredient by associating it with several complementary tastes and the resulting marriage is symbiotic in two senses of the term. First, when the association is successful, the inherent qualities of the main ingredient shine through. Second, when the secondary ingredients respond well to the center ingredient, these more “pedestrian” ingredients, such as a crunchy cabbage or a potato, somehow gain in status and, although they remain supporting actors, they significantly enhance our culinary pleasure without stealing the show. Last but not least, the different elements of the dish are bound together by intense sauces, which are chef d’oeuvres in themselves, as they give no concessions to the dictates of market place and contemporary fads. No shortcuts are taken and honestly after tasting some classical dishes at Ducasse one feels both a nostalgia for la belle époque and also a sense of spiritual bonding with the gourmets of the generations long gone.
To illustrate this rather abstract claim, take the turbot en matelote, one of the six dishes we have had at Ducasse. Cut from the bone of a seven kg. turbot from Brittany, the thick turbot retains its unique qualities and is clearly the center of the dish. At the same time the rather hearty elements which surround the rectangular cut, i.e button mushrooms, country bacon (lard fermier), smoked eel and pearl onions, each retain their identity and bring out the rustic and meaty qualities in this glorious fish while they themselves are somehow tamed and taste more refined by this association. The limpid red wine and stock based sauce served with the dish reminds one of the true meaning of haute cuisine, that is a way of cooking without taking shortcuts and with no concession for cost and scarcity of labor. In the meantime, even the most minute details are thought out: such as the inclusion of a French version of croutons to soak up the sauce and to add a subtle textural contrast. Close examination reveals that all of the supporting ingredients are of equal size, perhaps revealing the Cartesian influence as well as a certain conception of excellence and respect for the client which I associate with the best of the French tradition.
If every single dish was as good as the turbot and the lobster or the squab, one could say that Ducasse merits a perfect score. Some dishes, however, did have some minor flaws. In our meal, these were the scallops or the lamb. The scallops for example (Noix de Saint-Jacques: mache/avocat/truffe noire) were associated with some zesty flavors, such as avocado, mache lettuce and tart green apple, and with earthy flavors as well, such as Perigord truffles, used both as an emulsion surrounding the green sauce on which scallops sat and also sliced on top. One problem with the dish was that the scallops were a bit chewy, implying either overcooking or, more likely, not perfectly fresh scallops. This second is a more likely possibility as we had the dinner there on a Monday (March 14), and it is possible that shipment was received before the weekend. But even with perfect scallops, the association between tart apples and avocado and truffles is less than perfect. It is perhaps something that works conceptually in the sense that the inclusion of green apple in the avocado puree should help balance the dish in acidity. Perhaps it would have worked to use some apple juice instead of raw cubes of green apple. The problem is that, when the latter is used, instead of complementarity, and true association with the earthy (truffles) and sweet/iodine (truffles) elements in the dish, we end up with some unwelcome contrasts more reminiscent of a fusion dish than a classic dish, and our taste buds are put on alert but not satisfied as in the more subtle Ducasse dishes.
The problem with the lamb dish, on the other hand, was not that the association between the main and supporting elements was problematic. The problem here was the quality of the 6 weeks old Limousin lamb, which was not as succulent and tasty as one normally expects from suckling Limousin lamb. Indeed the preparation, which has been inspired both by Italian (farro and lemon peel) and North African (with dried nuts and fruits) traditions, was well thought out and synthesized, but unfortunately given the chewy and rubbery texture of the meat, even a great restaurant like Ducasse could not create a great dish. The problem here may be the fault of the management rather than the chef. This is because, since the lamb is listed in the printed menu, even if the particular shipment is not of the highest quality, the chef may be unable to take it off the menu until he receives a shipment to his liking. This is certainly not the case in some other temples of haute cuisine in Paris, such as L’Ambroisie and Arpege, where the chefs are also the owners. These restaurants typically attract a gourmet clientele who will not be disappointed if Monsieur Pacaud or Monsieur Passard does not cook a dish printed in the menu if he is not satisfied with the delivery. ADPA, on the other hand, attracts a more mixed and possibly less discriminating clientele, and they may have a harder time to explain the absence of certain luxurious ingredients to their international clientele. So the surprising thing may be that unlike another Michelin three star restaurant, such as Le Cinque at Hotel George Cinq, which essentially offers an assembly line version of Haute Cuisine, standards are so high at ADPA.
Fortunately, apart from the two less successful dishes, the rest and the desserts were perfect or near perfect at Ducasse. The langoustines, which was our first course (Langustine, rafraichie, nage reduite, caviar oscietre d’Iran) before the scallops, were of exquisite quality even if the title is a bit misleading in the sense that, in this exquisite dish the langoustines play not the leading but the supporting role to bring out the qualities of the Iranian oscietra caviar. Of all the luxurious ingredients served in “great” restaurants I am often the most disillusioned with caviar and I miss the quality I was used to in my childhood where each grain of caviar literally looked like a pearl and exploded in the mouth and left a deep and not salty aftertaste. I was happy to see that the quality of caviar served at Ducasse was of much higher than the norm I have found elsewhere in top restaurants, and although it may not have been intended to be this way, the sweet langoustines did play a secondary role in this dish as a more interesting complement to caviar than the traditional blini. A novelty in this classical Ducasse dish, since the departure of Piege, is that, this dish is now accompanied with a tiny cup containing shellfish broth with some subtle agrumes and ginger flavors, and this is a welcome addition to this luxurious and decadent dish, detracting nothing from the explosive taste combination of shellfish and caviar and adding a subtle contrast which balances the sweet/salty components with a touch of acidity.
The half kilogram Breton lobster which followed our exquisite turbot was also equally memorable. Served simply in its shell with fondant potatoes and earthy, smoky truffles, the simple looking association worked extremely well to highlight the dense texture and incomparable taste of the blue Breton lobster. The truffles were clearly sliced from a whole truffle just before they served the dish as they remained crunchy and very aromatic, and displayed the qualities of fully ripe Perigord truffles. Overall this dish was a textbook example of the so called la mer et la terre type harmony, but what elevated this dish to a higher plane than just a very good lobster dish was the quality of the bisque that was served in the dish and left on the table in a saucepan. This shellfish reduction is often atrocious in lesser hands and when shortcuts are taken, but the version at Ducasse proves that a good shellfish reduction has no substitute in more avant garde cuisine. In fact, this very intense and flavorful bisque was at least on par with Roellinger’s version in Maison de Bricourt at Cancales, which serves some great lobster dishes. In fact, when savoring this dish, we felt transported to the beautiful Brittany coast at least in spirit.
We wanted to savor more of the high quality truffles before the end of the season and fortunately we got it with our final course, a squab (Pigeonneau Rossini sauce Perigueux). This is very different than the Louis XV version (which is grilled and accompanied by a sauce which contains offals), but equally memorable. That is, in line with other dishes and great sauces, the dish sat in a pool of a true Perigueux sauce which contained truffle jus and a “marmalade” of crushed truffles and a dash of sweet Madeira. In addition fresh truffles were shaved generously on top and the thick sautéed piece of perfect quality duck foie gras that was served with the dish imparted an element of decadence and grandeur to the squab that one can associate with eating in Rossini’s times. The Madeira based jus has lightened the dish and balanced the rather gamey flavor of the squab with a welcome sweet component. Finally the crunchy and non-oily potato chips or gaufrettes, which were served on the side, have added an element of humour and perhaps a textural contrast. As to the quality of the squab, I suspect from the size that it has never flown as it had not yet began to develop the slightly livery smell that pigeons develop as they grow.
The cheese selection also befits a restaurant of this caliber. Of the six cheeses we tried, I especially recommend a Comte from master Bernard Antony millesime 2001, a classic St. Marcellin from Mere Richard, and the best Stilton I have ever tried.
In the past, I have found the desserts at ADPA to be less than on par with the cuisine. Not anymore; now the quality is on par with Louis XV in Monaco. Indeed the wild strawberry dessert we were served in a Martini glass with pastry cream and meringue and accompanied by a buttery tart of wild strawberries was as good a fruit dessert as one can get. Similarly the two chocolate based desserts (one came as a courtesy of the management) that is, Orange/Chocolat en fine barre crousti-fondante and Choco-Choc sorbet cacao/granite café/mikados both displayed very rich but not cloying chocolate preparations in different textures, nicely balanced by complementary and time tested tastes of candied fruits, crisp toasted nuts and strong coffee granita.
The perfectionist instinct at work in the restaurant has extended to the tea service too. Infusions were served not from tea bags, as is the case elsewhere, but from live plants:
As to the service, under the general supervision of Monsieur Courtiade who is the general manager, the service is perfect, courteous and efficient at the same time. That is, there has not been a single mistake or false step and the waiters were never seen staring at you, but they always appeared out of nowhere when you needed them or when they had to refill your glass.
The wine list in Paris, like Monaco, is also fairly priced and the sommelier is helpful and clearly opinionated. After quite a lengthy debate and testing each other regarding our stylistic preferences and the qualities of various vintages, we settled on a 98 Coche Dury Puligny Montrachet Les Enseignieres and a 99 Guigal Cote Rotie Ampuis. The former turned out to be even more intense and young tasting than my own bottle I had uncorked about a month ago in a distinguished California restaurant (Manresa), and the rich crème brulee taste it left on the palette was a perfect match for the rich turbot and lobster dishes. The Guigal Cote Rotie, on the other hand, was also memorable. It displayed the rather ripe (but not overripe) black raspberry and blueberry/chocolaty characteristics of the vintage, but with aeration it developed more interesting secondary aromas of smokey meat and an addictive depth of minerality. This was a perfect match with the gamey pigeon.
Is ADPA a must go among the three stars in Paris? In my opinion the answer is YES with one qualification. Given the eclectic nature of the clientele it helps to let the management know about your interest in the very best they can offer and to concoct your menu by seeking advice from Monsieur Courtiade and to have an open mind about wine by seeking assistance from the sommelier. You will then have an outstanding meal.
Gastroville ranking: 18.5/VM
Posted at 03:49 PM | Comments (7)April 06, 2005
Asparagus - Part I in a series of different recipies
The season for asparagus is here. There are plenty of green asparagus, small and large, thin and thick, white asparagus with white tips, with purple tips or with green tips and wild asparagus. Which are the best? If they are or high quality and fresh, preferably cut the same morning, all are great to use.
Green asparagus with whipped apple butter and spiced veal reduction
I was thinking of having a small series of suggestions for asparagus. Suggestions that are a little less common than what is found in most cookbooks. They may not always be to everyone’s tastes but they will hopefully provide inspiration not to miss the high season of a great produce.
This time I use smaller quite greenish asparagus from Italy.
For two people as a first course you need:
9 green asparagus
1 Granny Smith apple
Lemon juice
Fresh ginger
3-4 table spoons of butter
1 table spoon of veal fond
Make the apple butter first. Peal the apple and dice it in small cubes. Heat a little water in a pan and add the diced apple and cover. Let the apple simmer until it turns soft and you can separate the liquid by pressing the apple dice in a sieve. It should not be so soft that you easily press the apple through the sieve. Reduce the liquid somewhat and add 2-3 table spoons of butter. Add a little lemon. It needs to have some acidity present in the taste. Whisk until it emulsifies and let it cool, whisking regularly. You may have to cool the mixture for a few moments in the fridge. When the butter starts to set, whisk harder until the texture is somewhat like very firmly beaten egg whites but denser. A friend at university gave me the idea many many years ago to serve whipped butter like this. He used to eat Indian whipped butter with French fries and although that came around as somewhat greasy, it turned out to be great to blend some lemon and herbs with whipped butter and serve it with fish for example.
Heat a few table spoons of water with a tablespoon of butter in a pan. Cook 8 of the asparagus in this liquid with a paper cover and roll them around every now and then. The idea is that when they are ready the liquid is vaporized and the residual butter enables them to be seared a little during the last moments of the cooking. Discard most of the remaining fat but keep any juices left and glaze with a little veal fond and season with a hint of ginger. The taste of ginger must only be just barely felt in the jus. For the adventurous, other spices may be added.
Plate the dish, garnish with some very thin slices of one asparagus and place a spoon of the apple butter on top and serve immediately.
The tart taste of Granny Smith apples will work quite well with small very green asparagus that have a very “green” taste. It also works with white asparagus. Personally I dislike this green taste that often is transformed into a “cooked” or “canned” taste when cooking small green asparagus in boiling water.
/MJ
April 03, 2005
La Reserve de Beaulieu - (Rating:15/20)
La Reserve de Beaulieu located on the French Riviera in the fashionable Beaulieu-sur-Mer between Monaco and Nice, is a legendary hotel and restaurant that has hosted innumerable celebrities over the years. The dreamlike setting seems taken from a Hollywood movie set. The dining room, also called the Restaurant of Kings, is overlooking the Mediterranean and the Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat peninsula. On beautiful days the view is spectacular with yachts passing by in the Mediterranean. Windy and rainy days in the fall the magic setting can be turned into something more mist like when the rain and winds keep lashing hard against the large windows of the dining room.
La Reserve de Beaulieu had its restaurant transformed into a serious gastronomic venue by Christophe Cussac who took charge of the kitchens of la Reserve in 1997. Cussac, who had worked with Robuchon long ago, came from Burgundy. Despite apparent lack of deeper knowledge of and experience with the local ingredients he quickly managed to appreciate their characteristics and flavours and successfully incorporated them into his cooking repertoire. This is rarer than one might think. Other chefs with neither roots nor professional training in the south have shown considerable and quite surprising difficulties to understand the ingredients of the south, how to best express their “terrior” and what diners expect to eat in the south.
Cussac left la Reserve in the later part of 2003 to head Joel Robuchon’s venture in Monte-Carlo and was replaced by Olivier Brulard. Brulard’s cuisine is significantly different than that displayed under Cussac. There was an admirable and often luxurious simplicity in Cussac’s cuisine that made it quite seductive and although it rarely or never reached the most exceptional levels it was always very good, but prices started to reach exorbitant levels the last two years of Cussac’s tenure. Prices, at least for food, were reduced significantly after Cussac’s departure.
La Reserve de Beaulieu is an exceptionally well-managed business that is doing very well. It should indeed be possible to lure almost any chef with necessary kitchen staff to the location. The ingredients from the nearby markets between Cannes and San Remo are world-class. One is certainly entitled to expectations. So just how good is the cuisine that Brulard sends out from the kitchens into the Restaurant of Kings?
I shall try to answer this by relating a bit to a very recent meal, which seems indicative as far as expectations of performance of this restaurant is concerned.
The first dish was a single pan-fried scallop with an artichoke chip. The artichoke chip was exceptional but the scallop was slightly rubbery and too hardly seared.
The second dish was much better. Actually this was the best dish of this meal. A sea urchin filled with a superb langoustine jelly in the bottom covered with sea urchin, caviar, small pieces of langoustines all topped by a mousse of langoustines and sea urchins and caviar. It was a gustatory tour de force of the flavours and textures from the sea; freshness, vibrancy, iodine, the sense of the sea, creaminess, melting jellies and crispy fresh langoustines. The small sandwich beside was perhaps too small of a crispy element to balance and contrast the knockout effect of the preparation but it was still an excellent preparation. Bravo Mr. Brulard.
The meal continued in a very classical fashion with a bouillon with vegetables and a single ravioli of a small truffle piece and chicken and veal meat. The vegetables were all nicely cooked retaining some crispiness but they lacked a bit of flavour. The bouillon was superb but slightly too concentrated for the vegetables and the taste of the truffles that was lost. But the bouillon was not to blame for the somewhat bland truffle served with the dish. Restaurants should really not serve truffle of just below average quality. Even without truffles, it was still a very good but a bit one dimensional, soupy and dated as a dish.
The sea bass that came next could have been an exceptional preparation. The Mediterranean sea bass was of exceptional quality. Fresh with that firm mashed potatoes like and glistening texture. The barigoule jus served with it was superbly and intelligently seasoned with saffron (epines artichokes and saffron is a superb taste marriage) but the poor sea bass was practically drowning in the concentrated jus with its sharp metallic edges. With it came a so called rôti, or a slice of a small baguette grilled with a filling on it. This rôti is a monstrosity of a preparation that I think was made popular by Franck Cerrutti of Le Louis XV many years ago. As much as I admire and respect the talent of Franck Cerrutti I have on many occasions failed to understand the benefit of this addition as it always ends up being an annoying element with its crusty and mushy texture and tastes so disparate that it neither provides accompaniment or contrast to the fish leaving the question what it does on the plate frequently unanswered. Even without the rôti, it was an unintelligent dish that did not make justice to such pristine ingredients.
A chunk of nicely cooked sweetbread was served as main course. It unfortunately lacked the so desirable and often needed caramelized crispiness that avoids sweetbreads from feeling mushy and cloying. The veal sweetbread sat on some sliced cauliflowers and a cauliflower purée accompanied the dish but the lacking crispiness of the sweetbread enhanced the one dimensional and cloying cauliflower purée. The truffles, slightly rubbery and lacking flavour suggesting they had been affected by some frost, were again of just below average quality. The demi-glace sauce with its overpowering taste of pan grease should never have been served.
Cheeses followed after a much too cold Champagne granité. Cheeses were overall of a mediocre quality and not acceptable for a restaurant of this reputation. Hard cheeses were plastic and sweaty and most other cheeses dry and unappetising.
The today so often served assortment of nibbles before desserts followed in typical fashion, a mousse, a sorbet and a few berries. Not as bad and bland as it often is but nothing to write home about.
The soufflé that ended the meal was exceptional and one of the better soufflés I have encountered over the last year. No evident egg flavour, nice cooking, hot but still a bit creamy yet set interior and a marvellous perfume.
The kitchen no doubt uses some pristine ingredients on the level that should be expected from a place such as this and the flow of the meal was quite good. But the misses are just too many and many preparations feel a bit dated. The Restaurant of Kings is hardly the king of restaurants as it is said on their website. Prices for what is served are just too high.
The wine list is extensive but boringly packed with less interesting wines from for example inferior producers in Burgundy. Prices are forbiddingly expensive or rather quite outrageous. For example the 1990 Hermitage la Chapelle is 900 euros. The same wine from magnum cost half that at Le Louis XV. A four times higher price than at Le Louis XV is hardly motivated. Even simple wines from Provence carry price tags that are simply ridicules.
Should you go: If you want to feel the old Riviera flair, yes. But there are many much better alternatives in the area for food at the same prices and with wine lists much more reasonably priced. Gastroville rating: 15/20 and thumbs down.
/MJ
La Réserve de Beaulieu
Tel: +33 (0) 4 93 01 00 01
http://www.reservebeaulieu.com/
