An unanticipated lunch at Pierre Gagnaire
Gen and I set off to meet Sanjay at the up and coming two star restaurant Hélène Darroze in the 6th. When we arrived, the maître de salon was confused that we had arrived two days early. I told her I’d received a call early Monday morning telling me I must come on Tuesday. She apologised profusely, insisted we sit at the small bar and take an aperitif while she organised our table.
As we sat waiting for Sanjay to arrive, she asked if we knew the person who had called, as it is usually she who confirms bookings and she didn’t remember speaking to me — she was unable to account for the change. I told her it was a man. She said that men do not perform any management functions at the restaurant but that, anyway, it was obviously a problem at there end. Now, I was a little concerned that I was at error. I dialed the number of the person who called me on Monday, expecting her phone to ring immediately. It didn’t. I listened as someone answer: Bonjour, restaurant Pierre Gagnaire. My mouth dropped.
I went to see the maître d’ to grovel in my best French. She reconfirmed our booking for Thursday, saying it was totally understandable that such a mistake would take place (surely not?). In fact, she insisted she ring a taxi so that we not be late for Gagnaire. Meanwhile, Sanjay arrived and we jumped in a cab, heading across the Seine, up the Champs Elysées and on to the Hotel de Balzac, which the hosts what many believe to be the best restaurant in France, if not the world: the three star restaurant, Pierre Gagnaire.
Pierre Gagnaire is responsible for the discipline of French cooking which comes after that of Nouvelle Cuisine. He, and his friend Hervé This, call this cooking molecular gastronomy. They literally analyze food scientifically, working out why it tastes good, how it affects the body, which combinations are most pleasing and at what stage of the meal.
They find food combinations which seem beyond unlikely. The mastery of Gagnaire, in a world which has El Bulli and The Fat Duck (these restaurants also analyze food this way, and Hervé This works closely with El Bulli), is that he knows how to control his desire to explore the limits of food: his guests should be comfortable, the food should be comprehensible, the magic should come when the person eating the food realises that Gagnaire has taken ordinary food and transformed it into the greatest culinary creation ever. The greatest compliment I think you could pay the molecular gastronomy proponents is that they have found a food combination or preparation technique which mankind should have discovered earlier, did not, but which will not enter into the canon of cooking know how.
As with other restaurants of this caliber, half of the experience is made by the simply amazing reception and wait staff. They are friendly, but not familiar. They know your name, what you are eating, which dish you are up to, which wine you are drinking, if you’ve visited before, which dishes you like and do not like. One waiter even commented on my apparent enjoyment of fine dining, mentioning that he knew I had been to Senderens and other three star restaurants recently. To put it simply, you are left in no doubt that, for the duration of your meal, they consider you the most important person in the world and you have honoured them by attending the restaurant.
There are several options for lunch: a small lunch time menu of two dishes for around 100 euros. There’s a seasonal menu of approximately 16 courses (if you count the seven desserts as a course each) which costs 240 euros. Then there’s à la carte, which is about 100 euros per plate. We selected the seasonal menu, menu d’automne.
We also selected three wines from the comprehensive, well put together list: a V. Dauvissat La Forêt 1er Cru Chablis 2002, a J.F. Coche-Dury Les Enseignères 2001 and a Domaine G. Roumier Les Cras 1er Cru Chambolle-Musigny 2000.
Three courses of amuse bouche arrived after ordering the wine. First, a mix of candied nuts and gingered sweets. Next, a selection of canapés including a cherry tomato and pine nut combination and a parsley chloroform flavoured ball of chestnut paste. Finally, there was a rocket chloroform wafer with goat curd. The flavours are so pure, they exploded in your mouth. The names suggest that these dishes may be over the top but they are subtle, pure, elegant. They make you feel like you are tasting great food for the first time!
The bread
Butter milk in foreground, chestnut on the right, tradition on the left. Naturally, all prepared in house.
The first of six seafood and vegetable dishes was then presented: Oysters and onions with hen jelly, beaufort, smoked beetroot sauce, chorizo and baked bread:
This was simply amazing. It showcased the essence of molecular gastronomy because the beetroot, oyster, beaufort and chorizo all combined to produce a singular flavour of wild, unadulterated oyster.
Next came a more risky dish, marinated prawns with grapefruit, pear ‘dominos’, deep fried avocado, and a tourteau (I cannot translate this, it’s like a milky, oily cake) of aspic and crab with vervain (a herb available in France):
I found this dish quite confronting, because it was so tart. Sanjay had the right idea and mashed the creamy tourteau into the sauce and this reduced the tartness and completed the dish. With the Chablis, the dish worked fine. With the Coche-Dury, it was a real success, the power of the Coche-Dury was able to meet that of the sauce and as you ate your mouth exploded with flavours.
Next came what was perhaps my favourite dish: Scallops from Erquy. This dish makes me never want to cook again. I am humbled by the capability of a man who can execute a dish to this level of perfection — and, it was just that, the perfect dish.
To commence, one eats a small piece of foie gras with culatello (a ham from Parma) and quince marmalade, with a kind of stiff mousse made with stock from scallops. Then, a salad of the petals of flowers from cabbage, with squid ink and dried scallop. Under the first plate is a bowl into which the waiter pours nutty, hot, clarified butter which cooks slivers of scallop. No amount of describing this dish can convey the pleasure of eating it. It was everything.
The next dish presented a complete contrast: curried seasonal vegetables:
The flavours of this dish were intense: tomato in the sauce, a strong suggestion of lamb (presumably in the form of stock), near raw endive corn and… lots of curry like spice. Gagnaire has not held back as other French chefs do, this was fiery by French standards. Intelligently, he added a milk foam to the dish at table, along with a dab of sweet baby chestnut paste (amazing, it totally cleanses the palate and removes any sense of spiciness) and also added a rennet ice cream (those of you who know what rennet is… yes, I know; those who don’t, move along).
The dish to follow was stunning, sea bream poached lightly in butter, with kombu and water cress, leak stock and aramanth (a Mexican herb I’ve never had before):
The flavours here were brilliant, pure, delicious, heavenly. The fish was so soft and elegant. I tasted the essence of fish. It truly smelt like the sea. When it was presented the lid was lifted and I was hit with the smell of the sea — not, the smell of the sea in autumn. It smelt of salt and cold, and I remembered a holiday at the age of four when I went rock fishing. Such is the power of Gagnaire’s cooking, it evoked memories no other experience has.
Next came another fish dish, comprising two rock fish: red rock mullet and saint-pierre (I don’t know the name for this fish in Australia). The fish had been cooked simply by placing in Chardonnay and then marinated in paprika and oil. The acid, effectively, had cooked it. With it was presented a bisque of the entrails, and a bouillabaisse jelly. If not for the previous dish, I would have said this was close to the best seafood I’d ever eaten:
As we finished the fish, bisque and jelly, the waiters removed the top of the main plate to reveal fennel which had been marinated with the fish and then braised:
This was designed to prepare the mouth for the meat dish to follow.
We drank the two whites with the dishes above. The Dauvissat La Forêt 1er Cru Chablis 2002 was beginning to show secondary development, some oil, honey and wool aromas but a strong hint of oyster and grass. The palate was classically Chablisienne, lots of cleansing acidity, mouthfilling and minerally. The J.F. Coche-Dury Les Enseignères 2001 was marvelous, classically Coche-Dury with lifted sesame, sherbet and honey on the nose, minerality and a little smoke. The best way I can describe it is, it smelt like Coche-Dury. The palate was elegant, restrained, feminine, mouth filling and delicious. Coche-Dury never seem to make a poor wine.
The next dish was the only red meat dish: pigeon skewer (brochette sounds so much better) and tender French beef with butter and caviar, raddichio ‘blood’ and nut sauce, walnuts and pomegranate seeds:
Despite being slightly out of focus, please take a moment to look at the presentation of this dish: it is second to none. The meal was perfectly cooked, tender, very slightly game-like but not offensive. A fabulous, delicious, singular dish, another star of the lunch.
With this we drank a G. Roumier Les Cras 1er Cru Chambolle-Musigny 2000. The nose of this wine was so typical of Roumier: rich blackberry confiture, cherries, roses. It seems sweet and enticing. The palate is powerful but still elegant, well structured and delicious. I could only make one criticism, and that is that the fruit was not as rich as the nose promised. When compared to a recent Bonnes-Mares from the same producer and year, naturally it suffered. Nonetheless, a beautiful wine.
Next came an extremely impressive array of cheeses which Pierre Gagnaire had cooked. This is particularly impressive because well produced French cheese is perfection in an of itself and modifying it usually only detracts from it.
I’ll present the cheeses in the order we ate them. On the right in the foreground was a tome de chèvre with cream of almond sauce and a small mesclun salad. Pairing chèvre and almond is very interesting, the almond cut through the salt and drew out an indescribable flavour I’ve never before seen in chèvre.
Next, on the left at the front, was a preparation of near unparalleled brilliance:
This is Mimolette sliced onto a jellied infusion of gooseberry and grape. This was so refreshing, delicious and exciting. I was so impressed with Gagnaire’s insight into the flavour of these ingredients and his ability to pull off such an imaginative dish. He is the master.
The back plate held a piece of munster who’s taste had been reigned in by a sliver of anchovy on a crusty piece of pastry. Finally, a piece of artichoke with bleu d’Auvergne with port syrup. This combination was remarkable: tasting it, I saw how blue cheese from the Auvergne does actually have a flavour of artichoke. It was so sophisticated and delicious.
Next came a plate of pre-desserts to prepare the palate:
Again, each superb. Suffice it to say the middle piece was not cherry but chocolate infused with cherry essence, the stem actually a piece of vanilla bean!
Finally, an array of six (!) desserts. The amazing thing about these were their refreshing quality, they were not heavy, overly sweet or cloying. They were executed with such mastery that in some ways they were the best dishes presented.
Fig and pistachio ice cream macaroon. At that point, the best dessert I’ve ever tasted.
Gagnaire Mojito: lime mousse, cucumber and mint jelly, tequila.
Fresh fruit salad with fruit coulis and orange and citrus sorbet. Truly amazing purity of flavour, delicious, refreshing. Amazingly good.
Ginger meringue with wafer and quince. Again, amazing.
Wild strawberry tarte with rasberry coulis. Stunning and beautiful.
Tiramisu. Easily the best tiramisu I’ve ever had. Totally deconstructured, rich coffee cream, sponge and cold cream with chocolate powder. This tasted like a cappuccino and was shockingly good to eat.
If it wasn’t for the exciting food and the wonderful company, I could have been almost philosophical at the table. This food had been elevated to the level of art. In each dish you could see the love, attention, struggle, the years of training, the attention, the brush strokes of the master cook in the kitchen. Looking around, I saw evidence of the same on the restaurant floor: waiters of unparalleled professionalism. They all spoke at least two languages, most, it seems, more: drifting between French, English, Italian or Mandarin depending on the customer. Their efficient, friendly, professional approach is the best I’ve ever seen.
As we left the restaurant, we decided to head toward the Arc de Triomphe in an attempt to aid digestion. Paris was looking more beautiful than I’ve noticed in a while.
