I
have the privilege of meeting many wonderful people in my travels. Those
who strive for absolute perfection in kitchen or in hotel include some
of the finest personalities you could possibly encounter. Jean-Michel
Lorain, for example, is a gentleman – and I use that word carefully –
for whom I am full of admiration. Mr Lorain is, indeed, a hero of French
gastronomy. At 27, he was the youngest chef ever to be awarded three
Michelin stars. Since then he has had his difficulties – including, for
a brief time, losing his third star – but he has sailed through them
with courage, determination and supreme talent. There is no question
whatever that he is one of the best chefs in the world, and yet there is
a beguiling modesty in his manner. At his splendid hotel and restaurant
– in Joigny, one hundred miles South of Paris, at the beginning of
Burgundy – he ensures that each plate which leaves his kitchen delights
the eye and caresses the palate. No wonder that every gourmet worthy of
the name longs for the day when he can visit (or return to) La Côte
St-Jacques.
There
is therefore always a frisson of excitement when I apply the brakes and
the Royce and I glide to a majestic halt outside the door of number 14
faubourg de Paris. So many grand people come here, attracted by the
gastronomic wonders, the elegant accommodation, the cookery school and
the swish new spa, and yet the kind people on the Reception desk never
look less than excited to see me. (I suspect they greet all their guests
with the same smiling enthusiasm.) This must, I think, be a happy place
in which to work. And why should it not be? It overlooks the River Yonne;
it is impeccably furnished and decorated; and it is famous wherever
French gastronomy is celebrated. What is there not to like?
I was soon in apartment number
25, on the ground floor – a ‘River View Room’ and therefore 484 euros a
night, bed and breakfast for two. (This, as is the case with all the 32
rooms here, is very good value.) All around, French chic abounded. A
handsome wooden door led into the corridor hall, off which was a
mirrored door into the loo, wherein was a bidet. (There were lots of
mirrors about the place, an abundance which reinforced the feeling of
spaciousness.) Then came clear glass panels – behind which was the
hanging space for my clothes. Around the corner was the room proper, in
which creams and subtle tones suggested calm and relaxation. Within a
large bay window of plate glass was enough space for two easy chairs and
a dining table with three upright chairs. The view took in the river and
the gently sloping hills beyond.
Beige
marble and 25 spotlights created a suitably theatrical setting in the
bathroom for my pre-prandial ablutions. Here I was able to soak in the
large tub to the strains of Elgar – from the cd player in the bedroom.
The Dream of Gerontius really does make me feel dirt-free –
spiritually and physically. Thus cleansed, I dressed in a suit from
Savile Row, adjusted the silk tie within my stiff white collar and
sallied forth for dinner, eager once more to be in the shiny copper lift
which transports guests down to the dining rooms.
La
Côte St-Jacques offers a comfortable environment in which to enjoy the
pleasures of the table. The surrounding colours are warm, the
tablecloths are white, the armchairs are upholstered in leather and are
properly supportive, the waiters are in black tie and the glassware is
by Riedel and (a maker new to me) Mikasa. As you would expect at this
level, the napkins of those diners who leave their places for a moment
are immediately replaced. I was looked after exceptionally well
throughout the evening by David Plant and by sommelière Virginie Millot
(assistant to the Chef Sommelier, Arnaud Laplanche). All was as it
should be.
Indecision is not among my many
faults, but I was – as I knew I would be – slightly hesitant when I read
the menu. Everything on the card was so tempting. Of course, I could
have solved this little problem by choosing the Menu Surprise
(210 euros), but I do not like gastronomic surprises, for there is too
much pleasure to be had from the anticipation of what is to be eaten in
a great restaurant. Or I could have gone for the six-course Menu
Gourmand (170 euros), but I am no longer a fan of so high a number
of courses. So I allowed myself a few minutes of agonizing, of the
exquisite sort, before I announced my choice to Mr Plant. And my
decisions brought forth wonders.
I
began with millefeuille of pan-fried foie gras, with green asparagus,
gribiche sauce and dried fruits. Many, many years ago – in the bloom of
early manhood – I tasted my first hot foie gras at a restaurant in
Battersea. It converted me in an instant to the joys of the fattened
liver; and it was served with asparagus. I knew therefore that the
combination before me was a winning one. But the brilliance of the dish
was the adding of the sauce and the dried fruits. The flavours and
textures from the large glass plate were breathtaking: subtle, delicate,
luscious and perfectly balanced. This must, I thought, be the highlight
of the meal. But my second course was, astonishingly, just as good. The
lukewarm crayfish salad, with veal sweetbreads and chanterelle mushrooms
in jelly, yielded flavours which were much stronger and richer than
those of the first course, but there was the same perfect balance.
Clearly, this kitchen had intelligence and talent in remarkable
abundance.
And
it was at work in the conception of the main course. The roasted duck
was tender and full of taste, but it was the partnership with poached
peach, Sumac spice, tulip cabbage and peach chutney which elevated the
whole so effectively. Then I ended, as I so often do, with a soufflé –
this one of lime, with raspberry ice cream and sorbet. (These four
courses from the carte were 224 euros.)
At a three-star restaurant in
France, you would expect to find a cellar full of the finest examples of
French wine-making. At La Côte St-Jacques your expectation will be
fulfilled. The list has over 800 offerings, ranging in price from 23ε
for a 2007 white burgundy aligoté to 5,040ε for the 1990 Pétrus. There
are wonderful burgundies – like 2000 DRC Montrachet (2,885ε), 1988 La
Tâche (1,926ε) and 2000 Romanée-Conti (3,095ε) – but my eye was caught
more by the collection of old clarets, from which I will mention just
four: 1928 Cheval Blanc (3,800ε), 1928 Haut Brion
(3,900ε),
1934 Maraux (2,290ε) and 1945 Lafite (3,500ε). For my own drinking,
Madame Millot suggested a clean, fresh, minerally 2006 Chablis with a
hint of mint (Vaillons 1er Cr, Baillaud-Simon - 65ε) and a red burgundy
with a farmhouse nose and plenty of fresh, red fruit (Chambolle Musigny,
Arlaud - 42ε, half).
After this feast, I supposed
that I would want little breakfast the following morning. I supposed
erroneously. In a room by the garden, once more overlooking the river, I
tucked in like a good trencherman to pastries and breads, apple juice,
fruit salad, cheeses, smoked salmon and boiled eggs with toast soldiers.
This was a handsome breaking of the fast.
And then, sadly, it was time to
go. The previous day the Silver Cloud’s battery had been low – it
transpired, when I was back in Blighty, that the dynamo was on its last
legs – so a helpful member of the hotel staff had produced a battery
charger and set it to work overnight. Thanks to his kindness, the Royce
started at once and I began to glide smoothly along the faubourg de
Paris, away from this temple of culinary excellence. As the miles went
by, I reflected once more upon the privilege of meeting great chefs.
And, in my judgment, there is none greater than Jean-Michel Lorain.
LA CÔTE ST-JACQUES
14 faubourg de Paris, Joigny 89300, France.
Telephone +33 (0)3 86 62 09 70
Fax +33 (0)3 86 91 49 70
Email:
lorain@relaischateaux.fr
www.cotesaintjacques.com
Double rooms from 185 euros, according to season, breakfast
extra (34 euros)
© 2010 Francis Bown. Used by
permission. All rights reserved. For reviews of hotels and restaurants across the world, visit
www.BownsBest.com
