Taillevent
By Francis Bown
Critics
should not have heroes. The judgmental faculties need to be kept pristine
with gallons of vinegar, poured from the barrel marked ‘Objectivity’. Yet
I simply cannot help myself. Jean-Claude Vrinat is my hero. My excuse is
that this great restaurateur has maintained Taillevent as one of the very
best restaurants in the world, while at the same time somehow managing to
remain a paragon of modest courtesy and quiet charm. And it can not have
been easy.
Over the past few years Chefs at
Taillevent have arrived and departed at the sort of rate which might have
broken a lesser man. Taillevent is one of the noblest temples of La
Cuisine Française. It has glowed in the light of 3 Michelin stars for
thirty years. For a head Chef to leave a three-star restaurant in France
can be a national tragedy. For it to happen several times in the space of
four or five years might cause the doom merchants to expect the end of a
gastronomic institution. But such folk would be reckoning without the
remarkable Monsieur Vrinat.
I have observed before that a very good
Chef will arrive at Taillevent and be transformed, almost instantaneously,
into a brilliant one. This is the Vrinat magic, and – on the basis of my
recent meal – I can report that it is proving as powerful as ever. For
nine years Chef Alain Solivérès was in charge of the kitchens at the
Restaurant Les Élysées at the Hotel Vernet. I enjoyed his food there and
thought it fully deserved its 2 Michelin stars. Since December, 2002,
however – when he took over the stoves of Taillevent – he has moved up to
a higher, more refined level. His dishes are now, without doubt, of
three-star standard. We can all breathe a sigh of culinary relief:
Taillevent is safe.
And Monsieur Vrinat is as elegantly
imperturbable as ever – gliding this way and that, always present to
ensure that a guest is made welcome, that a course arrives at precisely
the right moment, that all is smooth and unhurried. But do not suppose
that he resists all change. Since my last visit, the décor of this fine
19th century house in the 8th arrondissement has been subtly altered. The
prevailing tones are now the warm ones of beige, brown and red. Spotlights
have been carefully positioned to shine down on the white damask
tablecloths. Modern paintings (by Naggar) adorn the walls. The lovely
panelling has been lightened.
I liked the seriousness of the old
decoration. But I like the new style, too. It certainly has its effect on
the diners. Whereas before this was one of the quietest dining rooms in
Paris (I have seen a boisterous party of eight transformed to monkish
whispering in less than five minutes), now the atmosphere is altogether
jollier. Not noisy, you understand – for it is inconceivable that
vulgarity will ever flourish within these portals. But jolly.
I certainly felt jolly, as I eased
myself onto the brown banquette, admired the shining Christofle cutlery
and sparkling glassware (a mixture of Schott and the Riedel Vinum range),
and allowed my eyes to rest on a sculpture of two large ducks. Waiters in
dark grey suits and ties brought crisp bread rolls, glorious salty butter
and, as an appetiser, a small dish of the best gazpacho I have tasted in
years. All was starting well. The charming maitre d’, Jean-Charles
Chareyre, arrived with the menu.
Now, the menu at Taillevent deserves
comment. It is single card, 26 inches wide by 19 inches high (yes, I have
measured it), which is folded in half. On the front and back (pages 1 and
4) are printed the dishes on offer. These, I am pleased to say, include
the puddings – as I like to decide upon my whole meal at the outset.
(Separate dessert menus upset my equilibrium.) You will have noted that
the menu card is of considerable size. This is pleasingly impressive, but
it has a further purpose. Within – on pages 2 and 3 – are displayed all
310 bottles of the wine list. This is such a helpful arrangement that I
simply cannot comprehend why it is not copied elsewhere.
My
first course was mushroom ravioli with an infusion of chervil.
Presentation, as you would expect, was immaculate, with a bowl resting on
a saucer atop a plate – all of the finest porcelain. Within was soft,
translucent pasta, containing the essence of the fungus, wonderfully
balanced by its broth. Brilliant. Next, the latest incarnation of a
Taillevent classic, lobster sausage with an emulsion of tarragon and
aniseed. Delicate and utterly enjoyable, although I judged a little more
richness to the sauce would have been beneficial. Then some truly stunning
lamb, rubbed with the sarriette herb and served with a jus with sweet
pepper. If you have forgotten the tenderness and flavour of the finest
lamb, cooked by a master, you need to eat this magnificent dish. Each
mouthful was a revelation. And finally, to prove that, of the 23-strong
team of cooks in the Taillevent kitchen, those who create the puddings are
every bit as talented as their colleagues, a plate with a trio of
delights: stewed mirabelle plums in a pot, crunchy chocolate and (a
delightful conceit) a sorbet of olive oil.
These four wonderful courses cost 170
euros, which for such food and such service in such a setting is a true
bargain. Seven course set menus are also available at 130 and 180 euros.
Sommelier Marco Pelletier chatted to me
in a friendly and knowledgeable way about his wine list. (I could not
place his English accent: it turned out to be French-Canadian.) I was
impressed by his enthusiasm and his eagerness to bring me exactly the sort
of wines I wanted. For the white, I asked for a big, firmly structured
chardonnay, with butter and discreet fruit. And that is exactly what he
brought – 1998 Hautes Côtes de Nuits (Dom. Jayer-Gilles – 66 euros). For
my red, he was similarly spot on, with the magnificent star of the
Languedoc, Grange des Pères (1999 – 120 euros). Decanted, it yielded
masses of ripe black fruit and that touch of residual sweetness which
always thrills my palate. These were lovely bottles.
Indeed, such is my trust in this
establishment, that I would expect any bottle on the list to be a fine
example of its type. (All but 11 bottles are French.) And, although you
can spend 2,000 euros on the 1934 Haut Brion, many of the bottles are in
the 50 to 150 euro range. There are even six choices at 28 euros (from
which the white Bergerac and the red Corbières looked tempting), so the
bank need not be broken for a night out at one of the greatest restaurants
in the world.
I was so delighted to find that
Taillevent continues in top form. But, as I left, I asked Monsieur Vrinat
whether he regretted any of the changes of recent years. Yes, he replied,
just one. Occasionally, his guests did not dress quite as smartly as they
used to do. Well, I promised, on my next visit to Taillevent I would wear
black tie…
Can I do any
less for my hero?
TAILLEVENT
15 rue Lamennais, Paris 75008, France.
Telephone +33 1 44 95 15 01
Fax +33 1 42 25 95 18
Email: mail@taillevent.com
www.taillevent.com
Closed: end of July to end of August, Saturday, Sunday, public holidays
© 2004 Francis Bown. Used by
permission. All rights reserved. For reviews of hotels and
restaurants across the world, visit
www.BownsBest.com
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