Strangely,
there are some people who like noise with their food. This is probably one
of the reasons – another is the herd instinct, which is equally despicable –
why diners flock to the ‘restaurant of the moment’ and there scream and
shout at each other, while they queue for the privilege of eating with the
crowd. But cacophony with the cassoulet is not for me. Nor, I
suspect, dear reader, is it for you. You are of the civilized and discerning
sort, whose idea of the good life is to do with beauty, proportion and good
taste. For you, a meal is an occasion when these qualities should be
affirmed and celebrated, not an opportunity for loud voices and damaged
hearing. You will therefore be pleased to know that one of the very best
restaurants in San Fancisco is one of the quietest. This is not because it
is unpopular and empty – far from it. Rather, it is because it has a magic
cure for noise. Fleur de Lys is a tent.
I do not mean that it is a structure of
canvas, temporarily erected on a piece of open ground. Rather, I mean that
within number 777 Sutter Street – more or less half way between Union Square
and Nob Hill – is an elegant chamber draped with hundreds of yards of fine
red brocade, which swoops up to a point, from which hangs a gigantic
chandelier of white crystal. It is the effect, I imagine, one would find in
the parlour of the grandest of Bedouin sheikhs. Together with a clever use
of mirrored glass, this faux-tent creates a dining room which is
impressive, welcoming and – because so much sound is absorbed by the folds
of silk – astonishingly quiet. I congratulate whoever came up with this
brilliant design.
Not, I think, that the visitors to Fleur de
Lys tend to be a particularly boisterous lot. On the evening of my visit,
they looked both charming and well-dressed. Indeed, I was delighted to see
that several of the gentlemen even had jackets and ties – although not in
the dark colours sported by members of staff. Certainly, everyone seemed to
be having a jolly good time.
And so they might, for this restaurant exudes
enjoyment from its every pore. Chef Hubert Keller came here in 1986, having
worked in some of the grandest kitchens in his native France, including that
of Paul Bocuse. In San Francisco he joined restaurateur Maurice Rouas to
create what quickly became (and remains) one of the city’s most famous
dining rooms. Now Fleur de Lys has a Michelin star and Chef Keller appears
on the television and has several other restaurants. But we may infer from
the fact that his charming wife, Chantal Keller, controls its front of
house, that Fleur de Lys is still the closest to his heart.
I
was taken to my table by the Wine Director, Marcus Garcia. Mr Garcia is a
charming young fellow, and looked after me exceptionally well throughout the
evening. He is local, and I am told that he is an accomplished performer of
jazz and blues music. His evident knowledge of wine is certainly useful
here, for he has charge of a prestigious cellar. Of the one thousand
offerings on the list, many are French and many are of the stuff of the wine
lover’s dreams. How often nowadays do you see clarets from the legendary
1961 vintage? Yet here we have the greatest chateaux: Lafite ($3,100), Haut
Brion ($3,600), Mouton Rothschild ($3,600) and Pétrus ($10,000). There is
even 1945 Lafite ($8,000), a bottle of which I had the privilege of holding
(but not, alas! drinking) at the Four Seasons Restaurant in New York many
years ago. Those of you with a sweet tooth might also relish the prospect of
quaffing a Methuselah (6 litres) of d’Yquem for the modest sum of $20,000.
For
my own drinking, Mr Garcia took me to Germany and France and poured into the
Riedel glasses two enjoyable bottles. The dry 1982 riesling, with just 10%
alcohol, was a radiant gold. It needed a moment in the glass, and then it
gave off a marvellous nose of petrol and confit of pear. In the mouth it had
a most appealing acidity. This bottle was not on the list, and I fear I
omitted to note the producer. The 2005 Châteauneuf-du-Pape was a real
contrast – spicy, soft and accessible, with lots of smoked bacon in the nose
(Dom. Vieux Lazaret, Cuvée Exceptionelle - $115).
With these liquid delights came French food
which was a joy for both the eye and the palate. Three, four and five
courses can be ordered from the carte, at $70, $79 and $92. Given the
quality of the service, the surroundings and the cuisine, these prices
seemed exceptionally friendly. The price for my four courses, given one or
two supplements, was around $90.
I
think there was not a dish on the menu which I could not happily have
ordered. I began with a salad of white and green asparagus, with cream of
salsify, black truffles, aged Xerés vinegar and a ‘marble’ of foie gras and
pistachio. This sounds delicious, and it was: its execution was tip-top and
its balance of tastes and textures was exactly right. Next, the ‘colourful
vegetable ragoût’ came with a poached egg, truffles and a truffled port
sauce. This was a rich and satisfying dish. It pleased me that, surrounded
by its grand neighbours, it was the humble brussel sprout – as so often –
which won the prize for Best Flavour. My main course was venison Rossini, in
which the powerful meat was caressed into loveliness by the accompanying
foie gras. I finished as one should in a great French restaurant, with a big
and indulgent soufflé.
This
one was of the Grand Marnier sort, with orange and cardamom ice cream – a
cracking end to a really good meal.
And I had not had to raise my voice once. Ah,
the bliss of a quiet dinner, enjoyed in a tent, surrounded by the relaxing
murmur of contented diners. As my evening at Fleur de Lys came to an end,
the words of the song made popular by Mr Louis Armstrong drifted into my
mind: ‘What a wonderful world.’
Best French Restaurants 
