Relais Gourmand Olivier Roellinger – Cancale
Review by Atahan Tuzel, a friend of Gastroville
Lunch on June 7th, 2007
I knew about a Roellinger dish where he used pineapple and grapefruit for a turbot. While not having tasted it I had quite a strong mental reservation against this association.When I saw what I assumed to be a variation on this dish on the menu I was intrigued. Roellinger was insisting on the theme with an obvious show of confidence but had toned down, I thought, the sweetness by using kumquat this time. Bitter aspect of this fruit being much more complex than grapefruits & its aromas less overbearing than the tropical pineapple, I was rather attracted.
On the other hand, the season and the place had dictated for us a couple of dishes we absolutely wanted to try. Young European spider crabs (moussettes), local lobster and pré-salé lamb fed at the neighboring salt marshes must be at or near their peak flavor in this beautiful part of Brittany in June.
There was no reasonable way to add a heavy turbot entree to that list with all the good intentions in the world. So we had to forget about it. Not to worry too much because this sweet and bitter fish preparation might have been a Roellinger favorite but it was too risky a proposal anyhow.
But things have changed when we learned that Olivier Roellinger was not serving pré-salé lamb. Not because this was not the height of season but they had trouble assuring a steady, high quality supply. Instead they were proposing Aubrac lamb. There is of course nothing wrong with the fine Aubrac lamb but it didn’t take us long to decide on Turbot instead.
But first a few words on the ambiance:
This is a place where an edge a little rough or an articulation a little clunky or a flow a little bit too much in staccato are not disturbing because they are permeated with a certain justified pride and joyful sincerity.
You may be somewhat startled but don’t really mind much to see a kitchen staff nonchalantly kicking something out of his way while traversing the picturesque garden with a basket of seafood in his hands, in full view of the patrons.
Despite the initial feeling of a well established, refined but effortlessly run seaside cottage, there is a strictly defined and at times too visible hierarchy and protocol in the dining room. A glimpse: My wine glass has been empty for about minute. The Chief of Rank on our side of the restaurant notices it and, while we are looking away, touches so slightly the napkin that covers the wine chiller on the service table behind us, before walking away towards the next table. Upon this signal a Commis Waiter promptly traverses our dining room, almost in diagonal, and disappears into the adjacent one. Some 30 seconds after the magic napkin touch, the Sommelier (not his Second who has been serving us wine) appears pouring our carafe. Half way into it, he stops to ask ”but maybe we wanted to keep some more for the turbot” with such polished civility that I wholeheartedly smile and say ”but of course!”
Far from being disturbed by such glitches, you only think you are well taken care of when someone is concerned that you may feel warm and proposes and proceeds, not without some difficulty, to open a floor to ceiling window for you.
The attendant to the cheese trolley displays the same enthusiasm and respect in answering fairly technical questions about her cheeses at one table as when replying to uninitiated, even out of place questions which can easily earn one the disdain of the staff at other highly starred establishments. Both tables are happy and, more importantly, both tables know the other has been treated extremely well.
Amuses-Bouche:
The meal starts rather low-key with a couple of unpromising amuses-bouche (garlic tortellini, lightly smoked mackerel, and some tomato-turnip chutney). This is followed by a trio of much more interesting and mostly refined seaside offering. If one makes abstraction of the little morsel of bar completely overwhelmed by black sesame and pineapple (which rings all sorts of unpleasant alarm bells about the turbot to come), the bigorneaux in a very loose jelly of parsley-jus and little shrimps with Espelette peppers, fennels and mint are tantalizing. Homemade seaweed bread is equally delicious with Bordier butter.
Spider Crab & Avocado:
Moussettes are so fresh and tasty their minimal treatment is absolutely praiseworthy. The vinaigrette sauce thickened by crab roe is not all that smooth in texture or complicated in preparation but it is not artificially elegant either. It is very seducing with its immediacy, sincerity and the humble role it plays in elevating and underlying the delicacy of the moussettes. Remember “little rough but permeated with pride and joy”? This sauce is like the embodiment of the atmosphere around us.
The cumin scented avocado puree also works quite well with the rest. The only distraction is the tomato chutney with its oniony taste. Of course it is an obvious visual link to the roe placed under the miniscule watercress leaves on top of the moussette cylinders, but otherwise dissonant with respect to the dish.
Lobster:
The lobster comes in two services. First the tail, sitting atop a lightly emulsified cocoa-Xeres sauce brought together with natural sweet juices of the lobster, is served with a julienne of vegetables, a spring onion and a delicious white asparagus.
The sauce is simply perfect and harmonious. The cocoa is concealed at first. Its taste is distant in the sauce, its aroma seas away. Obviously not overpowering, it forces one to pay closer attention, to concentrate more, to listen more carefully. Being the paranoiac that I am, I even doubt if I really taste it or if I just imagine it. So I take just a tiny touch of cocoa powder from the border of the plate with the tip of my fork, taste, wait 10 seconds or so, clear my palate with a small amount of water and taste the sauce again. There! I never dare to relinquish it after that. It is sublime. So much so that a small bowl of cloves that was sitting at more than an arms length on the table is an annoyance. I push it farther to the edge.
The beguiling aromas of an extraordinary Hermitage Blanc 1999 from JL Chave, selected from a wine list that is of an improbable generosity for an establishment of this stature, makes it impossible not to break the smooth movement of the glass towards your lips and freeze a while before each sip. It is a wonderful match with this lobster dish.
It will not work as splendidly with the turbot later. But since this exceptional wine has an exuberant life of its own, we will try to introduce some distance between the two so that we can keep savoring it though not in symbiosis with the turbot.
I find the tail just so slightly cottony. Not in a way that would result from an extended period of stress or due to lesser quality lobster but rather because of being a tad overcooked.
I recognize I was being too picky but probably because the sauce was so refined and I am forever biased towards minimal heat for a lobster served with a delicate sauce, since I learned what a treat that can turn into in the right hands at the delightful Pont de Brent of Gerard Rabaey.
The definitely no fuss Maitre d'Hôtel, who was one of the most pleasantly and elegantly direct ones I have ever met, listens with genuine concern to my regret that we didn’t go for a larger lobster than this one, little under 700 gr. so as to allow extra tolerance for inaccuracies in cooking time. He rightfully suggests that it should be up to the kitchen to worry about getting it right and that he would convey the message.
Just as soon as he leaves the second lobster service arrives. The grilled head covered with lobster roe and double cream was served with a wedge of lime, and, the claws presented in a light but somewhat spiced up Armoricain sauce in a ramequin with a single young Malouine potato.
(Potatoes: another mystery of life and weakness of many! Within a period of 10 days we have tasted spring’s wonderful potatoes from St Malo County, Channel Island of Guernesey, and Southwestern island of Noirmoutier from the kitchens of three of the most respectable Chefs of France. I find there is no comparison to the ones Bernard Pacaud prepares in cooking juices of lobster. The result almost outshines the lobster they accompany as was the case the evening of June 16, 2007 where the Spring Menu featured a significant milestone for L’Ambroisie: The name of Mathieu Pacaud printed, for the first time, next to his father’s.
I can’t help mentioning what an evening that was! Our senses were wide open all along. Still, it was only at the end that it hit me how what we have been through was so deeply exceptional, even when judged by the standards of this unique House. Our dinner at L’Ambroisie that evening was a stupendous river. We have been moved from summit to summit at each dish, but only at the end, while enjoying my delicious eau-de-vie de prune, that I realized how the simple, light and airy appetizer we were offered to start our dinner, the pea velouté specially made for us with mustard crème fraîche on top and a tiny young flower tip of thyme was gingerly acting as the unassuming but precious source of that awesome river. How considerate of them, how grateful I am.)
Enough with the distraction I guess, so back to the dish:
What a deception. The head had suffered the heat so much that the sauce that covered it was almost burnt at spots and the roe in it hopelessly shriveled and stiffened. It was, and still is, unimaginable for me that Olivier Roellinger or anyone familiar with his cuisine saw and let these plates leave his kitchen. (So much for all my anticipations heightened by a pair of female lobsters grilled to effortless perfection by wood-fire the night before at le Coquillage, the marine bistro of the Maisons de Bricourt at le Chateau Richeux)
Turbot:
Ode to Turbot. This dish goes beyond what we would often call “respect for the ingredients”. The turbot is not treated as a mere main ingredient. It is rather worshiped. Presented with burnt offerings. It is almost alive (a strategically placed crisp green leaf makes it seem more so), and mighty and wild and bewildering.
It grows in your plate. It grows, for days and weeks, in your imagination, challenging your mind. The Chef is not reining over this creation. He is rather riding a deep undercurrent of the ocean along with it. Never have I tasted a dish that captured the turbot’s primal nature so majestically.
It was cooked by a heat source from top only. This cooking approach possibly yields even more satisfactory results with a larger turbot. But it is unconceivable that it would work with much smaller ones, not to mention with a turbotin.
This method and excellent precision applied to it gave the flesh layer upon layer of gradual of textures. That, in addition to leading to a luscious tasting experience, naturally contributes to the overall feeling that an extraordinary phenomenon is taking place.
Seeds of sesame, flax, and poppy create a rough, dark gray crust on top of this good size filet and counter-filet cut into the bone, and, nearly call out the urge to forget all and to bite into it in a manner humans are not known to do. Provocative. Endangering.
Even the shades of pale green, bright orange and yellow on the plate accentuates the emulation of a life altering adventure with a fervent strength and a secret language.
As anyone who has ever experienced a true encounter with Sea would believe; Anyone who has ever come close to her in a manner impossible to fathom by staying at her fringes would know (No matter where and how those fringes are “enjoyed”: be it at the careless idyllic beaches of her South or by observing the powerful, deafening waves crushing upon the rugged coastline of her Brittany during a winter storm, they are no match to her true self); She can at times be anything one could have never seen and would never forget.
And yes there was curcuma and kumquat confit and even pineapple! And lemon syrup and young zucchini and soybean sprouts. And the sauce was too sour and it was too sweet and it was in a way I would have never approved of before. And this and that and so what is it that matters? This is a dish I wish I could go back to, over and over and over.
Cheese:
A perfect Rocamadour, some good Epoisses and St Nectaire Fermier, along with average Brin d’Amour and Stilton made up the cheese plate. Each cheese was paired with a balancing agent: two different kinds of chutneys, a fig spread, “vinaigre celtique” (an apple based spiced and concentrated vinegar), Breton crème-double. Pleasant.
Dessert:
“After the rain: Rhubarb and Gooseberries” is a loose translation for this poetically named cheerful desert that let the natural acidity and simple flavor of both fruits burst with an unfeigned audacity that could only be traced to one’s childhood. Reinforcing that tender nostalgia was the Maingau: an all white, nicely chilled, thick but slightly foamy preparation based on sweet cream and fromage blanc with origins deep in local traditions.
A spiced, soft pâte de fruit of rhubarb, a couple of wafer tin dried rhubarb sandwiches with rhubarb confit holding a single berry inside, and a couple of citronella leaves were the only “adult” touches allowed.
At the end:
At the end of a meal you may be offered a cool cream touched by avocado and served with lime along with a glass of grog. The warm grog is a mix of apple cider, rum, spices and exotic fruits. My recommendation would be to not touch it much unless you are so disappointed with the whole experience that you need to burry it all at once, thanks to a spice overload.
Following this, you may be tempted to a selection of coffees. Even if it is Ethiopian and its description seems to have interesting ties with the flavors you have been through during your lunch, you might be apprehensive of the sheer view of a huge French coffee press on your table (“cafetière à piston“ for a better emphasis) alongside an esthetically pleasing presentation of not so interesting mignardises consisting of guimauves, raspberry, citron and chocolate/caramel cubes.
This ending that left us in an uncomfortable state of suspension was not befitting the stirring journey we have had despite an unfortunate accident on the way.
Posted September 30, 2007
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