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As a Frenchman coming back from a trip to NYC, I must say I was also very surprised that an order of medium rare (what I had read on this board was the best call in most burger places and steakhouses) systematically came back as what would be a bit more cooked that "à point" in France. At Island Burger and Shakes the waitress told me "You want rare? OK. But be aware that here we cook real rare, like red bloody rare!". Did I look like someone you cannot handle my rare? Anyway, I was happy and surprised about their policy, said fine and was served an all right "à point", clearly nowhere near what I expect to be a rare. After some time, I managed to switch and always ordered "very rare" or something like that, which more or less always got me what I wanted. As an interesting exception, I ordered rare at Peter Luger, without any other specification and was served a perfect French rare. Was it beacause we had talked with the waiter a bit beforehand so that he could guess we wanted it this way? I forgot to ask him. Your best bet in France to achieve the state of cooking you desire is to say bien cuit I think, especially if dealing with a rather thick cut of meat, otherwise go for à point.

Just tried the Bulgarian yoghurt today at Dammann's (two Ms, two Ns), as well as their honey ice cream. Their taste was reminiscent of Lebanese pastries. Both were very tasty and a great improvement over the tea ice cream I had tasted there a few months ago. I've read in an article that if you order in advance, they can prepare salty ice creams (basil, tomato, etc.) as well as a special champagne ice cream in half litter containers... As far as I'm concerned, it's Berthillon for fruit based sorbets and Dammann's for ice creams. Only a short walk from one to the other any way!

That sounds like a great meal. I'm a bit confused because the starters seem to be from the lunch menu, but the dish is part of one from the carte. Also, you did not have dessert, which is included at lunch. Did you have the luch menu or à la carte?

Wow. Fascinating post, I'm really happy we could compare these two experiences. A couple of ideas that spring to mind: - the amuses were not at all bland or uninteresting, I actually believe they would be a rather nice pairing with champagne but clearly clashed with my salty sherry. Does any one know of restaurants other than Lucas Carton where the choice of aperitif determines the amuses, or at least is taken into account? It seems pretty important to me to do so, not to the point of always having a separate menu for aperitifs as at LC, but to some extent. - another interest of the menu, to those who care about pairing, is that it seems to make it possible to pair the food with wine, as all the fish dishes come first. It worked nicely for me. I believe the horizontal approach of à la carte makes this very difficult, as a given wine will clash with about half of any of the many preparations. But that is a very side-aspect of the matter (though important to me) and I do agree that for those who have seen they enjoy Gagnaire's cuisine a lot, then "à la carte" is the way to dig further into his cuisine. - notice that Gagnaire's website description of the menu is a bit different, especially as regards the wagyu dish which is described as being filet and as being served with a "jus Hervé This". I would have liked to try that.

That is very true I believe. The tasting menu might not give 5 different ways of seeing an ingredient, but it gives one creative view of many different ingredients. It's as if you took one of the five small plates that are part of a "à la carte" dish and served it on its own. You do not get the full deconstruction-reconstruction of the ingredient but as the meal develops you do get a pretty fair idea of what his cusisine is about and of the way he can treat differents products. As such, I do not believe there is a big difference of nature between the menu and "à la carte" (and the vertical and horizontal ideas suggest this too). What I would suggest is that a tasting menu is a nice way to see whether one enjoys Gagnaire's cuisine in its principle, which you very well established above, whereas "à la carte" is a good way for a convinced "adept" to dig further into his style. I know I tend to like cuisine that is more focused around the idea of bringing out the best in a main ingredient, often by linking it harmonously with an other one acting as a supporting character (Briffard does that so well at Les Elysées). As such, Gagnaire may not be perfect for me, but I might go there again once in a while to enjoy the creativity and the occasional combination that matches my subjective preferences.

After Lucas Carton a few months ago, here is the follow-up to my exploration of Parisian three-stars. These are my impressions on the different dishes served as part of the March menu in Pierre Gagnaire's restaurant. The meal started with a few amuses, half of them being of the sweet and salty biscuit type, one being small rolls of seaweed (I believe, nori perhaps) filled with salted fish and the last one a combination of mango ice cream and green pepper presented as a small cube to be picked up with a stick. Nothing spectacular here, the simpler biscuits were the best, some of the amuses were purely sweet, which I found not too fitting (especially with the rather salty sherry I had ordered as an aperitif). The first dish was one of my favourites in the whole meal. It consisted of a play on the texture, or rather the “mouthfeel” of three ingredients: raw langoustine (or perhaps grilled for a half second)chopped as for a tartare and displayed on rolls of veau de lait, the whole thing resting on sliced and puréed avocado. All these ingredients create a common sensation when in one’s mouth (a bit like raw cuttle fish). Assembling them emphasized this common point despite their very different natures and that was a nice touch. A few dashes of “pâte de piment nora” (red pepper paste) on the side contrasted nicely with the predominantly green aspect of the plate through their bright red glossy colour and with the smoothness of the ingredients with its sharp flavour. Some green apple juice in the avocado puree also helped balance the dish in acidity. There was also a sweetish “tuile” that added a nice element of crunchiness to the whole: a really well-balanced, elegant, thought-provoking, tasty dish. Second dish was very reminiscent of Japan’s ochazuke but in a much more sophisticated manner. A circle that was about 5 centimetres thick and consisted of a layer of crab flesh, a layer of some kind of flan and a layer of raw scallops, cut in length, was in the centre of a shallow plate. A small slice of ewe’s milk and honey ice-cream was taken from a covered silver dish and placed on top of the whole thing. A hot infusion of combawa and lemongrass was then poured around it until it became a very intriguing little island. The dish was overly complicated and did not render its ingredients more interesting or savoury. Actually, seeing the very uncompromising quality of the crab and scallops, I would have enjoyed the more on their own, without the infusion + ice cream+ flan combination getting in the way. The hot/cold contrast, though not uninteresting per se, did not bring much here, and the dish lacked something crunchy. I blame it all on the flan actually. A “tuile” would have been much better separation between the crab and the scallops. The third dish was the worst one of the meal. I call it a dish but it was really nothing else than nice ingredients juxtaposed on a plate. Here you had a beautiful slice of socca, a truly wonderful slice of merlu (a white fish) a couple of murex (these dreadful crustaceans that pierce holes into other crustacean’s shells and then do horrible things to them that include projecting their stomach into the other crustacean’s shell and eating out), a weird little deep purple jelly resting on thinly chopped cucumber, some pumpkin thick sauce in the middle. I often find that creative chefs have a tendency to fall into juxtaposition. They cook nice ingredients in tiny little different preparations and then just put them side by side on a plate and call it a dish. That’s not a dish, that’s tapas. At this point I was getting a bit disappointed and wondered how many misses were needed for the kitchen to serve one hit. Then came a more traditional dish, a soup of urchins and Cevennes onions, with turnips, fennel and grapefruit. It was a surprisingly calm and straightforward dish after the others and I found that very pleasant. The urchin’s taste came through clearly but did not obliterate all the other tastes as I had expected. The onions seemed to be taming it down a bit, and the other ingredients all had the same effect of soothing the fiery urchins, while preserving their essential taste. It was an interesting dish, a concerto with all ingredients against one working together to produce a very harmonious result. The next dish was my other favourite of the meal. A chesnut paste rested at the bottom of a wide shallow plate, covered with a very dark jelly of chicken broth and sake. On this were scattered a few tips of green asparagus (why don’t you go asparagi?) in sharp contrast of vivid green and deep black. A whole lacquered foie gras was then presented to me and a slice was cut and gently placed on the jelly alongside two stripes of duck meet apparently whipped with some Indian spice (but this was not very evident in taste as the lacquered foie gras was so strong). It was such a strange dish and I was instantly prejudiced against it when I saw it but it worked. The lacquered foie gras in itself is a fascinating idea and one that is interesting inasmuch as it treats a finished product as a raw one, and makes it undergo another transformation. In this case, the second step is also a pun because the foie alone is treated as the whole duck usually is. The deep red lacquer on top of the slice matched beautifully the glistening black jelly, the slightly bitter edge of the sake balanced the sweetness of the foie, the smooth chestnut paste brought the whole thing on the very edge, just before the fresh and crisp asparagi brought the palate back to sanity. Quite an experience. Next dish was a thin, round, crispy, sweet and sour biscuit resting on soy beans and endive and covered with broken black olives and cuttlefish’ flesh. On top of this rested a delicious filet of red snapper. A dash of green pepper’s juice I could not see the point of this dish, yet another superposition. The waiter who talked to me about the meal at the end seemed to want my opinion on this one and quite frankly I had none. Last dish was wagyu beef in thin stripes so tender they were eaten with a spoon, lying on a bed of winter vegetables. Diced pear in a heavy, bright purple, wine-based sauce were added on top and a little bowl of clear juice with herbs and Sarawak pepper was on the side, to be drunk while eating the dish. I was quite excited about tasting wagyu beef and this was a big disappointment. The dish had nothing special to it other than the meat, and it did not taste anything special. I enquired to know if it were not overcooked since I know in Japan wagyu can be served in thin stripes like these but is only swiftly dipped in the shabu shabu broth. The waiter was very nice and explained that it was the whole point, that they cook this meat for 72 hours before serving it, which accounts for its tenderness. This does not seem too convincing to me: if you have exceptional beef, why cook it for so long? After 72 hours in a hotpot, wouldn’t every beef be on the verge of disintegration? All these questions would have vanished instantly had it tasted great but it just did not. Three prepared wheezes came next. They were mostly good but the point of this was lost one me. Good cheese is great on its own, no need to put little almond paste drops around it or to serve it on a glass of watercress and beer foam. The “grand dessert” is a selection of five desserts, served in five different plates. They ranged from good to very good and included an orange “feuilleté” with a little bowl of clementine juice, baked apple with pistachios, a chocolate cake, a bitter jelly with “agrumes confits” and some kind of tasty millefeuille of which I could not tell what ingredients were inside. Mme Gagnaire was there, very smiley, discrete and welcoming, and I had the chance to talk with the chef for a few minutes as he came to chat a bit while I was waiting for my coat. As often, the staff and the chef were pleasantly surprised to see a young Frenchman in their room and were eager to discuss my impressions. He was very nice, rather shy. I had a very well priced half bottle of Chablis 1er cru 1998 (30 euros) and an overpriced, underpoured glass of Fitou, domaine Maria Fita (12.50 euros). This is a fairly good reflection of my general impression of the place: ups and downs. I do not regret having gone there one second, but do not feel the need to go again for quite some time.

From what I have heard, Michel Bruneau, former Michelin two stars in Caen with La Bourride, has been in charge of La Mère Poulard since November 2003, so the cuisine might be interesting to taste again.

This Michelin inspector was interviewed at length in Le Figaro Magazine last week-end. What he had to say was not very different from what has been said here, but there was an interesting name and shame bit in which the magazine listed all two stars deserving three and vice versa (after asking their opinion to about ten other specialists working in French press). According to their survey: Two stars deserving three: - General agreement: on Roellinger, Fréchon, Dutournier, Anton - Were also quoted: Etchebest, Marcon, Llorca, Raimbault, Thorel, Chibois, Oustau de Baumanière, Lasserre, Duchesse Anne Three stars deserving two: - Wide agreement on Jardin des Sens - Agreement on Taillevent, Les Crayères, Ledoyen Haeberlin, Guy Martin, Lemeloise, Bocuse, Blanc, Lorain, Meneau, Loiseau, Trama - Quoted once or twice: Legendre, Veyrat, Troisgros, Pacaud, Guérard, Westermann Obviously, for those only quoted once, or even twice, the listing is not very telling, but for the others I find it interesting. Surprisingly enough, a few pages before one can read "One has never eaten better at Les Crayères" and about the same comment for Guy Martin. I was also suprised to find them on the list.

A bit of a language issue here, my first mention of service in "Service was pleasant enough" referred to what is called service in French but what I should have referred to as porcelain ware. Bux, I agree with you to some extent, but the food there was far from "really good". I mention the lunch menu for being a very good deal mainly because it lets you see how nice the place looks without having to spend much for Café Marly-quality food. As for the rude comment, all I have to say is that a restaurant is a place where you have an experience, and in Lapérouse this experience is one of participating in French tradition of gastronomy. To me decor and service are less important than the food but are expected to be perfect so that you enjoy the food. If you have to think about the way the food is served, then you cannot properly focus on the food. It's "service" to you as much as it is to the food. There are plenty of places in Paris where one can have "nice enough" (and "nice enough" might be enough for some but is not satisfactory for me) food in gorgeous decor. I like places where people care about what they serve and whether it is enjoyed, not places where people feel good about themselves just for being there. But then again, some do like to be snobbed and consider it part of a fine dining experience.

Lunch at Lapérouse a few days ago. Starter was a consommé of wild mushrooms with scallops, main was a hachis parmentier of boar in a foie gras based sauce and desert a soufflé with chocolate and raspberry sauce. The meal was nice enough. The place is gorgeous, overlooking the Seine and with an inside décor to match the location. Two-star material here. As for the food, the 30 euros lunch menu with no choice as to dishes is a very good deal. The amuses are ok and the service pleasant enough It is a great way to see Lapérouse and decide whether you want to go there again. For me the decision is clear: I would not go there again, not even for lunch. This has nothing to do with the food (not sensational but nothing to run away from: very fresh, plump scallops, nice bread, interesting signature soufflé). It has everything to do with service, which I found very unsatisfying: they did everything you would at least expect them to do but nothing nothing more. No extra smile, no asking whether you enjoyed the dish, whether you want to know the name of the wine they gave you by the glass (and did not even pour at the table). In a nutshell, everyone seemed to be so proud and satisfied with working there that the clients seemed a bit redundant. The only one who smiled was the chef, as I briefly saw him downstairs when leaving. I wish he were better supported.

Would that be "Pain d'épis", avenue Bosquet? If not, do you know this place? It is closer than Poujauran for me and I find it very satisafying overall.

Near the rue Montorgueil is a small passage called “Passage du Grand Cerf”. I would highly advise to anyone who is in that neighbourhood to check it out: it is very nice in itself but made all the more interesting by many young designers’ shops. Also, and until the 15th of January, there is, at the very end of the passage on the left if you are coming from the Montorgueil area, an exhibition by a place called Haute Definition (www.haute-definition.com). The exhibition is about plates, and to some extent porcelain ware in general. There are a few plates created by many designers, and for each designer there is a cardbooard on which the chef who uses these plates writes about his relationship to the plates, the importance of presentation in his cuisine, etc. Featured chefs are Gagnaire, Adria, Bras, Barbot and many more. You can see the exhibition from the passage, regardless of whether the hosting shop is actually open or not. It is in French, so I do not know how much interest it would bear for a some one who cannot speak French, but I found it fascinating.

It's a complete typo, my mind is going all gagnairish on me and probably thought that "LANDES foie gras" was a bit too classical...

In French, "rose rompadour" is the name of a colour. A colour between pink and purple that takes its name from Madame de Pompadour, as it seems she was the one who popularized it. It is also the name of a flower, a rose of that colour. I checked the French version of the menu however, and it seems that "Rose Pompadour" was a rather approximative translation of "rosace de pompadour". Therefore, it would mean flakes (or thin slices) of a breed of patatoes called "pompadour" and put on the plate in a manner reminding one of a flower's petals. An elaborate play on words in a way, since it brings you back to the idea of the flower. A take on the classic caviar/potatoe starter. Pictures of the said potatoe for the really keen ones amongst you!

Of some interest in this topic might be the description of the Ritz Paris’ menu at the Espadon for next December 30th: - Beluga caviar served nestled in ice, Rose Pompadour and Granny smith Apples (Dom Pérignon 1995) - Blue lobster medallions in light ambered jelly and browned Romanesco sauce - Sea urchin soufflé with scallops presented in their shells and tender spinach leaves (Batard- Montrachet Blain-Gagnard 1999) - Sea bass supreme with shavings of Alba truffles - Fine Chanterelle ravioli with Parmesan Reggiano - Whole black truffle with Remy Martin Louis XIII cognac on pastry surprise (Chateau Lafite-Rothschild 1985) - Lamb filet with disc of spiced lamb foie gras, traditional simmered root vegetables - Truffled Meaux brie and Fourme d’Ambert au Coteaux du Layon, lamb’s lettuce dressed with Argan oil (Château d’Yquem 1985) - Vanilla perfumed cristalline, Woodland strawberry rosé Champagne froth (Ritz Champagne vintage magnum) - Fine golden chesnuts, chocolate cream and crisp Piémont hazelnut praline (old port 1893 vintage) - Coffee and Mignardises (Ritz special 1830 fine champagne) All for 1950 euros (but did you really want to know?) There is aso a raffle giving you a chance to win a Cartier jewel which would probably pay for your dinner and next year's too. A bit of a long shot though...

Here is the info for Les Fontaines: 9 rue Soufflot 6ème arrondissement Tél : 01-43-26-42-80 RER Luxembourg closed on Sunday Open all day, food served from 12 to 15 and 19 to 23 (23 being last order).

Just so that everyone has the relevant info: Restaurant " Seize au Seize " 16, avenue Bugeaud - 75116 - Paris - Tel 01 56 28 16 16 Fax 01 56 28 16 78 Notice it's "Seize AU Seize", a pun on either the arrondissement or the street number. The chef's name is Frédéric Simonin and the pastry chef is François Benot. I have heard good things about the place but have not tried it yet.

Here is a thread on places where I have eaten good game in Paris this season. The season is not over, but I thought it would be more useful to post the information while you do not have to wait till next year to make use of it. LES FONTAINES This place is so fine. I go there about once a week and quality and service manage to remain on a high level. Their menu changes everyday and they are successful both on classical French dishes and on game ones. All their dishes are very well done, large in size and use high end quality ingredients (as in really good potatoes or cabbage, not as in caviar and bellota in all dishes). Their price is also a bargain: from 11 (e.g. fricassée de poulet au chanterelles -a kind of wild mushroom- which I had yesterday, very satisfying) to 22 (game dishes mainly) Game dishes sampled there include boar, hare, pheasant, doe and partridge and cost an average of 18 euros. They are served with a mre or less fixed set of side ingredients: a wine pear, sprouts, a grilled apple, turnip and celery and carrot purees. The decor is non existent but the service is friendly and the food of a rare quality at this level of restaurant: I would recommend this place any time. LE VIOLON D'INGRES See my reviews on this place. I have tried ring dove and wild duck here, both were very pleasant and game is widely included in the very nice 39E lunch menu. LA BICHE AU BOIS Classical, a bit crowded, you must definitely book in advance here. I have only been once but was rather pleased with my lunch there. The 25E menu (which I believed is also served for dinner) includes at least 2 different kinds of game. I had a "paté de chevreuil" for starter and a wild duck with black currant for a main. Cheese and dessert were also nice. A real bargain but too far away for me to go as ften as I otherwise would like to (in the 12th, near Gare de Lyon). AU BON ACCUEIL This place is indeed rather welcoming and the menu is rather appealing. I went today and they had one game dish included in their 25E lunch menu (doe). I ordered à la carte however and went for sea urchins with sea water sauce. A nicely designed dish without too many tastes interfering with the urchins' taste. Very pleasant for 15E. Then I had the 'poule faisanne' (female pheasant), flamed with hazelnut liquor and served with a potatoe purée and chesnuts. A good dish, very harmonious visually as well as on a taste perspective. Perhaps even a bit too harmonious, not much risk taken there. Still, a much better than average game dish , priced at 23E (I also had 'poule faisanne ' at Thoumieux and the dish was nice as well, though not as nice, with well prepared cabbage. The service was so unpleasant however that I would never recommend this place). Dessert was pretty bad a light coconut blanc manger, overtuned by a useless coconut ice cream and an unbelievably strong sesame cookie. The pinneaple was hardly to be seen at all (7,5E). There, that is what comes to mind for now, if I remember ot try some other places, I will add them here, and so should you! Good game to you all.

Here is the information: 139, rue Saint-Dominique (7ème), Tel : 01 47 53 73 34 (drop the zero if not calling from France). Café Constant does not take reservations for now, though they might start to do so next year. A party of 9 would take about half of the restaurant (or a good third at least) and frankly, if you want to eat at normal hours, you do not stand a chance of getting so many people in. Try having dinner at 6 or something like that.

I will try Lavinia, thank you for the advice (I always seem to think rare wines and small producers can be found in small shops only, whereas I know, but keep forgetting, that it is the other way around and that small shops are often full of the same few wines while large shops can offer much more). Other places I will check include la grande épicerie du Bon Marché and Bellota-Bellota. Looking for Lavinia's catalogue (which I seem to have misplaced) I found La Maison du Whisky's and they have one: Manzanilla Senorita, Valdespino. Any good?

That's true, a Maury may be a nice surprise and they go very well with dark chocolate, especially the older ones (30 years or so would be good).

Thanks for telling me you enjoyed the post! The Manzanilla was a great discovery and I am currently looking into places in Paris where one can buy some bottles of it. The one they served me was "El Rocio, Gonzalez Byass", a large producer from what I have looked up on the internet but it did not seem to interfere with quality on this wine.

In the interest of fairness (which I don't usually care for that much but hey...) I should say I have had a very nice dinner there a few days ago. Oeufs en meurette (just perfect), bourride de poissons (a lot of different species, served with aioli- a kind of garlic paste, very nice), tarte au chocolat et café (about the same as the one I had at Violon d'Ingres two months ago). I also spotted some vol-au-vent on the nearest table that seemed to come pretty much straight from the starred restaurant. So what is it with this place? I think their menu takes a bit of practice before being able to navigate safely in there. My advice: for starters go for the simpler dishes, with less expensive ingredients, the serving size is much nicer then and they are perfectly well executed. But for main, do not follow that principle any more, the normal cost of ingredients is irrelevant here, try to spot what might be coming from the Violon and order this (I noticed some hare hachis lately that is on both menus some days for example). So much science needed!

After much thinking, at least as much browsing through the different three-star restaurants websites and after reading some distinguished eaters' reports, I decided to go and have lunch at Lucas Carton as my first experience in a three stars. As a bit of background, I should say that I am 23, French, and have tried many restaurants over the years and about two years ago it became a true passion and I started going to one and two-star restaurants as often as I can. Actually, it all started in Yamazato restaurant in Amsterdam but that’s another story. I had sky high expectations for this first meal, so high in fact that I half expected to be disappointed. To clear the suspense, I was not, I was blown away, this was one of the three best meals in my life (the other two being in my family and in Yamazato). This is such a beautiful and calm place. It figures that one should have to cross two sets of doors before entering the restaurant. Something like a decontamination room. I was seated on the left, on one of the purple sofas, at a very nice table, probably designed for single diners. And here it began: As an aperitif I ordered the Manzanilla sherry, intrigued by a sherry announced as “salty” or even having a sea shore feeling. I know that in single malts but have never seen it in a sherry. Also, the belon-jabugo-sherry combination was one of the classical, signature ones according to the website, though not exactly in this form. The sherry was perfect and a very interesting match both with the soft textured belon oyster and the more rigid squid, highlighting the sweetness in the squid and the nut in the oyster. It was a match in which putting two ingredients with a strong common flavour (sea salt) face to face made all the subtleties of each other come out in full light. The jabugo ham was a nice idea as well but I think would have benefited from not being on a toast and being served warm, which is the way it is supposed to be done. A couple of shavings on the side would have been nicer, as the bread took away from it without giving it anything else than some not really needed structure. As a starter I obviously went for the foie gras au chou as it is a classical creation of Senderens which has started at least one famous and successful carrer in eating. A fantastic dish, perfect association. There are so many contrasts in restaurants today that people seem to have lost the idea that contrast is easy whereas a true association is where real culinary pleasure lies. Contrast is putting mango in a cabbage salad. It will only use the sweetness of one of the ingredients to flatter one’s palate and make the other one seem original. A true association, like Senderens’, is a dish where both ingredients reply to each other. The soft foie is evidenced by the crunchy cabbage but the cabbage is revealed as a noble ingredient by its proximity to the foie. Both are wrapped together in a symbiotic manner. And the cabbage is outside, no bragging here, you cannot see the foie. To me this is very interesting, it shows that the chef does not try to impress using chip tricks and fancy displays, you have to come to the dish for it to reveal itself in all its glory. The Jurançon was a fine match, just by smelling it while eating the starter one could lengthen the taste of the foie for a full minute. However, the wine was so strong and original in taste that I had some trouble getting my palate out of its sweet, siren-like tail and it lasted well into my main dish, despite my efforts to Chateldon it out of taste (sorry if you cannot use a trademark for a verb). The main dish was probably the least interesting one, though it was still one of the very best ducks I’ve had. For pieces of perfectly roséed duck served with glazed carrots and some unidentified green leaves (I meant to ask but forgot, maybe spinach) and a little ‘aumonière’ of duck ‘abats’ on the side. This dish was matched with a domaine de Trevallon (half cabernet half shiraz). A dish I enjoyed a lot but not as much as I normally would have because of the shock of the starter. I remember that the carrots were particularly interesting though, because they were glazed in a way that made their colour stand out and melted in your mouth revealing a taste of carrot so perfect that it cannot be achieved without a lot of work. What I mean by that is that I have often noticed that a taste, to be perfectly clear, has to be put in perspective and that there is a lot of hard work in making ingredients taste their best while appearing simple. Again, this is not show-off cuisine at all. By then, I had already had the chance to talk to the sommelier for a good half hour and since I felt like eating some cheese and especially some comté he offered to have me taste some Cote du Jura (20% savagnin, 80% chardonnay). Then again, a perfect match, the lighter wine being soft on a 1999 comté that would probably have been overshadowed by a young vin jaune. For dessert, a dacquoise with citron confit and ginger ice cream. A nice dessert but one that became truly great with the paired wine. This dessert without the wine is meaningless. This was true of every dish of the meal actually, except for the duck (the only one for which they had a choice of matching wines actually). The sommelier tried to get me to guess the wine and I managed all right, with a lot of help from him when I was going astray. I t wa a moscatello de montalcino and made me understand fully what the sommelier meant when he said they were often building the dish from the wine rather then looking for a wine to match the dish. This dessert was fabulous taken as a whole, but what was on the plate was clearly there to allow the wine to shine at full potential. And it was a star. Actually, this was also the most expensive one I had (30 euros). I ended up paying 210 euros, not regretting one euro of it, whereas in brasseries and small restaurants I often do regret paying 20 for a dish not worth 3 in my mind. All the wines were refilled (though in quite different quantities depending on the person doing it) except for the dessert one because the sommelier had given me a really huge glass. Another consideration: the level of service was just perfect. Not a single mistake. The waiters were nowhere to be seen and appeared out of nowhere the moment I wanted to get up or had emptied my glass. The very opposite of what you so often see in restaurants full of waiters walking fast and never bringing you anything you ask for. It seems you now have to pay 200 euros to be able to have really good service. I will post this report on the board I more usually se but since your two contributions here have helped me so much in making my choices I felt it was appropriate to post here first. Thanks again! I will try a few other three stars at lunch soon (Gagnaire or Véfour, probably) but frankly I do not see how I could fairly compare them when they do not have this wine-dish matching system. So now I’m torn apart between returning to Carton and trying some other place. There are worse dilemmas! I would also find it interesting to find out which dishes are created "from" a wine, with its characteristics in mind (the dacquoise), and which are crafted on their own, and then matched with a wine (clearly the case of the foie gras). I believe it would then appear that the latter category is mostly constituted by the more recent dishes, therfore showing some kind of radicalization in Senderens' approach to pairing, a shift of power of kind.

As regards Aberlour specifically, I believe the honey finish is mainly due to the aging in sherry casks. Aberlour is famous for being very sherried, which some amateurs tend to believe is a way of appealing to the people not used to drinking single malts. Their A'bunadh range is even more heavily sherried.