julot-les-pinceaux

Now, how's about the long version? Details, man, details .... ← Second that.

I promise. I will be back in Europe in the first days of december.

There were wonderful Pfifferling in May already. Pfifferling season is not Steinpilze's. I agree that there were early Steinpilze this season, but that dos not change the fact that Steinpilze are lat summer, fall mushrooms and Pfifferlinge are summer mushrooms.

Seriously, though Porcini july to september? Aren't you confusing with Pfifferlinge? This year the summer was particularly automnal but Porcini season starts at the end of summer, like all mushrooms save girolles/pfiferline/chanterelle, no matter where, when it gets less dry and still warm enough.

I agree with you about the food being the most important thing. And I warmly recommend Winkler. I actually found that the unpretentious character of the place was one of its main appeals. In today's landscape, that's sufficiently rare to mention. As far as wines are concerned, I mantain that Winkler's prices are crazy. Easily twice Tantris', which isn't cheap. By contrast, see Christian Grainer and his wonderful, cheap, wine list, a few kilometers away. Duly noted for the Porcini -- but there are still some nice ones on the market. Thanks for the Winkler history details. I wanted to know the detail of the 19 years of 3* he claims -- the only chef outside of France with that many 3* years, he says.

Does anyone happen to know the third star history of Winkler? When he got it in Tantris, for how long, when he got it in Aschau?

Click here The passion fruit tart, the visitandines (=financiers), the walnut bread, the tourte are some of the highlights. Don't miss their fancy artisanal Nutella, ueber expensive and super good.

In terms of how food prices evolved in the last eight years in France, I would consider that 64€ now is less than 220FF were at the time.

Les Elysées, the restaurant at the Hotel Vernet next to the Champs Elysées, has been renovated during the summer. It is, in my opinion, the best value in town for lovers of the Robuchon style. And also one of the best foods, regardless of value. There's plenty of delicious, classic, technically impressive food for 64€ at lunch, and wonderful unknown and cheap glasses of wine. This is hardly trendy, and novelty-istas will be revolted by the place. But this is exceptionnally good and it really does not deserve to be half-empty for lunch. And it deserves its own thread. I wrote about it before the renovation and just did it again, but I have yet to write the English version for that second post. Pictures are there, though.

Totally second Christian Constant -- one of the best in town, imo. I like sitting at Dalloyau but you have to pick carefully because some pastries look better than they taste, that's place where you should stick to the classics. And definitely the hotel Bristol is where I would seat for a coffee and a pastry. I would also recommend BE on bd de Courcelles. And there is always the option of getting pastries from a good pastry shop and sit in a café -- it is usually cheaper. Among ordinary patisseries, I like Pichard rue Cambronne, la Fleur d'Oranger rue Bayen, and Grégory Renard's macaroons. And The tarts and financiers from Kayser. Oh and Seurre rue des Martyrs, big time. Those are just some that I know -- the beauty of Paris' patisseries-boulangeries is that there are so many local favourites and they all taste different. Try having different croissants each morning (from good places each time) -- they are all about someting different, the taste, the texture, the butter, the sugar...

Yes, please.

The third, last and no longer in existence one was Tante Jeane in the 17th and the four of us found it lacking the ooompf. Its decor and clientele were somewhat between the other two and why it failed, I don't know. How they are today I don't know; I went to Tante Marguerite after Loiseau's death just to see if they were going to change (what was to me a winning formula) but it was pretty much the same. ← I have to correct you. The initial Tante Jeanne was boring, it's true, and the location was never really good. But they changed the whole team around two years before it closed, and Jérôme Bonnet became the chef then. That was little known, but in that time, I think it was the best restaurant in Paris. Jérôme totally had the real Loiseau style, and I ate some of the best dishes of my life there. His foie gras poached in red wine was better than Alléno's, he had a mastering of simple dishes like a plate of seafood and morels or gariguette strawberries on a riz au lait that were positively sublime. Actually, if there ever was grande cuisine at (expensive) bistrot prices, I think Jérôme Bonnet did it. Nevertheless, clients never came and I gues profitabilty either -- but I was not the only one feeling that way. Jérôme has been a sous-chef at Legendre's for a few months after that, but apparently they did not get along and last time I checked he was sous-chef at the Maison du Danemark.

They do some Loiseau classics like the oeufs en meurette -- eggs poached in water and a wine sauce made of a reduction of red wine, thickened with carrott puree and buttered.

Pti (may I call you Pti like John does?), The quality, like the executive chef, remains, but the style of cooking has slightly changed. Ingredients are as mind-blowing as ever, as are cooking techniques-- so the basic thing, the feeling that you never had carrots or potatoes before, remains. The mushrooms plates are still like a lecture -- who knew it could be that good, fruity and earthy at the same time? The style is less brutal, more the cuisine of a Chef than the kind of "cooking 101" that Bernard liked. For instance, the langoustines have some orange zests now -- very delicately flavouring them. The cote de veau is cooked more gently and classicly -- Bernard liked it cooked on a very strong heat, very quickly, so the outside would inevitably be a little dry and the taste very meaty. There are now many plates with two sauces. There are spices and unexpected flavours like the play on pine tree aromas. The house itself has become one of the most georgeous places in France, for one because investments made all over the years are paying off, in particular the garden became luxurious, the rooms amazingly equipped and refined. And the city of Saulieu just renovated the street, which looks less "far east" now. It is strange to say, but the other thing that makes the place more pleasant than ever is that Bernard Loiseau is not there anymore. The atmosphere is more relaxed, no one wanders around anymore, asking everyone "am I not the best?". And because the plate are less absolutely intense (while still remarkable), it is easier to have a pleasant time, enjoying company and service, and wine. In the Loiseau days, eating there was like attending to a Racine tragedy or a Mahler symphony: wonderful, amazing, moving, but also exhausting, almost too intense, disturbing. You (I at least) really did not feel the need to eat for several days afterwards, full of an almost aesthetic satisfaction.

Two more great dishes -- I can't help it. Those two still available in Saulieu. The poularde Alexande Dumaine has truffles under the skin, a stuffing of sous vide cooked vegetables, truffle and foir gras, and it is cooked in a clay pot, made hermetic with cloths, in a steam of chicken stock, truffle juice, Porto and Madeira. It is better to have it for two persons, because then it is served when the breast is perfect, and the thighs finish cooking in the kitchen while you eat the first serving. They bring the pot in the room, undo the cloths, open the pot, and an intense smell of truffle make every head turn in the room. They carve the bird, and serve you the breast, the stuffing, someimes some baby leeks, alwazs some truffled rice. But mostly, they pour the liquid of the pot in the plate as well -- it is thick, foir gras-y, intensely intense. The Loiseau Saint Honore is a miracle. I don't know how it is done, but it is a real saint-Honore, yet light. Tons of vanilla and little sugar, for sure, and no kirsch. A sable at the bottom. This dish defies my description abilities -- but just go taste it (the new pastry chef is former Lucas Carton). I would talk about the sandre, fondue a l'echalotte, sauce au vin rouge -- but I don't want to take all the room.

Ptipois, why is it that I can never disagree with you?(Still not sure what your point was, but agree with everything you said). I promised I would write about Loiseau. I loved that man. There was more to him than the exuberance everybody knows about. He has a very special status in fine dining, because he was not one of those extraordinary skilled men, a know-it-all about cooking like the Troisgros or the Robuchons. As he said when provoked on the topic, "Je t'emmerde. Je sais pas faire une bearnaise, mais je suis le meilleur". And to the extent that being the best can mean something, he was then. The striking thing, which he choose to emphasize sometimes to extreme points in his last years, was the simplicity of his style of cooking. I guess in the end, Passard is closest tot his style of emphasising the world of tastes, subtlety contained in the most simple ingredients when they are prepared with the utmost care. In that regard, I loved the assiette de crudites de la cote d'or. It was just that: some exceptional, freshly sliced ham and or salmon, celeri remoulade, graded carrots. And that was like having never eaten before. There was no secret ingredient, no spices, what you see is what you get: but a relentless quest of the best ingredients, and a jewelry like attention to the seasoning -- no cooking in that case. The fact that this was prepared on order was also essential: carrots were hand-chopped on order, just like all vegetables he served. Another incredible memory were the amuse, giving that same sense of pure tight rope walking in ridiculously simple preparations. The tartelette de foie de lapin just had, on pate brisee, a mirepoix of vegetables in a light mayonnaise (I suspect using low fat yoghurt), and a little rabbit liver on top, sauteed in the last minute. That was all about the nobility of the liver, the complexity of its taste, with the contrast of textures and the counterpoints brought by the vegetables taste. Each bite of that lasted second and was, literaly, heavenly, immaterial. Caviar d'Aubergine wrapped in local raw ham, a few drops of balsamic vinegar was another incredible amuse -- just try it home. The ham is very tasty and salty, not the Parma kind, the eggplant rich in taste and very onctuous. It is often said that, in great restaurants, you have only the best. That was true of la Cote d'Or -- I don't remember being served a non exceptional ingredients (there were accidents like everywhere, but still).

I cannot know about the 50s, and I am willing to believe you -- to some extent, it is indeniable that all Loiseau, Peyrot, Robuchon or Pacaud do, is to implement old, formerly well-known technique. Was the general level of cooking better before I was born? Does it really matter now? I would agree that the style of those great chefs has a lot to teach to everybody's cooking today. But you seem to agree that great cooking in the sense of exceptional ingredients and exceptional skills and care and their preparation are a rare resource now. I do not know what you refer to when you say "grand restaurant" -- if there is today a place where I can eat food like Peyrot's for cheaper, I am very interested -- and unaware. Meanwhile, it is just a fact that delicious food requires manpower and rare skills, and therefore is expensive. If your point is that a number of convention associated with the restaurant are pointless, I agree. If it is that grand restaurant is useless today, I think it is in contradiction with exactly what you say, since the ability to do quality stocks, for example, is today concentrated in the three-stars and is precious.

Thanks, Ptipois, that was moving. Allow me yet to try again to pick up a fight: the recipe of Peyrot may be the ones you would have in a little auberge, but the actual dishes, as I think your description suggest by emphasising the perfect and rare balance of the execution, the permanent quest for great meals, is nothing you would ever find in an small auberge. It requires money and manpower and skills, and a very special kind of attention. I get your point that Peyrot was nothing Ducasse-like in terms of the whole palace circus, and that is also a reason why I liked him. But Peyrot was quintessential grand restaurant precisely because of that care and sensitvity he brought to the most simple and humble things, that ended up making the Peyrot experience so unique and exceptional. Isn't that real luxury (et pas ostentation), rather than having tea from living plants and standing menus and custom-made suits for the waiters? Great Lebey/Peyrot story.

I want to pay a tribute not to Robuchon, which I nerver knew and besides doesn't need my praise, but to Robuchon successor in this restaurant, his sous-chef for the longest time, Benoit Guichard. Jamin closed a few years ago because Guichard decided to give up the restaurant business. Some say it is because of a disease. He was the most serious man about food, but also had rigorist principles: he wanted to remain the cheapest of all Parisian two star restaurant, he wanted to be continuously training young people in his kitchen (only him and an experienced cook in the kitchen, all six others fresh out of school), he did not want to invest, and he also did not want to deal with the press. He even refused Master Robuchon's invitation to Bon Appetit Bien Sur. So he was not a funny guy. But his concentration when he was cooking (of which you can see pictures in the book "L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon") and his knowledge were incredible. He always referred to Escoffier as the basis of everything, and several of his recipes were discreetly inspired from him. I ate there the first time on the infortunate date of Sept 11, 2001, at lunch. Nevertheless, I went back a lot in the following years, taking advantage of the price policy and of a 50e lunch menu that gave acess, among other things, to the dessert trolley. The classicism and intensity in flavours was incredible, and it was really that magic of high class cooking, for recipe were nothing. The Galette Bressane was a simple cake of flour, sugar, egg and cream, ice creams were perfect. My favourite, the one that always had me closing my eyes and purring was the passion fruit tart. It is a very subtle composition because, unlike a lemon tart, the cream on the tart should not reach a high temperature that totally destroys the passion fruit flavour, that unique mix of acidity and sweetness, with its characteristic two time taste. It was carried by the texture of the egg cream, in a nice contrast with the pate sucrée sablée, that has some almonds in it. It was pretty much like Mozart: so simple, and yet so divine and perfect. Another unforgettable and deceivingly simple dish was the pintade rotie au foie gras. The bird was simply roasted, came in a big oval Staub cocotte, and was carved in the dining room. In the cocote were season vegetables, and also a roasted foie gras. One day Claude Peyrot came with Gilles Pudlowski and they had that too -- Peyrot called the pintade "rôtie avec une magnifique sensibilité", and that was exactly right. It was also so much like a sunday family dish, ony sublime and showing you what it is that our mothers were trying to mimick. That was classic in the best sense, because it was a perfect harmony of nature (powerful highquality ingredients) and culture (the traditional recipes and, come to think of it, the ingredients as well), of brutality and refinement.

If you're more a glutton than a gourmet, then I am too!

And La Regalade, whatever category you put it in.

I would add Savoy as the ideal first-time three stars in Paris. Unintimidating, hugely enjoyable, as I detailed there. (Same eagle eye who spotted the absence of Spring will note the absence of l'Ambroisie and other favourites. That's because I think they're less ideal for first timer)

Thanks. Nettle are cooked "à l'anglaise" (meaning like any green vegetables in a lot of very salty very boiling water and stopped in iced water) and blended with a seafood stock (made with the lamgoustines' heads). Langoustines and ormeaux are sauteed, oysters barly poached. The whole interest of the dish lies in amazingly exceptional ingredients and precise cooking. And also in the perfect match between the nettle, its almost metallic taste, its stringence and long lasting retro-olfaction, and the salty seafood. And those are three different contrast of textures. It is powerful, simple and subtle -- and it was surprising. It actually still is, not on paper but in the mouth. I gave those details so my thanks are not suppressed as an off-topic post.

I was not born before WWII. Before Iraq I, though. But I would love to read detailed memories of these places. Really. All we ever hear was Robuchon and Girardet were the best, etc. Tell us more, John. Bu Pun Su, some dishes at Senderens are at the Lucas Carton level, especially the desserts, but there have been execution discrepancies lately which I believe are solved (recent reports from friends told me service became slower which does confirm my idea that they're back on track on quality). They would totally do some Lucas-Carton dishes on special order. As I wrote in my review, they even are considering adding one or two Lucas Carton dishes on their menu. We may have a harder time with having the same level in wines. Actually, I propose we set up an event asking M. Senderens that we have a Lucas Carton meal one of these days. Who's game? Say in Truffle season? Morel season? MarcdiBiaso, are you reading us? We should arrange to have M. Senderens dining with us. As far as Loiseau is concerned, it may not be the best food on earth anymore (not that it ever was the only best food on earth, of course) because chef Bertron does not have the subtle and brutal genius of Loiseau, but it is still amazing, gives you the sense the sense that you never ate before (not unlike Passard or Pacaud), and the place is one of the most pleasant in France. And they do any Loiseau dish on order -- some of them are on the menu (see their website). My favourites are (starting your thread, John!) the "langoustines, huitres et ormeaux au jus d'ortie", (what's ortie in English? I always forget) the "tartelette de foie de lapin", the "assiette de crudités de la côte d'or", the "poularde de bresse Alexandre Dumaine", the "Sandre à la peau croustillante, fondue d'échalottes, sauce au vin rouge", the Epoisses with figs and toasted pain de campagne, and the Saint Honoré. John, if we start the thread, I promise to give a detailed review of these dishes. Also the "pot-au-feu de foie gras de canard". And the "poelée de champignons à l'oeuf cassé".

Mine is mostly about detailed restaurant reviews, in French and English -- born and raised in Paris, it is mostly about French, Michelin-starred restaurants and I try to give a sense of the singularity of each top restaurant rather than a ranking or a mere opinion -- why to choose them, what you can expect, and how to best enjoy them. I also write about basic cooking techiques (e.g. boiling potatoes or frying mushrooms) that I learnt from top chefs.