L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon

[Bux]

Mention of a Tokyo Atelier de Jöel Robuchon in reviews about the Paris didn't seem to indicate it was also opening in May. Here's the review.

[Matthew Grant]

The night I was at Atelier in France, JR was in Tokyo, apparently he is visiting once a month.

[Bux]

Kind of amazing that he opened them both at the same time. As Robert Brown posted:

... is Robuchon subtly implying that a customer at his restaurant (and future Atelier Robuchons) should not expect the food to be authentic Robuchon, but something by a hired hand and once-removed from the master? Admittedly this is a point that will certain slip by just about everyone. Yet, I have to believe that this is why Robuchon chose the name that he did instead of another one (Restaurant Joel Robuchon above all ).

[Matthew Grant]

When I was at Ledoyen the day before, I asked our waiter about Atelier. He seemed a little flustered (I'm not sure why, it isn't trying to compete with the 3 stars) and was quick to point out that JR was, as he put it, 'a consultant' and was not cooking there.

[John Whiting]

A minority report, prior to posting on my website:

JOEL PULLS A FAST ONE!

In and out in an hour – and fifty quid the poorer – John Whiting takes you on a whirlwind tour of Joël Robuchon’s new Atelier which had opened on May 7th, a month before.

1958 HOURS L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon presents an austere black façade incongruously fronting the formality of a grand old hotel, the Pont Royal. When I arrive, about thirty would-be diners are lined up along the pavement outside its locked black glass door. They are neatly but informally dressed and so young as to make me wonder if they’re queuing for a disco. While I’m speculating as to how long I must wait, a burly queuemaster dressed in black and looking like a high-class bouncer emerges and utters a few curt words that are obviously intended to discourage. I follow him to the door and ask if there is a single place available. Ah! That is possible and I’m ushered into the sanctum sanctorum.

2001 HOURS As my eyes adjust to the subdued lighting, I make out rows of stools with deep maroon leather upholstery which dimly outline a row of fingers projecting like fjords into the room. These connect to the work area, comprising the kitchen and service space, so that waiters may pass freely between the serving counter and the diners.

I am taken to a far corner and shown to my appointed stool. It is a high metal frame, about 18 inches square, with a short straight back and a foot rest, and there is about 6 inches clearance on either side. I am more that 6 inches in width, but the stool beyond is unoccupied and so I am able to squeeze in without rubbing my posterior against an indignant diner.

I note that the last two spaces show signs of having recently been vacated. The restaurant has only been open an hour.

The counter space is a continuous ledge running the length of the bar. It is about a foot deep and steps up half a foot to a narrower ledge behind. My personal area is defined by a rectangular white plate about a foot wide, rather Japanesy, with a round depression in the middle, on which rests a starched white linen napkin rolled with surgical exactitude and held together by a maroon paper collar. L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon it announces boldly, in case I’ve forgotten where I am.

2004 HOURS The carte appears within two minutes of my being seated. Since I have seen it before, thanks to a friend’s photos of the window display, I’ve already decided on a menu that I can easily measure against familiar standards: foie gras, vitello tonnato and an assortment of tarts. This gives me a couple of minutes to look about before the waiter returns.

From where I’m sitting I can easily survey the kitchen. There are a dozen or more workers, dressed in identical black uniforms. It is reported that Robuchon has gathered a small group of his peers for this venture, but there is only one chef who looks old enough even to be his son. The rest are mere toddlers.

The diners are not so easily observable, but the waiting queue has already convinced me that I must be by far the senior person in the room. If this is the way forward into the gastronomic future, it is a Children’s Crusade.

2006 HOURS The young waiter returns and takes my order. No sign of a wine list; I decide to wait for it to be offered. There’s time to observe a bit more.

The loudest sound is the subdued background music, a safely non-committal Vivaldi concerto. Conversation among the diners may be inhibited by the seating arrangement, although that doesn’t keep a bar from being noisy. No, there is a conversational reticence, as in a church. We are receiving Holy Communion.

There is an equal silence in the kitchen area. Although it is mid-evening and all covers are occupied, many of the help are standing about motionless. There are none of the usual sounds of cooking – and, I suddenly realize, none of the smells. The activity in the kitchen seems to consist mostly of the assemblage of previously prepared ingredients.

2009 HOURS My first course arrives. The dining ledge is so far away from the waiter that he has difficulty setting the plate down and so, like the other diners I’ve observed, I help by taking it from him. The plate holds a glass ramekin about two inches across which contains a modest helping of cold foie gras with a bit of course salt. Accompanying it are four paper-thin slices of crisp pain Poilâne toast. Nothing wrong with the foie gras. It’s mildness suggests goose rather than duck, and though fresh, there’s nothing to distinguish it from the contents of an expensive jar. No garnish. Inoffensive food for the well-to-do.

2010 HOURS A minute after my starter comes, the wine list is finally offered. I ignore the fine vintages – who would rush through such wines in such an ambiance?! – and opt for a glass of sauterne to accompany the foie gras. 15cl of Chateau Rabaud Promis is available for 12 euros. (At that rate I could have a whole bottle for a mere 60, but I let it pass.) I leave my starter waiting in its little nest and the wine arrives within a couple of minutes. It is excellent but scarcely cool and will have reached room temperature well before I finish it.

Having polished off the foie gras in a few mouthfuls, I have time for more observation. Over in the kitchen there’s some discernable activity. A small pile of ground meat appears on the workbench. Is there about to be some actual cooking and perhaps a suggestion of an aroma? No, it’s for steak tartare. The young chef produces a tray of condiments containing salt, pepper and two familiar objects. One is a plastic squeezie bottle of Heinz Tomato Ketchup, the other a small glass bottle of Lea & Perrins Worcestershire Sauce. I take out my camera, turn off the flash and capture a blurred record of culinary expertise in action.

After mixing, the end product is ring-moulded into the compulsory cylinder and French fries added at the side of the plate. Another young kitchen helper comes over and shows the lad how to build them into a precarious tower, so that the extraction of a single stick will send the rest tumbling about the plate, thus embarrassing the diner.

2019 HOURS The waiter removes my plate, first putting my used cutlery back on the counter. There’s a dab of foie gras on the knife, which sticks to the foot of my wine glass. I wipe it off with my finger.

2021 HOURS Within a couple of minutes my vitello tonnato arrives. Six shavings of rare veal, about 4 inches by 2 inches, overlap across the plate. They are coated with a thin layer of tuna sauce and dotted with a few tiny capers. The veal is mild and tasteless, as pale veal tends to be. Like the foie gras, the sauce is pleasant and inoffensive. Invalid food. My remaining warm sauterne gives it a modicum of character. Stretching it out, I make it last ten minutes.

2035 HOURS My plate is taken away, this time along with the cutlery. Within a couple of minutes I’m offered the dessert menu. I’ve already decided on the selection of traditional tarts, just to sample the pastry chef’s expertise. What arrives is a plate containing a circle of six tiny wedges, each enough for two modest bites. The pastries are well-constructed and mostly of the pâte sucrée sort that doesn’t go soggy from waiting. One wedge is topped with three tiny wild strawberries (in context, the tame sort would have looked gigantic) and another has a layer of tart lemon curd so light and foamy that you could suck it through a straw. The best mouthful I’ve had tonight.

2050 HOURS The dessert dish is removed and coffee is offered and accepted. Within a minute a demitasse arrives, together with a demi-sweet – a single truncated pyramid of toffee whose base is less than half an inch square. No need to worry about the calories.

2056 HOURS Five minutes later I am impatient to get back to the real world. I catch the waiter’s eye, scribble on my palm with my finger, and l’addition is produced. It comes to 71.5 euros. Fifty quid to eat at a cookery school! If you are in Paris in early June, get in touch with the Ecole de Paris des Metiers de la Table du Tourisme et de l’Hôtellerie. During their final examinations, a table for four, vin compris, will set you back a grand total of 30 euros.

I put my credit card on the tray and signal the waiter again. He saunters over, sees the card, and says without a note of apology, “Our machines aren’t working tonight. You must pay in cash.” “Suppose I didn’t have it,” I start to say, but he has already disappeared.

2058 HOURS I leave the exact change on the tray and collect my shoulder bag from under my stool, which I carefully manoeuvre backward to permit my egress without jostling my neighbours. Assistance from the staff? Don’t be ridiculous! None of them ever venture outside the designated work area.

I go to the front door, which is still locked against intruders. A couple of waiters notice me standing there but do nothing. In half a minute the queuemaster returns and goes through a couple of manipulations to undo the security. What would happen in case of fire? The Atelier would hold more seared meat than it will have witnessed in toto since it opened!

And so 2059 HOURS sees me back on the street, almost an exact hour from my arrival. What will the future hold? The name of Robuchon will no doubt take his Atelier safely through the warmer months. But when the seekers after novelty have come and gone, who among them will return? Who will wait outside on a winter night with no one to ask how long they must flail their arms and stamp their feet? Who, having been admitted, will be content with small chilly dishes served with an icy efficiency that will soon force them back into the greater cold?

And finally, how many of those who have thus sledged to the pole and back will then seek out the nearest bistro, where, for a fraction of the cost, they may relax over the warm comforting food they have been so expensively denied? I would like to believe that the great Joël Robuchon is a self-sacrificing counter-revolutionary who, by forcing a modern trend to its reductio ad absurdum, would thus bring us back to our culinary senses.

June 10th 2003

Edited June 15, 2003 by John Whiting (log)

[Pan]

John:

Thank you for so lucidly sharing your experience with us.

And what makes me at least as happy as reading about your experience (albeit an unsatisfying one) is seeing your name again as a poster on these boards.

[Jonathan Day]

The running time clock is a stroke of genius. I think I would have identified this as one of Whiting's writings even without knowing the author's name. Thanks, John.

[robert brown]

John, you sealed the deal for me. I'm not spending one of my two meals in Paris this summer at that place. This is a brilliant piece of reportage. I can't imagine that you didn't get the nail on the head.

[John Whiting]

The running time clock is a stroke of genius.

Just to reassure you that it's very accurate. I didn't time every stage as it went along, but I did note exactly when I arrived and when I left. When I got back to my friend's Paris flat I spent about half an hour reconstructing the time gaps in between; I'm sure that none is more than a minute or two off.

Furthermore, none of the narrative has been fudged in any way. It's only one diner's experience, but every word is gospel. The posting on my website will include photos of the menu and my blurred closeup of the two bottles.

[fresh_a]

I've finally done it. The eternal procrastinator and coolest of concierges finally eats at Robuchon's eatery.

I guess there's not much to add to the quality reportage that we've had so far. Suffice to say that I enjoyed myself, found this to be a fun gastronomic experience, and wasn't looking for the culinary Holy Grail.

We showed up early, around 6h20 pm, and were seated almost immediately. We were four. My wife, Austin (my gastronomic sidekick, and evil twin), and his mother. The women took a few dishes, while A. and I devoured practically the entire menu.

Robuchon wasn't present, apparently opening another Aterlier in Tokyo, or something, but Philippe Braun (ex-Laurent), and Eric Le Cerre ? (Astor) were in full effect. The staff was young and friendly, and although the seating was not as confortable as, say, a standard restaurant table, the barstools were by no means unconfortable.

The staff was friendly and relaxed. In the kitchen (from what we could see), there seemed to be no rush or stress, just an ongoing preparation,production,observation, and distribution of dishes.

What we ate was fresh, well-prepared, and well-presented. Favorites included the egg and morel mushrooms in the martini glass, the ris de veau, the anchovie millefeuille dish, and the Astrance-like avocado (forgive my not giving the absolute correct menu version of the dish-names). The wine-list was ok, even though we drank copiously from it.

What I liked was the fact that we could eat food made from excellent products, by talented chefs in agreeable surroundings, and there was no pressure to do anything else. A. and I ate like pigs, the girls took it easy. Everyone in the restaurant was having a good time, and the only negative point for anyone seemed to be the no-reservation policy. I wouldn't hesitate to return, and some of my fellow diners (who all seemed to be discerning, and relatively knowledgable on gastronomy) were returning for second and third times.

I'll write more when I have time to check out my notes...

[fresh_a]

I gave Atelier a chance, and I enjoyed it. I didn't find it outrageously expensive, and I found the staff to be charming. I had no preconceived ideas, and just took the experience at face-value. Good food from good produce, created by experienced chefs, in agreeable surroundings. I'm sorry others had a less-than-satisfactory experience, but L'Atelier is something new in Paris, and I'm all the better for it...

Edited June 15, 2003 by fresh_a (log)

[Matthew Grant]

John, did you feel rushed? One of the problems that I could foresee during my visit was that people were lingering for a long time and there didn't appear to be any table turning policy - good for those already seated but not good for people queuing outside. Incidentally, without meaning to pick holes in your fine piece. Have they started opening at 19:00 now? When I was there the restaurant was opening at 18:00.

I've been thinking about this restaurant a lot. I liked the food a great deal, although i don't really get the fuss about the mash potatoes( ). However, the setup really bugged me. It is so awkward for waiters and diners.

[John Whiting]

John, did you feel rushed? . . .  Have they started opening at 19:00 now? When I was there the restaurant was opening at 18:00.

I didn't feel rushed by the staff, only by my desire to get out of the place. In the midst of half-a-dozen visits to first-rate Paris bistros, it was like visiting a doctor's surgery in fantasyland.

As for opening time, I could well be wrong. A usually well-informed friend told me that it opened at 7 and that he'd been advised over the phone that if he was there by 6:30 he'd probably get a table immediately. I'll check it out, because it would invalidate one of my observations.

[Louisa Chu]

After mixing, the end product is ring-moulded into the compulsory cylinder and French fries added at the side of the plate. Another young kitchen helper comes over and shows the lad how to build them into a precarious tower, so that the extraction of a single stick will send the rest tumbling about the plate, thus embarrassing the diner.

John, hilarious! But other than the old-school ring mold convention - which seems so incongruous - why did you feel that you ate at a cookery school?

I have a friend who just started his stage there this week. 9AM to midnight - 3 hour lunch break - 7 days a week. I'll get his take this weekend I hope.

[fresh_a]

They open at 6h30 pm. When I went, we showed up qround 6h15 pm, and got in as soon as the doors opened. The clients after us waited about 1-1 1/2 hours for a seat. But none of them seemed too bitter.

[fresh_a]

As an interesting aside, I just came back from shopping at my local grocery store, which sells a line of microwavable food from a brand called "Fleury Michon"for whom Joel Robuchon has created his own line of "gourmet" food. On each and every package is marked " Win a trip to Paris, and discover the ATELIER restaurant!". Scary.

[marcus]

I didn't feel rushed by the staff, only by my desire to get out of the place. In the midst of half-a-dozen visits to first-rate Paris bistros, it was like visiting a doctor's surgery in fantasyland.

John -- I find your discussion of Robuchon's new restaurant to be very interesting, but more for what I believe I have learned about you than about the restaurant.

[Bux]

John -- I find your discussion of Robuchon's new restaurant to be very interesting, but more for what I believe I have learned about you than about the restaurant.

How often is a review not that much more meaningful when we "know" the reviewer and how better do we get to know a reviewer than by reading his reviews.

Nothing in John's review will serve to steer me away from l'Atelier de JR, although it gave me some insight into the place and to how I might want to use it. There was an element of reverse snobbism that I found off putting, but on the whole I enjoyed John's essay as a short story if not as criticism. Bear in mind that John was the first one to post of Robuchon's new venture back in August of last year. Thus this is John's thread. One senses the pent up cynicism from the first notice of the generation gap. If you know John, you know it's the last place in Paris he'd go for a good meal. L'Atelier is the antibistrot.

[Pan]

Bux, didn't you feel that a large part of John's criticism was that he was paying high prices for ordinary food in a cramped setting with perfunctory service? What's "reverse snobbish" about that?

[Bux]

Bux, didn't you feel that a large part of John's criticism was that he was paying high prices for ordinary food in a cramped setting with perfunctory service? What's "reverse snobbish" about that?

Others have said it was not ordinary food. John should not be offended if I said he's not a fan of haute cuisine. I think he's expressed that pretty much to me when we dined together in London. I do appreciate John's crticism, but as Marcus said he learned more about John than about the restaurant. No restaurant is perfect for every diner, not even for every connoisseur. I value John's opinion and comments and was very glad to have his review here, but I also know we disagree about the value of certain kinds of food and restaurants.

[gingerbread]

This is ordinary food. I can not say expensive. Expensiver than New York Times tells us. But key problem is food is ordinary. Not two stars.

[Pan]

Bux, didn't you feel that a large part of John's criticism was that he was paying high prices for ordinary food in a cramped setting with perfunctory service? What's "reverse snobbish" about that?

Others have said it was not ordinary food.

But John's reaction was that it was.

If he's not a fan of haute cuisine, do you feel he would have given the restaurant an equally negative review if he had had a comfortable table, relaxed ambiance, and gracious service, as he likely would have had in a traditional haute cuisine restaurant? Perhaps John will address this, and I look forward to his response.

[fresh_a]

Gingerbread-have you eaten there? I have, and I don't believe the food or the restaurant are by any means ordinary. And Robuchon quite clearly doesn't give a damn about getting stars at L'Atelier. I mean, he already has two two-starred Michelin chefs in the kitchen, without counting him...

Could you explain for us what you mean by ordinary?

Edited June 18, 2003 by fresh_a (log)

[gingerbread]

Sure. Carpaccio langoustines with pink peppercorns good. Other langoustines dishes bad. Pasta was just carbonnera, no better. Lamb was not Limousin or Pyrenees, probably just regular, and potatoes were too creamy. Better if chef used BF-15 instead of ratte. Pedestrian food. Bell papper sauce for avocado was too Meditteranan and avocado color tired.

Edited June 18, 2003 by gingerbread (log)

[Pan]

Gingerbread-have you eaten there? I have, and I don't believe the food or the restaurant are by any means ordinary. And Robuchon quite clearly doesn't give a damn about getting stars at L'Atelier. I mean, he already has two two-starred Michelin chefs in the kitchen, without counting him...

Could you explain for us what you mean by ordinary?

My deduction that John Whiting found the food ordinary is based on a general impression of his review, but here are some bits of evidence:

Nothing wrong with the foie gras. It’s mildness suggests goose rather than duck, and though fresh, there’s nothing to distinguish it from the contents of an expensive jar. No garnish. Inoffensive food for the well-to-do.

Six shavings of rare veal, about 4 inches by 2 inches, overlap across the plate. They are coated with a thin layer of tuna sauce and dotted with a few tiny capers. The veal is mild and tasteless, as pale veal tends to be. Like the foie gras, the sauce is pleasant and inoffensive. Invalid food. My remaining warm sauterne gives it a modicum of character.

Who, having been admitted, will be content with small chilly dishes served with an icy efficiency that will soon force them back into the greater cold?

I'll be happy to see his response to this part of the thread, whenever he gets around to it.