La Caravelle

[yvonne johnson]

Any foodback (food on brain...should read 'feedback' -more food on brain) on La Caravelle (West 55 St)?  I'm going no matter what, and am looking forward to it, but interested in hearing what others have made of it.  

[Wilfrid]

Yvonne, I feel bad because the answer is yes, I have...but I am also totally blank on what I ordered, and the book in which I obsessively record such matters (for reasons now obvious) is elsewhere.  Have you been before?  I try to go at least once a year, and I enjoyed it equally during Cyril Renaud's time and after he left to set up Fleur de Sel.  It's a luxurious room, and the obvious way to go is with classic cuisine - the quenelles de brochet have always been lovely (a little light as an entree, perhaps, if you're hungry).   If you reservation is for some time in the future, let me know and I'll try to give some specific recommendations:  if it's this weekend, just enjoy it!

[yvonne johnson]

I'm going with a friend next weekend, so I'd value any more thoughts you have.

Q: quenelles de brochet? Let me know what this is. Mouse kebab?! Glad to hear it's still luxurious. One of the reasons why I chose the place is b/c a former colleague of mine ranted and raved about the restaurant's beauty as well as the food.

[Fat Guy]

The last meal I had at La Caravelle -- about a year and a half ago -- was so laughably bad in every way that I find it hard to imagine it as a serious restaurant. I ordered classic, and received a very dry duck. The arrival of a new chef, Troy Dupuy (a Gray Kunz disciple), gives some cause for optimism. But I found the place tacky and the service tired, and it seemed most of the customers weren't the types to be particularly receptive to interesting food, so I wonder what Mr. Dupuy can actually do. I'll be interested to hear your opinion, Yvonne.

There is a Web site you can visit, by the way:

www.lacaravelle.com

[Fat Guy]

Here's what one of my dinner companions wrote at the time of our meal, in June 2000. I agree with every word:

A recent dinner at La Caravelle proved to be quite a dramatic illustration of the steep falloff in the qualiy of French cuisine and dining from the present peaks of excellence now occupied by such establishments as Daniel and Lespinasse, among a few others.

I was struck firstly and perhaps above all by the utter failure of this old-timer’s effort to drag itself into the year 2000. This failure permeates every aspect of La Caravelle, not just the food. Strangers, upon entry, are appraIsed with an almost comic up-and-down look by the Maitre d’. In spite of being told by the woman at the front that their hosts had arrived and were seated, this Gilbert and Sullivan type replied “I’ll have to see. Wait here.” And so we did, stuck in the vestibule amidst a display of little shopping baggies from all the best brand name stores, Sotheby’s catalogues, and strangest of all, a copy of the souvenir advertising book from the Bristol Hotel in Paris. Apparently, the management of this restaurant believes that its clientele is in some way appreciative or admiring of this extremely vulgar cross-marketing. True or not, all patrons, whether they want it or not, are treated to a gauntlet of advertising before entering the restaurant.

Next is the corridor flanked on both sides by tables for regulars and celebrities. Then into the main room, and finally past the leather-and-studs-padded bar into the Siberia where nobodies and the variously unworthy are dumped. We proudly took our places at our table there with our hosts.

The place was packed with enthusiastic customers. Around us were tables proclaiming quite loudly their pleasure with it all. A woman at the next table, after having been favored with not only a little birthday chocolate something with a candle in it, but also a caterwauling rendition of the song delivered by the sommelier (who acted as their captain and ours) and the busboy, announced that this had been the best meal of her life. Actual waiters were apparently short supply in Siberia, as was staff that could carry a tune.

The menu at La Caravelle clearly marks its attempt at demographic reach by labeling some appetizers and entrees as “classic” and others as”contemporary”. Among the former appetizers are Belon oysters and caviar service, both of which carried a supplement, as did more than just a few items on the ๔ prix fixe menu. Classic entrees included roast duck, roast chicken and dover sole. Among the “contemporary” offerings were carpaccio of tuna and pan-seared monkfish with sherry truffle sauce. Go figure. It seemed to us that this separation was, like so much else here, self-conscious, clumsy, obvious.

Without going into too much detail, the food ranged from a very good filet mignon with three vegetable purees, to simply poor duck with cranberry sauce, which was served with wild rice and looked on the plate like nothing so much as a first helping of Thanksgiving dinner at the house of a grudging host and lousy cook. The presentation of this dish, as well as all the others, ranged from indifferent to indifferently piled on. The notion of plate design was virtually nonexistent. The duck plate was basically all the same indeterminate midshade of gray/brown. The duck itself was below average.

Service, provided mostly by the sommelier and busboy, was fair. Wine glasses were not refilled. A request for more bread was met with “we’re out of that”. We were shown an uncarved duck and chicken, only to be told moments later that they weren’t ours. Fortunately, in good company, this sort of thing can be enjoyed for the farce that it is.

La Caravelle feels like a restaurant with its soul - and its clientele - rooted in the postwar French in New York tradition of Le Pavillon and Lafayette, although I don’t believe it ever in its long history reached the level of quality of either of those places. Its hamfisted attempts at being up to date come off as crass and superficial. To those seeking fine French food in a beautiful room in New York, the alternatives are far preferable. I can’t think of a single reason to recommend or return to this restaurant. I’m sure I’d be excoriated for this view by many who clearly enjoy the place. Chacun a son gout, a waiter there might say, as they seemed to insist on speaking French. When they turned up, that is.

[robert brown]

Yvonne, I think you should "go for it" anyway. It's your dream to go to La Caravelle, so why not. It sounds like the kind of restaurant that is nice and elitist and still retains the snobbism and gentility that one associates with high society of NY, London and Paris of several decades ago. My hunch is that the grub won't be as exciting as a handful of the most-mentioned "hot ----" restaurants in town. While I have never been to La Caravelle (but did fly in British European Airways ones in the 1970s) I did go fairly recently to La Cote Basque. I suspect your visit will be something like mine: Enjoyable food and the hard-to-find and different experience of visiting an old war horse, chestnut, or whatever.

Think of "quenelle de brochet" as light gefilte fish with a shellfish sauce.

[yvonne johnson]

This is going to be interesting. Thanks everyone for the input. Fat Guy, are you able to say who your companion was? I found the report very funny. No doubt we'll be seated in Siberia too. I love farce, but if my experience truns out to be as bad as Fat Guy's I'll have to take my friend out for a second meal to make amends.

[Fat Guy]

My companion was a guy who should have been a writer but decided to earn a living instead. He's someone I dine with often, and with whom I see eye-to-eye on most quality-of-dining-experience issues (though he has a few idiosyncrasies even I won't endorse). His name is Bob. Really.

That's not the only time I've ever been to La Caravelle, either. In recent memory, I've been three times. One of my meals, when Mr. Ono was chef, wasn't half bad. Save for a dry veal chop and a bullying captain it was actually a worthy example of Midtown Dinosaur French cuisine.

By the way, I have always enjoyed La Cote Basque very much. I have nothing against old-fashioned food. In some cases, such as with desserts, I downright prefer old-fashioned food. I just like for it to be good. It will be interesting in the case of La Caravelle to hear whether the chef or the institution will gain the upper hand. I'd find it hard to believe Troy Dupuy would knowingly let anything less-than-excellent go out of his kitchen. That assumes of course that he truly has control of the kitchen. Let us know.

[Wilfrid]

Well, having found my notes, I am happy to throw a more positive light on the place.

First, no wonder I couldn't remember what I'd eaten.  It seems I ate everything.  Must have been a tasting menu.  Highlights were foie gras with lentils and a filet of venison.  Low point was "halibut au curry".  I have come across this pairing of white fish with brown, sweetish curry sauce at more than one restaurant recently (at Atlas it was cod with curry sauce) and I cannot see the appeal.  Yuk.  Overall, as I said, it was a very enjoyable meal.

Quennelles de brochet:  light, creamy dumplings of pike, often served with a sauce Nantua (pink sauce made from crayfish), although I see I have had them with a lobster sauce at La Caravelle.

As to the disappointing experiences above - I believe I've eaten at La Caravelle four times in the last five years.  At least twice, I have eaten alone.  I have sat in the corridor, although I am neither famous nor regular, and in the very comfortable main room (it is not quite as pretty as Le Grenouille or La Cote Basque, but it is not far behind).  I remember the "Siberia", but I don't think I sat there (it's on the way to the restroom), so I am not sure how much of a hierarchy is really at work.  Of course the service is old-fashioned, but I always find it friendly.  Plate presentation is indeed quite different from many top New York restaurants - but, again, it's old fashioned;  the different foods are placed next to, not on top of, each other, and decorative garnishes as minimal.  It's what one should expect.

Surprised to hear of the bad duck - that must be a very popualr dish.  Again, my suggestion would be to stick with the classics and avoid the supposedly modern stuff, which I am sure you can get better elsewhere.

My fingers are crossed for you.

[yvonne johnson]

Last Saturday, an interesting evening as predicted. It was uncanny the ways that Bob’s experiences (within Fat Guy’s post, Nov 2) comically predicted what was to come.

I arrived a couple of minutes before the hour of our reservation. On giving my name, a woman doubling as a coat checker and receptionist said that I was the first in my party of 2 to arrive, and I’d be seated in a minute. Presently, Mr. Jammet, co-owner, appeared (I recognized him from the photos on the website and the Observer’s accurate depiction of his quirky sartorial sense (“dressed in a navy blue double-breasted suit with a maroon pocket square, a light blue shirt and a yellow checked tie dotted with what appeared to be little carrots and turnips” http://www.lacaravelle.com/lacaravelle/observer.asp) and his expression seemed to lighten when he spotted my thick, 23 carat gold bangle from Kuwait (long story). I think this is my first ever post in which I describe what I wear, but this is what La Caravelle does to you.

Mr. Jammet led the way between the corridor tables to the main room. Not good enough for the corridor, but maybe I should be thankful, I wasn’t placed in Siberia, the room beyond. Waiting for my friend to arrive, I had plenty of time to look around. Fat Guy described the restaurant as tacky. I saw it more as twee. The low ceilings, small chairs and pretty murals brought a doll’s house to mind. Then I spot her. My friend had arrived before me and was sitting at the bar! Turned out we’d both been told we were the first to arrive. Why the slip up? Mr. Jammet is distracted speaking to his regulars.

The amuse bouche was thinly sliced (barley cooked) pocket of pumpkin, inside of which was cottage cheese. I thought an amuse was supposed to excite the taste buds.

The menu is prix fixe (๔) but many dishes (and the menu isn’t extensive) carry supplemental charges. I went for a crab salad (Ű supplement). I tried not to let on to my friend, Diane, how horrid it was, but she noticed that I was “not convinced” by the crab meat with root vegetables, scoop of avocado, another of tomato and a shell in which was a brown sauce that tasted rancid to me. Maybe crab has tomalley like lobster. Whatever it was, it was a mistake. Diane had the classic crab salad and she said it was very fine.

I moved on to Dover sole. This was reasonably successful, as was Diane’s salmon. Unfussy vegs accompanied my sole, but the fish wasn’t presented in a timely manner. After being shown the whole fish, the waiter went off somewhere else to de-bone it and it was pretty cold by the time it came back. (Oh, and the sole had a ผ supplement!)

Now the meal starts getting very much better, so I can see Wilfrid’s point that good food can be had here. I had plenty of room for a cheese plate (ű supplement!). Magnificent Stilton, another was camembert-like, and a third (the name escapes me) that was wafer thin, in curls with a beautiful buttery texture, accompanied by very decent chewy, fruity bread.

We also shared a peanut praline (no supplement), crunchy on bottom and light mousse on top. This was one of the nicest, non-sweet desserts I’ve had in a while.

A 1999 Pouilly Fuisse Solutre-Auvigue matched the fish rather well (เ).

Unhurried service turning slow by the end (we were there going on 4 hours and we both commented that the dining room chairs were not that comfortable).

I’m glad I went just to see (here I am talking about appearances again--La Caravelle mode) but once is probably enough for me.

[Wilfrid]

Do I need a palate transplant or am I just lucky?  I have always had a much better time at Caravelle than that.  Still, good to know there's a cheese plate.

[Andy Lynes]

Oh no! The last thing you want to be told when you have a special meal booked is that the restaurant is not that good. Even worse is when that opinion is, for you, proved correct. I have to say I would have had difficulty taking it on the chin as well as you seemed to have done. Perhaps the company made up for the food. What a bummer!

 

[Bux]

I'm too late to add a useful comment on the restaurant, although I'd note that I did not find it all that bad, but it was also not a place I'd choose to become a regular, or even to return to, if that's any help to others.

I'd take some exception to description of quenelles as "light gefilte fish" or "light, creamy dumplings," although my pocket French/English dictionary says "(fish-, meat-)ball. Obviously Robert Brown's grandmothers' were better cooks than mine and I suppose dumpling may be technicaly correct, but it doesn't do justice to the best quenelles. They are a poached mousse of fish, chicken, veal or other food stuff, with egg white, but have a flour base. I suppose the coursest ones are "dumplings."

Lyon, France seems to be their spiritual home and you can find them prepared in every traiteur, epicerie or charcuterie in the city, or so it seems. In a great restaurant they can be ethereal. At one point in the fifties or sixites, the pike quenelle in crayfish sauce became a must in every haute cuisine restaurant in NY.

[Wilfrid]

Quote: from Bux on 10:37 am on Nov. 18, 2001

I suppose the coursest ones are "dumplings."

I am not sure why dumblings have to be 'coarse'.  Still, I'll settle for being 'technically correct'.

[Bux]

Dumplings don't have to be coarse, but I guess the word just conures up a heavier image in my mind than the quenelles I have eaten. I think of dumplings as either something in a pasta wrapper as Chinese dumplings, or dumplings that are basically flour and water with egg. English is such an imprecise language and connotations are often stronger than definitions. Besides, I've always suspected some of those prepared quenelles I've seen in Lyon's shop windows are desne as a rock and have little fish in them. So it all depends on whose dumplings and whose quenelles we are eating.

[Wilfrid]

Not meaning to beat this to death, I looked 'em up in Larousse last night.  The American English translation of Larousse defines quennelles as dumplings.  It would be intersting to know what the French original says.  But the real reason for prolonging the discussion is that, according to Larousse, quennelle is derived from the German knodel (there would be an umlaut over that "o" if I could figure out my keyboard).  So I have learnt something.

[Bux]

As long as there's information being exchanged and someone is going to the source so the rest of us don't have to, I don't think we're beating this to death. English is an often imprecise language and what one person says, may not be exactly what another understands. Definitions aside, I'd expect something different if the menu said "dumplings" than if it said "quenelles." As I noted, my pocket French/English dictionary regards quenelles as meat balls. That's hardly helpful in my mind. My Larousee Gastronomic (1961 edition published in the US) offers only the Anglo-Saxon knyll meaning to pound or grind, as the possible origin.

Although commonly made with flour, most of the recipes I see in the Larousse do not seem to use anything but fish (or meat) paste, eggs and seasonings.

[Fat Guy]

Three stars from Eric Asimov today:

http://nytimes.com/2002/09/18/dining/18REST.html

[Robert Nesta Marley]

oh my goodness. did that person have to pose for the picture with his/her thumbs smack dab on the plate's lip! well, they'll have his fingerprints if they need to find them later...

[Suzanne F]

Yes, that rather gave the lie to the description of the service, "As professional as it gets."

[ajay]

FG,

Was Assimov's (sp?) use of the phrase "midtown french dinosaur" one he got from you? THe attribution was not quite clear. Consider discussing if you feel it's appropriate (here or elsewhere in a separate thread) your relationship with Asimov--I seem to recall you reading that your interest in Grand Sichuan for instance was piqued by Assimov.

[oakapple]

The New York Times reports this morning that La Caravelle is to close on May 22. Florence Fabricant says:

The closing is likely to hasten the end of an era when fine dining in Manhattan meant haute cuisine in a formal environment, and when a reservation at restaurants like La Caravelle, Lutèce or La Côte Basque meant dining alongside Kennedys, Rockefellers, members of the fashion world, and anyone interested in having cream sauces and delicately roasted veal on their plates.

Lutèce, a renowned French landmark on the East Side, closed on Valentine's Day after 43 years. La Côte Basque, a fortress of French cooking since 1959, closed in March; it will reopen later this summer, though as a brasserie with lower prices and lighter food.

[Fat Guy]

Oakapple, if they keep closing these places, we're not going to be able to have much discussion on the classic-French-restaurants thread. I guess we'll have to rename it the Le Perigord thread.

[slkinsey]

The piture accompanying the acticle perfectly illustrates the point Fat Guy has made elsewhere about some restaurants aging along with their clientele rather than staying fresh. Is anyone in that picture under the age of 60, maybe even 70?

[Suzanne F]

Well, that's related to the comment by Mimi Sheraton today:

But she doesn't laud the old for its own sake. "Dick and I went to Le Veau d'Or for my project," she said, "and I got the idea everybody in there was really dead, except us. The owner looks like he wouldn't cast a shadow. And terrible food!"

My sentiments exactly!