Questions to ask Michel Troisgros?

[Ari]

Tomorrow (Thursday) evening I have the opportunity to interview Michel Troisgros, followed by dinner at his restaurant. The next morning a photographer and I are joining him for a trip to the market. Are there any questions you've been dying to ask him?

I plan to ask about the pressures of maintaining a restaurant over decades and generations - how he balances the necessity of maintaining certain dishes exactly as they were 30 years ago with the needs to adapt to changing palates, ranges of ingredients, etc.

I'm also curious to hear his feelings about the globalization of cuisine. In Robert Brown's fabulous post about his meal there two years ago, he talked about apparent Japanese and other global influences.

I also wonder about his feelings on the Michelin ratings system, particularly in light of the recent scandal.

I've never been to Troisgros before, so I'm very excited.

I don't have a lot of internet access here, and I know that this is a very last-minute invitation to contribute, but I couldn't let this opportunity go by without involving the egullet community.

Fire away - I'll read responses before leaving for the restaurant tomorrow and report back.

[Bux]

There are some threads in the NY forum right now that discuss the realtively short life of contemporary restaurants in NY. At one time we had respected restaurants that were over fifty and even over 100 years old. Restaurants were institutions larger than the individuals who owned, ran and cooked in them. Today, great restaurants are about a person, usually the chef. Their life is rarely longer than that of the chef or the owner. There have been great restaurant institutions in Paris, but since I can remember, let's say post war, my sense is that the restaurants of provincial France have been tied to the chef. I wonder if I'm correct and how that makes things different there.

I remember years ago, Loiseau bragging that he had been the first person to return three stars to a restaurant that had them under a previous chef, but lost them afterwards. The Troisgros family restaurnat has a different history. It has maintained three stars over two generations. Has any other French restaurant done that before, or since?

At the end of the 20th century restaurant food, in France and the US, were very much different. Escoffier codified French restaurant food and to a certain extend, the Troisgros bothers were part of a group that started to uncodify haute cuisine.

I'm not sure if it's correct to ask, but I'm curious to know how and what Claude Troisgos is doing. He had a wonderful restaurant whose development I was looking forward to enjoying, but he didn't stay here very long.

Ari, you'll excuse me for not posing direct questions as much as letting my mind wander in the hope it will inspire you. I don't have the time to research my facts and I've not eaten at Troisgros in ages. Good luck. I'm sorry you didn't contact us sooner. With the time difference, I don't even know that my message will help at all. I'd love to see your article when it's finished. Please link to it if it's online.

[Ari]

Bux,

Thanks for your thoughts. I like those ideas - particularly about the disappearance of long-term restaurants with a life cycle that is not dependant on that of their chefs.

I'm also sorry that I didn't post earlier. I only found out 3 days ago that I was going to have this opportunity. It was sort of a last-minute lucky break.

I'll post with notes on the experience when I'm done and link to the article when it's finished.

Best,

Ari

[John Talbott]

I'd love to know how folks like him and his family keep pushing the envelope (eg innovating) without losing their classical base. Also what no one has ever asked him. Finally, where he sees things headed; not fads but useful trends.

Sounds great, have fun and do let us know.

[robert brown]

Bux, Claude Troisgros is coming back to NY with a restaurant backed by Jeffrey Chodorow (whom I used to assume was Indian). A friend of mine had a dinner at his restaurant in Rio that he said was one of the best he ever had. CT is also trying to sell a cooking series.

Ari, I am sorry I missed your initial post. Thanks so much for the praise of my report. Let us know if you get a chance afterwards to pose any more questions. For whom are you conducting the interview?

[Ari]

I'm sorry I didn't get to post earlier. I promise I'll give a full detailed report on the meal, the stay at the inn, the trip to the market, and the interview soon. As it is, I have just a few moments online, so I'll give a brief preview.

Michel Troisgros was incredibly generous with his time. Six members of my extended family ate at the restaurant and stayed at the inn last night. This morning my brother-in-law (a photographer who works with the major food magazines) and I (a radio reporter who aspires to get into the foodie print world) shadowed M. Troisgros for a few hours. I conducted an interview, my brother-in-law took photographs, and we hope to pitch a completed package to one or more of the food/wine/travel magazines when we're finished.

It's hard not to get into all of the details of the experience here. The biggest surprise for me was that Michel Troisgros does not see his restaurant's history--or the 3 Michelin stars--as a burden at all. He says he aspires to express his creativity to the utmost through his work at Troisgros, and if traditionalists object, so be it. The salmon with sorrel sauce isn't even on the menu any more, though he says he still prepares it for guests who look particularly nostalgic.

More to come, and thanks for your encouragement....

Ari

[robert brown]

Ari, it sounds like a lot of fun, though hard work at the same time. If I were in your position, I would have asked (if I had a lot to drink) if Michel's father or uncle Jean was the creative force prior to Jean's sudden death in 1982 (or thereabouts). Also, where is cousin George, Jean's son? Last I knew he was at Lutece three or four years ago. I'm sad to hear that the Saumon a l'Oseille is no longer on the menu. I did hear, however, that it wasn't exactly the same as when Jean made it. Did you meet Pierre? How is he doing?

[Ari]

I've just arrived home from France, and before another day goes by I'm determined to give a full post on my meal at Troisgros. So here goes. Please forgive in advance the length of this posting.

The six of us began our evening in the bar with cocktails and a few small bites. The waiter brought us each a plate with three large ceramic spoons. On the first spoon was "cauliflower and cheese." It was a very fine dice of blanched cauliflower, with a finely shredded hard white cheese that tasted a little like gruyere. There was an acidic note, too - maybe sherry vinegar? The second amuse bouche was another duo: a square of beet with a sliver of foie gras on top. The sweetness of the beet almost drowned out the richness of the foie gras. And the third bite was new potato with a bracing shallot vinaigrette reduction. I thought that all three were interesting studies in contrasts of flavor, color, and texture, but none of the three really wowed me.

Then came the menu. The first page was an "impressions of summer" prix fixe menu of six courses, plus cheeses and le grand dessert, for 170 euros. Specifics on that menu shortly.

The rest of the menu was divided into categories: Fresh Notes, Travelling Spirit, A Touch of Crunch, Pieces to Share, and Meat in All Its Guises. (These translations are from Troisgros's English version of the menu.)

The waiter said that for an a la carte dinner, two or three courses plus dessert would be sufficient. There was no obvious distinction between starters and main dishes. Each plate seemed to be about the same size, except for the "Pieces to Share" menu, on which each plate was intended for two.

You can view a version of the menu on the restaurant's website, www.troisgros.fr. It's not exactly the same as the one we had, but many of the dishes are identical.

Three of us (myself included) had the prix fixe menu. My mother-in-law and sister-in-law each ordered two dishes a la carte. And my father-in-law ordered the Rib roast and Spiced duckling with sweet and sour mango, fennel, and potato puffs. Both the duckling and the roast beef were intended for two people, to be served in two services. The waiter was a bit shocked that my father-in-law wanted both for himself, but he handled the order with aplomb. Later that evening (and the next morning), Michel Troisgros joked with my father-in-law that nobody had ever placed such an order at his restaurant. I don't know whether it says more about the food or my father-in-law that he had no trouble finishing either dish.

Our tasting menu began with a tomato gelee. It was very cold, very summery, and very surprising. It came in an opaque narrow glass so that at first, all you could see was diced tomato on the top. Beneath that was a layer of very cold, clear tomato jelly. Perhaps two thirds of the way through the jelly I encountered a fine scattering of fresh mint and basil. And at the very bottom of the cup was a superbly sweet peeled cherry tomato.

After the gelee, we had fresh sardines with osetra caviar. I've always found sardines to be too oily in the past, but these absolutely sparkled. They were arranged (headless) on the plate with sea beans to look like a school of fish swimming through seaweed. The sea beans and caviar were salty, and the sardines were just pure, fresh, and raw on the center of the plate.

The third dish was frog legs with satay and cauliflower. I'd heard about this dish before and was curious to try it, but frankly I was disappointed. I thought it was creative - the satay was pungent and rich, without an overwhelming peanut flavor - but for me, the frog legs were just too light to stand up to the satay.

The next dish was seame-crusted cod with pickled leek and "Xeres jus." If anybody knows what Xeres is, I'd love to find out. I thought this dish was nice, but not terribly memorable. Very fresh cod, nice contrast of textures, but I felt as though I'd had similar things at other good seafood restaurants.

Then came fricassee of lobster with a jus of red fruits. The sauce with this dish tasted almost like a mole. I could have sworn there was chocolate in it, although the waiter told me there wasn't. It was a fabulous combination - there were sour little red currants hiding in the sauce, buttery lobster, and a rich dark sauce that managed not to overpower the fish.

And speaking of fish... has anybody noticed that four out of five of the dishes so far featured fish? I thought this was a rather untraditional menu. It began with the gelee (which was really more of a send-off from the chef than a real starter), then it went through four fish dishes before getting to the main course.... which was squab! I enjoyed the composition of the menu, but I was surprised that there was no mammalian meat anywhere on it. I later asked Michel Troisgros about this, and he sort of shrugged it off. He basically said that on a daily basis he cooks what he wants to cook for his guests, based on what inspires him and what's at the market. I can't say I objected to the outcome. The main dish was certainly the most stellar of the menu, and it was more than hefty enough to constitute a centerpiece to the meal.

The main dish was squab and foie gras, fried "Kiev" style. Let me see if I can describe this. Imagine chicken kiev. Now replace the nasty exterior with a fabulously crisp and light crust of panko or something similar. And instead of the gooey chicken center, lay a thick slab of foie gras on top of a perfectly rare breast of squab, with a thin layer of spinach between the two. Got it? Now place it on top of a bed of tiny wild mushrooms and corn kernels. It was creative, surprising, delicious, and totally cool.

I have to admit to being a bit overwhelmed by the cheese tray. I asked the server to surprise me with some unusual selections, and I can't really say for sure what I got in the end.

Before "le grand dessert," the chef sent out a gift: a compote of red berries, with a scoop of wild mint sorbet on top. Lovely and refreshing.

And then, the finale. "Le grand dessert" had four components: a cherry-mint tart, a chocolate strawberry millefeuille, a coffee meringue with hazelnut cream, and a poached apricot with lemon verbena ice cream. While we dug into those, my father-in-law (who had polished off an entire duckling for two and an entire roast beef for two, remember) had a cherry souffle that he proclaimed to be the best souffle he'd ever eaten (and he's been to some nice restaurants in his time).

We finally retired to the salon for coffee and cookies. There were about six different cookies which, given the amount we'd already eaten, seemed like a dare from M. Troisgros. I have to admit to taking them up to my room in a box to enjoy the following day.

The next morning we met the chef at 8 for a trip to the market. But I've gone on so long already that I'm afraid I'll have to save that for another post.

Let me briefly say, however, that Michel Troisgros was nothing like what I imagined him to be. He reminded me more of a B&B owner than a world-famous chef. He asked guests how they'd slept when they came down from their rooms in the morning, he walked with guests in the garden, he chatted with people about the latest gold medals in the olympics and encouraged their reminiscences about what the restaurant and inn used to be like... he really acted as though La Maison Troisgros was his home and we were his houseguests. Which, in a very real sense, it is and we were.

Anyway, it was well worth the trip. The food was really lovely, though I must say I was surprised/shocked/delighted by fewer of the dishes than I expected.

Pierre was not around, though Marie-Pierre (Michel's wife) was very involved in affairs around the inn. And Michel said that George is now chef at a private club in New York, where he cooks the same "classic cuisine" (Michel said with what seemed to be a bit of disdain) as always.

[Pan]

The next dish was seame-crusted cod with pickled leek and "Xeres jus." If anybody knows what Xeres is, I'd love to find out.

Spanish for Sherry.

Thanks for the report!

[Bux]

The next dish was seame-crusted cod with pickled leek and "Xeres jus."  If anybody knows what Xeres is, I'd love to find out.

Spanish for Sherry.

Thanks for the report!

Actually, "Xeres" is French for "Jerez." "Sherry" is English for "Jerez." Jerez de la Frontera is a town in Andalucia famous for its wines.

[Bux]

Ari, thank you for that report. I feel guilty that you weren't here in time to get more help for your interview. I hope we get a chance to make up for that next time. In the meantime, we owe you for your post. I know only too well how difficult it is to find the time to do a proper report on a significant meal.

Leaving value judgments aside, I should say I'm impressed by your father-in-law.

Thinking of your perception of chocolate in sauce, it's interesting to note how complex some flavors can be and of the crossover elements. "Chocolate" is a flavor we find in many things--coffee and wine are two that come to mind. I recall reading a post about the use of chocolate in meat dishes in the southwest of France and how the chocolate was introduced to mimic the flavor of blood. My recollection was that the post was made by an eminent authority on food in the region, but as I'm not sure, I won't mention her name. I had chocolate used in a scallop dish, but found the use overwhelming and disruptive. I could imagine a more suble dish working however. I'm not a fan of fish or seafood with fruit either, but a number of chefs have convinced me that it works in the right hands.

[Ari]

I'm not a fan of fish or seafood with fruit either, but a number of chefs have convinced me that it works in the right hands.

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Interesting, I've never thought about the pairing in general terms. I assume you're not including citrus when you talk about seafood and fruit? It's hard to imagine fish without lemon.

I think the red currants worked in the lobster dish because they were more sour than "fruity." Just little isolated bursts throughout the dish.

[Bux]

Interesting, I've never thought about the pairing in general terms.  I assume you're not including citrus when you talk about seafood and fruit?  It's hard to imagine fish without lemon. 

I think the red currants worked in the lobster dish because they were more sour than "fruity."  Just little isolated bursts throughout the dish.

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There's citrus and there's citrus. A squeeze of fresh lemon juice is just a gentler acid than vinegar, but sections of grapefruit, mandarine, orange, etc. can be downright fruity. It's all about balance and it's possible to have a distinct sweet edge to a dish if it's balanced. There are Alsatian dishes in the "Jewish style"--à la Juive, that often have raisins. I'm thinking of a sweet and sour tongue that was served to us years ago by friends, but online I find the following comment by Daniel Rogov writing about four days spent in Alsace. He says "Roast goose stuffed with bread, carrots and raisins is extremely popular, especially during the winter months and, because Strasbourg has always had a large Jewish community, the dish known as "carpe a la Juive" - Jewish style carp that has been cooked in dry white wine and served with raisins, is also considered a staple of the area." I normally associate dishes with raisins as having either middle eastern or medieval roots. Of course there's the classic sole Véronique with fresh grapes, that I thought was much better without the grapes. With that, I'll note that most of the carpe a la Juive recipes I found online, did not contain raisins. Tastes change and recipes, even traditional recipes, change with the taste of the times.