Lunch (tasting menu) at Epicure, Paris

In case anyone was wondering why I hadn't gone for the full tasting menu experience at Ledoyen yesterday given that it would have been more than a safe bet, I was actually saving my money for today's lunch at another restaurant! This afternoon, I arrived with similarly high expectations at Epicure, the main restaurant of Le Bristol hotel in the posh Faubourg Saint-Honoré district, with all its luxury boutiques and art galleries. 52-year-old Eric Frechon, awarded the prestigious Meilleur Ouvrier de France in 1993, has helmed the reins of Epicure since 1999, and seen its rise over a decade to 3 Michelin stars in 2009. In that year, he was also knighted (Légion d'Honneur) by then-president Sarkozy for his contributions to French gastronomy. I first came across this restaurant through Tripadvisor, which had ranked it no. 1 in Paris, a rare placing for a restaurant this pricey - one would certainly have expected a more affordable establishment to be higher on the popularity rankings. Also, all the reviews were overwhelmingly positive, which was very impressive indeed because fine-dining tends to divide people on its merits and worth. I decided that this would be the place to go if I could afford only one really expensive meal this time round.

The interiors of Le Bristol are as opulent as one would expect of a typical 5-star hotel.

Entrance to Epicure

The main dining room is lavishly appointed with chandeliers, heavy curtains and plush upholstery, but the well-spaced tables, use of pastel colours, and large glass windows for natural light imparted a remarkably cosy, laid-back and intimate atmosphere. One may also choose to eat out on the spacious and airy terrace if he wishes. Surprisingly, the restaurant would stay rather empty for this lunch service (save for a few couples), which meant that we would all be extremely well taken care of by the service team, something about which I wasn't going to complain!

Beautiful rose-themed table setting

The seasonal 7-course tasting menu costs an eye-popping 320€ including service and taxes, and having noticed that the current one contains only 2 signature dishes, I should state from the beginning that what I had today was a customised menu (for the same price) all featuring Frechon's signature dishes. This was something which I had negotiated with the reservations and kitchen teams about two weeks in advance, and in return, I agreed to forgo the cheese course and settle for a fresh salad before desserts, i.e. 6 signature dishes with a salad in between, instead of 7 courses including cheese, with only 2 signature dishes. I figured that this customisation would actually be far better value for money, since I would be very unlikely to revisit in the near future, and wanted to savour, in one sitting, the best of what this restaurant could offer.

The meal began as usual with a lovely array of canapés:

(from left to right) tomato and watermelon in Campari jelly with limoncello foam, seaweed crackers sandwiching a filling of sea snail in curried mayonnaise, réligieuse with foie gras and glazed with beetroot coulis

The first of these was most invigorating; sweet and juicy cubes of tomato and watermelon, encased in a light jelly of Campari (a herb and fruit liqueur usually drunk as an apéritif) with a pleasant bittersweetness, were aptly topped with limoncello (lemon liqueur) foam with bits of real lemon zest in it, for a fresh citrusy tang. A fresh basil leaf was like the jewel in the crown, with its bright peppery taste and vivid aroma providing a final kick to the tastebuds. A truly stimulating and remarkably balanced delight for the palate! On a more savoury note, next came some Japanese-style seaweed rice crackers, feather-light and absolutely crisp in texture, with fleshy bits of real seaweed within for additional bite. The seaweed of course possessed a lovely deep taste, which was well complemented by briny and succulent chunks of sea snails mixed in a creamy curried mayonnaise. The mayonnaise had a nice warm piquancy with a tinge of sweetness that held this morsel together and elevated its overall umami wonderfully. Finally, there was a réligieuse (so named because its shape resembles that of the papal mitre), which in its original form would have been a sort of double-layered éclair comprising two choux pastry cases of different sizes, usually filled with chocolate or mocha crème pâtissière. Each case would then be covered in a ganache of the same flavour as the filling, and finally the two cases would be stacked and joined with buttercream frosting. In this savoury version, Frechon had replaced both the crème pâtissière and the frosting with foie gras cream, whose deep musky flavour and rich silky texture also worked with the light, aromatic and buttery choux pastry excellently. For balance, the ganache had now become a beetroot glazing, and its sweet and slightly earthy taste certainly helped to temper the predominantly heavy flavours present. A small piece of silver leaf on top was the final touch of luxury in this ingeniously redesigned pastry. What other great things would lie ahead, I wondered!

Kugelhupf with black olives, tomatoes, chorizo and lardo di colonnata

Together with the previous platter came a bread of Alsatian origins (hence its German name). This was a Kugelhupf, baked in a distinctive ribbed ceramic bowl. It is typically a fruit & nut sponge cake made from soft yeast dough, but similar to the réligieuse, Frechon had turned it into a moreish savoury wheat bread studded with bits of Mediterranean goodness - juicy black olives, creamy sun-dried tomatoes, succulent chunks of chorizo and velvety strips of lardo - all of which combined to result in a richly smoky and briny taste with a balancing hint of tanginess. The bread itself had a very soft, airy and fluffy texture, with a nicely browned and flaky crust and a warm toasty aroma. Despite the apparent heaviness of it all, this bread felt surprisingly light on my stomach and was gone in no time. It was exactly the kind of thing that I would love to have for breakfast everyday.

The actual bread selection, with both salted and natural butters, arrived shortly after the canapés, and I went for multigrain ficelles (mini baguettes) and a sourdough bread stick. The ficelles had a lovely crisp crust and fluffy insides, with a deep nutty edge from the generous sprinkling of toasted seeds, while the bread stick was slightly denser and chewier in texture, with a fresh sourish aftertaste. Both were still warm to the touch when they arrived at my table, and of course the butters were excellent too - just slap them on the bread as liberally as you want, and the servers will bring you more if you wish! At posh restaurants like this, even the simplest bread and butter can be amongst life's greatest pleasures.

And now the real feast began!

Amuse-bouche: white tuna foam with a slow-cooked runny quail egg on a bed of diced black olives, capsicum and green beans, studded with candied tomato, fresh red onion cubes and oregano, and surrounded by piquillo pepper jelly.

This was introduced to me by my server as a reinterpretation of salade niçoise, and what a beautiful and inspired deconstruction this was! The play on textures and flavours, using all the typical ingredients of this classic tuna salad, was very clever indeed. The highlight of this deconstructed version was a large ball of velvety white foam that tasted so vividly of cooked brined tuna it seemed uncanny. I also thought that the foam was actually much closer to a light mousse in texture, given its richness. Within the foam, a soft quail egg provided a further touch of luxury with its lush creamy texture. By contrast, the surrounding pepper jelly was quite crisp and sweet, and delivered a subtle spicy kick to the tastebuds. The same delicate piquancy was also to be found in the fresh red onion cubes (another representative ingredient of this salad), which had a mild sweetish taste compared to the typically pungent onion. The green beans, capsicum and candied tomatoes contributed a pleasant juicy crunch, while fleshy bits of brined olives were the perfect complement to the tuna foam. A final sprig of oregano left the dish with a warm, fresh and bittersweet aftertaste.

It'd have been flawless if not for an unwelcome snag; to my dismay, midway through the dish I discovered a small inedible fleck, which I thought was a fish scale. No harm done otherwise, but being in a restaurant of this level, I felt it necessary to bring this to the attention of the server who came to collect the plate. He was extremely apologetic about it, and said he would verify immediately with the kitchen what exactly that was. Moments later, he returned, apologising profusely again for what was apparently a small piece of plastic film that had been part of a wrap for the quail egg in the sous-vide process (to keep the yolk's shape, considering its fragility and small size). I understood that this was a genuine oversight and a minor matter, and with that sincere apology, I was happy to lay the matter to rest.

Starter: boiled Provençal artichoke heart with deep-fried artichoke chips, anchoyade (anchovy mayonnaise), toasted and crushed Piedmont hazelnuts, mustard vinaigrette with walnut oil.

What happened next was the most incredible act of service recovery that I have ever experienced in any restaurant - a complimentary dish! And how exquisite this was! I love artichokes although I could never prepare them properly myself, so having them in top restaurants is a real treat especially during their best in summer. The best part of the artichoke, the heart was extremely tender and juicy, with a slight creaminess similar to eggplant, but far sweeter than the latter. The artichoke chips were extremely light and crisp. Accompanying the artichoke were small dollops of anchovy cream, whose saltiness and smoothness were the perfect match for the sweetness and richness of the vegetable. The cream was also covered by the best crushed hazelnuts from Piedmont in Italy, which delighted with their delicate fragrance, deep flavour (due to high oil content) and fine crunch. A mildly astringent and spicy mustard dressing, with a bitter aftertaste from walnut oil, provided a sense of freshness and balance to this most lavish artichoke salad.

Starter: large langoustines served cold with Japanese lemon, taste of fresh celery and caviar from Sologne. 

This cold dish was extremely refreshing and satisfying. Large and sweet chunks of langoustine tails with a wonderfully firm and succulent bite had been deftly wrapped in a paper-thin translucent layer of celeriac jelly, whose subtly sweet taste with earthy and nutty overtones was a completely apt match. Juicy blobs of caviar enhanced the overall umami of each chunk with their fresh briny taste. Surrounding the langoustines was a pool of very light yuzu cream. The yuzu is one of my favourite Japanese citruses for its unique zesty flavour, due to the high concentration of aromatic oils in its rind. Like truffles in Western cuisine, just a touch of yuzu elevates the whole dish immediately. Here, the yuzu-infused cream imparted an extraordinary crispness to the langoustines whilst enriching their texture with a delicate silkiness. A touch of coriander oil completed this picture of perfection with its potent lemony and spicy flavour. I am not a fan of coriander in general, so its entirely convincing use in this dish seemed all the more remarkable.

Starter: stuffed macaroni with black truffle, artichoke and duck foie gras, gratinated with mature Parmesan cheese.

A Frechon staple regardless of the season, this was comfort food at the highest level. The stuffing of finely-diced truffle, artichoke and foie gras was as luxurious as anyone could imagine putting into the humble macaroni. The resulting aromas and flavours packed a real punch and were one of the most intense I've experienced in a while; a heady mix of the sweet, musky and earthy struck my nose even before I'd taken the first bite. The correspondingly indulgent textures, a combination of creamy and juicy with a nice bite from fine bits of truffle, were also very enjoyable indeed. The pasta itself had a pleasant al dente texture and the tops had been covered in Mornay sauce, then sprinkled with grated Parmesan which was then browned under a salamander grill, with extremely rich and satisfying outcomes. Surrounding the pasta were alternating sections of black truffle coulis (with a base of chicken jus) and foie gras foam, which not only dressed the plate beautifully but also reinforced the stuffing and provided additional textures. This was not the kind of food I'd able to stomach everyday due to its heaviness, but it was perfect for the one-off treat. When something has been executed this perfectly, you'd be silly to resist the temptation!

Fish: line-caught whiting fish from Saint-Gilles-Croix-de-Vie in a crust of bread with almonds, New Zealand spinach, and olive oil flavoured with curry, chives and piquillo pepper.

Now for the mains, and a light and tasty fish course came as the ideal breather after the preceding dish. This was an excellent fillet of whiting from the resort town of Saint-Gilles-Croix-de-Vie in the Loire region, on the coastline of the Atlantic Ocean, along the Côte de Lumière. The beautifully roasted flesh was extremely moist, soft and smooth, and flaked off effortlessly - all signs of the ultimate freshness and highest quality. Its delicate flavour was well enhanced by ample seasoning with salt and pepper, as well as pairing with an olive oil dressing distinctly perfumed with the warm and sweet scent of curry spices. Finely-chopped chives and piquillo pepper within the dressing further strengthened its sweetness and aroma. The fish's thin and almost translucent skin was remarkably crisp and had a mildly charred taste. Unusually, another layer of toasted bread studded with shaved almonds lay on top of the fillet. I have no idea how the kitchen had cut the bread this thin, but its fragile, fine-crumbed and crispy bite, coupled with a deep nutty taste, turned out to be an effective match for the skin as well as the other components of this dish. I'm not forgetting the generous bed of New Zealand spinach of course; despite its name it is actually related not to the spinach, but to the ice plant, thriving best in hot weather and reaching its peak in late summer (now). The young leaves were quite fleshy and succulent, and had maintained their shape very well after blanching. Their taste was subtle, just like ordinary spinach, but with a mildly bitter aftertaste that went well with the curried dressing and also kept the palate fresh.

Meat: roasted saddle of milk-fed lamb from Aveyron, with a nori crust, Espelette pepper powder, herb gnocchi, kohlrabi purée and lamb jus with preserved lemon.

The next course was a stellar roasted saddle of lamb from Aveyron in southern France, a picturesque region with historic villages and mountainous landscapes. The lamb's astoundingly tender and melt-in-the-mouth texture and intense flavour were perfectly complemented by a crumbly, crisp and delicate top crust of nori (seasoned and dried Japanese seaweed) with an equally deep and complex umami. The accompanying lamb jus with a touch of preserved lemon was both flavourful and well balanced, with the latter ingredient cutting through the fat effectively and providing a fresh and tangy aftertaste in each mouthful, without overpowering the meat due to its acidity. A little pan with extra sauce was even left on the side and kept warm over a tealight burner, so that I could continue to drizzle as much as I wanted over the meat! The summery flair was continued with three delightful pieces of gnocchi, infused with the warm, spicy, anise-like and lemony aromas of basil, parsley and tarragon. The gnocchi's soft and pillowy consistency was also a marvel to behold in the palate - it's not easy to make good gnocchi - and every richly perfumed bite was sheer bliss. Finally, a smooth purée of kohlrabi and a light sprinkling of Espelette pepper powder completed the lamb with a pleasant sweetness and a fresh piquancy. I've not had lamb this deliciously and flawlessly prepared for a long time!

In place of cheese, a crisp garden salad followed as agreed prior to my visit. Just as well, for the previous courses were starting to sink in, and my stomach needed a short break from all that feasting. These salad leaves were just nice with their bitter, spicy and nutty flavour.

Pre-dessert: hibiscus jelly, fresh pink grapefruit, grapefruit and Campari sorbet, almond meringue.

This was a wonderful palate cleanser. The dark red hibiscus jelly had a fresh and astringent cranberry-like taste with lemony and floral overtones, while the juicy chunks of fresh pink grapefruit were pleasantly bittersweet and tangy. The light and smooth sorbet was slightly more bitter with the addition of Campari, but played a most effective role in facilitating digestion and alleviating any sense of bloatedness. The only real sweetener in all of this was a thin stick of almond meringue dusted with icing sugar, which provided an essential balance and a weightier, nuttier finish to this predominantly tart pre-dessert.

What followed shortly thereafter was a remarkably theatrical prelude to my first main dessert. Burlat cherries were halved, then sautéed in a pan with cassonade (unrefined brown sugar), butter, and Cherry Heering liqueur.

In the final steps, the sautéed cherries were doused and flambéed in kirsch, then immediately scooped onto a plate which contained the rest of the dessert and was brought out just in time.  A sprinkling of finely chopped Sicilian pistachios over the cooked cherries completed the preparation of this beautiful dessert.

Dessert: Burlat cherries flambéed with kirsch, cherry sorbet and blown sugar 'cherry' souffléed with Sicilian pistachio cream.

Burlat cherries are in season, and this large dark red cultivar with Moroccan origins is particularly well-liked for its firm, juicy and sweet fruit. The warm sautéed and flambéed cherries had become softer though they still kept their shape very well, and they took on a really intense caramelised flavour and rich aroma from cooking in cassonade and butter. The fruit liqueurs effectively complemented and enhanced the cherries' natural full-bodied sweetness, while the sprinkling of chopped pistachios provided a pleasant crunch and a vivid nutty depth. The pistachio's sumptuousness became even more evident when made into a light and velvety mousse that had been stuffed fully into the thin shell of an exquisitely designed blown sugar 'cherry', set on a pistachio marzipan biscuit base. I was completely sold on the combination of cherry and pistachio - no dessert pairing seemed more spot-on at the time. No details were spared with the plating either; even the elegant decoration featuring tiny cherries on their stems was made of edible coulis. Finally, a large scoop of freshly churned cherry sorbet captured the fruit's qualities wonderfully and finished this dessert on an extremely refreshing note. It would not be a stretch to conclude that this was one of the best desserts I've had this year.

Dessert: priceless Nyangbo chocolate - liquid cocoa, thin tile wafers and gold-gilded sorbet. 

This is the perennial signature dessert of the restaurant, and a must for all chocolate lovers even if it is rather heavy. The French are very serious about their chocolate indeed, and for this dessert only 68% Valrhona Nyangbo chocolate made from Ghanaian cocoa was used. This chocolate is characterised by a subtle acidity with a warm spiciness and bittersweet finish, and its complex heady flavour was in full force here, showcased with different variations and textures. A thin reticulated chocolate shell contained a remarkably light chocolate sorbet that was wrapped in edible gold leaf all round - just imagine its impressive visual impact when presented at the table! Glitter aside, beneath the sorbet was a crisp and delicate chocolate biscuit column containing a most indulgent combination of rich chocolate mousse and thick melted chocolate. Not for the faint-hearted, this exceptional dessert was something you could probably eat only once in a blue moon, like the earlier macaroni dish.

To lighten things up after this intoxicating mass of chocolate, two spoons of strawberry jelly with a strawberry coulis centre were offered. Biting into the soft jellied surface resulted in a burst of the fruit's sweet and tangy flavour as the liquid filling enveloped the palate - how delightfully invigorating that was!

When I made the reservation I had requested for a kitchen visit and to meet Frechon himself, and at this point the maître d' Olivier came over to escort me in for a quick tour. It is always fascinating to witness the heart of the action. Frechon seemed particularly busy, like he was on his way out to an appointment, but he very kindly stopped for a few words and a photograph. I was glad to have met one of France's most decorated living chefs.

Actually, I was already quite stuffed but how could I say no to these little confectioneries that typically come at the very end of a fine French meal? A server pushed a striking cupboard-like trolley over and revealed these lovely morsels in multi-layered drawers. The main cupboard section contained an impressive array of macarons. Of course, I had to have one each of everything!

Macarons (clockwise from top): violet & cassis with a chunky cassis filling, coconut with coconut caramel and dessicated toasted coconut, dark chocolate & caramel, pistachio with a pistachio marzipan filling, chocolate & Nutella with a whole Piedmont hazelnut, raspberry & ginger, Menton lemon with real lemon chunks, salted butter caramel.

Others: salted butter caramel, mango & passionfruit caramel, dark chocolate-coated candied orange zest, dark chocolate-coated toasted cereal, milk chocolate-coated feuilletine, almond & pistachio nougat, mint guimauve.

I counted 15 different mignardises in all and the top picks for me were (for the macarons) coconut for its sweet toasty aroma, and raspberry & ginger for its unique tanginess with a cooling spicy aftertaste. I also liked how many of the macarons had fillings with little bits in them for greater variety in texture. From the other confectioneries I particularly loved the mango & passionfruit caramel for its intense sweet aroma and tangy taste, and the feuilletine for its buttery nutty taste and crisp flaky texture. By now I was so satiated that I nearly had to be helped out of my seat, but I couldn't be more contented, having experienced three hours of sheer gastronomic bliss. Meals like this you remember for a lifetime.

Before leaving the hotel I absolutely had to check out its spacious terrace and lavish interiors: 

Afternoon tea lounge

Bar

Washroom

Lobby area with fine antique tapestries

This one caught my eye particularly! It's like a museum display.

Today's spectacular lunch would not have been the same without the amazingly warm and attentive service - I counted about 6 people serving me throughout this lunch. (Thanks to Joffroy, Paz, Élodie, Julie, Remi and Olivier!) Some might think of this as overwhelming, but because the staff at Epicure have also nailed the art of balancing genuine cordiality with appropriate professional distance - being 'correct' in the French sense of the word - the service was incredibly slick, subtle and unintrusive, and everything proceeded seamlessly like clockwork, without compromising my personal space for enjoyment. As far as French cuisine goes, this meal might well have been the closest to perfection that I've ever experienced in terms of both food and service. Is it expensive to eat here? Absolutely. Is it worth it? Very much so! I'd be back in a heartbeat!

Lunch at Alléno Paris (Pavillon Ledoyen), Paris

This afternoon, I finally made it to one of my dream Parisian restaurants for the first spot of fine-dining of this French sojourn. Pavillon Ledoyen, situated at the eastern end of the world-famous Champs-Élysées on a large green space and overlooking the Petit Palais, has been a temple of gastronomy for more than two centuries with a fascinating history and an illustrious track record. It was established as a formal restaurant in 1792 and transferred to its present location in 1842. Pavillon Ledoyen was a favourite amongst major French artists and writers of the 19th century, and most famously also the regular meeting place of Napoleon and his wife Joséphine. The building is currently owned by the City of Paris although the restaurant is in private hands. Ledoyen has maintained 3 Michelin stars since 2002, first under Christian Le Squer (who has now taken over the reins at Le Cinq) and now Yannick Alléno, former head chef at Le Meurice, who returned to Paris in July 2014 to head Ledoyen after a brief absence from Paris. 

I arrived in perfect weather and my excitement was palpable as I approached the imposing Neoclassical building with large glass windows.

I was first greeted by the doorman on the red carpet, then by a warm and smiling receptionist, who quickly ushered me up to the main dining room on the first floor. I caught a glimpse of the truly impressive space on the ground floor, and made a mental note to explore it after lunch.

The architecture and interior are as formal as I would expect from a historical building and triple-starred restaurant, but the atmosphere is considerably softened by the use of pastel-coloured panelling and the abundance of natural light due to the glass windows that surround the building. The tasteful décor, with carefully-placed contemporary artwork and bouquets of seasonal flowers, also adds a touch of sophistication.

As requested, I had a table by the window with a lovely view of the dining room and its surrounding greenery. The elegantly appointed room which seats 45 was bright, airy and spacious, bathed in natural light, with a high ceiling and pastel colours throughout, including the restaurant's signature light green upholstery. Being one of the first customers to arrive for lunch, I had nearly the whole space to myself for quite a while, and it was as relaxed and cosy as one could get in a top-class restaurant. The tables are well spaced apart for privacy, and the service is attentive and efficient, but not intrusive.

I chose the four-course lunch menu at 135€, with a substitution for my main course as I wasn't too keen on the Bresse chicken that was offered. As you will see, that substitution turned out to be my favourite dish of today's lunch.

First, a line-up of canapés served on a hard green bread base (only for decorative purposes): from right to left, yellow beetroot ravioli filled with carrot purée, sitting in a small pool of concentrated sorrel juice and garnished with cumin seeds; hibiscus tuile filled with a mousse of Cévennes onions and garnished with wood sorrel; and beetroot brioche stuffed with wild black rice, shallots and parsley, accompanied by a sauce of seaweed, garlic and ponzu. (I am describing them in the order in which I was recommended to eat them.)

Already from the beginning there were some truly striking flavour combinations, partly due to the increasing awareness in recent years of the possibilities of exotic Asian spices and condiments in French gastronomy. A delicate acidity ran through all three canapés, which both stimulated the appetite and maintained an apt lightness, in anticipation of the real feast ahead. The ravioli was easily likeable; both beetroot and carrot derivatives had a pleasant earthy sweetness that was perfectly accentuated by the warm, nutty and peppery taste of cumin, and balanced surprisingly but effectively by a crisp tart aftertaste from the sorrel juice. A similar sweet-sour equilibrium played out in the next morsel, with the cranberry-like astringency of hibiscus and tart wood sorrel garnish contrasting nicely with a mousse made from sweet and mildly aromatic Cévennes onions (the only onion cultivar in France with an AOC award). Furthermore, the contrast in textures between the extremely fragile and crispy tuile and the rich and smooth mousse was quite delightful indeed. Finally, the most savoury and substantial of the canapés featured a crisp and airy brioche, infused with the deep earthiness of red beetroot, and filled with a warm, satisfying and fragrant combination of rice and herbs. Its Japanese-inspired accompanying sauce, a concentrated seaweed concoction with a smooth jam-like consistency, was an easy match for the existing flavours and aromas of the brioche. However, like the jewel in the crown, the ponzu base was the truly inspired touch, with its sharp taste discreetly and effectively elevating the overall umami of the sauce, whilst keeping the palate fresh and invigorated for the following courses. It was amazing how well a French chef had understood the nature of this Japanese condiment and appropriated it in his own cultural context. Alléno is in fact particularly well-known in France for his mastery of sauces, and the seaweed sauce was surely a first hint at that.

Bread followed shortly, and I chose two varieties: black olive with sea salt, and multigrain sourdough.

The breads, still warm to the touch and fragrant, were accompanied by both salted and unsalted butter that were very rich and creamy. The black olive bread was soft, fluffy, and generously studded with juicy pieces of black olives, with a delicate sprinkling of sea salt that intensified their briny taste, while the multigrain sourdough was crisp, airy and nutty, with a very mild acidity from the initial process of fermentation. Really nobody does their bread and butter better than the French - I would have gladly asked for more but I also knew that I had to save my stomach space for the actual courses!

Starter

Fine gelée d'un jambon Ibérique, mousse fermentée de pain de seigle aux éclats d'olives Kalamata

Fine jelly of Iberico ham, fermented mousse of rye bread with Kalamata olives

Following on from the excellent canapés, this dish was one masterpiece of a kickstarter for the meal proper. Extremely delicate textures belied some truly intense and vivid flavours here. First, a clear and light jellied base made from Iberico ham consommé unified the predominantly salty components of this dish effectively, with its concentrated smoky and nutty taste underlying each mouthful. This was topped with actual slices of Iberico ham which were delightfully silky and succulent with just the right amount of fat, and had an even nuttier taste than its jellied derivative. On the side, a smooth, airy and earthy mousse made from the essence of rye complemented the ham's nutty flavour perfectly, while slight fermentation produced a mild acidity that tempered the overall saltiness of this starter aptly. Feather-light wafers of toasted rye bread were also present for a pleasant crispiness to go with each bite. Finally, a sprinkling of Kalamata olives, a meaty purple-black variety harvested from Kalamata in Greece and awarded PDO status within the EU, provided further bursts of flavour with their fresh briny taste accentuated by hints of bitterness. On the whole, this memorable dish packed quite a punch despite its dainty appearance, and the balance of flavours and textures was quite impressive indeed.

Fish

Filets de sole braisés en nage printanière, volée de cerfeuil

Fillets of sole braised in a spring broth, with a fresh chervil garnish 

In stark contrast to the previous starter, this was as delicate and elegant in taste as it was in presentation. The sole was incredibly moist, tender and velvety in texture, and its mild flavour was well matched by its equally light braising sauce based on green tomatoes. This sauce had an almost watery consistency, and yet was anything but bland; its subtle sweetness and crisp taste certainly underscored the freshness of the fish. Alléno as a master of sauces sprang to mind once again. Fresh spring peas within the broth contributed further sweetness as well as a gentle crunch in each mouthful. A truly seasonal touch came in the form of fresh meaty girolles, which imparted a lovely fruity aroma and peppery taste that were surprisingly apt complements to the fish (one would normally expect mushrooms to be rather earthy and intense). We are currently at the peak of girolle season so there couldn't have been a better reason to use these highly-prized mushrooms here. To finish, sprigs of chervil were scattered on top of the fish only prior to serving, hence preserving fully its warm and understated anise-like flavour with a slight bitterness. A close relative of parsley, one can't go wrong pairing chervil with fish, though its usage can be a challenge as chervil quickly loses its flavour under exposure to any sort of heat. No such problem here fortunately. What lay before me was a simple but glorious celebration of produce, showcasing each ingredient at its best, and assembling them in perfect harmony.

Meat

Boeuf wagyu Gunma <Grade 4> ferré au sautoir, pommes de terre de Noirmoutier tapées au lait frit, condiments iodés

Pan-seared Grade 4 wagyu from Gunma Prefecture in Japan, pressed Noirmoutier potatoes with fried milk, iodised condiments

This was the absolute pièce de résistance of today's lunch, and I am so glad that I made the substitution. One can never go wrong with real Japanese beef (as opposed to Australian 'wagyu' which in my opinion doesn't even begin to compare), and here I had two chunks of medium rare heaven, even if they were rather small! The meat was extremely tender and melt-in-the-mouth due to the opulent marbling of authentic wagyu. When my server proudly told me that it would feel more like foie gras than beef, I knew exactly what he meant. I was also informed that Japanese beef had only been authorised for import into France over a year ago, around the time Ledoyen opened its doors under Alléno. He clearly knows what's great! Seared on the surfaces to a browned perfection, all that this wonderfully intense meat needed for seasoning was a light sprinkling of pepper and coarse sea salt. The sauce, a rich beef demi-glace, was of course the most natural complement to the meat.

On the side, no luxury was spared with three small potatoes from Noirmoutier, a village on an island in the Atlantic Ocean, just off the coast of the Loire region in Western France. Noirmoutier is famous for cultivating the most expensive potatoes in the world, known as the 'La Bonnotte' variety. Only 100 tons are produced annually, and the potatoes must be fertilised by seaweed and harvested by hand. Not exactly your daily staple, they are only available in top restaurants in France. As expected, these three lovely morsels had a naturally earthy and salty flavour perfect for the beef, and frying with dashi (a seaweed and bonito stock - one of the two 'iodised condiments', and the mother stock of Japanese cuisine) then lightly pressing them resulted in an even more concentrated umami. Their texture was also simply delightful - lightly browned and crisp on the surface, with soft and fluffy insides. On top of each potato were placed a small cube of fried milk curd, rich and creamy in texture with a mild charred taste, and a dollop of mustard infused with oyster reduction (the other 'iodised condiment'), deep in flavour with a fresh spicy kick, perfect for rejuvenating the palate. Could meat and potatoes get any better than this?

It was around this time that Alléno himself emerged from the kitchen to greet guests, and when it was my turn I certainly didn't miss the opportunity to compliment him on a stellar meal thus far and to have a photo. For a top chef, he was a lot more affable and obliging than I would have imagined.

Pre-dessert

(on the tray) cocoa wafers, confit pineapple wrapped in marzipan, and a traditional Mexican (Aztec) drink of cocoa, vanilla and tonka beans with a dash of pepper

(in the bowl) pear and vanilla sorbet with candied lemon verbena and pear cubes marinated in cider vinegar

Savoury courses done, I was now ready to be impressed by Alléno's pastry chefs. First up, a lovely sorbet that served as a palate cleanser, with a very light and smooth texture, and a fresh sweetness from pear remarkably enhanced by the warm aroma of crushed vanilla pods. Balance came in the form of juicy pear cubes that had been marinated in a mildly acidic cider vinegar, as well as crisp candied leaves of lemon verbena that perfumed the sorbet with their characteristic citrusy aroma. All in all, a very refreshing and effective transition from the substantial preceding dish to sweets.

The heavier second part of pre-dessert featured two cocoa-based items, with a cube of pineapple in the middle for balance. I found the drink particularly interesting, due largely to the infusion of tonka beans, which are native to South America and hugely popular in top French restaurants (though strangely enough, they are officially banned in the US due to the presence of potentially toxic compounds). The wonderfully heady and complex aroma of this bean was evident; there were hints of vanilla, sour cherry, almond and cinnamon, with a mild grassy/hay-like aftertaste. Combined with pure cocoa, vanilla pods and pepper, the result was a fresh, bitter and earthy drink with hints of fruits and nuts, and a warm and spicy finish. Definitely not your typical sweetened hot chocolate with milk despite the similar appearances! On the other side of the plate, wafers made from pure cocoa delighted with their light and crisp texture and deep fruity bitterness, while a juicy cube of pineapple wrapped in a thin layer of smooth and chewy marzipan contributed an essential sweetness, and fit the tropical theme of this platter nicely. With such outstanding pre-desserts, I could hardly wait to see and taste what other surprises would follow in the main dessert and petit fours.

Dessert

Meringue soufflée de fraises au sésame noir, chlorophylle de shiso

Black sesame meringue with strawberry compote, crushed shiso leaves and black sesame sorbet

The potent flavour of cocoa in the pre-dessert turned out to be a pertinent link to the main dessert, which again was inspired by Japan and the popularity of black sesame desserts there. Compared to the more common white sesame, black sesame offers significantly more health benefits, and in my opinion also has a stronger aroma and deeper nuttier flavour. Indeed, the intensity of this seed was present in full force, both in the sorbet and the meringue - you'd never have guessed from their dainty textures. The meringue was incredibly crisp and airy, while the sorbet was as light and smooth as expected. Nestled within each meringue was also a compote of strawberries, which had kept their shape surprisingly well, and were very soft and plump in texture, with a concentrated tanginess from the long hours of stewing and reducing. Another Japanese touch came in the form of crushed shiso leaves under the sorbet. In Japan, shiso leaves are normally used whole, as a garnish for raw fish; they are said to have anti-bacterial and anti-inflammatory properties. However, their unique minty flavour is also ideal for certain dishes, and many chefs in the West have also picked up on their suitability for desserts. I really loved the use of shiso here; it was truly a welcome breath of fresh air amidst the powerful nuttiness of black sesame and the vivid sweetness of the compote. There was one final unusual ingredient: a sprinkling of black Iranian lime (also known as 'loomi') powder, produced by boiling limes in salt water and drying them in the sun until the inside flesh turns jet black, then pulverising the flesh. This citrus spice powder had a remarkably sweet taste, and a deep aroma with hints of fermentation, that gave the dessert a pleasantly piquant finish. On the whole, I found this marriage of two very different culinary cultures well balanced and sophisticated, with nice little surprises for the sensitive palate.

Petit fours

Guinness crème brûlée tart, chocolate truffles, green tea

A fine French meal isn't complete without further confectioneries to round off the main dessert, and today two indulgent items were offered: first, dark chocolate truffles, dusted with cocoa powder and sitting on a bed of cocoa nibs (edible, but mainly for decorative purposes as they are rather hard and bitter). These chocolate truffles were extremely soft, chewy and rich, being made directly from a thick and simple mixture of fresh cream and chocolate that had been heated, then allowed to cool and set in a mould, before being cut into cubes and rolled in cocoa powder. There was no added milk or sugar that might have diluted the chocolate and compromised its flavour. The truffles were best enjoyed fresh, and all I got was pure heady pleasure with each bite. I couldn't get enough of them despite the apparently generous serving!

The second item was a traditional crème brûlée tart, given an Irish twist by the addition of Guinness to the custard mix (hence the darker-than-usual colour of the end product). This turned out very well indeed; the lush and velvety custard was effectively tempered by a bittersweet malty edge from roasted barley, which prevented it from becoming too cloying. The top layer of caramelised sugar was thin and crisp, with an agreeable charred taste that also helped to balance the custard somewhat, while the pastry base was very delicate and had an aromatic buttery crunch. Faultless.

It had truly been one of life's greatest pleasures to dine in such beautiful surroundings, and as I continued sipping my tea, I couldn't help but feel how fortunate I was. Meanwhile, the dining room had filled up but the atmosphere remained very restful, without the slightest hint of hushed stuffiness; everyone was just naturally relaxing and enjoying themselves. When the food and service are this good, one doesn't have to try too hard to feel at home!

I remembered to take a look at the rest of the building, and was shown around briefly by the receptionist who had received me at the beginning. There are quite a number of rooms of varying sizes on the ground floor, which may be booked for private events such as company functions and weddings. How luxurious and expensive that must be!

There's Alléno chilling out with some regulars in the lounge just by the entrance to the building:

Just before I left the building, the lovely receptionist handed me two financiers as a parting gift, which made my day just that little bit sweeter. This meal had been a masterclass in flavours and textures (particularly the sauces which Alléno calls 'the voice of French cuisine'), and was also a manifestation of the best kind of cultural appropriation or 'fusion' in gastronomy, wherein the chef was fully sympathetic to the natures and possibilities of the exotic ingredients that he was using. Alléno has truly distinguished himself by straddling both innovation and tradition with remarkable finesse. I know I will be back someday for the full tasting menu experience!