PARIS
Fame is a curious ingredient, probably one of the most devastating in a chef's spice rack. It instantly fixes you in a kind of media-jelly, like the famous egg in aspic. It swallows you whole, keeps you in a glass case. Picture a snow-globe: the chef inside, paralyzed by his (or her) talent, glazed with amazement… And the Michelin stars seem to fall like snow.
You're familiar with these recently-minted star chefs. They are happy, but impossible and sadistic with their managers. They do exactly as they please and the ensuing ego trip leads them astray – sometimes far from their own kitchens. Stardom seems to carry them away, it could keep them there occasionally, like a day-care center. I believe Yannick Alleno,from the Meurice, spent time in that gastronomic wilderness himself. I seem to remember it affected the quality of his cuisine and pushed his admirers to step back. It's the best way to go, actually. Let the foam settle.
When I went back to the Meurice the other night, it seemed the soufflé had settled and that the dishes' magic gusto had returned- something Christian Millau taught me about. He calls it the "drive." It's a sort of magic movement - FAR FROM a pose - a dip of the skillet, a backhand stroke of the saucepan.
A dish should never be static. Even sushi, when it's sliced under your very eyes and served immediately, experiences this fleeting state of grace: the fish imperceptibly settles, then stops moving. It has lived … well almost ... you must then eat it: reincarnate it in your oral cavity.
ON MY RETURN, Yannick Alleno's cuisine had that sort of poetic magic: a scrupulous first course which hypnotically covered the plate's discus surface. It was an arrangement of bouquets served raw with sea urchin SECTIONS, jellied turnip broth and shiso leaves. The broth wonderfully juggled an incongruous array of shrimp legs, a tiny crunchy act.
Then, under the good omen of a glass of Saint Joseph red, the Peking hare with sweet lemon arrived, larded with Colonnata and accompanied by cocoa ravioli stuffed with pea purée.
When the dishes produce such a thunderous boom, the desserts have a tough time working their way into the spotlight. They enter stage singing their own tune, but they're always a beat behind.
A smiling Wilfried Morandini tactfully conducts the dining room. Gorgeous marble finishings, well-studied lighting... The customers seem very fond of their food, which is a welcome change from the usual mummified crowd of worshippers. It is worth noting a beautiful book on Alleno, published by Glenat, with striking photos by Roberto Frankenberg and a text by Kazuko Masui. She has had 2 important intuitions in her gastronomic life: Joël Robuchon et Yannick Alleno...
The bill is steep, unless you stand on the brakes - 350 euros for two.
228, rue de Rivoli, 75001 Paris. tél. : 01 44 58 10 10 Map Web
A good lather is half the shave.Thank you for sharing!
Posted by: Air Jordan | 15 December 2010 at 07:34 AM