Nouvelle cuisine [part one]

There’s a Rumpole episode coming up on the weekend, called A La Carte, not part of our regular film fayre, and it tackles this issue of “eatery-wankery”, to put it less than politely.

This though is the current day:

https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/TravelersChoice-Restaurants

… which people of a certain status seem to go for, parodied by Rumpole, and I’m afraid I’m half and half on it.  These days, such as in this picture, are the portions I’d call a full meal … maybe a light soup and dessert as well, so no more scathing look and guffawing.

Plus I fell into the clutches, in Melbourne, long ago, of a restaurateur of note … he did things to lamb which defied description … I inwardly mocked no more.

At the start of my blogging, I was visiting Stephen Pollard and he’d been on a trip to El Bulli.  Naturally, I stole the idea and transplanted it into the long book (now come on, I’ve not inflicted this upon you for months) … it went something like this:

“Whenever Jules asked Jean-Claude to leave things in his hands, culinary delight was bound to follow.

Le Roux, seated at his customary table, was more than intrigued, Guiscard was an ancient name and he was calling the restaurateur by his prenom. No matter, he’d have it checked out later.

To call that simple lunch ‘a lunch’ was like calling Moliere ‘a scribbler’ and the genius of Jules Colbert was more than apparent in the meal’s very simplicity. It was the easiness, the blending and the contrasting of the flavours and aromas that demonstrated this genius.

It was not food as the ordinary mortal knew it. *

Any pretender could offer up a bizarre menu, but Jules, on the other hand, altered perceptions, while remaining true to the spirit of the ingredient. The intention of Jules Colbert was to confound expectations, he challenged you to reassess what it was you were actually consuming.

The meal consisted of 17 miniscule courses, some no more than a spoonful, others of close to normal size. It began with a margarita in a block of ice with a hole in the centre. On top was a foam of olives, with shards of margarita ice underneath.

Next came the olives, one on each spoon. Except that they weren’t olives, they were olive jelly, most sensuous. Next came a foam of caramelised liquid pumpkin, dusted with gold leaf.

Le Roux’s eyes were by now popping out – shaved dried foie gras, almonds and cocoa, butter ravioli, white asparagus with olive oil gnocchi – and the wine changed with every course. On and on and on it went and with the simple ‘ice-cream’ dessert, if you could have called that meringue concoction simple, also came Jules Colbert.

Jean-Claude touched him on the forearm and commented, ‘You are without peer, except perhaps for Ferran Adrià and El Bulli.’

It was enough.  Pierre le Roux [note that in 2022 - he’d be one of the wannabe Globos] had not received similar treatment and was, accordingly, more than miffed.

…

‘If Monsieur would care to visit Le Froid, in the 19ème arrondissement, close to Le Parc des Buttes Chaumont,’ Jules explained in as close to an obsequious tone as he could manage, ‘it would perhaps suit you to perfection. This place here, Café Noir, Monsieur,’ he shrugged in a self-deprecating manner, ‘it’s just a café, after all, a place to eat for the itinerant office worker in the 12ème arrondissement.’

As nice a put down as could have been devised and one Pierre le Roux was neither going to forgive nor forget, he was going to break this pompous little mountebank. Jules noted it, dismissed it and returned to the kitchen, not worried in the least by le Roux. There were higher things deep within the psyche of Paris and le Roux knew that full well.

[The main protag appears, Guiscard and he sit at one table.]

Presently, Jeanette brought over a glass of brandy, with the compliments of M. Colbert. That was nice, what had he done to deserve this? Then M. Colbert himself came out and graced Hugh’s table, Hugh half rose, Le Roux observing all with narrowed eyes.

‘This honour is more than I deserve, M. Colbert.’

‘Monsieur, you have frequented this establishment for some months, in all seasons, and your custom is greatly appreciated. Jeanette speaks highly of you but I confess it’s true that it was only when M. Guiscard sat with you now that I appreciated whom I had under my roof. He does not do that with just anyone.’

‘Monsieur, this is too much,’ laughed Hugh, nervously. ‘I’m just a humble professor of English – no more than that, I fear you mistake me.’

‘There’s no mistake, Monsieur. Your background is known. Including Russia.’

‘M. Colbert is too kind and this Calvados Adrien Camut is far too subtle for my palate.’

Colbert was bemused. ‘Then how did you recognise it, Monsieur?’

‘The cigar spice and almond of course – there’s no secret in that. But I must set the record straight – I really couldn’t tell a Reserve de Semainville from a Reserve d’Adrien.’

‘The hint of walnut on the nose, M. Jensen, but still, that’s admirable.’

‘How came this bottle, M. Colbert, to this café?’

‘Ah, yes. I was two weeks ago in the Pays d’Auge – a small favour I did for Emmanuel Camut. I served the same to Inspector Guiscard just now.’

‘I know the Inspector’s name itself is quite ancient.’

‘He and I are distantly related. His family needed to … er …’ the restaurateur chuckled, ‘redorer leur blazon, shall we say, some centuries ago. After all, I am a Colbert.’

And so on.

* The restaurant scene draws heavily on Stephen Pollard’s article in The Times about El Bulli and quotes slabs of his text in the description of the food. I was a devotee of Stephen’s on his old blog and that’s where I found the article. This is the only place in this trilogy where another writer’s article is quoted at length.

http://www.stephenpollard.net/002109.html”