Lunch (tasting menu) at Epicure, Paris

2015-09-01T19:25:00.000+01:00

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!

The Foodie's Abode

Lunch (tasting menu) at Epicure, Paris