Paris: Celebrating At L'Ambroisie

[Pigging by Wilfrid: April 27, 2009]

Much to celebrate.  The Pink Pig two years old today, with hundreds of restaurant reviews under its ever-tightening belt.  And a milestone birthday for the man behind the snout.

Time to empty my pockets and fulfill the long-cherished dream of dinner at L'Ambroisie, the classic Michelin three-star in the Place des Vosges.

L'Ambroisie, the creation of chef Bernard Pacaud, is almost thirty years old, and has been in its current splendid location, an old silversmith shop, for over twenty years.  Pacaud has been described as the greatest chef in the world.  Opinions will differ, but the epithet is at least not mere hyperbole.  This was an exceptional, memorable, and ruinously expensive dinner.

Dinner, yes.  Even though L'Ambroisie is legendarily hard to book in the evening, I secured a Tuesday night table about six or seven weeks in advance with no difficulty.  The restaurant was full, as I suspect it is most nights, despite Paris-wide mutterings about la crise économique.

If L'Ambroisie is approaching thirty, the Place des Vosges boasts four centuries of grandeur.  Completed in 1605, the Place was originally envisaged by Henri IV (the "chicken-in-the-pot" guy) as a model for inexpensive, airy dwellings for the poor of the Marais.  But it was beautiful, and has always been fashionable.  A stroll around its quiet, colonnaded perimeter is wonderful therapy.

A shrub, a parking valet, and a discreet plaque mark the entrance to the restaurant and its high-ceilinged, stone-floored dining rooms, hung with rich tapestries.  There were perhaps four or five tables in the room where I sat, trying not to notice the prices on the menu.  No tasting is offered, although when I asked, the captain offered to choose my dinner for me.  No need, although I did attend to his recommendation of the seasonal special, Dover sole with asparagus and morels.

Those of you who have dined at L'Ambroisie, or read its countless reviews, will find little new here.  The menu is well-edited: five appetizers, four fish, five meat.  Dishes famously perfected by Pacaud are not discarded on the grounds they lack novelty.  The foie gras, familiar from photographs, is an artistic composition.  The broad stroke of beet red was worthy of Hans Hofmann.

The torchon of duck liver is encased in an apple jelly, armored with delicate apple slices, and garnished with apple and candied beets. 

I recall it was once thought controversial that a classic French chef should introduce "curry sauce" into his repertoire, but Pacaud's feuillantine de Queues de Langoustine aux graines de sésame, sauce curry has become a classic.

I am repeating conventional wisdom when I describe this as about the best langoustine dish I've ever tasted, but it's simply true.  The tails are only just cooked, remaining remarkably tender and delicate - and believe me, chefs in Paris are every bit as capable of rendering seafood chewy or mushy as chefs in New York.  Brittany langoustines, of impeccable quality; sesame wafers; a mild curry sauce of buttery richness, restrained enough to serve as the context of the langoustine's sweetness.

The larger dishes could hardly improve on this, but the Dover sole did its best.  Pacaud, I presume, has long-established and superb supply lines, and that's just a fancy way of saying the sole was really good.  Served as a neat rectangular filet, it was described as "Viennoise" on the menu.  Fortunately, this meant not a schnitzel, but an almost vanishingly subtle crust on the top of the fish.

I was relieved to discover that L'Ambroisie was not cheap with the morels, but I should also observe that this dish - this dish alone - was priced in three figures.  As if to console the grieving wallet, sauce vin jaune was the delighful final touch.

Squab wasn't just squab; it was young pigeon from Bresse, with a caramel lacquering - subtle as always.

Exemplary of Pacaud's style, the dish is not innovative, not radically re-conceived, not re-invented.  Simply the best squab you can get, cooked as well as it can be cooked.  I also delighted in the side dish, petits pois à la française - peas with chopped lettuce in a creamy sauce. I have often tried making that dish, but I can't make it like Pacaud.

Despite putting in a few decades of eating at formal restaurants around the world, I admit to having been slightly intimidated by L'Ambroisie's grand reputation; and one can hardly complain at being regarded as part of the American-Japanese-tourist contingent which makes up perhaps half the clientele.  I was particularly pleased, therefore, to bond with the maitre d' over the cheese board.  And what a cheese board:

Since the gooey orange dome (on the left) wasn't Époisses, I asked if it might be Affidelice, a similar cheese but with the rind washed in Chablis rather than Marc de Bourgogne.  In fact, no,  it was another, similar marc-washed cheese, Ami du Chambertin; the maitre d' was so startled that I could distinguish between these cheeses that he immediately brought me a superb Marc de Bourgogne to accompany it.  Suffice to say that that is the entire history of comps for the trip.

What else?  I chose Bleu d'Auvergne, Comte, the cheese which looks like Lingot de Quercy but wasn't, and a pungent chèvre.  A 2000 Marquis d'Angerville Volnay "Taillepieds" accompanied the meal, and I seem to recall some champagne too.  To be honest, there may have been some Moscato with the dessert, as my defences by then had crumbled.

The bitter chocolate cake with vanilla-bourbon ice cream was boosted by our server as the best dessert in the world.  I had my doubts, but having just eaten the best langoustines, and perhaps the best squab too, I wasn't going to argue.  I preferred the rhubarb "turban" - actually a sort of swathe of thinly sliced rhubarb bandages - encasing excellent new season strawberries.
 

I feel I should write something like, L'Ambroisie is a restaurant you should experience once in your life.  In fact, I'd like to experience it monthly, if possible, and if someone would kindly pay.  The final check was higher than, say, Per Se in New York, but not double what you'd pay there.  The food, the setting and the service, however, were on a plane unapproached by anything I've experienced outside France.  Which probably does make it just about the best - not the most adventurous, just the best - restaurant in the world.

The website seems to be down at time of writing.  Hopefully it will bounce back.