From Le Périgord To Mix: Ten Years Ago

[Pink Pig Time Machine by Wilfrid:  September 16, 2013]

Two very different kinds of French cuisine sampled ten years ago this week.  First up, Le Périgord, Georges Briguet's grande dame of classicism--opened in 1966, so alreadyalmost forty years old in 2003 (and still with us today)--and Alain Ducasse's six month-old NYC venture, Mix.

From the staid to the faintly ridiculous.

One reason Le Périgord has chalked up almost half a century of business is doubtless that Georges Briguet owns the handsome building which houses it.  He has been an old-school dominant presence--proprietor, greeter, maître d', and generally in charge, in the style of Henri Soulé and Sirio Maccione.  On my first visit to the restaurant, he had barked at me "You're late!"  Then, taking my order, muttered "At least you know your food."

This visit was less influenced by the Briguet experience, and in the intervening years the restaurant had undoubtedly become less fashionable, and simply less busy.  Dinner for two meant foie gras two ways--seared and as a terrine with celeriac; then the whole roast duck, a lovely, golden-skinned bird.

The duck was served with seasonal fruits, and was followed by cheese.  After champagne, a 1998 Vosne-Romanée 1er Cru, "Les Chaumes" from Domaine Robert Arnoux.  This was a kitchen no longer on fire: good food, but hard to rate above La Grenouille, for example.

Ducasse's New York flagship at the Essex House was three years into its checkered run when he opened a branch of his casual, even "fun" concept, Mix.  Doug Psaltis from the Essex House was given charge of the kitchen.  The whole thing was just unbearably..."playful."

There seemed to be an urge to treat diners as toddlers.  There were silly little pots of condiments.  There was Nutella.  Country bread was served with peanut butter or cherry jelly, as well as with unsalted butter.  A Lacquered chicken square with sweet shrimp and corncake might have made a good dessert.  The order for the quirkily named "elbow steak" was mishead, and halibut delivered instead (try saying "halibut" with a French accent, and you'll see the problem).

Rosewater ice cream with raspberries. Sugard almonds. It was like going to a very spoled six year-old's birthday party. Except for the check.

And meanwhile, that week, there was a fine Lee Krasner retrospective at Robert Mille, there was the New York is Book Country street fair--and those really good tramezzini at Bar Veloce.