According to my horoscope I became famous on Thursday. "Why not go to Le Taillevent to celebrate?" said R__, my best friend in Paris, when I called him on Monday to give him a head's up.
Le Taillevent is hardly a no-name itself. As the inspiration for Gusteau's restaurant in the film Ratatouille, its virtual reputation casts a long and pixelated shadow. Luckily we were seated in a strategically discreet location, and R__'s back looked delightfully anonymous in the Taillevent sponsored sportscoat.
Me: Do you think we have to start worrying about paparazzi?
R__: Yes.
Me: Why are these gougères so good?
-CLINK-
Founded in 1946, Le Taillevent takes its name from the nickname of 14th century cook Guillaume Tirel who wrote the first French cookbook: Le Viandier. The restaurant won its first Michelin star in '48, a second in '54, a third in '73, and then--in 2007--it was détoilé or demoted to two stars. Chefs have been known to faire suicide over such a fate. However, in the words of the late Jean-Claude Vrinat, who was head chef until his death due to lung cancer in 2008, "sometimes a kick in the behind is a good motivator." Alain Solivérès has inherited that kick.
Most meals here begin with a glass of the house Champagne, Cuvée Taillevent, which is made by Deutz. During my Sherry-Lehmann days in Manhattan I frequently observed Norman Invasions whereby French patrons cleared out of our Deutz supply. Light-bodied, delicate but supple, bubbles super-fine; it's lovely, for certain, but how explain the mania? I personally think it's the feather-light bubbles, which seem not to burst on your tongue but to invite you to participate in their own aery expansion. They are so fine you could easily fit a thousand on the head of a pin. I sat there marveling the ebullient acolytes of chalky soil and then--was it the alcohol??? the fame???--suddenly I lost my head....
Me: Wait a minute, is this Le Taillevent? What are we doing? Why are we here?
R__: I was thinking that we both live in Paris, and it's Thursday.
-CLINK-
It is so nice to have friends who ground you. Now it was time for the amuse-bouche, a delightful pumpkin soup with parmesan. Then our first wine pairing arrived: a 2005 Hautes-Cotes-de-Nuits from Domaine Jayer-Gilles. What a nose! I love white burgundies because of a signature note I always find in them--which to me smells of nougat and linden. (That my Swedish grandmother's maiden name was Linden surely plays a part in my romance with these wines, however--matrilineal logophilia and synesthesia aside--white burgundy is simply the most complex and generous Chardonnay I've ever had.)
For our starter courses I got the beet soup because I cannot resist anything beet-red. I also cannot resist saying betteraves and sub-vocalizing it with every mouthful. A beet is definitely not as sweet by any other name....
Problem: R__ was getting my second choice, the marbled chicken with foie gras. The prognosis for order envy was disturbingly high. Luckily R__ is always two steps ahead of me and got the waiter to bring a separate plate with utensils for sharing.
R__: Ca serait possible?
Waiter: Pour vous, tout est possible.
Time for the mains. R__ and I both opted for the seared scallops with endive. Perhaps on account of my new stardom I was feeling like I might be seized by the rapture at any moment, and scallops seemed light and just right. The only difficulty was the endive, which I find a bit difficult to pair with wine. Its bitterness always strikes me as falling in the brussel sprouts/asparagus/artichoke category of WINE KILLERS. Could it be done?
Still unaware of our fame, the sommelier Jean-Francois LeMoine came over to our table and poured us a glass of Vin de Pays Viognier from Domaine de la Janasse, 2008. I didn't catch the region or the varietal at first; I thought I heard him say "sud-ouest", so I was expecting a white Bordeaux or a Bergerac. When I took my first nose I exclaimed, "Marsanne....Roussanne." These are varietals used in the Rhone to make such stellar whites as Chateauneuf-du-Pape and Hermitage. After a second swirl and inhale I added, "Viognier or Colombard. But if it is Viognier then it is surely not a Condrieu as the nose is quite subtle. I'm stumped."
R__: He said it was Viognier. You really need to get your hearing checked again. You are deaf as a post.
Me: Did you say I'm the guest with the most?
R__: Yes.
I love that this confusion happened, because it proves that with French wine it's inevitably the terroir--and not the varietal--that overpowers. That is the strategy of French winemakers, who seek to erase themselves so as to express the spirit of the place around them. I zeroed in on "Rhone varietals" not because of the relative proximity of the grapes but because of the land where the wine originates. (This can be a tough consciousness shift for Americans who are aggressively scientific and obsessed with species and genetics. On the opposite end of the spectrum, a French person can grow up in a wine region and drink the same AOC all her life but have no idea which varietals are used.) But the question remains: how did it go with the scallops? I'm not entirely convinced it was a perfect winner. The lime and mineral notes in the sauce seemed perhaps to overpower the subtlety of this Rhone Viognier's own aromas...and the acidity of the wine petered out ever so slightly at the end, leaving a touch of hotness or alcoholic finish. Am I a hater? Au contraire. I am just--at the end (and especially the beginning and middle) of the day--one who would probably pick my food to suit the wine, and this wine pairing was playing second fiddle to the dish.
By this point we had chatted up the lovely sommelier about declassified wines (AOC winemakers break the rules by, for example, using 100% Viognier for a region that would otherwise require a blend and be labeled Cotes-du-Rhone, so the classification remains a plebeian "VDP"), and our secret had leaked: we were famous. There was no use hiding it anymore, and the head waiter even insisted he take my picture with our dessert, a milk chocolate and praline déclinaison infused with tonka bean. The tonka bean has an aroma reminiscent of vanilla, almonds, cinnamon, and cloves, which made it the perfect dessert to accompany our Banyuls Grand Cru, Domaine du Vial Magneres 1998.
The Madeleines and petits fours came. This time the waiter dared to leave the bottle of the next booze on the table. I had a vague memory that this was done during my first trip to Taillevent in 2008 as well, meaning that this was a signature move--not one which is only reserved for VIPs.
At this point, most patrons settle the bill and trot off happily and curiously lighter than they were before, metabolizing the glorious food high. Bona fide celebs, however, receive a private tour of the restaurant. Our first stop was the pastry kitchen, where glorious tarts were being primped and piped.
Next we went on to the main kitchen were I met chef Alain. It isn't every day that celebs bump into one another. Everyone insisted we stop for a photo op.
I must say that while R__ probably could have explained special relativity in at four languages at thatpoint, Le Taillevent Armagnac left him ever so slightly less than deft; he dropped my camera twice and accidentally took a video of the handshake before coming up with the gem on the left. Luckily Alain is remarkably zen. Does he meditate between meals?
Next we were escorted to the cellars. Sommelier Jean-Francois pulled out a bottle of 1897 Chateau Lafite-Rothschild and let me hold it. Like chef Alain, Jean-Francois was remarkably poised. Unlike yours truly, he even appears steady in low-light!
I was clearly beside myself--can't blame this one on R__. Instead I'll blame the food and wine which, while perhaps not terribly innovative, surely make the case for why some French recipes ought to be declared UNESCO World treasures.
Le Taillevent may have lost a star in 2007, but that doesn't mean you won't feel like one when you dine here.
In Vini Veritas,
SJB
Related Posts:
Making Sense of Burgundy, Part I of II
Making Sense of Burgundy, Part II of II
Bistro Wine by the Glass: How to Pick the Winner
How to Maximize Your Nose's Wine Potential
How I Fell in Love with Wine
My First Gig as a Champagne Cruise Sommelier
Fantastic, beautiful, and delicious! Thank you for the lovely photos as well!
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