TWENTY years ago the Guide Michelin awarded its coveted three
stars to just six restaurants in Paris. This year's edition has only five so honoured, and from 1977 Taillevent alone remains, four of the others having been demoted to two-star status, and Maxim's having left the Guide alto- gether. The present owner, Jean-Claude Vrinat's father, opened Taillevent, near the Etoile, in the darkly impoverished days of 1946, and the restaurant received its third star in 1973 and has held it ever since. Today, even though faced by the threatened austerity of M. Jospin's new socialist gov- ernment, Taillevent continues to do so roaring a trade that three weeks before I wanted to dine there it needed the inter- vention of a Parisian friend and regular customer to secure me a table for dinner.
When I went there with the stylish Valerie Fevrier, a gourmet from the Quai d'Orsay, Taillevent was indeed packed, not a few British, American and Japanese din- ers relaxing there after the air show at Le Bourget, which made not a jot of difference to the atmosphere in these elegant Second Empire surroundings, with dining-rooms on two floors and a gorgeous curved stair- case in between. Service under the young maitre d'hôtel Frederic Guidoni is warm and witty as well as efficient, and is under the benign but meticulous eye of M. Vrinat himself. The menu is classic and not espe- cially long — 11 entrees, 7 fish and 11 meat dishes, and 15 desserts — prices are high, and the wine list encyclopaedic but all- French, a monument to careful selection going back 60 years.
To start Valerie chose (after the amuse- gueule of mousse de foie de canard aux aromates) gazpacho aux langoustines bre- tonnes: not a gazpacho as usually under- stood, but a powerful gazpacho-flavoured tomato puree, with blobs of avocado mousse surmounted by a cluster of plump, shelled langoustines. Delicious. So were my green asparagus cooked in truffle juice, fol- lowed by a boudin of lobster swimming in exquisite beurre blanc. The intensity of flavours combined with feather-light tex- tures demonstrated a hand of near genius in the kitchen.
After such a start no anticlimax was in store. Valerie continued with one of her favourite things, hot, fresh foie gras of duck, flavoured with ginger, on pain d'epices, accompanied by small pieces of apple. Apart from regretting that there was not more apple, Valerie declared the foie gras to be perfect, and the small taste she allowed me reinforced that view.
My own choice was a dish I had eaten chez Taillevent before: roast pigeon, joint- ed 'en becasse', and served in a wonderfully unctuous sauce, with the bird's own liver spread on a crouton, accompanied by a superb purée of celeriac, whose astringency perfectly offset the richness of the pigeon: again a case of immaculate raw materials,impeccably prepared. We ended (sadly having no room for cheese) with a sublime soufflé of almonds and apricots, lifted by some apricot eau de vie: possibly the finest hot soufflé I have ever eaten. We drank a fine bottle of Chateau la Haye, St Estephe 1992, a good wine from a relatively poor year. This was an unforgettable meal, and provided you can afford the £100 a head that Taillevent is likely to cost, such is its classic charm and the wonderful balance of the cooking that you could happily dine there on a monthly, even weekly, basis.
Eating chez Alain Ducasse is even more costly, and also more complex and chal- lenging. Ducasse won three Michelin stars for his cooking at the Hotel de Paris in Monte Carlo, and has now also taken on the elegant restaurant in Avenue Raymond `Oh my God, you've been dressing up in my clothes.' Poincare, created by the legendary young chef Joel Robuchon, who hung up his hat last year at the age of just 51. Although Michelin has reduced Ducasse to two stars in Monte Carlo, it passed Robuchon's three on to him in Paris, so it seemed opportune to compare and contrast him with Taillevent. It had to be lunch, as a din- ner reservation was totally out of the ques- tion. I went there with the chic and bril- liant film producer Adeline Lecallier whose films, Les Randonneurs and Assassins, were both currently running in Paris.
We met in Ducasse's slightly gloomy ground-floor bar and over coupes de cham- pagne decided that the Fr.480 'Bouquets de printemps' lunch menu looked unexciting and that we had better eat the six-course `Brillat-Savarin' at Fr.890. We went upstairs to the ornately decorated, neo- baroque dining-rooms, one of them full of trompe l'oeil bookcases painted on the walls, and were pleased to be given a spa- cious table by the window, looking out onto the leafy avenue. Our meal was only avail- able if served to the whole table, and after gorgeous amuse-gueule vol-au-vents of artichoke and foie gras, we started with girolles in a beautiful jelly of rabbit, accom- panied by a divine iced cream of white beans. Then came a Ducasse speciality, pates `mi-sechees' with lobster in its own `jus' and white truffles. This was breathtak- ingly delicious — an amazing galaxy of flavours, looking fabulous on the plate. Then came a superb thick filet of turbot, poached in a beurre blanc with strips of Swiss chard, a welcome simplicity after what went before, followed by some melt- ingly delicious milk-fed roast veal served with foie gras and caramelised potatoes and shallots. After a dazzling cheese board, which commendably included a fine half- Stilton, I took some fromage blanc in frozen yoghurt covered with bitter honey as a splendidly palate-cleansing dessert, but poor Adeline was defeated by her luscious array of roast strawberries and rhubarb served with vanilla ice cream. With this superlative meal we drank a good village Meursault of 1994, and a truly excellent Chateau Chasse Spleen, Moulis, of 1986, not unreasonably priced, given the sur- roundings, at Fr.440.
Service was excellent and agreeably light- hearted, and Adeline, having congratulated them on their marvellous home-made bread, was presented with a loaf of pain de campagne in a paper bag on her way out a charming touch. But with cost at well over £100 a head, and cooking of such complexi- ty and richness, Alain Ducasse must remain a place for a special occasion after a period of pre-match training.
Taillevent, 15 Rue Lamennais, Paris 75008; tel: 01 44 95 15 01. Closed Saturday and Sunday.
Alain Ducasse, 59 Avenue Raymond Poincare Paris 75116; tel: 01 47 27 12 27. Closed Saturday and Sunday.
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