The French Laundry – reviewed by Francis Bown
The
meaning of the superlative has been undermined by the mass media. On
television, in newspapers, even nowadays on the wireless (which in
Britain, at least, has a couple of channels which have managed to
maintain some semblance of decency and order), it seems that every story
must scream at us in the language of extremity. Many, clearly, believe
that this is the only way to attract and hold our attention. Such
debasement of our public discourse is vulgar. And it creates a real
difficulty. What words are left when one encounters something which
truly needs to be described with superlatives? This is my current
problem. For I have just been back to what might well be the best
restaurant in the world – The French Laundry.
In the picture-perfect little town
of Yountville, surrounded by the gentle hills of the Napa Valley, lies a
stone building of two stories. It has a pleasant garden and some
sympathetic extensions, but – externally at least – it is unremarkable.
It is easy to walk or drive by without even noticing that it is a
restaurant. It is discreet. One might therefore suppose that, for
example, one’s taxi-driver would have trouble finding it. Not so. For
this modest pile has brought fame and prestige to Yountville, and
everyone for many miles around knows exactly where it is.
As they should, for The French
Laundry is easily a match for a three-starred restaurant in France.
Indeed, as the Michelin inspectors have finally made it across the
Atlantic, it now has three Michelin stars of its own. Were such an
absurd category to exist, I might even suggest that it should be in the
four-star division, so much do I admire the eating experience it offers.
Thomas
Keller (pictured) is the genius in the kitchen. I first met him some
years ago, when I was in the habit of attending the Masters of Food &
Wine event in Carmel-by-the-Sea. I found him courteous, modest and
dedicated – characteristics I admire, although they are not always found
in great Chefs. Here we come to that problem with over-used words. I
call Mr Keller a genius. But now we call everyone with the slightest
talent a genius. So I will allow the food he produces do the talking. It
speaks of a palate which is sensitive, refined and sophisticated; it
speaks of an intelligence which is wide-ranging, adventurous and
playful; and it speaks of a technique which is disciplined, masterly and
firmly rooted in the French tradition.
On this occasion I sat in a small
room off the main ground floor dining room. (There is another dining
room upstairs.) The table was large and round and covered with fine
white damask. (Napkins are, of course, replaced whenever diners leave
their places for a moment.) To my left was a window into the wine
cellar, of which more later. Since my last visit, new lampshades had
appeared – bearing laundry symbols, like an iron (a typical example of
Mr Keller’s quiet sense of humour). In the discreet lighting, waiters in
dark suits moved purposefully about their business.
I will pause for a moment to praise
the front-of-house staff. Under the direction of Nicolas Fanucci, a
splendid Frenchman from Cannes, they perform their tasks with easy charm
and absolute professionalism. I have the sense that they believe it is a
privilege to work here. They are right, but it is also a privilege to be
served by waiters like Eric Deis and Milton Higgins. They make every
guest at The French Laundry feel rather special. I gained a further idea
of the quality of this staff a few days later. Eating at a good
restaurant in San Francisco, I spied at the next table Zion Curiel, a
waiter from The French Laundry, with his lady friend. They were
undoubtedly the most elegant couple in the restaurant, and Mr Curiel
looked – I have to admit – even better dressed than your correspondent.
So
to my dinner. No one goes to The French Laundry for a quick snack. This
is a place for a proper meal, eaten at a proper pace. Thus the pleasure
is extended to several hours. And real pleasure it is. I try to reserve
my ‘superb’ rating for dishes which are exceptional. A restaurant in
which I award one dish this rating is a seriously good restaurant. If I
include the three appetizers in my calculation, I ate eleven courses.
Six of them simply had to be rated ‘superb’, and none of the others
dipped below ‘very good’. This was astonishing, and meant that everyone
in the kitchen was worthy of high praise.
A small bowl of carrot soup
contained the very essence of carrot; gratinated cod with soya beans
tickled my taste buds; and caviar and cauliflower cream created a
luscious harmony. Then I was on to the meal proper. The brilliant (and
famous), life-enhancing egg shell, filled with white truffle egg custard
and a ragout of black truffles, came first, followed by a refreshing
salad of artichokes and tomatoes. Then it was grilled tuna, with
eggplant and olive purée. Next was lobster tail, with braised lettuce,
potato and a truffle emulsion – a tour de force of wonderful
textures and flavours. Six types of salt came with the fried foie gras.
The liver was served with hazelnuts and caramelized banana, a successful
combination which was new to me. My meat was beef (Snake River Farm
beef), which was fantastically and gloriously fatty and was so soft it
caressed my mouth with loveliness. Its accompanying sauce Bordelaise
was just right. Chocolate parfait and mint syrup were spot on and the
‘coffee and doughnuts’ (cinnamon-sugared doughnuts with cappuccino semi-freddo)
– one of my favourite dishes in the world – were, needless to say,
brilliant. (Several set menus are available. Expect to pay $150-$200
each for the food.)
Such
food deserves the finest wine. Head sommelier Gregory Castellis, from
Aix-en-Provence, presides over a cellar which can provide exactly that.
A white burgundy? Here is a choice of 19 Montrachets (with the 2003 DRC
priced at $4,105). A first growth claret from a legendary vintage? Would
you prefer the 1961 Haut Brion ($4,300) or the 1961 Latour ($5,000)? Or
perhaps the finest red from Australia? 1978 Penfolds Grange is $1,400.
If the most highly prized red Californians are more to your taste, the
1998 Screaming Eagle is $2,250.
I knew that I was in safe hands with
Monsieur Castells. He took me to Germany for a riesling of sublime
balance, mineral flavours and pure finesse (Dönnhoff, Oberhäuser Brücke,
Nahe, 2004 - $155). And for my red, there came the 2001 vintage of Mr
Keller’s own wine, a cabernet called Modicum. With an entrancing, highly
perfumed nose, majestically ripe black fruit and a sense of real
elegance, this wine was a star (Morrell Vineyard, Rutherford - $195).
Such wonderful drinking makes me weep for the teetotalers.
Well, I have tried to avoid those
much-abused superlatives during the course of this piece. But it has
been difficult. In truth, The French Laundry and Thomas Keller deserve a
whole dictionary of them.
© 2006 Francis Bown. Used by
permission. All rights reserved. For reviews of hotels and
restaurants across the world, visit
www.BownsBest.com
_______________
Best
Restaurant in the Napa Valley
