" I’d never been a fan of frog hindquarters, but these redefined the experience." Sudi Pigott visits the City of Light for Ducasse's unrivalled haute cuisine.
Perhaps the best measure of what makes for a superlative haute cuisine meal is how long the tastes remain at the forefront of your mind. Certainly, a full three weeks after visiting Alain Ducasse at The Plaza Athenée, the extraordinary intensity of a shot of languostine broth with a whisper of ginger served alongside carpaccio of langoustine, topped with the explosive briny perfume of tiny glistening deep olive pearls of oscietra caviar, remains vividly lodged as one of the most divine tastes I’ve ever experienced. It wasn’t just that the dish was luxurious and decadent - it was its sheer simplicity.
Having spent the day at Alain Ducasse’s ultra-chic new cookery school road-testing an haute cuisine class, the meal exemplified the lessons of the day: the extreme attention to detail in fastidiously prepared, yet uncomplicated dishes that ensure every ingredient shines. Incredible precision extended to methods of cutting vegetables to maximise flavour and using pea pods to make a stock to cook each vegetable separately. What made the experience even more fascinating was the insider’s perspective of dining with Jocelyn Herland who was sous-chef to executive chef Christophe Moret at the Plaza Athenée, before becoming executive chef at Alain Ducasse at
The Dorchester in London.
Certainly the sheer glamour of the dining room sets expectations at a peak, as a theatrical experience beyond mere eating. I loved the full size wooden spoon figures at the entrance and the shimmer of 10,000 Swaroveski crystals in delicate swathes of chandelier and the funky Louis XIV style tangerine and cream chairs, with pull out shelves for handbags and the absurdly widely spaced, immaculately dressed tables.
Amuse-bouches set the tone: especially tender, boned, (which got the Herland nod of approval) frogs legs in perfect crisp beignet batter to dip in a sorrel cream sauce – I’d never been a fan of frog hindquarters, but these redefined the experience.
I was less convinced by the spider crab served hot in its orange shell beneath a bubbly spicy foam vodka and tabasco partnered with a spicy verreine of tomato and crab cocktail – the texture of the chopped vegetables jarred with the ethereal lightness of the coral cloud. Though I was amused by Herland reminiscing about the ultra-violet lights in the kitchen, installed for picking the crab for this dish to show up the bones – attention to detail indeed.
As was clear from the school, the real art of Ducasse cuisine lies in bringing out the natural flavours of seasonal French produce in simple yet beautifully balanced dishes. Wild seabass poached confit style in olive oil was a superb dish with roast tomatoes and red peppers, cleverly contrasted with the milky freshness of a just-harvested almonds sauce; this is one of those dishes that Ducasse refers to as “culinary symmetry.”
Attention to sourcing is paramount: every producer is scrupulously vetted. Roast gamey pigeon from Racan farm was properly pink, its richness mellowed by lightly poached cherries from Montmorency. To ensure the dish is suitably spoiling, its surprise sidekick was a classic salami of pigeon made with confit of pigeon, foie gras, red wine and cream – sublime, and a reminder of how extraordinary classic haute cuisine dishes can be in creating a sense of grandeur and occasion. This is cooking with absolutely no short-cuts. An extra unexpected pleasure were exquisitely crunchy, non-oily souffle potatoes; crisps - at three Michelin star restaurant – why not..
It’s best to be very hungry for a Ducasse meal, as resisting the pre-dessert patisserie proved impossible with several delicacies new to me. It may be stratospherically expensive, but there’s certainly a feeling of being indulged. Tropeziene, light biscuits filled with crème mousseline with grapefuit jam adding a lovely acidity were sensational.
Desserts are outstanding too, extravagant riffs on classics. Wild strawberry dessert in a Martini glass with layers of jelly and meringue cream accompanied by a buttery tart of wild strawberries was as good a fruit dessert as can be imagined. Even more outrageously good were the legendary baba au rhum served dramatically on their own specially created domed dishes with a trolley offering a choice of different rums to drizzle. The theatricals continued with macaroons, chocolates and a stately mignardise trolley with crystal jars of caramels and nougat besides the almost camp perfectionism of a trolley of herbs snipped to order by white gloved waiters making infusions.
Yet surprisingly the service (with more staff than diners) under the supervision of Monsieur Courtiade (who famously dictates “serve neither from the right side nor the left, but only and always from the best side”) is not overly formal, but friendly, courteous - the murmurs of bonne continuation are most endearing - and passionately well-informed and seems to appear out of nowhere when you need them to flirt with utter perfection too.