Michel Rostang
Paris
Ask for a glass of Champagne before dinner at Michel Rostang and a
flute of Dom Perignon arrives. Ask for a cigar after dinner and out
comes a polished wood, multitiered humidor sporting neat rows of
Cohibas, Montecristos and Romeo y Julietas. In between, Rostang serves
up food that can best be described as creatively, elegantly and
sumptuously homey. This is the sort of place where the waiter offers
to tie a lobster bib around your neck if you order the broiled
langoustines but also presents roast duck in a gravy thickened by its
blood, a rare delight for adventurous gourmets. This may be the best
restaurant in Paris without three Michelin stars. (It has two.)
The restaurant occupies a quiet corner off the main boulevards and a
short walk from the Arc de Triomphe. Done in warm, dark polished wood
paneling with recessed lighting, the clubby decor makes canny use of
fine tapestries and Art Deco touches like Lalique lighting panels of
bas-relief nudes. Plates are Limoges. Glasses are Baccarat. Each table
holds a tiny, exquisite bouquet.
It all promises a luxury experience, and Rostang delivers from the
first amuse-gueule, an extra appetizer plate that precedes the
meal. On our visit, these shared plate space: a miniature bowl of cold
asparagus soup studded with minced lobster, a tiny flat dish holding a
mound of room-temperature risotto with foie gras, and two toothpick
"brochettes" of garlicky grilled mussels. A few bites of that and a
sip of the Champagne made memories of a raucous cross-Paris taxi ride
fade quickly.
The set menu at 710 francs (about $160) offers the best way to
explore Rostang's food. On this early summer evening it started with a
slice of fresh foie gras suspended in a hearty olive pate, resting
against a salad of celery and frisée lettuce--a remarkably
earthy approach to cold foie gras. Another salad followed, this one
spiked with tarragon and slices of lobster, the shelled claw riding a
puff-pastry raft at the edge of the plate. Langoustines, poached
rather than grilled, came with asparagus in a nage, a light sauce made
of the seafood broth lightly thickened with vegetable extracts.
To this point, Rostang was on a three-star roll. Things took a slight
dip on the next course, however: two little sole fillets with a
complicated medley of braised white onions, sliced simmered shallots
and fresh green onions, all of which were way too salty. Matters
improved with the first part of canette sangue, this the rare breast
of duckling with its own blood-thickened velvety chocolate-brown
sauce, deep in flavor with a spicy edge. Then events dipped again with
the duck legs, tough and tasteless, with yet another frisée
salad.
Oh well, a few sips of the Château Clinet 1989 put everything
right. It came from the climate-controlled glassed-in wine cellar--a
Wine Spectator Best of Award of Excellence winner--impossible
to miss for those who take the spiral staircase past them to the rest
rooms. High marks to sommelier Alain Ronzatti, too, for steering me to
the rich, deeply honeyed Roulot Meursault 1992 in half bottle, five
francs less than the Matrot white Burgundy I already knew, and for
suggesting Château Clinet 1989 ("best Pomerol in 1989," he
claimed), also priced a bit less than the Château
Leoville-Barton I had my eyes on. The Clinet was a delight--warm,
silky and sweet.
Apricot tart made in a free-form rustic shape finished things off
nicely. Another welcome touch was the bowl of fresh Royal Ann cherries
that came with the plate of obligatory petits fours.
About this time, conversations at surrounding tables were starting to
make an impression. Three Americans were enjoying a reunion,
reminiscing about family history. The host, a recent Paris arrival,
had apparently been squiring around his nephew, newly graduated from a
private high school, introducing him to some of Paris' better
restaurants and the agreeable ritual of a fine cigar after each
meal. He extracted two Montecristos from his jacket for them to share,
then stopped short, realizing that the third member of the party, the
host's sister, was a nonsmoker. "We probably ought to wait till
later," he sighed, but she insisted, repeatedly. The maitre d'
materialized with an antique guillotine-like cigar cutter.
Rostang's own cigar selection tends to focus on smaller ring gauges,
but the Davidoff Double "R"s and El Rey del Mundos on the second level
of the humidor could catch the eyes of knowledgeable cigar
smokers. Late of an evening, Rostang himself can be found chatting
with regulars, a fat Cohiba smoldering between his fingers.
-- Harvey Steiman
Harvey Steiman is editor at large of Wine Spectator. His
recent restaurant reports include Florence, Los Angeles and the best
of the United States.
Michel Rostang
20 rue Rennequin
Phone: (33) 1 47 63 40 77;
fax: (33) 1 47 63 82 75
Menus: $125 to $160
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