Michel Rostang

Paris

Harvey Steiman
Posted: March 1, 1996

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