L’ Arpege: Too Good To be True, Too Much to Be Eaten?

Fact.

Alain Passard, AKA the rotisserie god, has moved on from bloody dripping meat to vegetables. He even keeps his own gardens. We are not talking small garden and lovely Mediterranean orchards. Passard’s gardens boast two hectares of land hundreds kilometres away from Paris. There his vegetables are grown not just organically but sans machines. Fact! And there I was at Passard’s three starred Arpege, swallowing the fact and nervously anticipating my 320€ meal that featured quite a few roast dishes. The dining room, though small, was first empty but quickly became packed and heavily suited. Decor-wise, it was warm-looking: wooden walls adorned with artwork and metallic chairs that were inclined to being not too retro.I was well looked after by the efficient and most friendly team of predominantly female Front of House.

Tartlettes of Assorted Vegetables set the mood for my lunch. There were one cabbage, another radish, and the other beetroot with chocolate and carrot!! The last was the most extraordinary as the fusion of sweet beetroot and bitter-ish chocolate worked well. Crunch and crispiness was everywhere. I thoroughly enjoyed my preamble to the meal.

Quickly followed was this Oeuf a la Coque: Quatre Epices, the signature dish that had been on the menu for years. It’s one hell of a complicated dish, the method of which I must admit I couldn’t quite switch the light on and pretend somebody was home. Say, one egg yolk cooked in low temperature in a waterbath, with creme fraiche on top, maple syrup, vinegar and spices. Food Snob has done a much better job explaining the dish here! Setting my gastronomic illiteracy aside, the taste was intense, the texture of the runny yolk fused with cream hit first, then the depth of flavours–sour, sweet, eggy–with the subtlety of well-balanced spices. The dish was truly beyond my ability to read–maybe I needed a few more of them?

The next course was, luckily, not as complicated, just a beautiful bowl of consomme with vegetable ravioli. The crystal clear consomme was made from apple and celery root–a warm touch of sweetness–and the ravioli are respectively filled with spinach, onion, celery and beetroot. One very fine dish that allowed the wonderful ingredients to shine.

Then, one Scallop Carpaccio with Macha Green Tea, which looked as if it could be hung alongside Monet at the nearby Musee d’Orsay. The thinly sliced scallops had this wonderful silky texture contrasted by the crunch from the vegetable; fragrance and flavours were enhanced by grated beetroot, green tea power and lemon zest, which I found very refreshing. There was a mild peppery kick of olive oil at the back of my throat. My most favourite dish yet!

More to come was this Celery Risotto with Herb Emulsion. Somebody told me afterward that this was a classic way of cooking vegetable risotto with the veggie finely diced into grain and simmer as if rice. But, at Passard, it was my first time experience such a dish. Crunches from the celery as if al dente, full of herbal flavour and subtlety of cream and cheese.

And this Turnip, Candied Lemon, Celeriac Mousseline. I found the lemon too bitter and there was not enough sweetness from the dish to balance it off.

And another of my favourite, Confit Lemon, Caramelised Parmesan, Baviere Ham. The dish bordered on being sweet and savoury. The lemon got my mouth salivating and proved a match made in heaven with stringy lightly salted parmesan and ham.

Gosh! There are too many dishes and I feel giving up blogging. I should stick to writing about a three course meal next time. What’s next? This plate of root vegetables–some finely sliced, other bulby–with Argan oil, cous cous, celery emulsion. Again, this was my first time tasting Argan Oil–I only came across them in cosmetic products–what people called as liquid gold–and it released this intensely nutty and smoky aroma, which went brilliant with the raw and some perfectly cooked roots–with a lot of bites!–and the softer texture of the cous cous. The emulsion bound all the ingredients together. Pure magic.

This was indeed my day! The lady front of house seemed to mix up the service and shocking as it was, I had another plate of the root dish in front of me. She said, jokingly, that I didn’t have to take it but it would go to the bin. Dilemma? Not at all. Here’s my another go!!

DONE!

I should note, at this point in the dining room, spectacular displays of rotisserie flew out for the sight effects on the diners. I managed to snap this shot of the gigantic roast monk fish as big as my calves that looked so moist–the fish, not my calves–and dribbled all the juicy goodness.

All I could do was to concentrate on my anti-dramatic piece of Foie Gras with Quince Mousseline, which I was not keen on. Though the foie was charred to perfection, I found the quince to be too sharp and lacking in dimension. Shame on you, Monk Fish, for screwing up my appetite!!

It was not actually very long till I could shout in delight. The rotisserie–MY ROTISSERIE–was taken to MY TABLE. I was slightly shell-shocked because…?

It was a whole lobster!!!!!

Everything in abundance at L’ Arpege. I would no longer pretend I was not stuffed. And as if the lobster were not enough, another server dashed out a whole bloody chicken. This one was bigger than my head!! I jumped to inquire and express my health concern that those two creatures would not be enjoyed only at my table? Nope, the lady said, and on hearing that I was relieved. I had already been feeling the gastronomic pressure of being Louis XVI au grand couvert before his peasants got jealous of his food, raided his palace and chopped his head off. Louis XVI, and the lovely Marie, after all, might not be enjoying the sight of food in abundance.

My dissected lobster arrived. And? I marvelled where the rest of it went. Of course, I did not dare ask and just tucked into my morsel. The meat was very succulent and sweet with the aroma of the sea permeating every inch of my mouth. The sauce was one of a white wine base and still retained a hint of alcohol. I wouldn’t say it’s unpleasant but the garnish did not strike the same note as the previous vegetable dishes.

Between the lobster and the chicken, I was given an intermission of Squid and Potato Spaghetti, again with the herb, celery emulsion. I was at the point of refusing the food, knowing there were a lot more to come! But, luckily, I didn’t. This squid was lightly fried and served on a bed of potatoes grated into spaghetti-like strings. So crunchy!

And my last savoury dish arrived. The dissected chicken!! Again, I wonder where the rest of it went, but my fit-to-burst pants said I should not have cared. The dish came with black turnip and celeriac mousseline. I must say, the flavours were underwhelming. The roasted chicken was a piece of art but the flavour combination was rather ordinary, especially considering how mind-blowing the vegetable dishes were.

Desserts! F**k! God! Hell! Yeah!!! I’d rather abstain from food for a whole week, and re-living the experience by blogging, I felt more convinced than ever that I had eaten too much in Paris. Never mind. Let’s get on with the first dessert of…. actually Oh! F**K! GOD! Hell! NO!!! I forgot the cheese was included in my tasting menu. I cringed in horror trying to retain the smile of my face, and while unbuttoning my trousers, I prayed the lady did notice and think I was getting off seeing her slice the big cheese. That would be a re-definition of an orgasmic meal for the wrong reason.

My dessert no.1 came–at last!!–and it was Floating Island of Moccha, Custard and Caramel. Chilled, very light quenelle-shaped moccha. Flavour-wise it was immense but the intense sweetness of the caramel cut through very nicely.

As much as I loved the meal, I was secretly hoping the Floating Island was my last dish. It was not and I saw my suicide on the trolley slowly, very slowy pushed towards my table, halted, sliced and served. The millefeille flaked when it touched my tongue. Indescribable experience of pain of feeling forcefully fed with amazing food.

As if to add the woe to my waist-line misery, the server delivered a platter of petit four on my table. I felt rather elated, as the sighting of petit four suggested the last of the very last course. There were some innovative vegetable macaroons of beetroot, sweet potato and pumpkin. I reached out for them and quietly munched them down my throat as if a robot programmed to finish the meal off. At this point, Alain Passard was mingling with the diners and perhaps seeing the nightmarish look on my face and my ritualistic force-feeding, he only gave me a smile. I tried to smile back but was not so sure if I had managed.

Funnily enough, as I was finishing my macaroons, I had a fright seeing one serve swerve past me with a souffle. And as she turned towards me, as if teasing or at this point bullying me with her dessert, my fright developed into a horror! The souffle was mine!!!! I expressed my wish to her–pleaded almost–that there would be no more dishes to come, or else she would have to put me in a coffin for obese people and ship me back to London. I could not quite remember the flavour of the souffle. It was good but–I mean no disrespect–at that point I could not care less. And my wish was granted: no more dishes, just a box of macaroons to take away for my other bib.

To be honest, I could not ask for a better meal and despite the belly that seemingly stored food bigger than a three-month-old foetus I would love to go back to L’ Arpege. I will not be ordering the tasting menu again, though!

Enough said,

My head rating says, “9 out of 10″.

My heart rating says, “9 out of 10″.

L’ARPEGE

84, Rue de Varenne
75007 Paris
France

Tel. +33 147 05 0906

www.alain-passard.com