Pierre Jancou, the photogenic owner of Racines, sent me a sad email this morning:
Finally Racines will be sold next friday and I will go to the Drôme region next to my family and have new adventures.
Three months after cashing the Crèmerie check, Jancou was back with Racines. For this next venture, he opted for the bustling neighborhood just south of Grands Boulevards. It was more populaire, he explained, and had the advantage of being within walking distance from most media HQs. After years of catering to left-bank customers, Jancou adopted a bold (some might say bullying) take-it-or-leave it approach with Racines. Every bottle and ingredient was hand-selected and special. The butter was Bordier. The veggies, Passard. If there was head cheese, it came from the world’s best prize-winning producer, and you’d be a fool - a FOOL ! - not to eat it.
As for the wine, Racines stocked 100% vins naturels. These wines, when they are good, can be transformative. They can also taste like feet. But returning a ripe and funky wine was never really an option at Racines. It wasn’t the wine that was off - it was the inability of your mainstream palate to appreciate the terroir. Jancou cultivated his small-batch producers with the same love and attention that they directed to their grapes. They were his friends, his investment, the subject of his self-published poetry. Who were you to have a contrary opinion?
I say this as someone who supplicated from the very first moment. I was humble and beseeching and more than a little star-struck. My dining companions were the same. And in exchange for being open, for being glad to be there, we were treated with generosity and love. It was that kind of place - arrive empty, leave full.
Nevertheless, I’ve received plenty of reports about rough treatment at the hands of Jancou. These well-meaning victims all had one mistake in common: they thought they were eating at a restaurant. Racines was never a restaurant. It may have been classified as such at the editorial desk, but in reality it was a school. You had to reserve, arrive on time, and treat your teacher with respect. If you behaved as a mere customer and were not properly hot for teacher, then teacher, by all accounts, could be a dick. Rightly so.
Whatever dick/Jancou does next, I’m sure there will be a line of students clamoring to enroll. And I’ll be there, apple in hand, right among them.
In memory of Racines:
I, for one, will certainly miss Pierre and Racines. While the wines weren’t always sublime, they had a lot of character, like Pierre.
Great article! Loved the wit.
Martina from The Foreign Kitchen
Read about this fabulous “wine bar,” and finally decided to check it out. Only problem was that it was NOT a wine bar, and although teacher (aka REAL dick) was quick to very RUDELY tell us that, he never bothered to correct this misnomer in any articles that were written about Racine’s. And he knew they were referring to it as a wine bar because he had commented on EVERY article I ever read calling Racine’s a wine bar. This guy is so over impressed with himself, and believe it or not, we found outstanding food all over Paris prepared by chefs who actually appreciated our patronage. No loss, this one.
We’ll miss it.
He will probably learn good manners and real openness with goats and sheep in Drome.
And he might come back to Paris and open another “machin”, as he did after the Crèmerie sale.
BTW: Seems it’s still open. We could make reservations for coming Monday.
That’s right, Sigrid. Racines isn’t closing, but Pierre’s involvement is finished. Sven Chartier, the chef who came to work with Pierre last January, is staying, as are most of the staff. And the new owner David (Café Moderne) seems to want to keep the spirit of Racines intact. We’ll see!
So then not all hope is lost …