Meg Zimbeck » Passage des Panoramas

Review: Passage 53

Meg — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 17:03:34 +0000

I’ll admit it: I had low expectations for Passage 53. This newish restaurant inside the city’s oldest covered passageway has drawn very mixed reviews. A number of eaters who I trust have been disappointed here. Other palates had been pleased, but their measured compliments never moved me to pick up the phone.

Then my boyfriend, who wanted to celebrate a new job, asked to go. I’m not one to shy away from spending money on food, but the idea of shelling out €200 for mediocrity was honestly filling me with dread. Nevertheless, I made a same-day reservation and tried to keep an open mind.

It was one of the best meals I’ve ever had. Here’s why:

The product is impeccable. We expect this from a place that’s owned by Hugo Desnoyer, the butcher whose name is scribbled on source-savvy menus all across town. The butter is Bordier, the oysters Gillardeau, the veggies of course are Joël Thibault. These are the things that I will long for if ever I’m forced to leave France.

Star ingredients do not themselves make a meal. In other provenance-crazed restaurants (les Fines Gueules, Racines, Cou de Poule…) they turn in a solid and respectable performance. Under the direction of P53′s chef, they shine. Ballsy combos, complimented by near-perfect technique, coax the best from each element.

Take this dish, for example:

This is arguably the best veal in the capitol, paired with some of the best raw oyster in the world. In another restaurant, either element would likely stand on its own. Putting them together is a bold move – one that frankly doesn’t sound or look appealing – and the taste is shockingly good.

Another winning dish: a perfectly seared piece of calamari on a bed of almond and cauliflower cream with shaved flakes of raw cauliflower on top. It looks innocent (the all-white presentation) and tastes anything but.

For game nuts, there was a saddle of rabbit cooked sous-vide and presented with a civet of the meat in a dark chocolate sauce. It was a heady combination and visually stunning on the plate.

And speaking of chocolate, the demi-tarte that they presented with a scoop of very coffee ice cream had the thinnest crust I’ve ever seen in my life. I took a post-bite photo as evidence. Really, wow.

And that dessert wasn’t even my favorite. The pear ice cream with candied celery sort of blew my mind (again).

At dinner, there are dégustation menus at both €60 and €80. With four glasses (each) paired by Guillaume, including two coupes of Jacquesson, our tab climbed to €248. At that price, this isn’t an every day sort of place. But for a celebration? Absolutely.

In a nutshell: Hit Passage 53 for a special splurge, and you’ll be delighted by the controlled daring and near-perfect technique using France’s best ingredients.

> Reprinted with permission from The Girls’ Guide to Paris

> Read more trusted reviews for Passage 53 at Paris by Mouth

Pierre Jancou: pulling up the Racines

Meg — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 14:02:30 +0000

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.

However shocking it might seem, this isn’t the first time that Jancou has built and sold a thriving enterprise at the height of its popularity. He offloaded his previous project, la Crèmerie, just as the mainstream press were climbing on board. The right owner and offer came along, he told me, just as he was beginning to tire of his Saint-Germain clientele. Too many of them were overlooking his hand-selected vins naturels and only wanted to drink Bordeaux.

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: