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CALIFORNIA YOUNTVILLE, NAPA VALLEY THE FRENCH LAUNDRY
In the picture-perfect little town of Yountville, surrounded by the gentle hills of the Napa Valley, lies a stone building of two stories. It has a pleasant garden and some sympathetic extensions, but – externally at least – it is unremarkable. It is easy to walk or drive by without even noticing that it is a restaurant. It is discreet. One might therefore suppose that, for example, one’s taxi-driver would have trouble finding it. Not so. For this modest pile has brought fame and prestige to Yountville, and everyone for many miles around knows exactly where it is. As they should, for The French Laundry is easily a match for a three-starred restaurant in France. Indeed, as the Michelin inspectors have finally made it across the Atlantic, it now has three Michelin stars of its own. Were such an absurd category to exist, I might even suggest that it should be in the four-star division, so much do I admire the eating experience it offers.
On this occasion I sat in a small room off the main ground floor dining room. (There is another dining room upstairs.) The table was large and round and covered with fine white damask. (Napkins are, of course, replaced whenever diners leave their places for a moment.) To my left was a window into the wine cellar, of which more later. Since my last visit, new lampshades had appeared – bearing laundry symbols, like an iron (a typical example of Mr Keller’s quiet sense of humour). In the discreet lighting, waiters in dark suits moved purposefully about their business. I will pause for a moment to praise the front-of-house staff. Under the direction of Nicolas Fanucci, a splendid Frenchman from Cannes, they perform their tasks with easy charm and absolute professionalism. I have the sense that they believe it is a privilege to work here. They are right, but it is also a privilege to be served by waiters like Eric Deis and Milton Higgins. They make every guest at The French Laundry feel rather special. I gained a further idea of the quality of this staff a few days later. Eating at a good restaurant in San Francisco, I spied at the next table Zion Curiel, a waiter from The French Laundry, with his lady friend. They were undoubtedly the most elegant couple in the restaurant, and Mr Curiel looked – I have to admit – even better dressed than your correspondent.
A small bowl of carrot soup contained the very essence of carrot; gratinated cod with soya beans tickled my taste buds; and caviar and cauliflower cream created a luscious harmony. Then I was on to the meal proper. The brilliant (and famous), life-enhancing egg shell, filled with white truffle egg custard and a ragout of black truffles, came first, followed by a refreshing salad of artichokes and tomatoes. Then it was grilled tuna, with eggplant and olive purée. Next was lobster tail, with braised lettuce, potato and a truffle emulsion – a tour de force of wonderful textures and flavours. Six types of salt came with the fried foie gras. The liver was served with hazelnuts and caramelized banana, a successful combination which was new to me. My meat was beef (Snake River Farm beef), which was fantastically and gloriously fatty and was so soft it caressed my mouth with loveliness. Its accompanying sauce Bordelaise was just right. Chocolate parfait and mint syrup were spot on and the ‘coffee and doughnuts’ (cinnamon-sugared doughnuts with cappuccino semi-freddo) – one of my favourite dishes in the world – were, needless to say, brilliant. (Several set menus are available. Expect to pay $150-$200 each for the food.)
I knew that I was in safe hands with Monsieur Castellis. He took me to Germany for a riesling of sublime balance, mineral flavours and pure finesse (Dönnhoff, Oberhäuser Brücke, Nahe, 2004 - $155). And for my red, there came the 2001 vintage of Mr Keller’s own wine, a cabernet called Modicum. With an entrancing, highly perfumed nose, majestically ripe black fruit and a sense of real elegance, this wine was a star (Morrell Vineyard, Rutherford - $195). Such wonderful drinking makes me weep for the teetotallers. Well, I have tried to avoid those much-abused superlatives during the course of this piece. But it has been difficult. In truth, The French Laundry and Thomas Keller deserve a whole dictionary of them.
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ADDRESSES THE FRENCH LAUNDRY
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© Francis Bown 2003
The meaning of the superlative has been undermined by the mass media. On television, in newspapers, even nowadays on the wireless (which in Britain, at least, has a couple of channels which have managed to maintain some semblance of decency and order), it seems that every story must scream at us in the language of extremity. Many, clearly, believe that this is the only way to attract and hold our attention. Such debasement of our public discourse is vulgar. And it creates a real difficulty. What words are left when one encounters something which truly needs to be described with superlatives? This is my current problem. For I have just been back to what might well be the best restaurant in the world – The French Laundry.
Thomas Keller (pictured) is the genius in the kitchen. I first met him some years ago, when I was in the habit of attending the Masters of Food & Wine event in Carmel-by-the-Sea. I found him courteous, modest and dedicated – characteristics I admire, although they are not always found in great chefs. Here we come to that problem with over-used words. I call Mr Keller a genius. But now we call everyone with the slightest talent a genius. So I will allow the food he produces do the talking. It speaks of a palate which is sensitive, refined and sophisticated; it speaks of an intelligence which is wide-ranging, adventurous and playful; and it speaks of a technique which is disciplined, masterly and firmly rooted in the French tradition.
So to my dinner. No one goes to The French Laundry for a quick snack. This is a place for a proper meal, eaten at a proper pace. Thus the pleasure is extended to several hours. And real pleasure it is. I try to reserve my ‘superb’ rating for dishes which are exceptional. A restaurant in which I award one dish this rating is a seriously good restaurant. If I include the three appetizers in my calculation, I ate eleven courses. Six of them simply had to be rated ‘superb’, and none of the others dipped below ‘very good’. This was astonishing, and meant that everyone in the kitchen was worthy of high praise.
Such food deserves the finest wine. Head sommelier Gregory Castellis, from Aix-en-Provence, presides over a cellar which can provide exactly that. A white burgundy? Here is a choice of 19 Montrachets (with the 2003 DRC priced at $4,105). A first growth claret from a legendary vintage? Would you prefer the 1961 Haut Brion ($4,300) or the 1961 Latour ($5,000)? Or perhaps the finest red from Australia? 1978 Penfolds Grange is $1,400. If the most highly prized red Californians are more to your taste, the 1998 Screaming Eagle is $2,250.