PARIS

LE GRAND VÉFOUR

La Vrand Vefour, Paris, France I like many things about the 18^th Century. Its architecture and its furniture provide us with some of the supreme achievements of humankind. And so does one of its restaurants.

Let us go back to 1784. The place is Paris. Monsieur Aubertot decides to open an eatery in the arcade at the bottom of the Palais Royal gardens. He calls it the Café de Chartres. Eventually, it is bought by Jean Véfour and before long – Mr Véfour not being one to stand in the way of a little self-aggrandizement – the name of the dining room is Le Grand Véfour. And thus it is today. In this place Napoleon discussed tactics with Josephine, Victor Hugo thought about the miserable ones, Jean-Paul Sartre pondered the mystery of existence…and I ate foie gras ravioli with truffled cream.

I first tasted this sublime masterpiece some years ago, when the chef – the brilliant Guy Martin from Savoy – could boast only two Michelin stars. I said then that it was an outrage that a man who could produce this edible masterpiece was denied a third star. It took the Michelin men until 2000 to concede my point. Now, at last, Mr Martin has joined the culinary elite and is a three-star chef. At my recent visit, he was looking younger than ever (he was born in 1957), so I conclude that such deserved recognition does wonders for one’s metabolism.

I sat at one of my favourite tables, the one in the corner to which the writer Colette, crippled with rheumatism, would be carried. There I perched on the crimson velvet banquette, a white tablecloth before me, sipped from a flute of pink Taittinger champagne and admired once again this exquisite jewel box of a room. Few spaces can boast such a purposeful riot of black, gold, red and white. This confection both pleases and relaxes. As the tables filled, an atmosphere of easy enjoyment filled the air as the waiters in black tie began to bring forth the kitchen’s splendours.

As you would expect, this is not a cheap restaurant. The four-course meal I am about to describe costs £165 for one person, not including the wine. But the quality of the ingredients and the expertise and intelligence with which they are handled make this a price well worth paying. Take the truffle. I nearly said, the humble truffle – but there is nothing humble about the black truffle. For my inspection, Le Grand Véfour’s efficient and charming maitre d’, Christian David, brought a silver bowl piled high with the divine fungus. I sniffed. (What did I smell? The concentrated aroma of a prep school laundry basket. This sounds foul, does it not? And yet somehow, in context, it is utterly captivating.) Mr David explained that it had, in fact, been a poor year for truffles and that it had taken 25 kilos to produce this bowl of top quality specimens.

To begin my meal, therefore, it was right to choose the salad of potatoes and truffles. This was simplicity itself: a plate of sliced, boiled potatoes, covered with slices of truffle, over which I was encouraged to sprinkle a little sea salt. Delicious. Then the precious gem. Soft pasta cases enclosing hot, melting, duck foie gras with an accompaniment of foamed cream shot through with specks of more black truffle. I have yet to find a dish in the world with which I would prefer to begin a meal. Words cannot do it justice, so I will simply say – divine.

For my main course I chose a roasted pigeon, the deep flavour of its pink flesh enriched with a truffled jus. (You will forgive me, I hope, for being unable to resist the truffle when it is in season.) To add an extra dimension of taste and texture, there came also on the plate a small piece of toast topped with foie gras. To finish, a contrasting touch of lightness in a (goat’s) cheesecake with pieces of mango and a litchi sorbet.

Wine here need not cause bankruptcy. A white from the Languedoc can be had for £24. Apart from 8 ‘foreign’ bottles, including one from Greece, the selection is entirely French and includes many of the most prestigious names. Your sweet tooth can be satisfied by 1949 Yquem at £1500, and your craving for the top red burgundy by 1991 Romanée-Conti at £3000. Sommelier Richard Dedebat brought me two burgundies from the Côte de Beaune. The white Santenay (Les Gravières, Dom. Borgeot, 1999 - £52) was excellent – its toast, butter and solid structure making it a fine accompaniment for the truffle salad and the ravioli. But the red Savigny-Les-Beaune was a real disappointment – slight, weak, bland, indifferent – best forgotten (which, doubtless, is why I omitted to note its name…).

Yet this tiny blemish simply emphasized just how immaculate was everything else at Le Grand Véfour – especially that foie gras ravioli. For giving us this wonderful restaurant, I salute the 18^th Century.

PARIS

LE GRAND VÉFOUR

ADDRESSES

LE GRAND VÉFOUR