A final meal at L'Astrance

A Really Good Day:
Wake up.
Shower, put on new moss green silk skirt from Zadig & Voltaire.
Walk to restaurant.
Eat lunch all afternoon.
Walk home, stopping briefly in Passy to shop at the sales.
Return to pajamas, because hey, the day's almost done!

Let me tell you about the lunch I had a few days ago. It took three hours and fifteen minutes. It was over too quickly. It was Japanesey and Frenchy. It cost 70 euros before wine. It was a bargain. It was served by very friendly waiters. It was six blocks from my apartment.

It was at L'Astrance.

The restaurant itself is not imposing; it's quite small, with interesting charcoal grey walls, saffron-colored banquettes and vivid glass chargers at every table. It feels fresh and modern, and the tables were well-spaced, close enough to eavesdrop on the increasingly sloppy American wine professionals sitting next to us, but not so close that we felt forced to enter into their slurred conversation. (The highlight came over dessert, when the woman leaned over to her partner and stage-whispered, "Get a load of all the plastic on that woman's face two tables down! Why do women DO that to themselves??" They were fascinating both for their incredible tackiness, and for the fact that the food seemed an afterthought to them, a mere accompaniment to the endless parade of wines that continually arrived at their table.)

We had a choice of three menus that ranged from 70 to 150 euros for lunch. The 70 euro menu, which we both ordered, is called "Le Menu Surprise" and they mean it. Not a single dish was listed. When I asked what kind of meat they would be serving in the plat, they refused to tell me. "C'est une surprise," our waiter insisted. Apparently! I can see how this might rankle some personalities, but not mine. They were happy to listen to any requests, preferences, or allergy concerns. My only request was not to have pigeon, which appeared all over the rest of the menu and which I sensed might be making an appearance in our big fat secret meal. I'm just not a pigeon-lovin' kind of gal at present.

The staff at L'Astrance differed from the other Michelin-starred places I've tried. For the most part, our meal was an unending, intricate ballet of two servers appearing at precisely the right moment to deliver our dishes in a coordinated sequence of placement, preparation, and pouring. This is typical. But they did it with just the right amount of formality to underscore the care that went into our meal, while at the same time remaining constantly at the ready to return our smiles or make a couple of quick jokes.

I'll tell you what. I love good food, but I can't stand pretension. I'm not saying that a fancy restaurant should be a circus that keeps its patrons constantly amused, but I appreciate it when people break across the barriers of all this imposed formality and feel comfortable enough to crack a smile or two. Eating out should not be stressful or intimidating. And L'Astrance agrees with me. So I like them.

About the food: allow me to offer some quick comparisons (again, based on one meal only at each place) between Pierre Gagnaire and L'Astrance. Where Pierre Gagnaire was formal, L'Astrance was breezy. Where Gagnaire's food was imbalanced and quirky, L'Astrance was smooth and elegant. It felt like a cohesive meal rather than a succession of someone's unrelated ideas. While I remember certain brilliant dishes from Gagnaire and have forgotten the rest, I can recall everything from L'Astrance.

The food was airy, tangy, zesty. Our menu flirted with Japanese ingredients, matching them to French flavors with varying degrees of success. The scallop tartare with lime and dashi was wonderful; the coupling of Tomme de Savoie, ginger and guinea hen was just so-so. The cod brandade studded with bits of black truffle was sublime, and while the layered concoction of carrot, cardamon and clementine was delicious, I have to admit I wish French chefs would break free of the creamy-stuff-layered-in-a-shot-glass thing. It's everywhere and it always strikes me as being overly fussy.

I give L'Astrance big props for not serving a single morsel of chocolate with dessert. That may sound strange coming from a certified chocolate obsessive, but it's a bold move to make in a country that doesn't tend to embrace big breaks with culinary tradition. The fruit plate and pear clafoutis matched the rest of the meal perfectly. I think chocolate, dare I say it, might have been overkill.

I've listed our menu below. You can see pictures of some of our dishes on this guy's blog; looks like he ate there last month and some of the items on his menu were the same as ours.

Here's what we had:

1. Tiny slices of toasted brioche with black truffle butter and a small spoon of parmesan rosemary mousse

2. Veloute of carrots with cardamon yogurt on the bottom and clementine sabayon on top in a shot glass

3. Two St. Jacques atop a curry yogurt sauce and wilted baby spinach, served alongside a small bowl of dashi, lime, herbs and St. Jacques tartare

4. Sole with cod brandade studded with black truffles, mussels and eel foam

5. Guinea hen with sauteed leeks and ginger, fondue of Tomme de Savoie and an aubergine and miso custard

6. Celeriac veloute topped with black truffle cream, a dollop of parmesan mousse, hazelnut oil and a big fat slice of black truffle

7. Ginger, basil, mint, lemongrass and pepper sorbet (Pacojetted, so it was creamy and mousse-like)

8. Two mini pear clafoutis with lime zest and passionfruit caramel, served alongside an almond sabayon and a pineapple sorbet quenelle, sprinkled with praline

9. Fresh tropical fruit (mango, banana, pineapple, physalis, clementine, kiwi) with mini chestnut honey madeleines on the side, and two eggshells filled with jasmine cream (almost like a creme anglaise crossed with eggnog)