Dick and I have been food lovers for many years. Food is central to our lives, how we spend our time and money, and how we get pleasure. The credit goes to my father, who taught me from a very young age that food consumption isn’t just about subsistence but much more. It involves the pleasure of the dining experience, sharing it with friends and acquaintances, and using it to connect with others and learn from and about them.
My father raised me even though he didn’t have custody of me. Every Saturday, we’d go mushroom hunting, flower picking, or swimming (depending on the season). I loved all those experiences, and so did my friends. They indeed formed who I am today and how Dick and I raised our family. Food preparation was a Saturday ritual. He makes appetizers, a main course, and at least one dessert, accompanied by homemade whipped cream (is there any other???). We’d sit down, often with some of his friends, and spend a relaxed afternoon eating, chatting, and connecting.
When Dick and I got together, we discovered that both of us have a passion for food and everything about it – discovery, purveying, preparing, consuming, sharing, etc., etc., etc. We both loved well-prepared food and could tell whether it was good, brilliant, or just meh. We spent our first twenty years going from one Michelin-starred restaurant to another, teaching our kids what we’re eating and what makes it good or bad. Our favorite restaurants were those with two Michelin stars that were on their way to becoming three stars because of the passion driving the chef to exceed all expectations. I’ll never forget watching Yannick Alleno, now one of the most starred chefs in France, peaking from his kitchen to watch his diners relish the sublime dishes he’d make. They weren’t too small nor too large, all creative for a reason (vs. theatrics), and absolutely divine. His passion came through every binge and every time I’d watch the 26-year-old chef surveying his dining room at the venerable Le Maurice Hotel in Paris.
Similarly, in the tiny town of Greuze, we encountered another amazing chef, Jean Duclot. He said he was at the sunset of his career and never received the third Michelin star because his restaurant was not expensively decorated and appointed. His deep sadness over that omission struck me.
Thomas Keller of French Laundry and Per Se fame, the first American chef to receive 3 Michelin stars, performed to an uncompromising standard, which is why he became the most accomplished American chef of our generation. One day, when we visited him in the kitchen, I noticed dozens of perfectly serviceable ravioli in the trash. When I asked Thomas why they had been chucked, he noted that they weren’t perfectly shaped, which would impact the taste. Of course, he was right. His obsession with perfection made his food divine.
What these chefs had in common is a total commitment to their art, coupled with the acknowledgment that the food should not only look good but taste good. While portions were not huge, they were large enough to get at least three bites and a good sense of the dish.
My beef with the new cuisine, and with almost three Michelin-starred restaurants today (even including the French Laundry), is that the composition, “gimmick,” and look of the dishes became more important than the taste. For example, the #1 restaurant in the world, Central, in Lima, serves food in order of the elevation at which the ingredients were farmed. We ate there when it was “Cafe Central” and when it was Central. The food just isn’t that remarkable, regardless of what height it came from.
Similarly, Cellar Can Rocha in Girona, Spain, has reigned supreme for several years as the best restaurant in the world. We went. The size of each dish was as small as a hazelnut while presented on a much larger and more elaborate platform. Many of the dishes were assembled using tweezers and long pins—the end result – was beautiful food that was too small to appreciate or tastefully. We received a more significant number of dishes but they were not satisfying. It was art for art’s sake, not food.
This is why we stopped going to many of the top restaurants in the world. We just don’t appreciate the food. The experience might be unforgettable, but at the end of the day, we are there to eat and revel in the chef’s FOOD artistry, not just artistry itself.
This is why our favorite restaurant these days is Restaurant Bariess in the Black Forest in Germany, where chef Peter Klaus Lumpp creates unforgettable dishes that highlight a composition of ingredients in various iterations for each dish. For example, get his unique fois gras combination. It likely will include a French vanilla Macaron filled with mousse of foie gras and a dollop of Port wine gel, sautéed piece of fois gras in port sauce with some caramel sauce, and maybe a gelled Port wine roll stuffed with fois gras mousse. The size of each portion is perfect, as is the creativity, including molecular techniques for meaningful taste difference (vs. theatrics), and stunningly creative combinations. No tweezers are needed!
The pictures below can demonstrate what the differences among the traditional, new and optional cuisines from the restaurants mentioned above.
Next time, I’ll share the names of the restaurants Liat and I picked for our food pilgrimage. It was a once-in-lifetime experience!