Gaya par pierre gagnaire

He was orphaned and had been brought up by a strict and authoritative grandmother.

Restaurants in Paris: Gaya by Chef Pierre Gagnaire

I was too impressed by him to ever work for him. Inhe returned to France and Paris, working at the Intercontinental before the legendary Lucas Carton, but he was abroad again two years later par he set off on a par tour du mondefocusing on the New World. By this time I had realised that cooking was how I could express myself, but with my father in the background.

I could not do what I wanted. It was a testing time indeed — customers were even unhappy that their French chef had married a Pierre. It was only inwhen Jean-Claude retired, that he was able to close le Clos Fleury and open his own venture, Aux Passementiers. In only his first year he had won his first star and, inhis second.

By he at last had all three. N evertheless, gagnaire this supreme reward was not enough to save the restaurant from the ultimate embarrassment, bankruptcy, three years later. He retained two of his stars. T he turn of the century brought with it further reward. Several, sizeable circular tables cover the lower level whilst half-a-dozen smaller ones line the two raised levels either side of the main space.

The ceiling is sombre grey; walls light, lacquered gaya and carpet, a narrow-pinstripe of greens and browns. Pieces of abstract art, some on loan from Galerie Lelong and flower arrangements by Christian Tortu are scattered around the room and a glass-faced wine cellar fringes the furthest wall. T he carte is not a curt affair.

I t was as I perused these scripts that Gagnaire entered the dining room to greet his guests. When he came to my table, unexpectedly he recognised me from my last meal at Sketch. After a short conversation, the chef kindly volunteered to cook for me himself — needless to say, I indulged him…. The first set of amuses totalled a trio of separate servings.

The curried stick and thyme went well with the peppery, herby Italian oil whilst a cut of romaine rib glazed with anchovy, balanced on the brim beneath, was cooling and salty. S ubsequent to these came a circular study in reds. Atop a wide white plate, rippled with easy etchings, sat a threesome of varyingly round items.

On the far left lip, a tall, oversized thimble filled with syrupy fruit ratatouille was capped with a thin beetroot crisp and crowned with a tiny brick of its jelly. Miniature brioche loaf was faintly crusty and hardly heavy; sharply-pointed baguette had more crunch and tore nicely; and brittle black olive crisp had good flavour.

Two butters — both Bordier — were brought out on their own tableware: a silver coaster of unrefined beurre demi-sel ; and a green saucer with gagnaire brick of beurre aux algues. The second array of amuses arrived in five parts. A squared central dish was found in the customary spot as four smaller, differently-shaped ones were dealt out in a semicircle around it.

One began with horseradish mousse mounted with a jellied layer of white beer and quenelle of daikon ice cream spiked through pierre balsamic gaya and finished with a wafer of raw radish.