Critic’s Notebook
As Thomas Keller’s most influential restaurants hit major birthdays, the cost and the demand have risen. But what about the food and the fun?
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Melissa Clark has eaten at Per Se and the French Laundry several times over the years, and revisited both this fall.
From the earliest days of the French Laundry, you knew to expect a very fine meal as soon as you walked through its signature blue door. What you didn’t see coming were the jokes.
When Thomas Keller opened the restaurant in 1994, fancy food in America was in transition, moving away from its staid, snooty and stiffly French past, toward a locally focused ethos and a looser vibe. Like so many other diners, I made a pilgrimage to Yountville, Calif., to experience what the New York Times critic Ruth Reichl hailed as “the most exciting place to eat in the United States.”
At my first bite of a dish called “oysters and pearls,” I laughed out loud. Who spoons caviar on top of humble tapioca? It was more than daring, it was madness. But it worked — the soft pop of caviar atop bouncy tapioca pearls and plump oysters, all surrounded by sabayon as light and briny as ocean foam. Not only was it one of the most delicious things I’d ever tasted, but its knowing poke at the “haute” in haute cuisine displayed a sense of humor both sophisticated and sly.
And that was just the first of nine courses in a meal so exhilarating and fresh that more than 20 years and countless tasting menus later I can still remember every bite. The silky wobble of the truffle custard as I scooped it with a potato chip from a translucent eggshell. The supple snap of the butter-poached lobster with leeks and beets. The delicate crunch of the salmon tartare cornets, like tiny ice cream cones. Culinary wit and edible puns informed dishes from the “tongue in cheek” (braised beef cheeks and veal tongue with horseradish cream) to the trompe l’oeil “coffee” (actually semifreddo) and real doughnuts for dessert.
Mr. Keller brought this precision and sense of fun — as well as much of the French Laundry menu — to New York City when he opened Per Se to glowing reviews in 2004. At the entrance was an oversize blue door, a nod to the one at the French Laundry, except that it didn’t open. Well-heeled diners were left tugging at the knob until, magically, glass panels on the side opened to admit them. The wizard will see you now.
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