This is my third time eating here, my last visit being around 2017. A fair amount can change in a decade, but not always for the better. I am sure that à la carte was still available back then, so to now find a single tasting menu for everyone in the room, with little else on offer, felt rigid. Much of what I ate before was still here; it hadn’t gone away, even after ten years or more. Signatures are signatures, I suppose, so it makes sense for those to stay, but I specifically remember my earlier meals surpassing this one.
You simply have to choose between five or seven sequences, and even five was pushing it. I would have preferred a starter, main and dessert — nothing more, and possibly even less given the choice. There are no other options now. Even booking was a bit of a pain, though the restaurant handled this well. I didn’t book months or weeks in advance, just on the day, and due to some unprecedented issues on my side, the restaurant still managed to accommodate us.
The sequence of seven didn’t appeal to me, so opting for five was the only way. We started with scallops from Normandy, served as a carpaccio with geranium ice cream, sake and yuzu. It was a gentle introduction to the menu, with a light, feminine touch. Unfortunately, the ice cream was too cold. I’m not sure whether this was a preparation issue or a freezer problem, but in the centre, it tasted purely of ice, with the flavour completely masked. This was a shame, as otherwise the dish bonded well with the other ingredients, the scallop being sweet, soft and melting in the mouth.
The waitress told us the story of berlingots, a traditional French hard candy, which inspired the next dish. They were stuffed with Camembert de Normandie A.O.P., and the pasta was suitable for gluten‑free people (which does not happen often in restaurants). This dish was the most successful of the night; I could easily have eaten more of them.
The mackerel that followed was a disappointment. It was nothing like the one at Omar Dhiab. Theirs is served in its truest, purest form, whereas this one was far too cooked and misjudged. They sat on opposite sides of the scale — two extremes, two very different interpretations. I am always hesitant about using leek in dishes unless it has been meticulously prepared. Is it just me, or do you also find it stringy and hard to swallow? That was the case here; I simply couldn’t eat it. The only way I enjoy leek is when it is blended into a vichyssoise, but that is down to personal opinion. You don’t have to agree with me on this, but the dish failed to come together as a whole.
The Aveyron lamb saddle gave us even more to critique and discuss. It was chewy, which is surprising given that the region is remarkable for its lamb. I couldn’t connect the dots, leaving much of what I was trying to eat on the plate. We added extra truffle to this course, which felt wasted. There is little point discussing the other elements if the lamb itself is not up to scratch.
The cheese course was possibly the best of the night. A hybrid between savoury and dessert, it used a 24‑month‑aged Comté, served warm with small pieces of pear underneath. Balance maintained, texture intact, deliciousness scored. Intrigue heightened. This dish has my full approval.
In 2017, I couldn’t stop talking about the signature dessert, but I hate to say it — it may have had its day. I wanted the sweetness level ramped right up. Millefeuille is one of my all‑time favourites, and I like it when there is more intensity on the sweet side, but here it felt like eating mountains of cream between the layers, yearning for more vanilla and more of everything. The foam suddenly felt unnecessary; I’m not sure what it added. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all terrible — just off‑balance in my eyes.
My conclusion is straightforward: removing the à la carte was a bad move. You could navigate minor slip‑ups like those above by coming in just for the berlingots or selecting only the dishes you wanted to eat. But they took away our freedom! and that is something I wish to keep.
