Given the distance to the restaurant, I decided to make a weekend out of it.  I’d arrive Saturday afternoon and leave late Sunday night to catch the night train.  This would enable me to order the entire menu and pace myself to better understand the cooking of Chef Bras.  36-hours of Bras would mean two dinners, a breakfast, and a lunch.  I was more than ready.

Coming from Paris, the countryside feels strange and foreign.  Bright green rolling hills and dark textured clouds make this place of nature feel like an alien world.  Things move fast here, perhaps faster than Paris: a beautiful sunny day can turn dark and stormy in minutes.  There is a powerful mix of light and dark, movement and still, quiet and noise which exemplifies the chaos that is nature: its essence can barely be tamed.

The all-glass dining room overlooks the countryside letting in the natural beauty but keeping out the harshness.  It looks like a spaceship.  From a calm climate-controlled room nature’s fury seems all but turbulent.  The wide expanse of earth and sky glow like an illuminated landscape.  The only displayed art is that of the flora and fauna, far more impressive than oil and canvas.

The attitude of the staff here is calm and peaceful — much like a visit to a day spa.  The receptionists speak just above a whisper.  For a fully occupied Relais & Châteaux, Michel Bras makes guests feel like the only occupants.  The one seating per lunch and dinner further facilities a sense of serenity.  Instead of rushing out the door to beat rush-hour traffic, a calm stroll from the guest room to the dining room takes all of two minutes.  It also helps that there is really nothing to do in the local area, besides a requisite visit to the Laguiole Knife Factory.  This really makes diners think about their surroundings and appreciate its glory.

I showered and got ready for a seven o’clock seating.  At this point the sun was just starting to reach the horizon.  It was spectacularly beautiful.

The oversized menus were surprisingly easy to read.  To the left was a humble collection of dishes, to the right, an extended tasting.  On the first night, I went with the tasting.  The meal started with a glass of house champagne and a delicate oeuf en cocotte.  The egg custard was served in shell with a hint of sherry vinegar for acidity.  This was closer to Manresa’s rendition than the original served at L’Arpège.  The subtle swirl of acidity cut through the egg’s monotony rendering a different flavor with each spoonful.  The toasted multigrain bread sticks added a chewy crunch and absorbed the remaining yolk.

The orchestra of amuses bouches hit all the notes: sweet, savory, spicy, bitter, salty, and acidic.  The bite-sized spoonfuls ensured that all the ingredients properly mixed at once to highlight the full spectrum of flavor.  Each spoonful carried a blend of crisp fresh vegetables with raw lamb or sea bream.  This was edible art.

Le Gargouillou – This Bras-originating dish has been borrowed and re-invented all across the world.  A simple medley of garden vegetables and flowers, each individually blanched to its ideal time, assembled together as a Leviathan of flavor and beauty.  This is evidence that when nature is left to speak for itself magical things can happen.  This salad was as fun to look at as it was to eat.  The Gargouillou gives new meaning to garden diversity.  With over fifty ingredients — some as scarce on the plate as a single leaf — each bite was completely different.

A thin slice of cured meat was buried beneath a heap of flowers and leaves adding salt and depth.  The fat from the meat somehow coats the vegetables and enhances their flavor making each component taste much more intense.

So many aspects of this dish were given careful consideration and thought: it is perfectly balanced.  Crunchy but soft elements give the dish an overall consistency that overcomes clashes of flavor creating a coherence rather than a collection of individual ingredients.  This salad is a true trip to the nearby meadow.

La dorade royale de saint Jean de Luz et les primeurs, relevés de boeuf séché et de grillons-noisette, ciboule de Saint Jacques et peucedanum – Sea bream with cured meat, spring vegetables, hazelnut, and scallop.  This was a generous filet of fish which was surprisingly fresh given the restaurant’s land-locked location far from the sea.  The fresh peas were blanched for no longer than a few seconds ensuring that the starch was removed but the crunchiness preserved.  This was a welcome addition to the smooth fish.

La tranche de foie gras de canard grillée, confit acide de fraises et cèbe de Lézignan rôtie, valériane phu et niac, citron, cumin, anis vert – A generous lobe of grilled foie gras with acidulated strawberries and spices.  The liver was thick and creamy, its fattiness kept in check by the fruity — but not sweet — acidulated strawberries.  This dish was served with no bread of any kind making the texture a bit wearisome, a thin slice of bread would have gone a long way to absorb all the oils.

The waiter explained that in keeping with local Aubrac tradition, the knife would not be replaced throughout the meal.  Rather my knife was my tool and would be mine for the next few hours.  I really liked this concept in theory, but in practice the knife got kind of gross.  I found myself secretly cleaning it.

Les asperges blanches croûtées aux truffes de Comprégnac, pousses de pois et pois, de la peau de lait – Lightly cooked white asparagus encrusted in black truffle served with green peas in a cream sauce.  Despite being late in the season, the grated truffles were amazingly fragrant and acted like breadcrumbs to absorb the creamy sauce.  The salting was generous — essential to bring out all the earthy nuances of the cream.  This was one of the highlights of the night.

L’endive farcie au gras, huile rance comme une crème et un jus aux truffes de Comprégnac – An endive bulb served with a black truffle cream. The endive was thoroughly cooked to remove all bitterness rendering its flavor closer to lettuce.  This also caused the multiple layers to merge into a single mash.  This was my least favorite course of the night as I found its flavor one-dimensional and simply unappealing.  The truffles were not detectable.

Le carré d’agneau Allaiton rôti sur os, sarrasin grillé dit kasha et côtes de moutarde, lait de coco et coriandre, le jus d’agneau – Roasted lamb and grilled buckwheat with large grains of mustard seed, coconut milk, jus, and cilantro.  This was surprisingly good.  The mustard offered a hint of spice without the sour acidity that often follows the vinegar.  The hint of coconut milk and dash of cilantro brightened the jus making this a fantastic combination of east meets west.  My palette got a bit tired, however, after the third bite.  This was a really large portion.  Too big, I think.

Stringy Mashed Potatoes – This local delicacy, a combination of pureed potatoes and cheese, stretched nearly a meter in the air from the fork to the plate.  The cheese added density and made the gritty potatoes squeak with each bite.  While dense the flavor was clean and not greasy.  An additional splash of butter a la Joël Robuchon would have gone a long way, but I appreciated the dish’s simplicity.

Les Fromages – A potpourri of local and imported cheeses including all the all-stars (Roquefort, Comte, Fourme d’Ambert) as well as some next-door delicacies no bigger than a silver dollar.

Le biscuit tiède de chocolat, rhum coulant, sorbet banane-caramélisée au beurre demi-sel – Though a contentious debate, it’s quite probable that the chocolate coulant was invented here a long time ago by Chef Bras.  A wedge of frozen chocolate is centered in what appear to be chocolate batter “muffin trays” before baking.  When the batter cooks the interior simply melts.  The shell is very dry: more like a cookie than a moist cake, which is Bras’s intention.  The texture crumbles and fractures due to its frailness.  The inside is piping hot as its trip from the oven to the plate is less than a minute.  The flavor is of deep and rich chocolate with the sweetness coming from the salted caramalized-banana sorbet adorning the top.  Only when the ice cream and liquid core mix with the dry crust does the texture become balanced.  This was wonderful and very different from the chocolate coulants imitated elsewhere.  Somehow here, the dessert was light and delicate.

Une gaufrette de pomme de terre, crème à la pomme de terre, pignon et safran – A delicate potato wafer with potato cream and saffron.  The flavor was sweet and earthy, but tasted a bit too much like mashed potatoes with sugar for me to enjoy past the second bite.  Interesting concept, not so interesting flavor.

Petits Fours - A granted slate topped with pot de creme, hazelnut-infused dark and milk chocolate squares, and custard.  By this point in the meal I was stuffed.

I finished my first meal here satisfied but lukewarm with content.  Many of the dishes were beautiful and conceptually simple but their flavors ordinary and uninteresting.  There was no bill presented; rather, everything is settled at check out.  Waiting for me was the key to my room which had been turned down.  Needless to say, I fell asleep pretty quickly.

I am so glad that I decided to spend the night as the next morning I awoke in what seemed to be a completely different restaurant.  It turns out that Chef Bras was not in the kitchen during my first night.  He was, however, in the kitchen for my second lunch and dinner.  And his precision and keen eye for extracting nature’s best flavors showed.

Shortly after waking up I walked outside my room and admired the bed of wildflowers carpeting the rolling hills all the way into the horizon.  It really doesn’t do justice to eat dinner here: the true natural beauty can only be seen during daylight.  I stopped by the dining room for a morning snack before heading out.

Morning Pastry Basket – A basket of fresh baked French pastries including a croissant, pain au chocolat, and miniature baguette.  By the time I crawled down to breakfast with my food hangover from the night before, the pastries had already cooled.  But guests who awoke bright and early, just a few hours after dinner had ended, enjoyed warm pastries.  The pastries were served with local confitures (apricot and raspberry) as well as honey.

Local “pancake” – A savory pancake dusted with sliced scallion and salt.  The pancake was served at room temperature causing the absorbed cooking oil to coat the surface.  Considering I was eating lunch in just under two hours, I asked for a second croissant and baguette took a few small bites and went outside to further explore the surroundings and build up an appetite before lunch.

The day was absolutely gorgeous: A cool 65 degrees, light wind, and bright sun.  The sounds of wild birds and wind brushing against the greenery made the experience tranquil, the sea of wild flowers and high contrast clouds made it surreal.  It was at this moment that I understood the source of chef Bras’s inspiration: his color palate comes from a walk through these hills, his use of light and dark from the contrast between the earth and sky.

Lunch started with Le Gargouillou, and while the ingredients were nearly identical to the evening before, its flavor tasted completely different.  This time it tasted sweeter, fresher, and less salty.  It is truly amazing the sheer diversity of flavors and textures that compose these greens.  I was tempted to ask for a second round.  This was an unbelievable portrait of nature at its best.

Les asperges vertes poêlées dans une beurre au curry; coriandre, ail des ours et du lassi épicé – Green asparagus with a curry butter, cilantro, wild garlic, and herbes.  The hint of curry added a tannic element to the butter making it creamier and richer but with more structure.  The asparagus were gently salted and very lightly cooked preserving their crunch.  This was an excellent segue-way from the Gargouillou onto more substantive plates.

Tellement gouteux de jeunes navets et les premiers champignons, pousses de pois, pois et cresson alénois – Young turnips, first mushrooms of the spring, sweet peas and watercress.  Oh my god this was delicious!  The buttery cream sauce melded with the textured mushrooms filling every pocket and dimple on its rough surface.  Its flavor was earthy and creamy, yet generously salted and fresh.  The watercress leaves added a refreshing crunch and the sweet peas were some of the most flavorful and intense I’ve ever tasted.  This was unbelievable.

La pomme de terre roulée à l’anchois, côtes et feuilles de moutarde, jus au pain – Potato rolled with anchovy, mustard leaves and garnished with a light butter sauce.  The texture of the potato was light, its matryoshka-doll layers really helped absorption of the light sauce.  Somehow Bras took an ingredient, deconstructed it, and made it better.  The thin strips of anchovy added salt and created hints of crunch.

The ten or so of layers of the potato became crystal clear when cut in half.

Chou-rave cuit en cocotte, doré à l’orange, baignées d’un lait d’orge torréfié – Kohlrabi “casserole”, golden orange, bathed in a roasted barley milk.  This dish was bright and clean, the barley milk thin and light.  What I liked most about this dish was the raw and unrefined flavor of the turnip garnished with the polished, earthy barley milk.  The milk somehow made the turnip taste sweet without adding extra sugar.

Une crème de laitue à la livèche, copeaux de poutargue et de ventrèche – thin slices of bottarga and cured meat shaved atop a thick lettuce cream.  The lean bottarga was pleasantly salty but not fishy and complimented the fatty slices of pork belly.  There was a distinct vegetal bitterness that came from the cooked lettuce, much like endive.

La pièce de’Boeuf Aubrac – pure race – poêlée, une pomme de terre farcie du jus aux truffes de Comprégnac – A gorgeous medallion of local Aubrac beef, lightly pan seared and served with a truffled potato sandwich and sugar snap peas.  The meat was rare, tender, and lean.  The color was a brilliant magenta which contrasted sharply against the bright white salt crystals.  The crisped potato sandwiched turnip, and local greens.  The potato stood upright keeping it from becoming soggy in the truffle butter sauce, a very clever solution to a common problem.  This course was fantastic.

In all the lunch meal was much more exciting and innovative than dinner the night before.  Though each dish still had a solid foundation in local meats and produce, things felt more refined and focused.  The flavors were much more vivid, as were the colors.  It was clear that chef Bras was in the kitchen, and he and his team were working at their peak.

I finished lunch around four in the afternoon and had a bit of time before my night train to Paris at midnight.  I headed back to the room and packed up my bags in time for check out.  I spent some time in the cocktail room with my laptop, the staff was more than gracious with accommodating me until my train left later in the evening.  At around seven, the kind woman at the front desk asked if I would like something to eat.  The truth is I didn’t, I was stuffed to the brim.  But I would have been stupid to refuse an additional food offering.  They had already set up a makeshift table for me downstairs by the window (and technically the bathroom, but it was a fair distance away).  I ordered a glass of wine and a last and final Gargouillou.

Once again the Gargouillou tasted different.  This time it was saltier and more meaty with barely any apparent sweetness.  I’m pretty sure there is no bad combination that can come from this dish.  Like a kaleidoscope, only the colors and perspective of the salad changes, not the satisfaction.

I didn’t intend on ordering dessert, but the waiter was very persuasive.

Pineapple and Vaniilla Custard – A cone of layered pineapple giving shelter to a light vanilla and maple mousse.  I didn’t really want dessert but the waiter was very persuasive.  This was very sweet but surprisingly tasty.  The maple tempered the pineapple’s acidity creating a more rounded flavor.

Take-home almond cookies - These were the hardest yet thinnest cookies I’ve ever had.  Each bite unleashed a pile of small razors that became dangerous to chew.  I guess it was worth it.  The cookies were sweet but not overpowering.  The occasionally crispy bite gave way to a soft pocket of whole almond and hazelnut creating an interesting diversity of texture.  These cookies lasted for an amazing period of a week without any noticeable degradation in texture of flavor.  They were already hard to begin with.

I didn’t sleep much during the ride home.  It was partly because of the bumpy ride and noisy strangers in my sleeping cabin, but mostly because I was still digesting my experience (literally).  I’d eaten the entire menu!

I’m pretty sure this is one of the most memorably food experiences I’ve ever had.  While there was no particular dish that stood out as once-in-a-lifetime delicious there were quite a few that were revolutionary for their time twenty years ago.  They didn’t seem fresh and innovative to me because I had been experiencing copies of chef Bras’ work for my entire life without realizing it.  To me, this was more about understanding the source of so many dishes such as the chocolate coulant and the medley garden salad of fifty ingredients that I had grown to love.  This is an essential culinary trip for anybody who loves food.

The gorgeous surroundings, chivalrous staff, and overall zen-like atmosphere of the property make this a sensational two-day trip from Paris.  This is really the Blue Hill at Stone Barns of France, except this came first.  I hope I have the opportunity to return again, preferably sometime soon.

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Before my visit to chez Bocuse, I had associated “classical French” with the ubiquitous inclusion of French mother sauces containing butter, crème, and wine reductions tasting so starchy and old-fashioned that they could not be exciting.  At least that’s what my experience had been.  Even in my limited experience at culinary school, we were taught to use these sauces as a springboard for other more elaborate, more international creations to spark originality.  But here with Paul Bocuse, the concepts of Spanish molecular gastronomy, California cuisine, and Japanese fusion are foreign.  He sticks to the basics; no games.  Bocuse only uses classic sauces because he believes it’s the best way to highlight the flavors of meat, fish, and vegetables.  He does it because it tastes the best.  Period.

When I first arrived from the Lyon train station, I had to rub my eyes in disbelief: there stood Paul Bocuse, arms folded, posing perfectly in front of his restaurant.  I jumped in front and took a picture.  Then I noticed the entourage of politely frustrated Japanese photographers standing behind me.  Oops !  The restaurant itself is perched on second floor of a larger complex, standing out in bright colors of red, green, and gold.  It vaguely reminded me of the restaurant from Ratatouille some of the dock-side seafood restaurants I’d seen in New England, with its casual yet attractive colors.  Letters above both the entrance and restaurant read “PAUL BOCUSE.”  I figured I was at the right place.

The wallpaper-lined main dining room had large arches which lets the light, as well as waiters, flow from room to room.  The space felt very open and relaxed, much like eating in a comfortable hotel lobby with lots of niches and corners in which tables were nestled.  My waiter handed me the over-sized menu and I began to read through the options.  There was an extended tasting menu available; but it seemed like most of the dishes I wanted to try were only available à la carte.  This is where the restaurant truly shined in making my experience customized and enjoyable: I was able to select all six of the dishes I wanted to try, and they were conformed to the portioning (and price) of the grand tasting.

The amuse bouche started with a Paul Bocuse-sized gougère, suitable even for the likes of a certain Julien.  The gougère was paired with a small cup of spring pea soup topped with crème fraîche — and it was huge!  Despite my thirty second photo shoot, it remained very hot at the first bite, even letting out a puff of steam.  The flavor was of salty gruyère cheese with the light scent of toast.  Even more full of flavor, however, was the thick pea soup which combined the flavor of rich butter with the crisp vegetal taste of spring peas.  The soup was topped with chilled crème fraîche which seemed to mix with the hot liquid in my mouth to create a swirl of different temperatures.  The crème fraîche was sprinkled with black truffle whose subtle presence I wouldn’t have even noticed had it not been pointed out.  Overall, the meal was off to nice start.

Seeing Maine lobster on a French menu is just about as rare as hearing a French sommelier compliment California wines.  So imagine my shock and amazement the first time I saw my friend’s photos on this dish.  I’ve always found Main lobster to be the sweetest and most flavorful, particularly when served chilled, needing little saucing or garnish to enhance the flavor.  The lobster was encircled with two rings of sauces.  The outer ring of aged vinegar and butter, the inner of olive oil, salt, and fresh dill.  The pattern of the sharp and acidic vinegar was beautiful, bold leaf-shaped “Y” patterns interlocking around the perimeter of the plate.  The lobster sat atop a mayonnaise-bound salad of carrots, peas, turnip and string beans.  Crowning the lobster and salad was a firm tomato en gelée, looking like an evil eye.  Sort of scared me, to be honest.  Aside from the tomato being cold and out of season, likely a decorative garnish than a flavor addition, the lobster’s sweetness really came through balanced by the acidic vinegar, rich butter, and creamy mayonnaise.  The real fun of this dish was combining the sweet main lobster with different combinations and quantities of the two sauces.   The vegetable salad, while flavorful, seemed more of an afterthought.

After the lobster came a second chilled course, a foie gras pâte, served with truffles en gelée au Sauternes Antonin Carême.  This particular sauternes was likely included as a tribute to one of the most famous French chefs of all time, rather than used for its particular flavor.  The foie gras was full of savor: creamy, fatty, and smooth, the gelée, not so much.  In fact, it was flavorless despite the presence of truffles.  I actually didn’t really understand what the truffles were doing in this dish aside from making it sound good on a menu.  I found that the dense gelée prevented any scent or texture  from escaping.  The contrast between the chilled foie gras and the warm slices of toasted baguette, however, was very welcome.  I left half of this plate untouched and conserved some space for the courses to come.

I suppose when a restaurant has been around and maintained three stars for nearly fifty years, the chance of multiple Presidents coming to dine is pretty high.  Such was the case in 1975 when Bocuse, for then-President of France Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, created a custom-tailored black truffle soup.  This soupe aux truffles noires V.G.E. comes in its own special bowl overflowing with puff pastry that locks in the heat and moisture.  The first bite of this pastry made me question why whoever made this had not yet been knighted opened his own pâtisserie; the flaking texture was phenomenal, each “crack” into the surface shattering buttery flakes into the hot bouillon.  After burrowing my way through the crispy surface, I reached a mid-layer of pastry that had been moistened by the steam below.  Without a doubt the best part of this dish — it had the flavor and temperature of the soup but maintained a frail and crispy texture rife with butter.  By this point the health-conscious couple next to me had simply decapitated the soup, placing the puff pastry on a side plate, and went directly to the thin bouillon below.  I didn’t want to burst her bubble; but if calorie counting was her thing, she was in the wrong country restaurant.  The bouillon was a double consommé of beef with little strips of beef and shavings of black truffle.  I found the soup itself a disappointment.  While the flavor was pure and simple, it was boring.  While that was likely the intention, I just didn’t much care for it.  The truffle shavings gave no flavor or scent, merely offering a different textural component.  In the end I mostly ate the round croissant top and used the soup like a savory coffee for dipping.  In doing so I saved some room; I was going to need it.

What came next was the highlight of the meal, rouget barbet en écailles de pommes de terre croustillantes, a thin filet of red mullet covered in potato scales.  This course reminded me that butter does not equal bad.  Butter gets a bad rap for its high cholesterol, saturated fats, and ubiquitous presence in French food.  I would almost say that I’ve developed a sensitivity to butter from having lived in the US, a direct result of movements like California cuisine that de-emphasize butter usage and promote heart-healthy eating.  But what Bocuse showed me was that butter, when used properly, is one of the best ways to strengthen and support a fish’s  natural flavor.  Bocuse uses butter not for the sake of it, not because it’s popular in French food, and not because he’s a rebel.  Rather he uses it deliberately because, quite simply, it tastes the best.  Here it’s presence was felt in both the crispy potato “scales” and the sauces pooling below the fish.  The moist filet protected by its two skins stayed interesting with each bite until the very end, particularly because I could choose different combinations from the olive-leaf shaped combination of sauces below.  This was delicious.

Served on the side of the rouget barbet was a small feuilleté aux anchois, a layered anchovy pastry puffed full of air and flavor.  Just because this was served as a side did not mean it should be overlooked.  The strong, slightly acidic anchovy helped to balance the rich butter from both its own pastry and from the rouget.  Aside from the anchovy, once again, this pastry was phenomenal.  If the pastry chef opened his own place, I would seriously consider moving to be closer to it.  I made the mistake of cutting this in half with a knife which compressed the center to a vertical line on the plate — this feuilleté is just too delicate for slicing.

Next came a very classic dish, quenelle de brochet sauce Nantua, incredibly fluffy pike quenelles floating on a bed of crayfish and a crayfish bisque.  Despite the grand stature of the quenelle, I would not be surprised to learn that only 2-3 egg whites went into its making — that’s how weightless the texture was.  This delicate poached mousseline of fish brought to mind the magically fluffy omelettes at the Park Hyatt hotel in Tokyo.  But this was no breakfast.  Since the quenelle was so airy, each hollow pocket soaked up the lavish flavor of crayfish and butter.  The crayfish were chewy adding some textural variety; but a touch of something crunchy would have been a welcome addition.

It would be a euphemism to say that this was a lot of food; tasting portions, these were not.  Sure glad I was still hungry for the carré d’agneau primeres côtes rôti à la fleur thym.  This tender rack of lamb was cooked medium rare at the kitchen’s recommendation, which meant that the cooking needed to be miraculously even and precise to prevent overcooking.  Out of my four chops, one was overcooked and showed signs of dryness.  The rest were juicy and tender.  The thyme added a really pleasant and refined fragrance that made a natural pair with the meat.  The vegetables — peas, carrots, and turnip — were lightly cooked in butter preserving the natural texture of the vegetables while highlighting their flavor with the salted butter.  If France had soul food, this would be it: simple, satisfying, and filling.  To the side was a potato gratin which seemed almost like an afterthought, albeit a very rich one. The cheese seemed slide around on the surface rather than infusing throughout the casserole.

My waiter wheeled the cheese cart from the table across in my direction with a devious smile: he knew he was up to no good.  The cheese selection was rather standard including the all-stars Fourme d’Ambert, Crottin, Pouligny Saint Pierre, Comte agé 18-mois, and Tomme de Brebis.  There was some fresh local cheese served in a small glass jar on one of the other carts that I’d never had before, so I opted for that.  Despite its white, yogurt-like appearance its flavor was anything but innocuous: sour, bitter, and vegetal.  The waiter returned with some sugar which helped, but I took this as a cultural item that just wasn’t for me.

Next came the dessert carts.  Three carts in total.  My assumption is this excessive quantity of sweets is a relic of the past where diners sought to leave a fine dining establishment not only sated, but stuffed, in order to have maximized their experience.  The carts included a vast assortment of cakes, tarts, sorbets, and meringues.  At this point I considered one of everything skipping dessert but my two hour train from Paris required I at least try some of them.  I compromised with myself electing the two of the most classic: Île Flotante and Baba au Rhum.  The “floating island” was a small dollop of meringue served with caramel.  It tasted similar to a cold soufflé; interesting, but two bites was enough.  The baba au rhum was inundated with rum meaning while I didn’t order alcohol with this meal, my alertness would be severely altered whether I liked it or not.  The texture of the baba was unbelievably moist; I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that a single cake houses half a cup of rum inside.

A two-layered plate of petits fours was left on the table containing both chocolates and small French delicacies such as pâte aux fruits, macarons, meringues, tuiles, and madeleines.  The fruit jelly was the most welcome as its bright flavor put a happy end to a substantial meal.

From an educational perspective, this was an excellent meal.  It was a glimpse into France’s past.  This is the first restaurant I’d been to where the dishes were unabashedly traditional but the flavors exciting.  It’s a meal that showed me that butter can be marvelous when used properly.  After having eaten here, it’s now easier to see what other less successful dishes attempted to be with their use of classical components; but failed to become for lack of flavor.

That being said, I think once was enough for the next few years.  The food, though educational, was very heavy and its lack of changes makes it unlikely to maintain the same level of excitement the second time.  I will, however, continue to refer back to Bocuse as an example of classic, and delicious, fine dining for much longer.  And for those who have not been before, it’s an important relic of France’s culinary past that begs to be explored.

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