New York - A tale of two Ducasses

I came to praise Chef Ducasse, certainly expecting a treat, sampling his two New York restaurants in the space of two days. I was impressed, but oddly not as I was expecting to be.

The restaurants are both situated on a two block stretch of 55th Street. A wealthy but anonymous cross road in Midtown Manhattan, straddling the upper class shopper’s playground of 5th Avenue. Close by you’ve got the Core: Club (uber exclusive $15K per year private members haunt), some of the wealthiest real estate on the planet and a range of high end hotels including the Plaza, the Four Seasons and The New York Palace whose guests, if they ever stretch from their luxurious surrounds, could treat either spot as a neighbourhood favourite. In short, a good place to situate a restaurant or two.

I expected the most from 2 Michelin starred Adour at the St Regis. Following a wonderful lunch earlier in the year at the Dorchester, my little fatty heart sang at the prospect of his clever, simple dishes with a focus on top end ingredients. I’d promised my colleague, not a big restaurant goer, that this would be one of the finest food experiences she’d ever had. And you know what? I think I overplayed my hand somewhat.

It’s an awe inspiring space in the ground floor of the St Regis. The decor is as opulent as you’d expect from a 2* fine dining restaurant, with muted fine ivory and brown merging with golds and marble. Theatricality comes from the oversized display cases of wine that fill every alcove, an oenophile’s wet dream, serried stands filled with bottles, jeraboams, balthazars and salazars (whatever they are) of the finest wines known to humanity. The staff were obsequious and ever present, a little too present, almost tripping over each other at times to deliver each course. You felt somehow stuck in the middle of a balletic spectacle, or a demonstration by bow tie wearing ninjas. I had three separate waiters pour my starter soup (an overly fussy sea urchin and shrimp consomme) from separate silver flasks. Sadly though, this wasn’t intentional high food art, a different essence in each bottle, they’d simply under catered for the table. The food was fussier than I remembered from London, with some of the charm, but my abiding memory wasn’t one of warmth. Partly due to the over exuberant air conditioning, and a little to do with the length of explanation required, but every dish appeared a little cold.
We went for the tasting menu, expecting a riot of flavours and tastes, and with a few exceptions were left let down. The foie gras was lukewarm and veiny, slipping down without a bite like a lightly seared and duck scented panna cotta. Fillet of escolar, a white tuna like fish, was lovely, though too close in texture to the sea bass served a couse before. The standout came with the Nebraskan beef. Served two ways it was an object lesson in flavoursome meat, prepared and served with a rich syrah jus. 

Benoit had high expectations from the monied locals of the fringes of Midtown and the Upper East Side when it opened on the site of famed local favourite La Côte Basque in early 2008. The ‘venerable high society temple of French cuisine’, as described by the New York Times had been purveying classical French fine dining on the spot since the late 1950s, an eternity in such a rapidly changing city. Ducasse has kept much and made more of l’histoire and l’heritage of both the site and the venerable French bistrot style typified by the original turn of the century Benoit in Paris. The screen dividers in the light, airy oak panelled room are 19th century Parisien imports, the rotating trolley from a similar period carries desserts such as his signature Rhum Baba and the lightest macaroons round the room and one of the private dining rooms is decorated with authentic decor from a turn of the century apothecary. 

Buzzy for lunch even at an early hour, the service was a touch less formal and strained than its neighbour, efficient and attentive, but without excessive ceremony. Delicate, moreish parmesan puffs arrived before my guests did, and almost didn’t last until their arrival. The menu is classic bistro. Starters go heavy with terrine and tartes flambee (signature of the Alsatian bias on the menu, likely to change slightly with their new chef as he beds in). I’m a sucker for fat and buttery snails whenever I see them on a menu and these beauties hid under their crouton lids bubbling garlic and parsley, waiting to be mopped up with fresh crusty loaf. It was followed by a faultless steak tartare, chosen from among other rustic mainly meaty treats including a couple of classic steak cuts, roast chicken with garlic, pork chops and an intriguing looking Boudin Aux Pommes, blood sausage served with apples on a bed of green salad. It's certainly a comfortable menu more suited to the financiers and the local workers than the demure ladies who lunch market.

Overall, I could see the touch of the master chef coming through in Adour. The level of inventiveness, the formal style and the precision all chimed, but while it hit certain highs, for me the laid back food and sheer pleasure I experienced at Benoit made it the superior experience.