Guy Martin at Grand Vefour. Photo Michel Langlot

Earlier this summer I investigated the culinary universe of Guy Martin, one of the most recognizable names of high gastronomy in Paris.

Chef of the irrepressibly romantic and stellar Grand Véfour by the garden of Palais Royal, the Guy Martin signature also appears on a number of other culinary offerings in Paris: the polished Sensing, the evocative Cristal Room Bacarrat, the cooking workshop Atelier Guy Martin, and the self-service sandwichie Miyou.

I lunched at all of these for the purposes of an article that will appear in France Revisited’s Food & Drink section in September. It isn’t that I’ve gone gaga over Guy—though I have indeed come to appreciate the smooth consistency of the man’s gastronomic reach—rather I wanted to examine his various signature offerings to see if I could find in this culinary branding some essential piece to the real Guy Martin.

Guy Martin is one of a handful of name-brand chefs that I could have selected for such an investigation, so before working on the final article I want to explain here why I chose him and introduce readers to various chefs encountered along the way who work within his universe.

Grand Vefour, interior

Selecting Guy Martin involved a combination of memory, editorial choice, and journalistic opportunism.

Memory. I’d eaten at Grand Véfour twice before this year, once about 15 years ago and once about 10 years ago. (Guy Martin has ruled the ovens there since 1993.) The sense of elegance and romance of those meals have stayed with me even though my dinner companions have been forgotten, or at least their elegance and romance have.

I don’t know why those two dining experiences have stayed with me in a way that other fine dining experiences have not. Perhaps it was simply the jewel-box setting of the late 18th-early 19th century—now timeless—restaurant that anchors the northern end of the garden of the Palais Royal. I can’t judge Le Grand Véfour critically now for what it was 10 years ago (it currently has 2 Michelin stars if that means anything to you), and 10 years ago I knew far less about gastronomy than I do now, so I’ll simply conclude that I remembered Le Grand Véfour because something about being there felt special.

Christian David, maitre d at Grand Vefour. Photo GLK

Editorial choice. Last year I contacted gastronomic portraitist Fabien Nègre about the possibility of my translating for readers of France Revisited one or more of his “Portaits de chef” appearing on the French site Restos.com. When he and Alain Newman, creator of Restos.com, agreed, I selected Guy Martin because of the vague memory of those long-ago meals. Fabien’s portrait, translated by me, can be read here.

Journalistic opportunism. Months later the chef learned of the text on this site in English and, though his contact with Fabien, invited the two of us to lunch. (More on that lunch in the upcoming article.) With that meal under my belt, I set on a series of lunchtime investigations to get to know Guy Martin’s other culinary businesses in Paris.

I ate at two of those—Sensing and Atelier Guy Martin—at a press lunch with a group of food bloggers. For the two others—Miyou and Cristal Room Baccarat—Fabien and I went on our own. I was invited to all of these by the establishments themselves. My intent in getting acquainted with these establishments was, as I’ve said, to gain a sense of the essential Guy Martin, not simply to take the critical snapshot for the purposes of a restaurant review.

The chefs. Enough has and will be said on this site about Guy Martin himself. For now I’d like to introduce you to other chefs, working under the Guy Martin banner, whom I interviewed along the way.

Remi Van Peteghem at Sensing. Photo GLK.

Sensing: Rémi Van Peteghem

Sensing is a peaceable and polished restaurant in the Montparnasse Quarter, it’s cuisine straightforward and refined. Since chefs tend to resemble their restaurants the way dogs resemble their owners, it was no surprise—nevertheless quite refreshing—to find that Rémi Van Peteghem, the 32-year-old chef of Sensing, came across as humble and gracious when he met with us after the meal.

If the strength (some say limitation) of French cuisine is its use of fresh seasonal products that reveal a taste of their essence, as well as of the earth, the sun, and the sea from they come, and that polished French cuisine is the culinary equivalent of the French garden—the graceful and geometric taming of nature—then Mr. Van Petegham’s work is a brilliant exemple of what such cooking is all about. His verbal and culinary articulation of polished French cuisine is clear, coolly passionate, and sincere. It’s like a pastel drawing that’s warm and skilled yet unpretentious. The same can be said for Sensing’s décor which aims for comfort rather than thrill. The atmosphere is all yours to create with your tablemates.

Decor and dish at Sensing. Photo GLK.

Sensing, 19 rue Bréa, 6th arrondissement. Metro Vavin or Notre-Dame-des-Champs. Tel. 01 43 27 08 80. Closed Sunday. Lunch menus: 2 courses, 25€, 3 courses 35€. The more expressive 55€ lunch menu and 75€ dinner menu includes drinks. Tasting menu of 95 euros (140 euros with wine pairing). Count 65-75€ à la carte + drinks.

Cristal Room Baccarat: David Angelot

David Angelot at Cristal Room Baccarat. Photo GLK.

Housed in a late-19th-century mansion that is now headquarters of the crystal-maker Baccarat, Cristal Room hit the gastro-touristic news big time when it opened several years ago. As a showplace (the building also houses the Baccarat showroom and museum), the restaurant gained a reputation as being more remarkable for the value of its Philippe Stark décor than the value of its cuisine.

Now a new chef has taken the reins beneath Guy Martin’s signature. In March 2010 Mr Martin, who “orchestrates” (Baccarat’s word) the kitchen here, appointed David Angelot as onsite, more or less independent chef. In a brief conversation after lunch, Mr. Angelot came across as ambitious and confident, a study contrasts with the first impression of modesty and serenity given by Mr. Van Peteghem at Sensing. It’s as though Guy Martin had meditated on the décor of each dining room then selected the personality that best corresponded to it, and the preparations followed in line with both the personality and the décor.

Cristal Room Baccarat

At the top of an eye-catching stairwell, Crital Room’s décor presents a unified mix of historical chic, designer kitsch, and Baccarat show-pieces: gilt-framed brick walls, noble portrait medallions, crystal chandeliers, pale pink couches, prominent stemware and candleholders.

Echoing this from the kitchen, Mr. Angelot’s cuisine is handsome, showy, and frank. The culinary playing fields on which trendiness and gastronomy attempt to coexist are heavily mined, and service will inevitably suffer from lack of traction, but Mr. Angelot and the staff do a good job of trying to find the balance between the two.

Case in point is the appetizer below which may look like some kind of sea creature but it was actually an entertaining appetizer that was a delight to dissect and eat. It’s called tranche d’aubergine snackée, (snacked slice of eggplant), in which the eggplant is a base for dried tomatoes, squid, tapenade, parmesan compote, tomato sorbet, and a bourage flower. It was wonderfully modern, tasty, and kitsch, like a fancy, edible hat, and while it isn’t the type of appetizer for which one earns stars, it was in deliciously in keeping with both the showiness of the dining room.

If you allow yourself to get into the spirit of the place and don’t take it all too seriously, a meal here won’t be flawless but it will be part of a very romantic day, especially if you’re staying a fine hotel within walking distance.

Cristal Room Baccarat, 11 place des Etats-Unis, 16th arrondissement. Metro Boissière or Iéna. Tel 01 40 22 11 10. Closed Sunday. Priced about the same as Sensing, slightly more à la carte.

Miyou: Thierry Molinengo

Thierry Molinengo

Thierry Molinengo’s talents shouldn’t be reduced to those on display at Miyou, but that’s where I met him when I went for lunch at this sandwich shop/lunch/snack-room in the upscale Bon Marché department store. Mr. Molinengo was there that afternoon trying out various recipes for Miyou. He invited me to try an apricot dessert wrap that was in test phase—and for the sake of Miyou I gladly agreed that it was probably better with strawberries. He was also working on a salmon millefeuille whose colors, he said, he hadn’t yet gotten right. In any case, it was clear that Mr. Molinengo was not simply here to see that the smoked salmon was fresh.

Mr. Moleningo appears to be a kind of roving right-hand man to Guy Martin. In addition to testing recipes and keeping an eye on Miyou, he can be found sous-cheffing at Grand Véfour or giving cooking classes to English-speaking groups at Atelier Guy Martin. It’s rather reassuring to know that someone of Mr. Molinegno’s stature spends time in the kitchen at Mr. Martin’s department store eatery.

Calling itself a luxury sandwich shop, Miyou opened on the second floor of the main building of the Bon Marché department stores in March 2010. Miyou prides itself on offering great freshness and a mix of savors, whether in salads, soups, and sandwiches (baguettes, wraps, and clubs) pre-prepared throughout the day or in burgers and hot dishes made to order.

Self-service sandwich-salad display and seating at Miyou.

There’s naturally much competition for lunchtime and snacktime attention in this area, notably from the luxury grocery store and purveyor of freshly prepared food at the Grand Epicerie, in the building next door, as well as in the cafés and bakeries in the area. So Miyou cannot stand out on the basis of sandwiches and luxury mineral water alone. Nevertheless, the freshness and lightness of the offerings, the airy setting, and the amiable presence of manager Antoun Khater ensures an easy-going lunch or mid-afternoon snack stop for those looking to rest their weary shopping feet.

The more basic sandwiches here are priced only slightly higher than what one would find in a local bakery. When one adds a salad or dessert and something to drink the cost is in keeping with lunch at a local café, about 18€.

Miyou, 3rd level of the Bon Marché department store, 24 rue de Sèvres, 7th arrondissement. Metro Sèvres Babylone. Open 11am-7pm. Closed Sun. Wifi connection.

Atelier Guy Martin
The photo below was taken on the day I joined a dozen food bloggers for a lunchtime cooking class at the cooking workshop Atelier Guy Martin. Since I was one of the chefs of the day (I cut an onion and a tomato, stirred a sauces, and filled a soufflé cup), I’m proud to stand alongside the real chefs of the Atelier, left to right, Louis Tocheport, head pastry chef; Laurent Mosset, sous-chef of the Atelier; Antony Courteille, executive chef of the Atelier.

Chefs at Atelier Guy Martin. Photo T. Perois.

Atelier Guy Martin, 35 rue Miromesnil, 8th arrondissement. Metro Miromesnil. Tel. 01 42 66 33 33.

So how do these five establishes—Grand Véfour, Sensing, Cristal Room Baccarat, Miyou, and Atelier Guy Martin—fit together? What’s their essence? Give me another month to digest these investigations and stay tuned for the full article in September.

The U.S. Embassy in Paris holds a Fourth of July garden party every year but most of those on the guest list are French. I was relieved to learn that last week while on a private tour of the U.S. Ambassador’s Residence—relieved because I no longer feel snubbed for not being invited; I simply feel American. So when someone asked me this morning if I was going to the embassy event I proudly replied, “No, I’m American!”

There were various other Fourth of July parties in Paris, of course, but I didn’t get invited to any of them either. I could have gone to the Franco-American Fourth of July ceremony at Lafayette’s tomb, but I’d been there last year (if you missed the article I wrote about that last year you can read it by clicking here or watch my audio slide-show of the event by clicking here.)

Still, I was feeling a bit red-white-and-bluish (not to be confused with the colors of the French flag which is blue, white, and red) today, so I accepted an invitation to Cupcake Camp.

Cupcake Camp was organized in Bistrot Vivienne, an otherwise pleasant bistro in the 2nd arrondissement that had been cleared of its pleasantness for the occasion, by Cat Beurnier, a cupcake baker who operates Sugar Daze, and Bryan Pirolli, a master’s student and part-time cook (photo left).

I’d hoped to learn more about Cat and Bryan during Cupcake Camp but they were quite the busy camp leaders since the bistro was a-swarm with people trying to make the best out of the 10-euro entrance fee which allowed for all the cupcakes you can eat plus one drink.

From the looks of things this afternoon it appears that if you give a couple hundred Americans (and assorted French friends) a choice of any beverage with their cupcake the majority will pick Diet Coke—or Coke Light as it’s called in France where no one will ever admit that she’s on a diet but where everyone wants to feel light.

“Proceeds from the event,” to quote Cat and Bryan’s press release, “will support a group spearheaded by friends of Cupcake Camp Paris, Rebuilding Haiti Now.” I’m not sure what the group actually does but I must say that only Americans are capable of using cupcakes to raise funds for earthquake victims, just one more thing we can be proud of.

The press release also states that “Cupcake Camp is a tradition that hails from California, created by Ariel Waldman” and that “the cupcake can be considered the US’ defining culinary contribution to the world.”

I know nothing about Ariel Waldman and won’t bother Googling the name because as far as I could tell Cupcake Camp Paris was simply an occasion to bake and eat cupcakes with proceeds going to charity. It didn’t feel like something that would “hail” from anywhere, let alone California, or need to be “created,” let alone by someone named Ariel Waldman!

Nevertheless, today’s Cupcake Camp was a rousing success to judge by the donations/entrance fees, the crowds, the general good cheer, and the quantity of cupcakes and Coke Light consumed.

Still, I’m a bit concerned about that “defining culinary contribution to the world” line. I only tried three cupcakes of the 30 or so varieties that I saw in the boxes, and there may have been many more that I didn’t see, so I can’t judge overall quality from my small sampling; I nevertheless came away with a vision of a dozen young women baking through the night while getting slaphappy on sugar and going heavy on the icing. Some things just weren’t meant to define us abroad.

Even as out-of-the-loop as I am regarding American baking trends, I have naturally been aware for a number of years now of the cupcake fad back home. When in the U.S. I can’t visit anyone with children under 25 without being offered a cupcake. At one party in New Jersey last year, ostensibly a Thanksgiving gathering, the oohs and ahs came not with the presentation of the turkey but with that of the cupcakes. A half-dozen tweens and teens stood around the dessert table waiting to see whose creations the guests would choose, each one smudging the icing of the competition so that hers would stand out as the prettiest. They were so disappointed when I didn’t pick one that I nearly felt unpatriotic for going for the pumpkin pie.

Oddly enough, going to Cupcake Camp on the Fourth of July didn’t make me feel any more patriotic. In fact, I was surprised to see how little effort was made to make the connection between our “defining culinary contribution” and Independence Day.

Entries to the “Most Patriotic Cupcake” competition (above) were so scant that I wondered if Cupcake Camp founder Ariel Waldman might have disallowed the combination of red, white, and blue icing in the camp rules. Either that or blue icing is hard to come by in Paris and no one realized that blueberry season has just begun.

Anyway, as you can see from the photos above, the entries to the various competitions did look quite good, and I’m sure there were some true winners among them.

The judges also looked quite good, as you can see below.

On the right is travel writer Heather Stimmler-Hall. Click here to read an interview with her on France Revisited following the release of her book “Naughty Paris: A Ladies Guide to a Sexy City.”

In the middle is Synie Georgulas, a professional baker, owner of the bakery-tea room Synie’s Cupcakes, whom I’ll be interviewing later this month in further explorations into cupcakes.

On the left is Lindsey Tramuta, whose cupcake credentials include her musings on the blog Lost In Cheeseland.

I should note that the photo above was taking prior to the start of their judging duties, which may explain why they look so happy to be there.

Just kidding, Cat. It was a great event, just lacked a bit of Fourth of July spirit.

Speaking of cats: the Fourth of July, also known as July 4, is also my cat’s birthday. He’s now 11. Happy birthday, Moumoon!

Massai Mara, 19th arrondissement, Paris

Cameroonian cuisine is inspired by both the sea and the land, and Massaï Mara widens the palate to the cuisines of African neighbors, some of which will be familiar to those who know Creole cooking.

Not knowing where to start I was happy to try the chef’s assortment as an appetizer: beef samosa, crayfish and banana beignets, shrimp acras (fritters), plantain bananas.

Plaintains, firmer and more starch-like than the fruity bananas we mostly consume, often accompanies dishes in central Africa, as well as in South America and the West Indies.

As main course there are brochettes (beef or prawns) and fish (e.g. tilapia), but I went for unfamiliar Cameroonian territory with beef ndolé. Ndolé is a long-simmered dish with a spinach-like leaf and a peanut-based sauce. It’s served here with golden-brown plaintains and rice. Shrip ndolé or beef and shrimp ndolé are also available.

The food was pleasant, I especially enjoyed the variety of appetizers, but what would lead me to return is the warm atmosphere of Massaï Mara, a gathering place for the Cameroonian (and wider central African) community in Paris, led by the bright and joyful smile of owner Alice Abeng.

Alice Abeng, owner of Massai Mara, and Victor Sosso, chef. Photo GLK

Cameroon was a German colony from 1884 to 1919 and a mostly French (partly British) territory after WWI, French Cameroun (with a u) became independent in 1960, and British Cameroon in 1961, leading to the birth of the Republic of Cameroon, now with a population of about 20 million. Its 20th-century ties with France mean that the Cameroon community in Paris well established. Encounter the community and the cuisine at Massaï Mara.

Massaï Mara, 66 rue Armand Carrel, 19th arrondissement, Paris. Tel. 01 42 08 00 65. Metro Jaurès. www.massaimara.fr. Closed Saturday lunch and Sunday. Open late. Massaï Mara often has live African music on Thursday, when there’s an all-you-can-eat buffet.

See where Massaï Mara is in Paris by clicking here.

See where the Republic of Cameroon is in Africa by clicking here.

The Weatherman, March 3

I rarely go out for lunch in winter,
but today I joined a television weatherman
at a neighborhood restaurant that prides itself
in serving only the freshest of fresh food,
though it seemed a stretch for the waiter to call the scorpion fish fruity.

He recognized him, and I think the women at the next table did, too.
And afterwards someone stopped to say hello as we crossed the bridge.
What a beautiful day to be walking by the canal, she said.
It’s going to get cold again, he warned, maybe even snow next week.

I don’t have a TV to see him wave his hands before the map of France.
But I saw buds on the bush on my balcony today,
and the cat, too, noticed the morning sun on the kitchen table
finally reaching over the grey mansard across the street,
where the neighbors close their curtains a little later every day.

Today is Crepe Day in France as well as in other countries with crepe traditions, such as Belgium and Switzerland. Americans think of it as Groundhog Day. Crepes and groundhogs both mark the midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. The day’s Catholic name is la Chandeleur in France, in recognition of the candles (chandelles) that are/were brought to the church in remembrance of the day when baby Jesus was first brought to the Temple. Whatever you call it, Feb. 2 is the way the northern hemisphere acknowledges that winter is still here but that we’re all now ready for the countdown to spring.

No, those aren’t crepes in the picture—they’re tourtisseaux, which are traditional Mardi Gras beignets or fritters and so also in the spirit of the season. Tourtisseaux come in different shapes: square, rectangular, diamond-shaped. They’re basically cheap, greasy donuts. They go by other names in other regions, but Vendée and Poitou, the area just south of the westernmost portion of the Loire Valley, call them tourtisseaux.

I took that picture yesterday while in a village in Vendée, a few miles from the coast. Tourtisseaux may have been replaced by crepes in the bakery today, but more likely the bakery has both crepes and tourtisseaux. I’m not sure that the crepes are big sellers though since everyone in Vendée knows how to make a crepe at home but not everyone knows how to make a tourtisseau. Actually, they probably do know (it’s basically the same recipe just fried) but would rather flip a crepe at home than fritter a tourtisseau.

I don’t know what’s in that bakery today because I’m now back in Paris, a town that isn’t big on tourtisseaux and their brother beignets. Parisians prefer more sophisticated sweets. Anyway, there’s better mark-up for the more convivial galette des Rois, the falky pastry tart with a frangipane filling (and a little token or effigy inside), that’s traditionally associated with Epiphany (Jan. 6).

The “growing” season for the galette des Rois traditionally ends by mid-January, but with global warming and the Church’s absence of influence in the pastry industry of late, the season now extends throughout the month of January.

When I returned from Vendée last night I found an envelope in front of my door, which could only mean that my neighbor was planning a party. He’s very nice about warning us neighbors about his parties so that in case we feel like going to sleep before 3am we have time to reserve a room at a hotel for the night. He even includes his phone number just in case we feel like giving it to the police so that they don’t have to drive over.

This time his letter announced “une petite soirée pour fêter la chandeleur,” a little party to celebrate crepe day. I figured that had to be a euphemism for something because I couldn’t understand why someone would have a petite soirée to fete Groundhog Day on a Tuesday and if so why we would need to be warned about it. But I’ve been home all evening and I’ve barely heard a sound, so I imagine that they actually did spend the evening next door flipping crepes.

My friend Didier, whom I was visiting in Vendée, made crepes for his family today. Years ago I asked him for his recipe because before then I was the only person in France who’d never made them. Here it is in French and in English.

Didier’s crêpe recipe

Mélanger :
½ kilo de farine
4 oeufs
1 petite boite de lait concentré non sucré
1 litre de lait frais
Extrait de concentré de vanille
Un peu de huile (2 cuillères à soupe)
1 verre de bière

Laisser reposer 2-3 heures en dehors du frigo. Il est ensuite possible de mettre le mélange au frigo.

Faire les crêpes.

Mix together:
1 lb of flour
4 eggs
1 small can of (unsweetened) evaporated milk
1 quart of whole milk
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
2 tablespoons of vegetable oil
1 cup of beer

Allow to rest for 2-3 hours out of the refrigerator. Mixture may then be placed in the refrigerator or used immediately.

Make crepes. (Circumflex optional if you don’t have one handy)