Restaurant of emotions
Whatever the restaurant, you should always try to put yourself in the chef’s shoes. Often the boss of his own business, he’s left alone to face his doubts, his choices and, if need be, the demons he carries with him through the seasons. It’s hard to know what’s going on inside a person who spends most of his time behind his time behind the stove. “To understand me, you have to know who I am”, sang Michel Berger. How can you understand a kitchen if you don’t understand its creator?
Edouard Amoiel
Sentimental cooking
To come to Bruno Verjus’ table is to make a culinary pilgrimage to the land of absolute taste, authentic flavors, short, intense juices, meticulous cooking, ceaselessly rectified seasonings, daring but always justified pairings, products magnified and respected. The gastronomic philosophy of this salt-and-pepper maned chef, dressed in his tartan work pants, always goes straight to the essentials. No bluff, no artifice, no bluster. At 3 rue de Prague in Paris’s 12th arrondissement, things sizzle and fizzle, simmer and stew, simmer and bubble, caramelize and candy…
This is haute cuisine that charms, that flatters, that puts you in such a good mood that you let yourself be carried away. It’s the bewitching iodine of a Norwegian sea urchin opened just in time to be courted by a tozazu beurre monté. Perfectly pearly scallops frolic shamelessly in a caramelized jus of shellfish and pumpkin beard. It’s the mille-feuilles of celeriac intertwined with black truffles in a roasted vegetable jus. The mischievous pigeon, sautéed like a hibiscus-lacquered duck, escorted by a beet mousseline, plays the role of gourmet troublemaker. The opulent chocolate tartlet, Salina capers and caviar quenelle complete this odyssey to Paris.
Edouard Amoiel
To understand it…
It’s imperative to take a step back and review your copy, realign your sentences and refocus your ideas. All in an attempt to understand who’s behind this sequence of sequences of rare culinary quality. A team? Of course: a close-knit dining room clan led by the dignified Sigurde Hoste, all in tune and knowing the food and wine list like the back of their hand. A brigade? Of course: Jules Letteron’s outstanding chefs, all committed to the cause of goodness, fairness and pleasure. A man? Unquestionably: a character of extreme sensitivity, a (potentially) volcanic temperament and a touching tenderness that cannot be contradicted by his dark eyes. As we stroll along the Parisian cobblestones after this feast, one question remains: have I finally understood Bruno Verjus? Who knows?
Edouard Amoiel
