Cyril Lignac, Behind the Ice Cream
This is the third time I’ve found myself facing Cyril Lignac. The first time was when he earned his first Michelin star. The second was during the expansion of his restaurants. This time, it’s in Saint-Tropez, to mark the opening of his first shop entirely dedicated to ice cream creations.
No Compromises
The years go by. So do the projects. But there’s something about Cyril Lignac that seems not to have changed. He’s remained the same: approachable, curious, and generous—a man who talks more about work than success, more about doubts than certainties.
Officially, our interview was supposed to focus on ice cream. And it did. We talked about the selection of fruits, seasonality, and that sorbet that contains 56% fruit because, in his words, “you don’t fight with a plastic knife.” A statement that ultimately sums up his entire approach to his work: never compromise when it comes to quality.
Vacation Memories
But very quickly, the conversation took a different turn. Toward his roots. Toward that mother who would save a few bills, carefully hidden away, to treat her children to a week’s vacation. The one who promised them ice cream every evening on their way out of the campground. Even today, amid the tourists lining up outside his shop in Saint-Tropez, that memory is never far away.
“I want to make ice cream that everyone can afford,” he tells me. This isn’t some line crafted by a horde of public relations people. You can tell that right away. For Cyril Lignac, indulging in good food isn’t a luxury. It’s also a pleasure for everyone. A childhood memory. An emotion he wants to share.
The Experience
What struck me most, perhaps, is that after a career spanning more than thirty years—with restaurants, pastry shops, books, television shows, and nearly two hundred employees—the chef and pastry chef still has doubts. He admits to fearing he’ll mess up. He fears the project won’t work out. He fears he won’t measure up. “If one day I go home telling myself that I’m bound to succeed, that’s when I’ll lose,” he sums up. That statement may explain part of his journey.
He repeatedly emphasizes that there’s one thing money can’t buy: experience. Everything else requires time, hard work, and constant self-reflection. Even when a restaurant has been in business for ten years, you have to know how to keep it evolving, because customers change, too. I also rediscovered what had struck me during our first meeting years ago: that almost disarming gratitude.
“The game goes on”
When I point out to him that people love him because he gives so much, he replies, almost sheepishly, that so many people work just as hard as he does without receiving that same affection in return. He’s thinking of his sister, who works in a hospital. Of his mother. All those who work behind the scenes. And perhaps that is the secret of Cyril Lignac: he has never forgotten where he came from.
At the end of our interview, I asked him if he was proud of how far he’d come. His answer surprised me. He told me he’d take stock later—on the day he finally takes off his backpack. Not now. Because, in his own words, “the game goes on.” An opportunity to meet him again. As I was leaving, I thought to myself that this ice cream shop was ultimately less about a new entrepreneurial venture and more about a certain way of looking at life. Keep moving forward. Keep questioning. Keep working. And above all, keep bringing joy to others.
