Alain Ducasse's Louis XV in Monaco exudes opulence, writes Erica Brown in our new series on the world's best restaurants.
The mild-looking man in the plain black polo-neck who shakes my hand in the
opulent cocoon that is Monaco's H�tel de Paris can hardly be said to exude
personality, let alone charisma. At first sight, Alain Ducasse seems an unlikely
candidate for success. The only outward clues to an inner intensity are the
gnawed fingernails and the occasional glimmer of impatience or anger in the eyes
behind small, round glasses.
But a success he most certainly is. He is the first chef ever to achieve
three Michelin stars for a hotel restaurant; the first to get three stars at two
restaurants simultaneously; and almost certainly the first chef to have it
written into his contract that he would achieve the top accolade within four
years. These days, he no longer cooks himself, but he still trails the unique
glory of his eight Michelin stars - including the maximum three for his
flagship restaurants, Restaurant Alain Ducasse in Paris and here at the Louis
xv. Not bad at the age of 44.
It is now 14 years since he accepted the challenge of the Société des Bains
de Mer, the super-secretive owners of much of Monte Carlo, including the H�tel
de Paris. Would you, they asked, take over our restaurant, The Grill, transform
the room-service food and, while you're at it, turn the private dining room
into a three-star Michelin restaurant? You've got four years. So the Louis xv
was born and, true to his word, he got his three stars in 1990. He was 33 years
old; the restaurant, just 33 months.
The Louis xv certainly lives up to its name: it is very Versailles. Tall,
swagged and draped windows run along one side and the off-white walls are punc-
tuated by gilded pilasters, cartouches and cornices. The ceiling is so high I
need my specs to make out the gambolling cherubs and, below them, the king's
wife and assorted mistresses looking down through the crystal chandeliers from
gilded niches. Even the cutlery and crockery (sorry, porcelain) is gilded.
There are fewer than 20 tables, each surrounded by acres of space with the
oft-mocked but eminently sensible footstools on which ladies can place their
handbags - though their size tells you they're more used to supporting
dainty quilted Chanel than working holdalls. That the room does not feel
intimidating or even formal is thanks to the staff who are, quite simply,
superb. There are lots of them but, from the moment the champagne trolley glides
up until the heart-stopping arrival of the bill, they are helpful and friendly,
but never obtrusive.
It's best, frankly, not to look at prices (ladies get menus without them)
but just accept that you're in for close to £200 each - minimum. Still, I
would rather blow my money here than at the casino across the road. You can't
begin to describe the quality of the food. Baby vegetables are vivid
concentrations of their parents' flavour with shavings of truffle lavished on
them in winter. Fish and shellfish have an intense freshness and each their
distinct taste. Woodcock is cooked in its own little cast-iron casserole. In
true Mediterranean style, there's olive oil and balsamic vinegar, but not a
sun-dried tomato in sight. And the warm fraise des bois with mascarpone sorbet has to
be tasted to be believed.
Such culinary grandeur is the full flowering of a career that began at the
age of 16 when, unhappy at hotel school, Ducasse set off for Michel Guérard's
restaurant in Eugénie-les-Bains. "There were no vacancies, but when I said
I'd work for nothing, I was in!," he recalls. He went on to work for
Roger Vergé at Moulins de Mougins where he learned "the cuisine of the
sun", so important to him now. Perhaps the defining moment, however, came
in 1978 when he secured a post with Alain Chapel, who became his mentor and whom
he credits with making him what he is today. "His rule was that only the
ingredients can have genius, not a chef."
After a spell back with Vergé as head chef at L'Amandier, he was given the
top job at La Terrasse at Juan-les-Pins in 1981. Three years later, aged 27, he
won two Michelin stars. That autumn, as every year, the restaurant closed and
the staff moved to its ski-resort sister. The plane carrying Ducasse and four
others crashed into a mountain. He was the only survivor. Half dead with
multiple fractures and nearly blind, he thought he'd never walk or see again.
"But I never lost hope" he says. After months in hospital, he had
recovered enough to return to work - on crutches and sporting an eye patch.
Two years and 14 operations later, he'd discovered who his friends were.
"People are quick to write you off when they think you're finished.
Today, it's in the past but I know if I slip up tomorrow, there will be no-one
there to catch me." The main legacy of that time, he says, is that he now
knows that nothing is as important as your health. Restaurant critic Gilles
Pudlowski, on the other hand, believes the crash made him "perpetually
dissatisfied. He fights himself, trying to astound the world."
The world has been duly astounded. In 1988, for instance, Ducasse cooked for
a week at the Four Seasons Hotel in London where Jean-Christophe Novelli was
head chef. "It was amazing," Novelli recalls. "I thought I was a
good cook but I learned so much. His cooking was simple but he got better
results than I did. And his knowledge of ingredients and produce was huge. I was
trapped in technique; he gave me the confidence to simplify and relax."
Sonia Lee, who opened Ducasse's La Bastide de Moustiers, goes further.
"He taught me everything. Not just cooking but about organisation, how to
achieve things, how to treat people." Lee, who later became chef at The
Pharmacy and now has her own restaurant, Magma, in Oslo, also maintains the
Ducasse philosophy is: "Keep it simple. The flavours are always clean. You
know what you're eating. A chicken stays a chicken, a carrot stays a
carrot."
While this may seem straightforward, attempts to penetrate the Ducasse enigma
can be tricky. When he became consultant to the Spoon restaurant group, for
example, he seemed to loosen up and out popped a sense of humour. The first one,
which opened in Paris in 1998, shocked serious souls with bubble gum ice cream
and chocolate pizza, not to mention the concept of the client choosing an
ingredient, its accompaniments and method of cooking from a long menu, which was
utterly alien to the French. As is his use of Asian ingredients. "The
techniques of French cuisine can work all over the world," he says,
"but they should be applied to local ingredients and be open to influences.
Each time I go abroad, I learn something. If I was not a chef I'd like to be a
traveller: I love going away, walking around markets, trying local
restaurants." Has he not made the switch already? He bridles slightly:
"In 1998, Michelin accepted it's possible for a chef to do something
besides get fat behind a stove. Do you think Saint Laurent sews every dress? I
haven't been in any of my kitchens for 10 years. It's not how I choose to do
my job."
So while, at Louis xv, no dish gets on to the menu without Ducasse's
approval, it is head chef Franck Cerutti who proposes and produces them. Ducasse
gives him his due: "Franck is the best interpreter of Mediterranean food
there is. He is a Latin. He has olive oil instead of blood." It seems
Ducasse is happy to transpose some of his glory on to his colleagues. Still,
when he tells me, with an air of studied modesty, "I would have no stars
without my teams," I'm not wholly sure that I believe him.
Le Louis XV, H�tel de Paris, Place du Casino, Monaco 98000. Tel 00 37 7 92
16 30 00.