Whenever I really dislike a place that everyone else seems to love, I second-guess myself. Did I visit on an off night? Was my palate thrown by something? Was I just in a bad mood that day? I’m not sure, but while I wanted so badly to love Les Collonges, after everyone else’s raves, something – no, almost everything – fell flat. But please, please take this with a grain of salt; many other palates have been bowled over the admittedly innovative and creative food here, and I would welcome having my mind changed.
Les Collonges took the place of Les Inséparables, a restaurant I finally managed to visit in the last week it was opened. I was charmed by the food, the space, and the service, and I was sad to see it go, so when I heard that this bistronomic restaurant had taken its place – and that experts from Meg Zimbeck of Paris by Mouth to Emmanuel Rubin of Le Figaro to Gilles Pudlowski were singing its praises – I was delighted. I visited recently with a friend who loves tasting menus as much as I do, so we both said oui to the 69-euro five-course tasting.
Things began with a vegetable broth. I cannot tell you more than that, because that’s all the information our server gave us. In a culinary world that seems to be governed by pally servers squatting tableside to tell you how the menu works (a trend that typically irritates me to no end), I might have liked a bit more information – not only on this course but on the others that would follow. I trusted my palate and soldiered on.
The broth was tasty but slightly sour, a first indication of an over-reliance on vinegar that would plague the menu. (And I say this as someone who loves vinegar and brine.) In the broth floated a few perfect cubes of raw beetroot and carrot, which I found puzzling. “It’s a choice!” my dining companion said, and she was right, but it was not a choice I agreed with. This dish also suffered another thing that would pervade the meal: It just wasn’t thermally hot enough. And for broth, that’s kind of a sin in my book.
Our next dish would ultimately prove one of our favorites: a crudo of perfectly sweet scallops seasoned with salt and what was dubbed an XO sauce but seemed to be just a whisper of very good chile-infused oil. It was paired with wrinkled bits of something with the texture of tofu skin and the flavor of dried fish as well as Brussels sprouts two ways: roasted on top, and dressed generously with shallot vinaigrette beneath. Jusqu’ici, tout va bien.
But hiding beneath the salad was a puzzling dollop of crunchy peanut butter, overpowering the delicacy of the scallops both in flavor and texture. We both ate around it and then spread the peanut butter on the lovely sourdough bread, which proved quite tasty on both counts. That said, the PB was definitely not necessary on this plate.
Next up, we received our plates of “feuille à feuille,” a beautiful assembly of Chanteclerc apples and celery root piled together as a millefeuille and paired with a pistachio cream seasoned with a heavy hand of vinegar and a thin layer of apple or pear, similarly disguised with vinegar. A very smoky potato emulsion was served alongside, topped with a dusting of some sort of powder that lent a floral, almost artificial flavor to the ensemble. I liked this dish, particularly the potato foam and pistachio cream, but I might have liked it even more had it been served warm instead of room temperature.
Next up, we dug into the first of our mains, a vegetable pot au feu with “homemade udon.” The noodles were definitely homemade, but they were a far cry from udon. A bit closer to maltagliati, they were what my dining companion termed “doughy bits” floating alongside a few steamed carrots and one leaf of Tuscan kale in a relatively uninspiring broth (for which we were given no spoon). The broth itself was seasoned once more with the ever-present vinegar. It was just kind of… ho hum. (And, once more, not nearly hot enough.)
I had high hopes for our second main, which at least arrived hot: a perfect dome of cabbage leaf enveloped a slow-cooked lamb à la diable, aka with mustard. The filling was indeed flavorsome and studded generously with mustard seeds, which played extremely well with the fatty, gamey lamb. It was surrounded by a rich, fatty broth in which floated some tender white beans and a handful of rather insipid chanterelle mushrooms. Still, I think I would have loved this dish had I not come across a rather unpleasant bit of gristly cartilage in my portion.
Two desserts followed, and the first was my personal favorite: a combination of raw and confit citrus with a black tea granita covering an almond cake. While the flavors were on-point, the texture of the cake was a bit dry, and it was studded with whole almonds that had somehow managed to go soggy.
The last dessert was a creative and intriguing Jerusalem artichoke sorbet paired with a smoked salted butter caramel and seaweed jam that was seasoned, once more, with vinegar. Most diners got theirs topped with toasted kasha, which I’m sure would have added a bit of crunch and also evoked the Breton origins of the other ingredients; mine came with Jerusalem artichoke chips, which still provided texture as well as a lovely, nutty flavor. This was a daring choice for a last bite, but as someone without much of a sweet tooth, I liked the combo of sweet and savory.
Overall, I was nonplussed by my experience at Les Collonges, and doubly disappointed given the genial service, beautiful dining room, and the high hopes I’d had. So did I visit on an off night? Am I missing something? I’m not sure, but I’m willing to have my mind changed.
Les Collonges – 12 Rue Francœur, 75018