Cluttered Food

A recent trip to Aspen Colorado made me appreciate the differences between almost all French food and most American food.

First, as several gastronomical historians have noted, French chefs traditionally have done everything in three steps: you take something, do something to it and finish it with something.  In its simplist form then, you take a chicken breast, sautee it in butter and finish off the sauce with cream.  To some extent that’s the way American cuisine evolved as well.  But sometime ago and someplace else (I tend to attribute it to Las Vegas, where I first experienced it, although I was convinced it was originally a California fad) I noticed a superabundance of stuff.  Now one took the chicken breast, marinated it in a complex sauce, cooked it by baking and then grilling and finished it off with a sauce containing 20 exotic spices, herbs and little known berries.  And so it was at Aspen’s newest resto – Dish – where my wife’s cod was supposed to come with artichokes but instead sat in a thick soup so full of “stuff” one surmised the minestrone can spilled into the cod pan.  Pizzas at a place like Mezzaluna are masterpieces in overcrowding and even the simplist preparation elsewhere is made more difficult.

Second, as most social historians and obesity experts have noted, in France one is presented with three or four courses, depending on the option of cheese, with portions designed for normal-sized human beings.  Here, eg in Aspen, one struggles to finish a main course alone, far less three courses – as an example my “cowboy” ribeye steak, as delicious and as perfectly undercooked as it was at Plato’s, weighed in at a staggering 22 ounces, enough for 4 persons in the developed world and 11 persons elsewhere (Ironically, itr must be noted that Plato’s is embedded in the Aspen Institute complex where famine, poverty, war and disease in the 3rd world are frequent subjects of conferences.)  So one’s only strategy, other than eating monochromatically, is to order two apetizers, hoping they too will not overflow the platter.  

Third difference: balance.  Remember what Julia taught you; have a little protein, some fat, some carbs and a the fat-filled terrine of “x” sits besides a nicely dressed salad, and every main has some offsetting but not offputting vegetable(s).  At the Denver airport, however, one is confronted with a huge ½ chicken at Wolfgang Puck’s Express enthroned on a mound of mashed potatoes that would make Richard Dreyfuss balk. 

I used to kid that one reason I came to France was in order to lose weight, attributing it to the tendency abroad to walk a lot after lunch and not be so automobile-dependant.  But given the differences above, I’m not sure it’s also not the food itself; eg – its preparation (simpler), portion size (smaller) and balance (better).  Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the complex layered tastes at places like Les Magnolias, the multiple small treats at places like Ze Kitchen Galerie and the humungous portions of cote de boeuf at places like Le Quincy.  But day in and day out, I’ll take good product, cooked expertly and finished deliciously rather than all the frou-frou of the West.
 

My favorities among the above:

Les Magnolias

48 Av de Bry, Le Perreux sur Marne (RER : Nogent Les Perreux)

T : 01 48 72 47 43

Closed Saturday lunch, Sundays and Mondays

Menus = 36, 48, 78 €.

Ze Kitchen Galerie

4, rue des Grands Augustins, 6th (Metro: Saint Michel)

T: 01 44 32 00 32

Closed Sundays.

A la carte 30 €.

Le Bis de Severo

16, rue des Plantes 14th

T: 01.40.44.73.09

Open Tuesday to Saturday night

A la carte 35-70 € (depending on whether you have the beef)

©2006 John A. Talbot