Food critic goes through the looking-glass

By Elaine Sciolino

International Herald Tribune

PARIS: When the sommelier in the overpriced Paris restaurant started to
refill the glass without asking, François Simon stopped his hand in
midair before a drop could fall.

"I like to control the temperature of my wine," he announced. "In a
restaurant, I am horrified by having to obey. I want to be indulged."

Simon may be the most feared and most read figure in France's culinary
world, an ordinary looking man with a fountain pen as razor-sharp as a
butcher's slaughter knife.

As food critic for the right-of-center newspaper Le Figaro for more than
two decades, he has skinned, sliced, grilled and roasted his subjects,
indifferent to the impact of his words on them, but can be thin-skinned
when they hit back.

He once described a meal at the restaurant Guy Savoy, a Michelin
favorite, as "a three-star crucifixion," faulting it for serving its
signature artichoke and truffle soup out of season. Marc Veyrat, who
enjoys an unheard-of perfect 20-20 score in the Gault-Millau guide, is
for Simon a "clown" and "a fake peasant" with megalomaniacal tendencies.

He has extended his reach with books, a weekly cable television show in
which he hides his face and a blog that includes his secret video
recordings with a hand-held camera of some of the great and not-so-great
tables of France.

Not content simply to pass judgment on others, Simon claims to be an
accomplished cook himself. His blog, in both French and English, boasts
that he can cook a chicken 200 ways.

Last month, though, he took a step that few of his colleagues would have
dared. He closeted himself in the kitchen of the tiny, mural-tiled
bistro Le Cochon à l'Oreille and cooked five nights in a row, each night
for 20 or so diners who had won the free meals in a
first-come-first-served Internet sign-up.

Simon's debut as a chef occurred during the annual "Le Fooding" week,
sponsored by a French gastronomic movement that he strongly supports and
that promotes an egalitarian, irreverent approach to dining. He
announced his kitchen stint on his blog and in his column, and by the
time he was ready to cook, much of the French media world had taken
note.

The meal was barely adequate, according to five diners one night. The
pumpkin soup, seasoned heavily with ginger, vanilla and black sesame
oil, was grainy, undercooked and so dense it stood up in stiff peaks.

"I'm disappointed," said Julie Demarest, an administrator in a water
purification company. "It's thick - like oatmeal. I don't like it."

The spiced chicken with pine nuts and golden raisins filled the dinner
plate, but was accompanied only by an underdressed green salad. The
zabaglione with sake was frothy and thin rather than creamy; the centers
of the macaroons were chewy rather than soft. When the maître d'hôtel
offered seconds on the dessert, there were few takers.

"Those macaroons - they're so hard they're like stuffed Christians,"
said Marc Beekenkamp, a Web designer, using an expression that means the
dish is too heavy.

But his colleague and friend, Matthieu Zerafa, came to Simon's defense.
"Every day he sits in judgment, and now it's his turn to be judged," he
said. "You have to compliment him on one thing - he has a lot of nerve."

That point, at least, has never been in dispute. Simon prides himself on
being an outsider and a provocateur. His columns describe not only a
restaurant's food, but also its service, décor and clientele, even down
to the movement of the breasts of women around him.

Simon has created such a buzz around himself that some French reporters
called him the model for Anton Ego, the dour, unforgiving food critic in
the 2007 animated film "Ratatouille."

Brad Bird, the film's director, said through a spokesman that the
character was a pastiche derived from many sources. No matter: Simon was
quick to assume Anton Ego's persona.

"Since 'Ratatouille,' it hasn't stopped: I've become the darling of my
nephews," he wrote in his blog, "Simon Says." He said that he loved it
when his friends started calling him Anton Ego, writing: "This low-life
Anton is a good guy. He sacrifices his reputation to celebrate the
cuisine of a rat."

Simon has little use for the Michelin and Gault-Millau grading systems
that have created a rigid gastronomic hierarchy and transformed chefs
into superstars.

He has charged that politics often drives Michelin to sprinkle stars on
less-than-worthy chefs. He relentlessly attacks certain multistarred
French chefs and regularly proclaims that France has lost its "culinary
supremacy."

Even before the British celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay opened his
restaurant in Versailles last spring, Simon panned it. "Dishes like his
starter of cream of Jerusalem artichokes with lardons of bacon and
cabbage can be found in 70 Parisian restaurants which are just as good,"
he told The Daily Telegraph. "What's more, he is British, and Parisians
don't like going to Versailles - it's much too far."

Simon accuses Alain Ducasse (with whom he once wrote a book on Provence)
of empire-building commercialism, stratospheric prices, "photocopied
cuisine" and worst of all, absenteeism from his many kitchens. He said
Le Jules Verne, the Ducasse restaurant high in the Eiffel Tower, serves
food "worthy of an airplane, first class - no, rather, business class."

He has nothing good and everything bad to say about many of Paris's
Hgastronomic icons, including La Tour d'Argent, élène Darroze, Le
HProcope, Allard, Maxim's and Brasserie Balzar.

"My real problem is that chefs are used to extremely excessive literary
praise," Simon said in an interview over a lunch in a restaurant where
the appetizers averaged more than EUR30, or $40, apiece. "They become
insufferable, divas. They can't take the least criticism. But when you
talk of them like they're Beethovens or Mozarts, you're lying."

Simon also showers criticism on other French food critics, faulting them
for identifying themselves in restaurants, cozying up to chefs and
taking free meals and gifts. "It is much easier to turn into a
courtesan, to be inside rather than outside the house of the chefs," he
said.

But other critics call his aloof approach sterile. "I want to get to
know the chef, to understand what he feels, his frame of reference, his
roots," said Jean-Claude Ribaut, the longtime food critic at Le Monde.
(Ribaut pays for his restaurant meals.) "I want to know if he grew up on
a farm, if his father grew vegetables. If you go anonymously, you can't
ever have this kind of dialogue."

For Nicolas de Rabaudy, a food writer who has reviewed Simon's books,
Simon has become both mean-spirited and self-absorbed.

"His ego has surpassed him, the poor François," de Rabaudy said. "I
mean, come on, François Simon is the only person who doesn't like Guy
Savoy's artichoke and truffle soup. It's one of the great dishes of
modern French cuisine."

Asked about Simon and his sharp pen, Savoy said: "Frankly, what he
writes or says doesn't interest me one bit. Life's too short."

Simon portrays himself as close to his readers, soliciting their
comments by printing his direct phone number at the bottom of his
columns. He shamelessly boosts his favorites, including Yannick Alléno
of Le Meurice, Pascal Barbot of L'Astrance and his favorite bistro, Paul
Bert, in the 11th Arrondissement. Ravioli with tomato sauce prepared by
the Italian chef Fulvio Pierangelini at Gambero Rosso in San Vincenzo
"almost makes me cry with emotion," he said. He called a truffle à la
croque au sel with a glass of Montée de Tonnerre chablis at Lucien Vanel
in Toulouse, now defunct, "better than cocaine."

Even his admirers want him to tone down. "He's got a strong character,
his articles are fun, and he doesn't pontificate," said Christian
Millau, co-author of the Gault-Millau guide, who gave Simon his first
job as a critic 30 years ago. But, he added, "Sometimes I tell him not
to overdo it."

Basil Katz contributed reporting.

On Thu, 15 Jan 2009 23:17:44 +0100, (Victor Sack)
wrote:
>
>"Those macaroons - they're so hard they're like stuffed Christians,"
>said Marc Beekenkamp, a Web designer, using an expression that means the
>dish is too heavy.
>
Thanks, Victor, that was a good read. And the stuffed Christians
expression is the best I've read all week.
--
modom

ambitious when it comes to fiddling with meat

"modom (palindrome guy)" > wrote in message
...
> On Thu, 15 Jan 2009 23:17:44 +0100, (Victor Sack)
> wrote:
>>
>>"Those macaroons - they're so hard they're like stuffed Christians,"
>>said Marc Beekenkamp, a Web designer, using an expression that means the
>>dish is too heavy.
>>
> Thanks, Victor, that was a good read. And the stuffed Christians
> expression is the best I've read all week.

I got a kick out of that one too. Pat Robertson came to mind for some
strange reason ....

TammyM

On Fri, 16 Jan 2009 11:41:42 -0800, "TammyM" >
wrote:

>
>"modom (palindrome guy)" > wrote in message
.. .
>> On Thu, 15 Jan 2009 23:17:44 +0100, (Victor Sack)
>> wrote:
>>>
>>>"Those macaroons - they're so hard they're like stuffed Christians,"
>>>said Marc Beekenkamp, a Web designer, using an expression that means the
>>>dish is too heavy.
>>>
>> Thanks, Victor, that was a good read. And the stuffed Christians
>> expression is the best I've read all week.
>
>I got a kick out of that one too. Pat Robertson came to mind for some
>strange reason ....
>
For the rest of the month, I'm going to be looking for a place to use
that expression.
--
modom

ambitious when it comes to fiddling with meat

On Jan 15, 4:17*pm, (Victor Sack) wrote:
> * * * * Food critic goes through the looking-glass
>
> * * * * * * * * * By Elaine Sciolino
>
> * * * * * * * International Herald Tribune
>
> PARIS: When the sommelier in the overpriced Paris restaurant started to
> refill the glass without asking, François Simon stopped his hand in
> midair before a drop could fall.
>
> "I like to control the temperature of my wine," he announced. "In a
> restaurant, I am horrified by having to obey. I want to be indulged."
>
> Simon may be the most feared and most read figure in France's culinary
> world, an ordinary looking man with a fountain pen as razor-sharp as a
> butcher's slaughter knife.
>
> As food critic for the right-of-center newspaper Le Figaro for more than
> two decades, he has skinned, sliced, grilled and roasted his subjects,
> indifferent to the impact of his words on them, but can be thin-skinned
> when they hit back.
>
> He once described a meal at the restaurant Guy Savoy, a Michelin
> favorite, as "a three-star crucifixion," faulting it for serving its
> signature artichoke and truffle soup out of season. Marc Veyrat, who
> enjoys an unheard-of perfect 20-20 score in the Gault-Millau guide, is
> for Simon a "clown" and "a fake peasant" with megalomaniacal tendencies.
>
> He has extended his reach with books, a weekly cable television show in
> which he hides his face and a blog that includes his secret video
> recordings with a hand-held camera of some of the great and not-so-great
> tables of France.
>
> Not content simply to pass judgment on others, Simon claims to be an
> accomplished cook himself. His blog, in both French and English, boasts
> that he can cook a chicken 200 ways.
>
> Last month, though, he took a step that few of his colleagues would have
> dared. He closeted himself in the kitchen of the tiny, mural-tiled
> bistro Le Cochon à l'Oreille and cooked five nights in a row, each night
> for 20 or so diners who had won the free meals in a
> first-come-first-served Internet sign-up.
>
> Simon's debut as a chef occurred during the annual "Le Fooding" week,
> sponsored by a French gastronomic movement that he strongly supports and
> that promotes an egalitarian, irreverent approach to dining. He
> announced his kitchen stint on his blog and in his column, and by the
> time he was ready to cook, much of the French media world had taken
> note.
>
> The meal was barely adequate, according to five diners one night. The
> pumpkin soup, seasoned heavily with ginger, vanilla and black sesame
> oil, was grainy, undercooked and so dense it stood up in stiff peaks.
>
> "I'm disappointed," said Julie Demarest, an administrator in a water
> purification company. "It's thick - like oatmeal. I don't like it."
>
> The spiced chicken with pine nuts and golden raisins filled the dinner
> plate, but was accompanied only by an underdressed green salad. The
> zabaglione with sake was frothy and thin rather than creamy; the centers
> of the macaroons were chewy rather than soft. When the maître d'hôtel
> offered seconds on the dessert, there were few takers.
>
> "Those macaroons - they're so hard they're like stuffed Christians,"
> said Marc Beekenkamp, a Web designer, using an expression that means the
> dish is too heavy.
>
> But his colleague and friend, Matthieu Zerafa, came to Simon's defense.
> "Every day he sits in judgment, and now it's his turn to be judged," he
> said. "You have to compliment him on one thing - he has a lot of nerve."
>
> That point, at least, has never been in dispute. Simon prides himself on
> being an outsider and a provocateur. His columns describe not only a
> restaurant's food, but also its service, décor and clientele, even down
> to the movement of the breasts of women around him.
>
> Simon has created such a buzz around himself that some French reporters
> called him the model for Anton Ego, the dour, unforgiving food critic in
> the 2007 animated film "Ratatouille."
>
> Brad Bird, the film's director, said through a spokesman that the
> character was a pastiche derived from many sources. No matter: Simon was
> quick to assume Anton Ego's persona.
>
> "Since 'Ratatouille,' it hasn't stopped: I've become the darling of my
> nephews," he wrote in his blog, "Simon Says." He said that he loved it
> when his friends started calling him Anton Ego, writing: "This low-life
> Anton is a good guy. He sacrifices his reputation to celebrate the
> cuisine of a rat."
>
> Simon has little use for the Michelin and Gault-Millau grading systems
> that have created a rigid gastronomic hierarchy and transformed chefs
> into superstars.
>
> He has charged that politics often drives Michelin to sprinkle stars on
> less-than-worthy chefs. He relentlessly attacks certain multistarred
> French chefs and regularly proclaims that France has lost its "culinary
> supremacy."
>
> Even before the British celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay opened his
> restaurant in Versailles last spring, Simon panned it. "Dishes like his
> starter of cream of Jerusalem artichokes with lardons of bacon and
> cabbage can be found in 70 Parisian restaurants which are just as good,"
> he told The Daily Telegraph. "What's more, he is British, and Parisians
> don't like going to Versailles - it's much too far."
>
> Simon accuses Alain Ducasse (with whom he once wrote a book on Provence)
> of empire-building commercialism, stratospheric prices, "photocopied
> cuisine" and worst of all, absenteeism from his many kitchens. He said
> Le Jules Verne, the Ducasse restaurant high in the Eiffel Tower, serves
> food "worthy of an airplane, first class - no, rather, business class."
>
> He has nothing good and everything bad to say about many of Paris's
> Hgastronomic icons, including La Tour d'Argent, élène Darroze, Le
> HProcope, Allard, Maxim's and Brasserie Balzar.
>
> "My real problem is that chefs are used to extremely excessive literary
> praise," Simon said in an interview over a lunch in a restaurant where
> the appetizers averaged more than EUR30, or $40, apiece. "They become
> insufferable, divas. They can't take the least criticism. But when you
> talk of them like they're Beethovens or Mozarts, you're lying."
>
> Simon also showers criticism on other French food critics, faulting them
> for identifying themselves in restaurants, cozying up to chefs and
> taking free meals and gifts. "It is much easier to turn into a
> courtesan, to be inside rather than outside the house of the chefs," he
> said.
>
> But other critics call his aloof approach sterile. "I want to get to
> know the chef, to understand what he feels, his frame of reference, his
> roots," said Jean-Claude Ribaut, the longtime food critic at Le Monde.
> (Ribaut pays for his restaurant meals.) "I want to know if he grew up on
> a farm, if his father grew vegetables. If you go anonymously, you can't
> ever have this kind of dialogue."
>
> For Nicolas de Rabaudy, a food writer who has reviewed Simon's books,
> Simon has become both mean-spirited and self-absorbed.
>
> "His ego has surpassed him, the poor François," de Rabaudy said. "I
> mean, come on, François Simon is the only person who doesn't like Guy
> Savoy's artichoke and truffle soup. It's one of the great dishes of
> modern French cuisine."
>
> Asked about Simon and his sharp pen, Savoy said: "Frankly, what he
> writes or says doesn't interest me one bit. Life's too short."
>
> Simon portrays himself as close to his readers, soliciting their
> comments by printing his direct phone number at the bottom of his
> columns. He shamelessly boosts his favorites, including Yannick Alléno
> of Le Meurice, Pascal Barbot of L'Astrance and his favorite bistro, Paul
> Bert, in the 11th Arrondissement. Ravioli with tomato sauce prepared by
> the Italian chef Fulvio Pierangelini at Gambero Rosso in San Vincenzo
> "almost makes me cry with emotion," he said. He called a truffle à la
> croque au sel with a glass of Montée de Tonnerre chablis at Lucien Vanel
> in Toulouse, now defunct, "better than cocaine."
>
> Even his admirers want him to tone down. "He's got a strong character,
> his articles are fun, and he doesn't pontificate," said Christian
> Millau, co-author of the Gault-Millau guide, who gave Simon his first
> job as a critic 30 years ago. But, he added, "Sometimes I tell him not
> to overdo it."
>
> Basil Katz contributed reporting.

Victor,
Thank you so much for posting this article. The only thing as good as
eating wonderful food or cooking wonderful food is reading wonderful
writing about food!
Lynn in Fargo

In article >,
(Victor Sack) wrote:

> But his colleague and friend, Matthieu Zerafa, came to Simon's defense.
> "Every day he sits in judgment, and now it's his turn to be judged," he
> said. "You have to compliment him on one thing - he has a lot of nerve."

LOL! Great line!

--
-Barb, Mother Superior, HOSSSPoJ
http://web.me.com/barbschaller
http://gallery.me.com/barbschaller/100041
-- a woman my age shouldn't
have this much fun!