IN 1982, WE WENT TO FLORENCE AND PARIS.  FOR OUR TWO-WEEK STAY IN PARIS WE’D RESERVED LUNCHES AND DINNERS AT, AMONG OTHERS, TAILLEVENT AND L’ARCHESTRATE, THEN THE ONLY TWO RESTAURANTS IN PARIS WITH THE HIGHEST RATING IN BOTH THE MICHELIN AND GAULT-MILAU.  WE ATE TWO MEALS A DAY.  THIS WAS PRE-TASTING MENUS, SO A TYPICAL MEAL INCLUDED AN ENTRÉE, A MAIN COURSE, CHEESE AND/OR DESSERT.  WITH WINE.  WHEN WE RETURNED TO L.A., MY FRIEND SANDY TOOK ONE LOOK AT ME AND SAID, “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR NECK?”  I’D GAINED 17 POUNDS IN THREE WEEKS.

WITH SIMILAR AMBITIONS FOR OUR RECENT TRIP TO LONDON, PARIS AND AMSTERDAM, I RESEARCHED AND RESERVED TABLES IN PARIS AND AMSTERDAM.  BUT SADLY (OR MAYBE NOT) I FOUND MYSELF CANCELLING RESERVATIONS IN BOTH CITIES.  I’M NOT THE SWINE I USED TO BE.  WHICH IS NOT TO SAY, WE DIDN’T HAVE WONDERFUL MEALS.  JUST NOT QUITE SO MANY.

IN PREVIOUS YEARS, BEFORE IPHONES AND E-MAILS AND TEXTS, I’D METICULOUSLY RECORDED, COURSE BY COURSE, EVERY BITE IN HAND-WRITTEN DIARIES; DIARIES I STILL HAVE AND CHERISH.  BUT I’VE GROWN THINNER AND LAZIER, SO INSTEAD OF SUBJECTING YOU, DEAR READER, TO A COMPREHENSIVELY TEDIOUS ACCOUNT OF OUR GUSTATORY ODYSSEY, I’LL LIMIT MYSELF TO THE HIGHTLIGHTS; PARTICULAR DISHES IN THE RESTAURANTS WE PARTICULARLY LIKED.

FRENCH FOOD HAs CHANGED A LOT IN 40 YEARS. AND NOT AT ALL.  BY 1982 HAUTE CUISINE HAD ALREADY SHED THE EXCESSES OF CARÊME AND ESCOFFIER FOR FERNAND POINT, WHOSE COOKING AT LA PYRAMIDE IN VIENNE RELIED ON THE BEST OF SEASONAL INGREDIENTS.  POINT AND HIS ACCOLYTES ALEXANDRE DUMAINE, ALAIN CHAPEL, THE TROISGROS BROTHERS, AND PAUL BOCUSE SOUGHT TO MAKE THE BETTER OF THE BEST, ENHANCING PERFECT PRODUCE AND PROTEIN WITH REDUCTIONS INSTEAD OF FLOUR-BASED SAUCES AND SUPERFLUOUS EMBELLISHMENTS. 

THE NEXT GENERATION, INCLUDING MICHEL GUÉRARD, FRÉDY GIRADET, JOEL ROBUCHON, AND ALAIN PASSARD ALL TRACE THEIR LINEAGE TO POINT

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.BUT THEN, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN ITS HISTORY, MICHELIN BEGAN SHOWERING STARS ON THE UPSTARTS IN SPAIN, JUAN MARI ARZAK AND FERRAN ADRIA, THE CHEF/SCIENTISTS WHO INVENTED MOLECULAR GASTRONOMY. SOUS VIDE AND PACOJETS, FOAMS AND GELS AND POWDERS INVADED FRENCH KITCHENS, TURNING RECIPES INTO A FORM OF ALCHEMY.  

THEN CAME JAPAN.   JAPANESE CHEFS WHO LOVED FRENCH FOOD FLOCKED TO PARIS TO LEARN FRENCH COOKING.  AFTER A SUITABLE APPRENTICESHIP IN FRENCH KITCHENS, SOME OPENED RESTAURANTS OF THEIR OWN.  AND FRENCH CHEFS, WHO ADMIRED THE ZEN PURITY AND SIMPLICITY OF JAPANESE CUISINE, BEGAN TO INCORPORATE THAT SENSIBILITY INTO THEIR OWN DISHES. 

ONE OF OUR BEST DINNERS THIS TRIP WAS AT ZE KITCHEN GALLERIE.  SINCE OUR FIRST MEAL THERE SOME 20 YEARS AGO, WILLIAM LADEUIL, WHO SPENT A STRETCH IN TOKYO, HAD EARNED A MICHELIN STAR AND A 16.5 RATING IN GAULT-MILAU.  HE HAS GRADUATED FROM NIGIRI WITH RAW BEEF IN PLACE OF TORO TO A COMPLEX AND SEDUCTIVE TASTING MENU WITH INFLUENCES FROM SOUTHEAST ASIA AND MOROCCO AS WELL AS JAPAN. THIS FUSION BRANCH OF FRENCH COOKING IS MANIFEST IN RESTAURANTS SUCH AS THE MUCH-LAUDED CHATEAUBRIAND.

ALTHOUGH UNDERWHELMED BY A SUCCESSION OF ONE-BITE DISHES SUCH AS GOUGÉRES WITH A GLASS OF CEVICHE JUICE AND CARROT “SPAGHETTI”, A PERFECTLY-COOKED PIECE OF DORADE FOLLOWED BY A LUSCIOUS SLICE OF SPRING LAMB PROVED REDEMPTIVE.  

I ADMIT, HOWEVER, THAT I’VE GROWN WEARY OF TASTING MENUS.  THE CHEF WHO CAN PULL OFF AN ORCHESTRATED PARADE OF ONE-BITE GEMS IS RARE INDEED.  MORE OFTEN THAN NOT, FOR EVERY GEM, THERE’S A FAILED ATTEMPT AT CREATING A TASTE COMBINATION THAT IS SIMPLY UNIQUE.  I RECALL WITH A SHUDDER, A SUCCESSION OF BEIGE AND GREY DISHES AT A RESTAURANT IN HELSINKI, THE NAME OF WHICH WILL FOREVER SLIP MY MIND.  BEFORE THE ADVENT OF CHEF’S TASTING MENUS, WE USED TO CONSTRUCT OUR OWN SIMPLY BY ORDERING SEVERAL HALF PORTIONS, SHARING DISHES OR JUST ORDERING APPETIZERS, WHICH TEND TO BE THE BEST CHOICES ON THE MENU ANYWAY.    

CONCURRENT WITH FUSION AND TASTING MENUS, ANOTHER GROUP OF YOUNG CHEFS, HIGHLY-TRAINED AND HIGHLY-SKILLED, WHO’D CUT THEIR TEETH IN 3-STARS, JUMPED OFF THE MICHELIN TRAIN, OPTING INSTEAD TO OPEN BISTROS IN LESS-PRICEY ARRONDISEMENTS WHERE THEY SERVED UP THEIR INTERPRETATIONS OF REGIONAL SPECIALTIES.  WE DIDN’T EVEN TRY TO GET INTO CHEZ L’AMI JEAN (OH, FOR JEAN’S RICE PUDDING!), WHICH HAS BECOME WILDLY POPULAR SINCE OUR LAST VISIT.  BUT ON THE RECOMMENDATION OF MY NEPHEW NICK, WHO LIVES IN PARIS, WE HAD OUR FIRST PARISIAN DINNER AT LORETTE, A 32-SEAT BISTRO IN THE ONCE-UNFASHIONABLE 10^TH.  LORETTE

YOUNG STAFF, YOUNG CROWD, AND YOUNG CHEF MAKING CLASSIC DISHES SUCH AS ONION SOUP, MARROW BONE, SEA BASS, AND A PEAR TART.  LORETTE IS JOLLY AND COZY WITH WARM SERVICE AND EXCELLENT FOOD.  WE BOOKENDED OUR PARIS WEEK AT THE VENERABLE CHEZ ANDRÉ (“1936 CUISINE BOURGEOIS”) WITH ITS RED LEATHER BANQUETTES, BRASS FIXTURES AND REDSHADED CHANDELIERS, A MAN SHUCKING OYSTERS OUTSIDE, AND INSIDE, CLASSIC FOIE GRAS AND PERFECT SOLE MEUNIERE.

WE’D LANDED FIRST IN LONDON, WHERE LYNN’S DAUGHTER ALBYN LIVES IN KENTISH TOWN WITH HER PARTNER BILL, THEIR 11-YEAR-OLD GEORGIA AND TWO CATS.  MY SISTER ANN AND HER HUSBAND STEVE ARE ALSO EX-PATS; THEIR HOUSE IN ST. JOHN’S WOOD NOT FAR FROM ALBYN’S DUPLEX IN KENTISH TOWN.

SO ANOTHER BIG CHANGE SINCE 1982 IS THERE IS PLENTY OF GOOD EATING IN LONDON.  ONLY THE BRITISH COULD INVENT THE WORD “GASTROPUB”, WHICH SOUNDS MORE LIKE AN INTERNAL ORGAN THAN A RESTAURANT, BUT ONE OF OUR BEST MEALS THE WHOLE TRIP WAS AT THE BULL AND LAST (LET’S CALL IT A BISTROPUB, OKAY?), A SHORT WALK FROM ALBYN’S FLAT.  ONE OF THE MANAGERS EXPLAINED THAT THE NAME REFERS TO THE LAST BULL TO LEAVE THE PASTURE AS WINTER SETS IN.  OKAY…  OUR VERY PRETTY, BLONDE SERVER WAS FROM SAN FRANCISCO AND THE MENU, AN ECCLECTIC MIX OF FRENCH, ITALIAN AND CALIFORNIA CUISINE:  RADICCHIO SALAD WITH RAW ARTICHOKES, HAZELNUTS AND BLOOD ORANGE; BEEF CARPACCIO WITH WALNUT PESTO; BURRATA WITH GRILLED ASPARAGUS AND PEA SHOOTS.  MY SMOKED FISH BOARD HAD ENOUGH SMOKED MACKERAL PÂTÉ, HOUSE-CURED GRAVLAX, BROWN CRAB, AND HADDOCK CROQUETTE TO FEED A SMALL ARMY, SO I REDUCED MY PAPPARDELLE WITH LAMB RAGU TO A HALF PORTION, ALTHOUGH MY FORMER SELF WOULD HAVE EAGERLY EATEN MORE.  LYNN AND ALBYN’S ROAST SEABASS WITH ZUCCHINI AND TOMATO BROTH WAS MOIST AND FLAVORFUL.  AS FULL AS WE WERE, WE MANAGED TO INHALE THE STICKY TOFFEE PUDDING.

 WE MET MY NIECE MADDIE AT NOBLE ROT (THEY DO HAVE A GIFT FOR OFF-PUTTING NAMES), A WINE BAR IN SOHO WITH IMAGINATIVE FRENCH-INFLECTED DISHES AND AN INTRIGUING BOTTLE OF TOKAJI FURMINT FROM HUNGARY.  

ON A WALK NEAR OUR WONDERFULLY ECCENTRIC  ZETTER TOWNHOUSE HOTEL IN MARLEYBONE, I DISCOVERED A PAIR OF SPANISH RESTAURANTS ON OPPOSITE SIDES OF SEYMOUR PLACE.  AT LURRA, THE MORE SERIOUS OF THE TWO, MOST EVERYTHING IS GRILLED OVER WOOD.  NEVER HAVE I EATEN A BETTER OCTOPUS TENTACLE, DRAPED BESIDE A PILLOW OF FIRE-ROASTED PEPPERS.  DONOSTIA, LURRA’S SISTER RESTAURANT, SPECIALIZES IN TAPAS, SERIOUS TAPAS SUCH AS GRILLED ARTICHOKES, SUCCULENT LAMB CHOPS, ZAPOA (JUICY  MONKFISH) WITH BLACK RICE, SEVERAL ITERATIONS OF SPAIN’S CELEBRATED IBERICO PORK (CURED LIKE PROSCUITTO, ROASTED LOIN, BRAISED SHOULDER), AND IRRESISTABLY CRUNCHY ROASTED POTATOES.

EVERYONE IN PARIS WAS FURIOUS WITH MACRON WHO, INVOKING AN ESOTERIC BUT PERFECTL-LEGAL STATUTE, HAD RAISED THE RETIREMENT AGE FROM 62 TO 64.  SACRE BLEU!  GARBAGE BAGS WERE PILED HIGH BUT DISCREETLY AND THE CAB DRIVERS USED THEIR APPS TO AVOID THE DAILY PROTESTS.  BUT I CAN’T SAY IT IMPACTED OUR VISIT.  THERE WAS STILL A LINE AT THE MUSÉE D’ORSAY, WHERE WE LUCKED INTO THE FIRST DAY OF A TERRIFIC SHOW, MANET AND DEGAS. 

THE PINAULT COLLECTION, WORTH A VISIT IF FOR NO OTHER REASON THAN TO SEE WHAT WAS ONCE THE BOURSE (STOCK MARKET).  DEAD TREES ROSE TWO STORIES IN THE ATRIUM.  A FILM IN THE MUSEUM’S THEATER WAS SHOWING AMAZONIAN FISHERMEN NETTING AND HUGGING FISH – TO DEATH.  NEVER HAS SO MUCH ART REQUIRED SO MUCH READING! 

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MUCH MORE SATISFYING WAS A SMALL EXHIBITION AT THE MUSÉE DU LUXEMBOURG, THE ADJACENT GARDENS BURSTING INTO BLOOM. 

LEON MONET, CLAUDE’S BROTHER, WAS A SUCCESSFUL FABRIC MANUFACTURER IN ROUEN, AND AN AVID COLLECTOR OF THE EARLY IMPRESSIONISTS.  

AFTER LONDON AND PARIS, AMSTERDAM WAS LIKE GOING FROM TIME’S SQUARE TO THE WEST VILLAGE.  I UNDERSTAND WHY PEOPLE MOVE HERE.  OKAY, EVERYONE IS TALLER THAN YOU (LYNN REQUIRED A STEP STOOL TO GET IN AND OUT OF BED.). BUT THEY ALL SPEAK ENGLISH.  HALF THE WINDOW DRESSINGS ARE IN ENGLISH.  IF YOU DON’T GET RUN OVER BY A BICYCLE, NOTHING IS MORE ENCHANTING THAN STROLLING ALONG THE HERENGRACHT OR PRINSENGRACHT OR PRACTICALLY ANY GRACHT; EACH CANAL LINED WITH HOUSES WHICH HAVEN’T CHANGED SINCE THE 17^TH CENTURY. 

BOATS PACKED WITH TOURISTS CRUISE BY.  SWANS NEST AT THE WATERLINE NEAR DOCKED HOUSEBOATS.  THE DRAWBRIDGES ARE RIGHT OUT OF VAN GOGH.  AND, OF COURSE, THERE ARE THE VAN GOGHS THEMSELVES, WHICH WE SKIPPED THIS TRIP IN FAVOR OF 28 VERMEERS AT THE RIKJSMUSEUM, THE LARGEST NUMBER EVER EXHIBITED.  ONLY A FEW PER ROOM. 

LUMINOUS LITTLE WINDOWS INTO THE PRIVATE MOMENTS OF ORDINARY PEOPLE.  BUT I DIGRESS…  

VINKELES, WITH ONE MICHELIN STAR BUT DESERVING OF TWO, IS SITUATED IN THE FORMER POORHOUSE OF AN ADJACENT CHURCH; NOW THE NOT-SO-POORHOUSE HOTEL DYLAN.  THE STUNNING AND DRAMATIC DINING SPACE IS ONE LONG ROOM, ONCE THE CHURCH BAKERY. A WALL OF DECOMMISIONED BRICK OVENS RISES TWENTY FEET FROM THE BRICK FLOOR TO A TIMBERED CEILING.  THE AMPLY-SPACED TABLES ARE DRAPED IN WHITE LINEN.  SERVICE IS BRISK, IMPECCABLE AND FRIENDLY.  I STARTED WITH TWO SMALL SLABS OF HAMACHI CRUDO, FRESH AS THE SEA, DRIZZLED WITH OLIVE OIL AND A PINCH OF PINK SALT.  SQUAB CAME ROASTED AS RARE AS PRIME RIB; THE SKIN, MAHOGANY, NAPPED IN A SQUAB REDUCTION.  LYNN CHOSE THE VEGETABLE MENU – FIVE COURSES INCLUDING DESSERT.  BRAISED ONIONS WITH SOY SAUCE AND GRUYÈRE; A CARROT WITH TARRAGON AND CARAMELIZED CREAM; ARTICHOKE WITH CRISPY POTATOES; OYSTER MUSHROOMS WITH CHESTNUTS AND WILD GARLIC, AND A DESSERT OF CHOCOLATE, CARAMEL, JERUSALEM ARTICHOKE, HAZELNUTS, ORANGE AND GOAT’S MILK.  OUR WAITER WAS MOST ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT A BOTTLE OF ELBLING FROM RACINES REBELLES, A WOMAN WINEMAKER IN LUXEMBOURG’S MOSEL.  ELBLING IS RIESLING’S COUSIN, BUT THIS WINE WAS LIGHTER-BODIED WITH FLOWERY NOTES AND A VELVETY FINISH. 

THE FOLLOWING NIGHT WE MET OUR FRIENDS EVA AND PETER VAN DUINEN AND LYNN’S CLIENT NINA SIEGAL, (“THE ANATOMY LESSON” AND THE FORTHCOMING “THE DIARY KEEPERS”) AND THE NEW YORK TIMES’ CULTURAL CORRESPONDENT FOR HOLLAND AT SINCK, A WINE BAR TWO CANALS AWAY FROM OUR HOTEL.

(ONE NICE THING ABOUT AMSTERDAM WAS THAT EVERY RESTAURANT WAS A FEW CANALS AWAY FROM OUR HOTEL.  WE ONLY TOOK PUBLIC TRANSPORATION TO VISIT MAURITSHUIS COLLECTION IN THE HAGUE AND TO GET TO THE TRAIN STATION.).  SINCK WAS ARGUABLY OUR BEST MEAL OF THE TRIP.  THE MENU WAS DECEPTIVELY UNPRETENTIOUS – SWEETBREADS, FOIE GRAS, MONKFISH, SKATEWING.  BUT THE SWEETBREADS, WHICH HAD A TENDER CRUNCH CAME SWIMMING IN AN INTENSE VEAL REDUCTION LACED WITH, I THINK, PORT.  THE FRIED SKATE WING FLOATED IN A BUERRE ROSE, PINKISH FROM A KISS OF TOMATO.  AND SINCK LIVED UP TO ITS NAME AS A WINE BAR.  WE DOWNED TWO BOTTLES:  A JOSEF BOXLER ALSATIAN RIESLING AND A LIGHT AND LOVELY SYLVANNER.  

WE TRAVEL FOR TWO REASONS:  TO EAT AND LOOK AT ART.  SO IT WAS A REVELATION TO FIND THAT THE FOOD IN THE DUTCH MUSEUM CAFETERIAS – THE RIJKSMUSEUM, THE MAURITSUIS, AND THE HERMITAGE – WAS CONSISTENTLY FRESH, DELICIOUS AND CAPACIOUS.  WE ALWAYS OVER-ORDERED.  MAIN COURSE SALADS, SANDWICHES ON GOOD BROWN BREAD AND EXCELLENT TOMATO SOUP.

BACK IN LONDON FOR A DAY BEFORE OUR FLIGHT TO L.A., WE SPENT MOST OF OUR TIME WITH ALBYN, HER FRIENDS AND OUR DELIGHTFUL GRANDAUGHTER GEORGIA, WITH ONE TERRIFIC DINNER AT THE AFOREMENTIONED DONOSTIA. 

REFLECTING ON OUR TRIP, WHAT’S HAPPENED TO FOOD IN THE COUNTRIES WE VISITED ISN’T VERY DIFFERENT FROM HOW FOOD HAS EVOLVED IN L.A. AND PROBABLY MOST BIG CITIES AROUND THE WORLD.  CUISINE IS NOW INTERNATIONAL.  JONATHAN GOLD PRAISED JOSEF CENTENO’S DISHES AT HIS ORSA & WINSTON BECAUSE, HE WROTE, THEY REFLECT THE CULTURAL DIVERSITY OF THE CITY ITSELF.  CENTENO EFFORTLESSLY COMBINES FLAVORS, INGREDIENTS AND TECHNIQUES FROM MEXICO, JAPAN, NORTH AFRICA, AND ITALY.  THE CHEF DU CUISINE AT LURRA IS JAPANESE BUT TOLD ME HE LOVES BASQUE FOOD.  CERTAINLY, REGIONAL COOKING PERSISTS AND HAPPILY SO.  YOU CAN GO TO TEN RESTAURANTS IN ROME AND THOUGH THE PRICES MAY VARY, THE MENUS ARE THE SAME.  THE SAN GABRIEL VALLEY IN LOS ANGELES IS SIXTY MILES OF ASIAN FOOD, WHERE RESTAURANTS CATER TO IMMIGRANTS FROM SPECIFIC REGIONS SUCH AS CANTON, HUNAN, SZECHUAN, AND JIANGSU.  YOU CAN FIND RESTAURANTS ALL OVER THIS CITY WHICH SPECIALIZE IN OAXACAN MOLES, KOREAN BARBECUE, SYRIAN SHAWARMA, BOLOGNESE PASTA, OR OSAKA-STYLE SUSHI. BUT INCREASINGLY, THE MORE SOPHISTICATED CHEFS ARE DRAWING THEIR INSPIRATION FROM AN GLOBAL PALATE.  AND WHO ARE THE BENEFICIARIES OF THEIR ONGOING EXPERIMENTS?  WE ARE.

A FINAL NOTE:  WE ATE IN FIFTEEN RESTAURANTS IN THREE CITIES.  THEY WEREN’T ALL QUIET, BUT INSTEAD OF DEFEANING MUSIC WAS THE CLATTER OF DISHES, THE CLINK OF GLASSES, OF VOICES AND LAUGHTER.  PLENTY OF PHONES WERE IN EVIDENCE, FACE DOWN ON THE TABLES.  NO ONE WAS LOOKING AT THEIR PHONES.  THEY WERE LAUGHING, FLIRTING, DRINKING, ENJOYING THE FOOD.  AND TALKING.  NOT SHOUTING TO BE HEARD OVER THE MUSIC.  TALKING.  SPREAD THE WORD.