Times have moved
on, of course. Les Amis is now a
restaurant conglomerate with noodle bars and wine bars, pâtisseries and Parisian-inspired
bistros. Stroobant has taken on the
necessary celebrity chef accoutrements, including TV shows, books, even a yoga
studio. Bompard expanded into an
informal eatery and two speciality cheese shops, before folding it all back unto
himself at his flagship, renamed Le
Saint Julien. On his website Bompard says
that at every service, he will be cooking while his wife, maîtresse d’ Edith Lai-Bompard, runs the floor. “With Michelin-starred chefs opening branches
in Singapore”, Bompard proclaims momentously on his website, “I believe our own restaurants
are ready to take on the Michelin rating as well. We are ready to position ourselves amongst
the big names”.
For some reason or
other, I managed to not go to Le
Saint Julien since moving to Singapore five years ago. I certainly wasn't trying to avoid it; I had no reason
to. I had not read any bad reviews and I
certainly don’t believe what I read on Singapore food blogs. But when I read that it would close its doors
in January 2013 after a decade serving Singapore’s burgeoning gourmet class, I
jumped to make a booking. There is no
better way to force a man’s hand than to make him realise that he must act quickly
or forever hold his peace.
When we open the
door at the Fullerton Boathouse, we find ourselves in a kind of “purgatory”, a
grey area between the concrete jungle and the dining room. Silence.
There is no one there to greet us.
There is an untended podium and reservations computer, and a private
room to one side which, with its door wide open and guests visible, is anything
but private. I virtually walk into the
dining room before a waiter sees us and checks the roster for our reservation.
We are seated in a
nice, quiet table in the corner of the restaurant. The view is great, of the Esplanade and the
junction between the Singapore and Kallang Rivers. Below, hordes of tourists snap away at the
various adjacent landmarks, but we are shut off from the hubbub in our
comfortable dining room.
Bread is soon
brought to the table, a choice between cranberry and whole wheat arranged in
three rows in the basket. Morsels of
cranberry stick out of the rightmost row, but the two rows on the left are of very different colours so I ask the waiter (I later learn
that he is a “manager”) if they are the
same. "No", he says. I then ask him what the difference is. “Like I said, both are whole wheat”. So
they are the same, then? Under my damning cross-examination, he finally
says yes. The cranberry bread is decent,
served with Échiré butter.
As this is my
maiden visit, I decide to go a la
carte. I order the signature lobster bisque and ask our waitress what she would recommend for a main. She says the lobster (S$78++, around US$75) is good. I’m already
having lobster for starters, so I ask about a meat option. She immediately points to the wagyu striploin
(S$120++, around US$115). Now maybe
these were the best options and if I
had chosen them, this post would read rather differently. But when waitstaff point me only to
the most expensive items on the menu, alarm bells start going off in my
head.
Entrée:
Signature Lobster Bisque with Garlic Aïoli, Gruyère and Croutons (S$32++,
around US$30.62)
Not bad. The gruyere’s nutty sweetness balances out
the savoury, creamy stock, while the prominent aroma of flambéed cognac adds complexity. But it’s not the most lobster-tasting of
bisques, and it’s hardly worthy of all the fuss.
Main
Course (Take 1): Roast Cod Fish with Sea Urchin Crust and Yellow Wine Sauce
with Avruga Caviar (S$60++, around US$57.40)
Sloppy, just take a look at the way the crust has been applied. My first morsel of the fish has a rather odd
texture. I try cutting it down the
middle and it won’t budge. It strikes me
that the fish was probably poorly defrosted, so I ask our waitress if the fish
was frozen. “No, sir”, she insists, “it
is fresh”. I beg to disagree, so she
escalates the matter to the “manager”.
I explain to him that the fish has a very odd texture. He takes one look at my fish and says “Oh,
you are cutting it from the wrong angle”.
I glare at him. “Please don’t
patronise me. I have
already tried cutting it from the other side”.
He takes it away. In a very computer
game-like progression of increasingly tough “level bosses”, Lai-Bompard is up
next, explaining in a rather sour tone that the fish was blast-frozen, as is all
of their seafood, and that “we don’t have an aquarium”.
Ouch. Alright then, I ask her whether she would
care to recommend another main course.
“I don’t really want to recommend a main course because it may
not suit your palate”. I can hardly
believe what I am hearing, but to move the conversation forward, I ask about
the venison, it being Northern Hemisphere game season and all.
“Oh, it’s frozen, from New Zealand, we don’t have any live venison
running around”. Three innocent
questions, three rude, defensive responses. I should have just left at this point, but still wanting to
give them the benefit of the doubt, I stupidly order the frozen venison from
New Zealand.
Intermezzo:
An Apology
A few minutes later, Lai-Bompard comes
back to the table and says “We did an autopsy of the fish and it
was undercooked. Please accept my
apology”. I wonder if anyone thought about checking the fish before giving me all that attitude?
Side
Dish: Signature Mashed Potatoes with Échiré Butter (S$12++, around US$11.50)
This is excellent,
smooth and creamy with that unmistakable lightly sour note from the cultured butter. The colour is a beautiful light-gold.
Main
Course (Take 2): Roasted Venison Loin with Winter Spiced Jus and Red
Wine-Poached “Wine” (sic) (S$56++,
around US$53.60)
The medium-rare venison
looks rather anaemic, but I try it anyway.
It’s cold. I touch it on its
seared surface. I don’t feel any warmth
from it, so it’s clearly sub-temperature.
I call the “manager” over and tell him I think it’s too cold. I’ve allowed this farce to go on for one more
act that I should have, so I ask him to please just bring the bill for my soup
and my guest’s lunch set menu. But the
upselling continues. “But can I interest
you in dessert?” No, thanks. “A coffee?”
No, thanks. He whisks the dish
away and it is only a matter of time before Lai-Bompard is once again upon us. “I am sorry we could not please you today, so
the meal is on the house”, she says in a tone that suggests that we are no
longer welcome in the restaurant. I try
to calm her down and ask her if the kitchen tested the venison. She simply replies “It wasn’t hot, it was
warm. But if you think that is cold, I
have nothing further to say to you”.
Wow. I do a fine line in semantics but I clearly don’t have anything on Lai-Bompard.
I walk out, more in
sorrow than in anger. As we re-enter
purgatory and head back into the light, I see Bompard at the reception, his
back turned to us. When
I worked in restaurants, my mentors continuously reminded me that when a staff
member, be you chef, waiter or otherwise, crosses paths with guests leaving
the restaurant, you should always farewell them properly and/or thank them for
their custom.
I think back to
what just transpired. What did I do that merited being cast out of the church like some leprous
infidel? Then it dawned on me: I made
the fatal mistake of calling them out for serving uncooked fish, unaware
that their everyday guests probably just lap it up like manna from the gastronomic
divinity that I mistakenly believed Bompard to be.
Regardless, I wish the Bompards all the best in their future
ventures. I understand that through their work over the past decade, they
have brought French cuisine in Singapore to a higher level. I only wish I
was able to taste it for myself today.
LE SAINT JULIEN RESTAURANT
3 Fullerton Road
Ground Floor, the Fullerton Boat House
Singapore 049215
Tel: +65 6534 5947
So sad.... what a demise.
ReplyDeleteFood Friend, I agree that it is very sad.
ReplyDeleteOn a side note, I wrote to Lai-Bompard the same evening after our lunch, recounting the inappropriate remarks made by her and her staff, i.e. what I recorded in my post above. To date, I have not received a response.
When you get to the point at which you are wholly indifferent as to how your customers feel, maybe it is time to close shop and take a break.
what a ... bad experience
ReplyDeletethe last time i ate there last year for lunch
as far as we knew, we're the only ones dining there - about 2 hrs lunch
the food was average and nothing memorable
they could be frustrated with their poor business
with the recent singapore dining scenes and progress; it's only a matter of time that they will be out of business with the current food and service situation - good that they will move and hope can re-charge
les amis' food is a bit better than bompard but the hospitality is always classy and top notch (still among Singapore's best)
saint pierre? from 2 meals there ('07 and '11), the food has never impressed me
Bu Pun Su, you may very well be right. I don't know why they are closing and I certainly don't bear them any ill will. I just wish they had been able to put on a better show, especially given their reputation and positioning.
ReplyDeleteFor me, there is no contest between Bompard and Les Amis - Les Amis wins hands down. I must admit I haven't visited since Armin Leitgeb left, which means I am overdue for a return visit!
Re Saint Pierre, you should have visited in 2009-10. Paul Froggatt, who now heads the two-starred Amber at HK's Landmark Mandarin Oriental, did some excellent work during his stint. I never tried Saint Pierre while Stroobant was still cooking, but in my opinion, Froggatt was easily the most talented and technical chef that Saint Pierre has had since 2007.