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You are probably looking at at least $350-400/person all in. That's because $400/person is really $300/person in food and wine, given the need to tip and the tax.

I was just in Shanghai where I had a steamer of a dozen of Shanghai's best xiaolong bao and a cold 640 ml bottle of Kirin beer for about US $1.20. Hmm, let me see.... $400 divided by $1.20 is.......

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I was just in Shanghai where I had a steamer of a dozen of Shanghai's best xiaolong bao and a cold 640 ml bottle of Kirin beer for about US $1.20. Hmm, let me see.... $400 divided by $1.20 is.......



Well, yeah, a good deal indeed unless you have to factor-in airfare to Shanghai...or maybe you've got an abundance of frequent flyer miles?....that would be sweet (-:

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It could be worse. One could be dining in Europe, and suffering from the exchange rate as well. :(





Maybe I'm still reeling from two dinners here in Seattle which topped $600 each (one for two people and one for three). Yeah, that's probably it.


What could really be worse will be if our friends (money is definitely no object) join us at Guy Savoy we'll end up doing the whole shebang...LOL. Still I'm thinkin' it will be a memorable meal.

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Hu?? do you mean bring your own wine? I'll be at Bartolotta in a few weeks and this would be great for the group I'm going with!


Not only Bartolotta, but also Alex, the last time I checked, were BYO with about $30 or under corkage. You should check with Bartolotta, though.


I spoke to Baetolotta today and the corkage is $35 with a max of 2 bottles and they can't be on the list (which isn't posted online) so you have to call with your selections prior.

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  • 4 weeks later...

The weekend Wall Street Journal is developing a very competent food section, with a mix of recipes, spirits, and restaurant reviews. In today's edition, Raymond Sokolov takes on Guy Savoy Las Vegas and Robuchon at the Mansion.


And, the Tony is awarded to...


There is nothing stale about serving whole raw oysters with a cold, opaque white jelly of puréed oyster. The jelly offers the same taste with a completely different texture and an even more intense oysterity. The artichoke soup tries for the same intensity, but the overwhelmingly aromatic assertiveness of the black truffles, in the soup and the toasted mushroom brioche that comes with it, outshines the still-wonderfully-earthy artichoke purée.


Truffles showed up again, in an ancillary role, in both our main courses, poached and roasted squab and rissoles, or croquettes, of veal sweetbread. The waiter said Mr. Savoy bought 60 pounds of black truffles last season and froze them. We don't doubt that.


Nor did we have any complaints about this elegant meal, even after charging the $662.39 bill plus tip to our room. Perhaps the wine list is excessively canted toward very expensive French bottles, but if you've just hit it big at keno, why not splurge on a four-figure Burgundy? Even a non-gaming American gastronome should be very happy to have this very fine Parisian transplant only a domestic flight away.


But we had to agree with the self-described "highly compensated" health-care consultants at the next table that Joël Robuchon at the Mansion is on a dazzlingly higher level than Guy Savoy LV -- or any other restaurant in the U.S. that we know.


Mr. Robuchon reached apogee at a three-star temple in Paris called Jamin. Even his mashed potatoes were world-renowned. Then he closed Jamin in 1996, shunning the gaudy world as perversely as Greta Garbo. The opening of his less formal Paris Atelier three years ago was an event in itself, something like the return of Ted Williams from the Air Force. So his return to high cuisine here at the age of 60 is a stunning rebirth. This place is heaven.


When I tell you I will never forget the unctuous, velvety lettuce soup served over a spring-onion custard with nutmeg, you will think I have gone gaga. Or what about the sea urchin enrobed in mashed potato with a touch of coffee?


Did I mention that each dish was a visual poem? Deep-red tuna, lightly cooked and smoked alongside a couscous whose grains were actually concocted from cauliflower dotted with specks of nori, the black Japanese seaweed familiar from sushi bars?


There are other Asian influences completely assimilated into their Robuchonized dishes. If you have been paying attention to the food of the molecular gastronomy school, those wild acolytes of the Spaniard Ferrán Adriá, you will see that this newest wrinkle hasn't escaped Mr. Robuchon -- or overwhelmed him. Here and there a foam adds a flavor and a playful caprice. One dessert came garlanded with pink cotton candy.


Not a one of the 16 dishes on this menu was a chaos of show-off ingredients.

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From the LA Times:

August 23, 2006



Savoir-vivre on the Strip

The stars align at Guy Savoy, the chic new restaurant in Las Vegas.

By S. Irene Virbila, Times Staff Writer


Las Vegas — An amazing artichoke soup with gnarly black truffles and marvelous aged Parmesan shaved over the top. Before I can take a bite, a waiter butters a piece of warm mushroom brioche for me — with truffle butter, bien sûr — and suggests I dunk it in the soup.


Slow-cooked wild salmon with a lacy veil that tastes of licorice and star anise. The froth conveys flavor to your palate the way Champagne bubbles deliver the taste of an aged wine.


A magical amuse: a chilled yellow tomato soup poured into a fragile white porcelain cup. At the bottom hides a dab of Maryland blue and peeky toe crab shredded fine as duck down; a sweet potato "beignet" the size of a raisin sits on the handle. And when you lift the cup to take a sip, you find an adorable crab tartlet the size of a quarter underneath.


The scene is the chic new Restaurant Guy Savoy in Las Vegas, and it's a good thing the superlatives are rolling, because this will be the most expensive meal I've ever eaten. Ever. More expensive than Robuchon in either Paris or Las Vegas, more expensive than the French Laundry in Napa Valley, more expensive than Masa in New York in fugu season. How expensive? Obscenely expensive. Even here in this city of excess where everything has its price tag showing. Dinner for two tonight will run just a few cents short of $1,000.


So it's not surprising that everything at Guy Savoy is in the service of pleasure. The butter — Echiré from France, both salted and unsalted and served in pastel glass containers with conical lids pretty enough to go on a dressing table — tastes like it comes from Technicolor cows. Black truffles run through the menu with abandon. Vegetables look as if they were carved by elves. The food is as polished and urbane as Paris itself.


After a tiring, hot drive (the thermometer read 118 degrees in Baker) and a wilting march from the valet stand, we're in want of some cool luxury, but the experience of entering this restaurant is decidedly odd. We enter the elevator, pressing the button marked Restaurant Guy Savoy and Wedding Chapel. When we emerge, we're in the middle of an exuberant wedding party. At the bottom of the staircase the bride and groom pose for a photographer; outside the elevator, we walk into a dozen groomsmen in snappy suits sprouting oversized rosebuds from their lapels.


Our table isn't ready when we push through the massive mahogany doors, and we're ushered into the Champagne bar to wait. My husband and I don't particularly feel like drinking Champagne, but the bar is so small and intimate, it's awkward not to order something, and since there is no list with prices, just a verbal recitation of the Champagnes available, it's not clear whether it's being offered. Because I can't fathom what I'm getting into, I order just one glass of Champagne for myself, and savor it slowly until the host comes to whisk us away to our table. I'm expecting my glass with a couple of sips left will follow. It doesn't — and it turns out I'll be charged $24 for the glass. The failure to bring that expensive quarter-glass to the table is the first service lapse that presages others to come.


The high price tag puts enormous pressure on the kitchen and the staff to perform perfectly every night too, which is what those three Michelin stars are all about.


High stakes in Vegas


It's no longer jaw-dropping to find a three-star French chef in Las Vegas — Joël Robuchon is making a spectacular comeback with Joël Robuchon at the Mansion, which opened last year at the MGM Grand, along with a more casual L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon (the atelier in Paris is also a hit, and a New York outpost opened earlier this month to great fanfare). And Alain Ducasse, who has restaurants all over the world, opened in Mandalay Bay's THEHotel last year.


For Guy Savoy, however, the stakes are higher: This is his only restaurant outside Paris, his debut on the American food scene. (Well, almost: Savoy opened a restaurant in 1983 in Greenwich, Conn., and it disappeared with a whimper when the chef, Jean-Louis Guérin, bought him out in 1986.) To ensure success at Caesars Palace, Savoy has put his family in charge — his son Franck watches over the front of the house along with daughter-in-law Laura.


Guy Savoy in Las Vegas was supposed to have opened last year, around the same time as Joël Robuchon at the Mansion, but construction delays at the new luxe tower at Caesars Palace meant Savoy opened about six months later. Since Robuchon debuted in Las Vegas with such a brilliant restaurant, expectations are even higher for Savoy.


Both Robuchon at the Mansion (which since my last visit has raised its tasting menu prices to more than what Guy Savoy is charging) and Guy Savoy are far more formal and ambitious than any French restaurant Los Angeles has ever seen. L'Orangerie in its heyday didn't come close to the level on which these restaurants operate.


Sticker shock


The problem is that the food, while certainly impressive, is overshadowed by the heavy tariffs. It's the only time I can remember wishing I had been given a menu with no prices.


But when I can forget for a moment and just experience the food, Guy Savoy and his team of chefs, headed by Damien Dulas, deliver.


This is what happens when Savoy tinkers with the idea of tomato tartare: In the center of the plate, a layer of ruby red tomatoes diced like tuna tartare sits atop a clear tomato water gelée. The tomatoes are encircled by pressed squash blossoms that stand up like bright gold cockscombs alternating with wheels of dried, sweet red pepper slices. Just as I'm about to take a bite, a server arrives and spoons over the top, from a bowl carved from ice, a lemon-seaweed granité. Now I taste: The ice crystals melt on my tongue, mingling with the chilled tomato's deep sun-drenched flavor, and then the silken gelée that looks like clear water but tastes like the soul of a tomato. It's a stunning summer dish.


One of Savoy's most famous dishes is that artichoke and black truffle soup. The nuttiness of the shaved Parmesan against the wild earthy perfume of the truffles and the intense flavor of the artichoke purée is magic. There's nothing fussy about it, and it has the kind of focus and purity that, for me, defines Savoy's touch.


The wild salmon, with its licorice and star anise foam and custard-like texture, is so pale it's only a blush of color, and so graceful it reminds me of why I enjoyed eating at Guy Savoy in Paris years ago, before the formidably hard-working chef achieved three-star status. Of all the three-star restaurants in France, Guy Savoy always seemed the most relaxed, the most in tune with the way Americans like to eat. It had seriously delicious modern French cooking, and at the same time it was a place where you not only felt pampered, but you also left having had a wonderful time. As it turns out, the French want to dine with less pretension and formality too, and Savoy seemed to understand that long before the changes that are now sweeping through the restaurant scene in Paris, and throughout France.


That brand of cool elegance is reflected in Savoy's Las Vegas dining room: It's serene and sophisticated, with an Asian-influenced aesthetic, a minimalist temple to contemporary haute cuisine, without a trace of Las Vegas glitz. We could be somewhere just off the Champs-Élysées. We could be floating in space or on a yacht thousands of miles from shore.


Franck Savoy's personal warmth goes a long way toward taking the chill off the room. He speaks perfect English, and when asked how he likes Las Vegas, will shoot back without a trace of irony, "I love it!"


Part of the grand French restaurant experience is sheer theater, and while for the most part Savoy's food is modern in its unfussiness, he can deliver drama with the best of them. One night I watch as what looks like a giant, veined dinosaur egg is presented to a table. What is that? I've never seen anything like it. Next thing I know, the waiter is cutting through something very skin-like, moving it to the side as he makes a surgical cut to reveal a whole guinea hen. It's been cooked inside a pig's bladder!


The quality and luxurious details all add up to a consummate restaurant experience — the flatware is heavy and beautiful, and when your meat course comes, your knife will be replaced with a Laguiole knife made in the Massif Central; it's an updated version of a traditional Laguiole, with a fabulous fluorescent fuchsia handle designed by Jean-Michel Wilmotte. There are purse stools and après-dessert trolleys and complimentary mineral water.


But one night service stumbles enough to get in the way of enjoying the experience. We have a waiter who barks at us impatiently as we puzzle over what to order, embarrassing two of my guests. It's not as if we're attempting to order at 11 p.m. or another party is waiting for our table — the restaurant isn't nearly full.


More egregious, the sommelier, a haughty fellow with a bouffant coif, presents a bottle of wine that's a different vintage than what we've ordered. When my guest who has ordered it points out that we ordered the 2002, not the 2001, the sommelier doesn't apologize, but chides us. "That's why I'm bringing the 2001," he says, "because I don't have the 2002. It's the same, but lighter." Wrong answer: It's not the same wine. Later, when we ask him to decant the young Sine Qua Non we've brought, he refuses at first, arguing that because the bottle has been moved the sediment will be disturbed. Another wrong answer: A wine that young wouldn't have any significant sediment. We simply wanted to give the wine some room to breathe.


Sweet, yet wanting


But on my second visit — the night we order the "menu prestige" — the service is everything it should be: personable, informed, passionate. We feel pampered and cared for, but never intruded upon. I love the way a waiter with a thick French accent he hasn't managed to lose in 16 years in the States announces the dishes so gravely, yet with a twinkle in his eye, the magician's assistant prepping the way. Our sommelier this time is relaxed and knowledgeable, easygoing but extremely professional. You're going to need the sommelier: The wine list — 90% French and at high markups — is so fat and heavy it needs a lectern to hold it. (Why not offer it to peruse while we're kept waiting in the Champagne bar or on the patio? At the table, we feel rushed to come up with a bottle while everyone waits.)


At this level too you'd expect desserts to be tour de forces, like the chocolate mille-feuille at Arpège in Paris — an astonishing structure of dark chocolate pastry leaves the size of a coffee-table book served fresh from the oven for the entire table. Or the sugar egg that collapses with a touch of the spoon at Robuchon at the MGM Grand. But at Guy Savoy, though skillfully prepared, the desserts just aren't that exciting. Chocolate fondant resembles a haute KitKat bar, and it sets you back $22. The one I like best is a pink grapefruit terrine in gelée, cut in slices, and napped in a pink tea sauce. But it still seems awfully ordinary for a restaurant such as this one.


The dessert trolley that appears after the main desserts is enchanting just because it signals the festivities aren't over yet. There's rice pudding in a French canning jar, chocolate mousse too. There's a lovely sorbet of watermelon; cookies; a marvelous tender marshmallow flavored with zesty lime; and chocolate lollipops and sugar lollipops coiled like miniature compact fluorescent bulbs. It's enough to bring out the kid in anyone. But again, it isn't as spectacular as it could and should be.


When I'm handed the bill for the menu prestige for two, with tax and tip, a single glass of non-vintage brut Champagne, one moderate bottle of wine (a recent vintage of Château Lynch-Bages blanc), one $75 corkage fee and one glass of Jurançon sec (shared), the total is $999 and some change. At that price and at this level, everything should be flawless, the service seamless, every bite not just marvelous, but sublime.


So, how to rate such a place? When it comes time to dole out the stars, I'm at a loss. Clearly it's not 4 stars — not with service issues such as I've experienced, and the lackluster desserts. And because price is taken into account in relation to quality in our rating system, I'm not even sure it merits 3 1/2. Still, the food (other than the desserts) is tremendously accomplished and delicious. Just as surely, though, it's impossible to get away from the shock of that bill.


My best advice: Go, but only if your credit card is burning a hole in your pocket — or if you've won big at the tables.




Restaurant Guy Savoy


Rating: ***


Location: Caesars Palace, 3570 Las Vegas Blvd. South, Las Vegas; (877) 346-4642


Ambience: Elegant, contemporary French restaurant from three-star Paris chef Guy Savoy in the new luxe tower at Caesars Palace.


Service: From seamless (as good as it gets) to argumentative and grating, depending on the night and the servers.


Price: Appetizers, $50 to $90; main courses, $58 to $110; dessert, $22; 10-course "menu prestige," $290 per person (and served only to the entire table); TGV menu ("the 90 Minute Experience"), $190 per person.


Best dishes: Artichoke and black truffle soup with toasted mushroom brioche, tomato tartare with young vegetables and lemon-seaweed granité, oyster in ice gelée, roasted veal chop for two, crispy veal sweetbreads with black truffle sandwiches, watermelon sorbet, lime marshmallow.


Wine list: Huge and mostly French at high markups. Corkage, $75.


Best table: No. 3, in the far corner.


Special features: Champagne lounge.


Details: Open from 5:30 to 10:30 p.m. Wednesday through Sunday. Full bar. Valet parking at entrance on Flamingo Road. Reservations taken between the hours of 10:30 a.m. and 6 p.m.

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Robuchon is going to run into the same problem in New York: as with Ducasse when he opened here, the reviews are going to be primarily about the prices. Zis is not France.


I must say, I don't want to spend $190 on anything I can eat in 90 minutes.

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  • 1 year later...

The best meal I've ever had in my life was the tasting menu at Guy Savoy years ago in Paris.


It was my first experience with chef-as-auteur. The food seemed like a personal communication. And I liked the personality whose essence it was communicating: cheerful and lighthearted. It's odd to call heavy fatty haute cuisine life-enhancing, but this was that.


Guy Savoy's Las Vegas outpost is not materially worse.


To my companion's relief, I was induced by the game offerings to go a la carte this time instead of getting the tasting menu. (Actually, they'd have created a game tasting menu if I'd asked -- but my date's relief at being faced with only three courses was so palpable that I couldn't do it to her.)


I'm going to focus on one aspect of one dish. For my main course, I had grouse. In its own jus with some "Indonesian" spices. To the side were some beets. The beets were somehow treated with cocoa. So here's the thing: I had the cocoa tasting menu at New York's new avant-garde house Tailor a few weeks ago. There, the cocoa (a) was always sweet, (b) seemed imposed on the dishes as a sort of conceit, and © always took center stage. This, however, was a very canny use of cocoa as a subtle savory enhancement of the flavor of the beet. It worked perfectly, taking a bit of the edge off the beet flavor, while simulateneously making it just the slightest touch richer -- all making it mate more seamlessly with the rich rich grouse.


Now this is just a tiny detail, but to me it emblemizes the kind of cooking we have here. Nothing shockingly "original". Just traditional haute cuisine done with imagination and expertise. And a light heart.


The wine list veered shockingly toward the pricey -- a problem I encountered at all the "haute" places I ate in LV (and one that makes sense, given the context). OTOH, it had a lot of depth.


The glass of Henriot Millesime champagne I had to start was, quite simply, the best I've ever had. I didn't even look at the price when I settled my bill. I didn't want to know.

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I'm going to focus on one aspect of one dish. For my main course, I had grouse. In its own jus with some "Indonesian" spices. To the side were some beets.

Not only does this French bastard fuck up a perfectly good grouse with entirely redundant spices, he has the temerity to serve it with the vile beet.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Guy Savoy is tucked far from the bustle of the casino at Caesar's Palace on the second floor of the Augustus Tower. The cathedral size mahogany and glass doors were swung open for entry by an attractive young lady. We were welcomed and escorted to our table next to a large window facing the Las Vegas version of the Eiffel Tower. It was pointed out to us, that this is the only way to dine at Guy Savoy and view the Tower at the same time. The room itself is cool and sleek with the occasional piece of modern art on the wall and a bit of African sculpture in what used to be an area for patrons to enjoy cigars. Soaring ceilings, mahogany and glass room dividers and windows facing the Strip and the Paris hotel. If you happen to look up at just the right time, you may also see the tips of spouts of water from the Bellagio fountains as the dance behind the lower portion of the hotel. On the tables, jewel toned teardrop shaped glass containers which revealed salt, pepper and both sweet and salted Echire butter when the top portion was removed.



Upon being seated, we were offered a selection from the champagne cart. Since we had enjoyed a bottle of 1990 Krug Clos du Mesnil before going to Guy Savoy, we declined, and my companion requested the wine list. The list is quite large and has its own stand to allow more comfortable browsing. At this point our first amuse arrived. Presented on a silver skewer, a slice of foie on toast. Followed shortly thereafter by a minature hamburger on a brioche bun. A very good start. Our captain arrived and explained our menu options and also offered us the option of having the chef cook for us. We accepted and after some discussion, it was decided we would have 6 or 7 courses and cheese. Although the menu is excellent, we were looking forward to seeing what Chef Damien Dulas could do when given free reign. Unfortunately, we would not get to experience this. Although we did not know it at the time, our meal would end up being dishes cobbled together solely from the menu. I also wonder how the meal would have turned out if we had put our own menu together from the dishes on offer.



The sommelier arrived and my companion discussed his ideas on what we would drink. Since we did not know exactly what we would be enjoying from the kitchen, some guidance would be helpful. As my friend was looking down at the list, I was looking at the sommelier. He was not aware I was observing him. His look said "let's get on with this". My friend is wine savvy, and was asking legitimate questions, not wasting this young man's time. It was like pulling teeth to get anything useful out of the discussion. I also suspect that he was not terribly familiar with the exact wines that were being discussed. Thankfully, my companion's choices were excellent and we opted to trust his judgement.



Guy Savoy also presents a bread cart with 10+ selections of breads. I chose a simple baguette to be able to enjoy the full flavor of the butter. My companion chose Seaweed bread and a chestnut selection.



The next amuse presented, three spoons one holding a small square of toast topped with a layers of chicken, celery root and foie gras; a second with diced red beets with orange zest; a third which neither my dining companion nor I can remember. Unfortunately, as you will see, there were more of these moments to be had. The chicken spoon ended up being one of the best bites of the evening.



Our last amuse, a chestnut soup, arrived. A pair of "joined cups". One cup, up and holding a chestnut soup. The other, upside down and covering a small piece of toast with rabbit rillettes topped with a sunnyside up quail egg. At this point, we were both feeling quite good about how the meal was progressing.



Wine: 2000 Domaine de Chevalier



First Course: Oyster in Ice Gelee-An oyster on its halfshell, decorated with a chive and bit of carrot in the shape of a flower (why???), enrobed in a clear oyster gelee and balanced atop creme fraiche. The dish was out of balance. Too much crème fraiche overpowered the oyster and the gelee lacked an assertive brininess. Manresa's Oyster in Urchin Gelee beats this presentation hands down.



Franck Savoy, Guy's charming and effusive son, stopped by to say hello and make sure we were enjoying our evening. He was in evidence most of the evening. Occasionally checking in on us and with some of the other guests.



Second Course: Ragout of Winter Vegetables, Poached Egg and Alba White Truffles- Our first hint that things might be trending downward on two levels. The first, that so far, all the items had come strictly from the menu. The second, the white truffle that was brought to the table to be shaved over my egg dish. As the truffle was presented for our inspection, there was no discernible truffle scent. None. As the truffle was being sliced, and I do mean sliced, rather than shaved. The pieces were more like planks. There was only the slightest whiff of truffle, until they hit the egg. Then, if you leaned in very closely, you could get a bit more scent. The first bite of perfectly cooked egg had the first slice of truffle, which was unfortunately rather dried out. Really a shame. Also, the flavor of the vegetables was masked by the heavy use of butter.



Second Course: Hamachi Carpaccio, Golden Oscetra Caviar, Cauliflower, Lemon Sabayon- The caviar quality was a B-. Hamachi was thinly sliced and at the table they add a dice of the hamachi belly that has been sauteed. The lemon sabayon was added at the table also.



Third Course: John Dory with a Crust of Walnut and Chive, Watercress and Salsify, Roasted Jus-Oh, what might have been. Another course that missed the mark. The John Dory, at first glance appeared to be a lovely piece of fish. Upon further inspection, the fish had been "glued" to attain the thickness, and was also overcooked. Both the fish and the sauce lacked salt.



Wine:2001 H. Lignier Vosne Romanee "Riottes"



Fourth Course: Alba White Truffle Risotto: Nicely toothsome and creamy risotto generously dressed with truffles. This time the captain readjusted the shaver a bit. The truffles were a step closer to being shavings, but still a bit to thick. Unfortunately, it was the same tired, flavorless white truffle that had been presented before. Sigh.





Fifth Course: Artichoke and Black truffle Soup, Toasted Mushroom Brioche and Black Truffle Butter: Very boring and also lacked salt. ehh. The brioche was the best part and the preserved truffles were an embarrassment.





Sixth Course: Roasted Grouse, Spiced Braised Pears, Glazed Red Beet, Indonesian Black Pepper and Cocoa Tuile-Again, what might have been. The grouse was cooked off the bone, a travesty in itself. And, it was overcooked. I fared better than my companion, whose bird came out medium. Mine at least was medium rare in places. It tasted like squab, nothing special. For the $105 price it should be cooked on the bone and at the proper temperature. The beets and pears were rich with butter.



Cheese: Another mark missed. I must first, give high praise to the waiter who presented the cheeses. He did so with elan and good knowledge of the cheeses he was presenting. The cheeses were unmemorable with one exception, a Comte that was ammoniated and most certainly should not have been on offer. My companion mentioned the cheese should be removed. The comment was ignored. The Comte was still on offer the next time the cheese was presented at another table. Also, the breads offered with the cheeses were served cold to the touch.



Palate cleansers: The best taste of the night went to my companion. The layered coconut glass. Six layers. Cream, jelly, freshly grated, sorbet and custard with tapioca.

Mine was an unmemorable fruit soup with sorbet.


Desserts: Chocolate Fondant, Crunchy Praline, Chicory Cream-Really nothing inspiring. Nice chocolate flavor, but a cliché, nothing special. They can do better than this.

Pear-Another dessert that was pedestrian and unmemorable.



Mignardise: A trolley with all sweets imaginable. I chose a simple raspberry lollipop and coffee macaron. My companion opted for a cannele. Again, nothing special.



As we prepared to leave the restaurant we were given a small box. To open the drawer to the box, a faux leather loop. Inside a half dozen caramels with nuts and a hint of chocolate. A very nice touch. Also, as she held the doors open for us, the young lady offered a bowl with lovely, individually wrapped lemon hard candies to enjoy on the walk back through the hotel.



When you put yourself in the market at this price point, more is expected, and should be received. Is Guy Savoy a Michelin 3* restaurant? Certainly not. A two *? For service, yes. Food, definitely not. We did dine on a Sunday night, and I suspect that some of the front of the house staff were not the same ones one would see on a Friday or a Saturday. That said, with the exception of the sommelier, the front of the house did a very good job. The service was pleasant and inobtrusive. As for the meal itself, the quality of some of the product (truffles, Comte) was disgraceful. The grouse being improperly prepared and the Comte being ammoniated, were huge errors. The fact that the dishes we both were presented came out at inconsistent (and incorrect) temperatures was also a big black mark. With more time to contemplate this meal since experiencing it, the errors become more glaring. Especially after recently experiencing the amazing quality of the product, the respect shown for the ingredients and the consistency with which they are presented by Hiro at Urasawa (a true Michelin 2*). I also wonder how we would have fared if we had put our own menu together from the options available. To say we "took one for the team" with this meal would be an understatement.



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