Normally, I'm not lucky enough to be ahead of the curve. But I was this time, because I got to eat at
L'Atelier de Jean-Luc Rabanel just a few weeks before France's influential GaultMillau gastronomy guide named him Chef of the Year for 2008. Rabanel is known for his commitment to experimental cuisine, as well as his use of organic, seasonal ingredients from a nearby farm, and his meal was the most interesting I've had in France, surpassing my recent meal at Pierre Gagnaire by a mile (and I told Rabanel himself as much).
Rabanel's spare, modern restaurant (which, as you can see from the sign, is accented with red-white-black nipponais motif) is located on a quiet pedestrian street in the "intramuros" section of the Provencale city of Arles. It seats perhaps 30+ people indoors, and maybe an additional 10 outside, literally in the street. The small kitchen is separated from the dining area by a dutch door, where you could watch Rabanel (his formidable coif held pack with thin black hair band) calmly and meticulously plating all the food himself, as well as his 2 or 3 assistants bustling about behind him. Four or five servers took care of the front -- the heavy staffing was necessary due to the constant turnover of plates.
Looking at the website, I was a little scared of the possibly fusiony nature of the cuisine (mixing Asian flavors into traditional cooking is still a bit radical out there), but as it turned out, this food was still both extremely French and extremely interesting. Probably too interesting for Michelin, which only gave the place one star.
There appears to be no a la carte menu -- you simply leave your fate to Rabanel with his umpteen-course "Emotions" prix fixe menu for EUR65. Typically, the number of courses is 13 or more -- the actual number appears to be up to the whims of the chef and your satiety level. Your only choice is your main dish, which is really just a single, small, conventional course that arrives in the middle of a lengthy procession of unusual delights.
What can you expect there? There's no way to know what you would get, since the menu changes greatly depend on what's fresh from the farm. Our dishes, for example, were rich in seasonal, region-appropriate flavors like tomato, celeriac, pumpkin, and licorice. Here's what we received:
Course 1: Pumpkin Tempura
As soon as we sat down, and even before we ordered, we received a hot, fresh pumpkin "tempura" (more like a fritter or a beignet with pumpkin embedded in it) served with two sauces: "spicy" tomato (not spicy at all, welcome to France) and sweetened soy sauce. Like every other dish that night, the plate was decorated with a sprig -- or sometimes even a branch -- of some herb. Anyway, the fritter was good, but a little oily.
One thing to note: dishes came fast and furious, on occasion before you were ready for them. But I understand why: they want to give you stuff the moment it's ready, and Rabanel, who was plating everything himself, was an unstoppable machine.
Course 2: Gazpacho
Once the tempura was spirited away, a five-tomato gazpacho arrived in what looked like a lab flask. The mouth of the flask was full of microbasil, and jutting out of the basil was a black plastic straw supported by a long, tomato brioche studded with sesame seeds. The idea, as explained by the server, was that you were supposed to sip on the gazpacho while burying your nose into the basil. The gazpacho was a B (not thick or complex enough for me, and I've had quite a few in Spain), but the presentation was an A+.
Course 3: Salad
Things were already unusual, and getting weirder. This was a salad of tiny greens, finely sliced vegetables, and mushrooms, resting on a crumbly "sable biscuit" (like a shortbread), and dressed a balsamic reduction. In the little red cup was a tomato sorbet with local, fresh herbs. The salad was excellent. Dayenu, we would have said at Passover.
Course 4: Sea Bass
This lemon-juice marinated sea bass (a little ceviche-like) came with green beans, artichoke, Szechuan pepper, lime gelee, pumpkin seeds, cilantro, and a tuile of red pepper. It ended up being quite a bit like a Thai tom yam goong -- though with fish. Also very good. (Note: this picture was taken of a partially disassembled one -- hunger got the better of us!)
Course 5: Pork Ball
An unusual preparation -- a stuffed pork ball impaled on a stick of actual licorice (not the candy, but the plant), sitting in a bowl with cubes of red pepper gelee and celeriac foam. Inside the pork ball seemed to be little pork and veggie pieces -- it was hard to say what. The savory ice cream was made of celeriac milk and a little cumin. I liked it, but it was not everyone's taste.
Course 6: Chef's Surprise
Out came toast and "chef's surprise" -- which turned out to be chopped rabbit liver, scallions, vinegar, and olive oil -- as well as a white bean and morel mushroom mousse served with a balsamic foam. Since I didn't know it was rabbit, I ate it all happily. Very good mixture of flavors.
Course 7: Pumpkin Raviolo
This was a single, large pumpkin raviolo in an onion soup flavored with orange rind. To the side was a crispy parmesan tuile -- and who can't like that? I wasn't enthusiastic about it -- it felt all a little diluted -- but my dining partner liked it.
Course 8: Artichoke Soup 
This was a nasturtium flower (this is how I translated "capucine"-- I'm no expert on edible flowers) soup with a big, whole purple artichoke heart in the center and a "salad roquefort" foam. The highlight was a big scattering of crispy "vegetable confetti" -- a little like thin shrimp chips (krupuk), but with very intense flavors like carrot and red pepper -- that actually spiced up the soup substantially. It was fun, though the flavors didn't blend well with the artichoke.
Course 9: Mullet
Every since I went fishing for these as a kid, I thought there wasn't anything you could do to make the lowly mullet interesting. I was wrong, or maybe they have better ones in France. This was a small piece of grilled, teriyaki-glazed mullet in a potato emulsion with wild celeriac and lime zest (I don't remember why it's pink), garnished with a blue potato chip. The smoky grilled flavor of the fish was excellent, but the potato emulsion was a bit tiring.
Course 10: Main Dish
At this point food exhaustion was slowly welling up inside. Our only choice for the evening was this dish: you could choose lamb, guinea fowl en croute, or mackerel. I had the lamb; my dining partner had guinea fowl. At some point earlier in the evening, the prepared guinea fowl en croute was brought out to show anybody who had ordered it, garnished with big branches of herbs. Of course, it looked like a big brown ball of salt.
Both lamb and guinea fowl were served similarly, with potatoes, jerusalem artichokes, scallions and porcini. My lamb turned out to be a small, perfectly prepared chop. Unfortunately, the guinea fowl was dry. We saw mackerel at the other table -- it looked good, and may have ultimately been the right choice.
Course 11: Cheese
At this point, the servers start determining your level of interest in further food, asking whether you want cheese, or to proceed directly to desserts. No way were we going to miss out on cheese in France, so we said, bring it on!
The cheese was a single thin slice of Ossau-Iraty, a fashionable Basque sheep cheese from the Southwest of France, served with a green tomato jam. It also came with a salad of mixed greens lightly dressed with what appeared to be pumpkin oil. It was a hard cheese with a smooth flavor and slight pungency. The tomato jam was sweet and tasty, but a bit monochromatic for me.
Course 12: Sweet Potato & Coconut (?!?)
This next course was designed to be the formal transition from savory dishes to sweet ones. Now, I'm no fan of sweet potatoes or strong coconut flavors, but this striking dish really won me over. It was a coconut ice cream on top of a sweet potato puree. Piercing the ice cream was an unusual "coconut biscuit," which appeared to be a frozen shard of almost pureed fresh coconut. (I spent a long time trying to figure out what it was -- you could sense a little of the fiber in it still, and yet it had just enough liquid to keep it frozen together.) Together, the course was smooth, mellow, and melded perfectly together.
Course 13: Orange Tart
This very attractive dish was an crusty orange tart buried under a lemon mouse in a shot glass with a toasted meringue topping. It was a little like a light key lime pie into which someone had hidden an orange cookie, or something. I felt it was just a little too much in one tiny glass, but it was good.
Course 14: Fig Thing
OK, this strange-looking dish was a slice of fig sitting on a light, pinenut flavored custard (sabayon), with fennel confit underneath and candied sunflower seeds and pumpkin seed oil on top. It was warm and nutty, but for me only, a bit too heavy and thick at this point in the meal.
Course 15: "Fireworks"
One of Rabanel's signature desserts, this is a lemongrass- and verbena-flavored frozen milk in a glass covered with a baked, fresh mint tuile. Sprouting from the center of the tuile is a long sprig of lemongrass, all for show. At this point in the meal, it was more memorable for its looks than for its flavor.
Course 16: Licorice & Chocolate
This final course was by far one of the weirdest dishes, and, while I didn't like it very much, it made an impression. This was a licorice mousse and emulsion topped with a dark chocolate fried ball of dough, which appeared to have been slightly flavored with ginger and stuffed with a (now melted) piece of white chocolate. There was also a brittle stick of chocolate-licorice confection. I don't like anything messing with my chocolate, and certainly not licorice, but it was a valiant attempt at an unusual dessert with strong regional overtones.
IN SUMOverall, this was the most unusual and inventive meal I've had -- anywhere, I guess. (OK, still haven't been to El Bulli.) Hits highly outnumbered misses, and everything was beautiful and visually inventive, but also highly down-to-earth and rooted in the flavors of Provence. Highly recommended.
Below: the video view into the kitchen, visible from the street
