Is Rosewood the Best Hotel in Beijing?

Naming a hotel as the best is always a risky proposition. After all, I haven't been to every comparable hotel in Beijing. But using the phrase, "one of the best", is too non-committal. Recently, I stayed at the Rosewood Hotel in Beijing for a few nights, and I greatly enjoyed the experience. The location in the central business district is very convenient. The design of the hotel has an understated elegance that nicely combines Chinese and Western elements. The service is on point and not overbearing. While the hotel is not perfect, I believe it is the best in the capital of China.

The 282-room Rosewood Hotel occupies the first 23 floors of of a 52-story all-glass modernist tower, Jing Guang Centre. The tower was designed in the mid-1980's by the Tokyo-based Nihon Sekkei and was the first skyscraper in Beijing. The tower is owned by the Hong Kong-based development group New World. In 2011 New World Group purchased the America-based Rosewood Hotels and Resorts. The hotel in Beijing is Rosewood Group's first property in Mainland China and opened in late 2014.

The hotel was designed by the Melbourne-based BAR Studio. I am very impressed by all the components of the hotel, especially since the project is a renovation of an old building that surely came with many limitations. I actually visited this building more than ten years ago, well before Rosewood took over. I still remember the old design with the awkward stone base. Therefore, I am just amazed by the transformation. The design feels luxurious and doesn't scream for attention. In other words, the occupants still take the center stage. The various materials are well chosen and mixed harmoniously. The spaces and circulations are well proportioned and logical. There are a lot of attentions paid to the various details. As an architect I know this level of quality relies not only on the skills of the architect, but more importantly the strong support and care of the owner.

Rosewood Hotel is located at the northwest corner of the intersection of East Third Ring Road and Chaoyangmen Outer Street. Diagonally across from the hotel is the CCTV Headquarters designed by OMA. The vehicular entry to the hotel is on the Third Ring Road. A quick bend in the driveway leads to a forecourt that puts away the hustle and bustle of the City. The space is defined by the plantings on the perimeter and a shallow reflecting pool in the center with Chinese decorative motifs. While the overall feel is modern, the manipulation of the space reminds me of the strategies employed in traditional Chinese garden design. A blue Tesla Model X is usually parked in the forecourt. The attention-grabbing electric car is an amenity for the hotel guests who have lounge access and provide rides within a three-kilometer radius.

The lobby of the hotel is a sunlit triple height space. Inside, the console table with flowers and books on top, the four-seat leather sofa with pillows, and the area rug, make the space feels more like the living room of a large apartment rather than the lobby of a fancy hotel.

On the right side of the lobby, behind the columns and the screen are the counters for check-in, porter, and concierge. On the left side of the lobby is Bistro B Lounge Bar, where an afternoon tea is served everyday. The space is nicely designed and very pleasant. The large glass facade allows abundant sunlight to filter in. Sitting inside, one also has a view of the entry garden and the Beijing skyline in the background. The counter in the back has a beautiful display of ice creams, macarons, and other pastries.

Behind the three-story mural of the lobby are the six elevators to access the guest rooms. On the typical floor of the fan-shape plan of the tower, there are 18 guest rooms of varying sizes ranging from 45 to 75 square meters. I stayed at the 15th floor in the corner Manor Suite. The room measures 65 square meters in plan and feels very large. There are exposures on two sides. The long expanse of glass facade on the curved south side provides a great view of the CCTV tower and the China Zun designed by KPF. During evening rush hours, the car lights of the traffic jam on the Third Ring Road actually make for a beautiful tableaux.

The suite is a bit like a small loft with four areas for living, working, sleeping, and bathing. The room is elegant, comfortable, and warm. The overall color palette is beige, taupe, dark wood, and white. A large walk-in closet adjacent to the bathroom is to the right of the foyer. The living area is on the left side. The space can seat four people comfortably with two single-seat sofas and a double-seat sofa. The 50-inch TV on the credenza with soundbar is large enough for watching sports. The minibar is tucked into an alcove with Nespresso coffee machine and bottles of Voss water. The middle of the room is a round wood table with leather swivel chairs; a very comfortable place for in-room dining or work. Placed on the table when I walked in was a delicious pastry and a welcoming note from the manager of the hotel.

The bedroom can be separated from the living area with a large wooden sliding door. Next to the window is a built-in tufted leather lounge chair that is a great place to enjoy the view, read a book, or watch TV. A brown headboard frames a large and very comfortable bed with Frette sheets. The controls above the bedside tables are easy to use to control the lighting and the drapes. This was expected. But I was truly surprised when I saw the hotel placed monogrammed pillow cases on our bed. I've never experienced this level of personalization at a hotel.

The bathroom is very large and can be entered from both the foyer and the bedroom. The middle of the bathroom is a white marble counter with a large mirror that partly doubles as a TV screen. On the right side of the vanity is a separate room for the electronic toilet. On the opposite side is a large bathtub and a glassed enclosed walk-in shower with Lorenzo Villoresi toiletries in large hexagon-shape bottles. My only complaint is that for a large suite, the bathroom should have two sinks instead of just one.

Artworks and decorative objects are carefully selected and placed in the room. There are paintings on three of the walls in my suite. The shelves have Chinese acupuncture model, calligraphy brushes, and Chinese vases. Just outside the door to the room is another vase on a high pedestal. The mostly Chinese decorative objects provides a nice balance to the western-style furniture and light fixtures.

All the public spaces of the hotel are decorated with artworks. The installation is done in a tasteful manner in just the right amount. There is a nice mix of Chinese and Western art. I was happy to see artwork even in the fitness room.

The spa and the swimming pool are on the 6th floor of the hotel. I never go to a spa and didn't have time for a yoga class, so I cannot vouch for the service. However, the swimming pool is wonderful. The heated pool is 22 meters long. On the opposite side of the entrance, there are five cabana-like spaces. On the side of the pool is the jacuzzi. While the pool is indoor, the spaces feel like the outdoor since the roof is almost entirely in glass. The space is serene and detached from the rest of the city. The vertical green walls and the tropical-like planting make for a lush ambiance.

Staying at the Manor Suite comes with access to the Manor Club, Rosewood name for its executive lounge. The Club is on the 7th floor of the building and is open 24 hours a day. At over 800 square meters, it is one of the largest lounges I have ever encountered at a hotel. The Club is divided spatially into different parts. At the front are conference rooms for business meetings and a space with low sofas suited for casual meetings. The middle area is more for eating and drinking with an open kitchen, serving tables, and dining tables at different sizes and heights. At the back is a few cigar room-like spaces with leather couches, fireplaces and a red billiard table. One can easily imagine having a nightcap there or in my case, watching the World Cup matches.

The Club serves a breakfast buffet from 6:30 am. While the selection is not as large as the restaurant downstairs, it was more than sufficient for me. In addition to the buffet, I had an omelet cooked to order. I really enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere in the morning with daylight filtered through the window shades. A few good Viennoiseries, good coffee, and a paper New York Times in hand, I am a happy man. The service at the Club is very attentive and they are very good at remembering the guests. In my few days at the Club, the servers remember my preferences for juice and coffee in the morning.

Throughout the day, the Club serves a light meal. Everyday from 5:30pm to 8:00pm is cocktail hours. The ambiance of the room changes and even the servers' uniforms switch from beige to black. Three types of sparkling wines are available by the glass. There are a variety of canapes and a different cake everyday. The desserts at the Manor Club are always excellent.

The Manor Club is really an extension of the guest room. The large size of the Club ensures that atmosphere never feels crowded. The variety of furniture setup and spaces allows for different functional requirements at different times of the day to be met. While a stay at Rosewood Beijing would be very nice without access to the Club, it really enhances the experience, especially if one doesn't plan to venture outside of the hotel for the whole day.

Besides dining and camping out at the Manor Club, there are 4 restaurants in the hotel, Bistrot B for French Bistro cuisine, Red Bowl for Chinese hot pot, the House of Dynasties for Cantonese cuisine, and Country Kitchen for northern Chinese food.

In my short stay, I only tried Country Kitchen. Since I was in Beijing I wanted Northern Chinese food. My dinner was on a Saturday night and the restaurant was completely full. Just like the other spaces of the hotel, the restaurant is nicely designed with a mixture materials, granite, wood of different shades, metal screens, and terracotta. The lighting is a little on the dark side for a Chinese restaurant, but comfortable and intimate. Before getting to the tables, all the guests walk through the main corridor with open kitchens on either sides.

The wood tables are mostly in round shape with a lazy susan in the middle; this feel like a dining table at a large country home. However, the table setting with the custom design logo napkin, the copper-plated water jug, and the two-tone soup spoon, shows a lot of care has gone into the various details of the restaurant.

The food was pretty good. Many of the staples of Northern Chinese cuisine, such as dumplings and noodles were excellent. The only downside was the prices were on the high side. A bowl of the very good Zha Jiang Mian was RMB 75. For a traveler from New York City, the price is probably a bargain. But a similarly good bowl of Zha Jiang Mian at Da Dong can be had for just RMB18.

The stir-fried vegetables were simple, vibrant in color, and fresh. The grilled skewers of lamb were well-seasoned and perfectly cooked. The scallion pancakes were also very good. The only disappointing dish was actually the Peking Duck, a signature dish of the restaurant. The duck was carved table side with a task light. Some of the skins were served first and they were wonderful. But the rest of the duck was a bit dry and not as flavorful as I would like. The Duck at Country Kitchen is not significantly more expensive that the other restaurants in Beijing, but I prefer the Peking Duck at Da Dong. The service at the restaurant was pleasant, more so than most restaurants in the City, such as Da Dong, but there is still room for improvement.

The Chinese restaurant Country Kitchen is the only part of my stay at the Rosewood that I feel can be better. Overall, the guest room is really excellent and one would be hard pressed to find faults. I just have two minor criticisms. First, since I still prefer to read newspapers in physical form, I wish the hotel would deliver newspapers to my door in the morning. Second, while the "Do Not Disturb" sign is electric and turned on via a button, the "Please Make Up Room" is not. I still need to put a tag outside the door when I step outside. I would think an electronic system will improve the efficiency of the room-cleaning staff.

The hotel industry in Beijing is not only competitive but constantly growing and changing just like the city itself. I am sure every few years will bring newly-designed and fancier hotels. However, the design and the physical environment of Rosewood are excellent and will withstand the fashion and the trends. As the city of Beijing grows more sophisticated, I suspect the service and operation will actually get better. For the moment and the foreseeable future, Rosewood is the best hotel in the Beijing.

Rencontrer Monsieur Robuchon

Pour une personne intéressée par la nourriture, une rencontre avec Joël Robuchon était semblable à une rencontre entre le pape et un catholique. En 2013, j'ai eu la chance d'avoir une ”audience privée du pape”. Je ne me souviens pas de ce que j'ai dit à M. Robuchon dans mon français rudimentaire qui l'a fait sourire. Mais je me souviens encore qu'il m'a dit de manger le homard avant qu'il n'etait froid. Sa priorité a toujours été la qualité de la nourriture et le bonheur des clients.

Pendent que M. Robuchon soit extrêmement strict et exigeant avec son équipe, il était toujours très amical avec les clients. Depuis 2010, j'ai eu le privilège de le rencontrer lors de ses visites annuelles à l'Atelier de Taipei. Je chérirai ces rencontres pour toujours. Le monde a perdu le meilleur chef et une personne spéciale. Il me manquera.

Le Palais: The So Called Michelin Three-Star Restaurant

On a rainy night I arrive at the top floor of Palais de Chine Hotel with an umbrella in tow to eat at Le Palais. The hostess for the restaurant stands in front of the long desk to greet me. Before leading me to the foyer, she asks if I want to stick my umbrella in the vessel with the red mat next to the entrance. I follow her request, but surely there’s a more elegant way to store umbrellas. As I walk into the main dining room, she cautions me about running into the vase blocking the center of the door. Perhaps the architect is trying to be Post-Modern by making the center as a solid rather than the classical void. Or maybe the vase is just a good prop for pictures. The placement of the vase makes the path too narrow and uncomfortable.

The hotel and restaurant may have Palais in their names, but it is really a misnomer as there isn't any grandeur. In France, the finest hotels are given the status of Palais. In Taipei, the Palais de Chine is a mid-range hotel inside a mediocre commercial development. Although the hotel is near Taipei Train Station, it is literally and figuratively on the other side of the tracks. Just getting to the hotel entrance on the ground floor from the subway station requires a convoluted path of traversing through the underground of Taipei Station, passing through the entire length of the shopping mall, exiting to the outside, and then stepping back inside.

Upon entering the hotel, I’m not greeted by a staff but by a horse statue in a small dark space. The dark lighting continues into the elevator lobby and to the restaurant. Perhaps the light level is meant to evoke the ambiance of a palace in Europe during the candle-lit era. But the effect is more eerie than elegant. There is little contrast in the lighting since all the spaces are dark. The overall feeling is of an owner trying to save on the electric bill. Or perhaps the hotel thinks everyday should be Earth Day.

Putting up with unpleasantness is part of the experience of dining at Le Palais. I wouldn't be at Le Palais if Michelin didn't anoint the restaurant as the only three-star in Taipei. When Michelin announced the rating this March, I was beyond surprised. When I was interviewed by Topics Magazine in late 2014, I said if Michelin comes to Taipei, they wouldn't find a three-star restaurant. I wonder to myself: have things changed that much in less than four years? Based on the chatters on the Internet, I am not alone in thinking Taipei would be like Bangkok and be without a three-star restaurant. Instead, Taipei is similar to Hong Kong, Singapore, and Shanghai, with one three-star restaurant for the inaugural edition. Moreover, the restaurant that Michelin selected as the best in Taipei is one that I have never been to.

Prior to Michelin's arrival, I have heard good things about Le Palais from friends. But even they don't think the restaurant is worthy of three stars. I have to find out for myself. In a span of less than two months I go to Le Palais twice for dinner: first with a small group sitting in the main dining room, and another with a large group in a private room.

The interior of Le Palais is laid out like a traditional corporate office, with private rooms around the perimeter monopolizing the view to the exterior. While the public dining room inside has no views, the interior designer smartly devised a window behind each table, which provides an illusion of an exterior street. The ceiling of the restaurant is low. If the chef is any taller, his high toque will probably hit the beam. In the main dining room, the ceiling has a mirror finish which at least provides some sense of depth. While the private room has windows with views to the outside, the feeling is borderline oppressive due to the heavy-looking metal light fixture. The side chair in the private room is one of the most uncomfortable chairs I've ever sat on. The back has a vertical hole like the end of an massage table. But instead of a massage, the hole cuts into my backbone when I lean back. The settee in the main dining room is not comfortable either. The only comfortable chair seems to be the armchair with cane back in the main room.

The tables in the main dining room are all rectangular and set in alcoves. The restaurant doesn't use any tablecloth, instead sets the table with individual plastic placemats with a greenish tint. The Chinese painting and calligraphy on the placemat are matched by the tablewares. The overall impression is less of luxury but kitschy and of products purchased from a local museum store. The napkin is folded in an double star that looks outmoded rather than quaint. Instead of a decent sized hot hand towel common in high end restaurants in Asia, a tiny disposable towelette is hydrated with warm water in a small glass. This is just one step above the individual plastic wrap towelette handed out at all the cheap restaurants in Taipei. A single toothpick is also offered and is carefully aligned to the bottom edge of the placemat. One certainly doesn't use the toothpick to eat and it remains unnecessary until at least after a few bites of food. Over the course of the meal a diner may need more than one toothpick, why be so stingy? Why not offer the toothpicks in a box as other high-end restaurants do? At Le Palais the toothpick is an eye sore and accentuated the overall cheapness of the entire table setting.

The service at Le Palais is wanting, certainly below the expectations I have of a Michelin three-star restaurant. While I don't expect the service to be perfect, Le Palais is so far off from perfect that it is almost laughable. At one of my meals, I ask for some tea while waiting for others to arrive but the tea never showed up. Then at our table for ten persons, the server pours nine glasses of wine, leaving my glass empty. We order a dish with Marble Goby fish and noodles, which comes in a large pot with table side service. After portioning out six large bowls, the server runs out of noodle and serves the other four guests with smaller bowls without noodle. Shortly after, when the wok-fried beef with Chinese kale is placed on the lazy susan, the server does not give us any individual plates to eat with. At the end of my other meal, the hostess accompanies us to the elevator. After we step inside the elevator she asks with a little panic, does one of us have an umbrella? I smile and show her the umbrella in my hand. I take the umbrella out of the vase and rip off the tag myself. The hostess completely forgets about the umbrella until the elevator doors are about to close.

Anyone who has dined at three-Michelin-star restaurants in Europe or in the U.S. will be shocked at the standard of service at Le Palais. Fortunately, for Le Palais the stars of Michelin don't account for interior decor, table setting, and service; they are rated with fork-spoon. Michelin awarded Le Palais with just two black fork-spoon (out of a maximum of five), which is the lowest amongst all the Chinese three-star restaurants in the world. 

Michelin has stated repeatedly that the stars are only awarded for the food on the plate. Besides the often repeated phrase of "worth a special journey," Michelin also defines three stars as "cooking elevated to an art form." Even with these definitions, what constitutes three-star food is still very vague. Michelin is very smart to maintain their cryptic ways allowing them to forego any accountability. Ultimately, Michelin is just a travel guide and the consumers can choose to agree or disagree with their judgment. If I live abroad, I wouldn't make a special journey to Taipei just to eat at Le Palais.

Dinner at Le Palais doesn't start with an amuse-bouche, but rather with a shot glass of vinegar with unknown origin. The vinegar looks like the same one that my neighborhood tonkatsu joint serves at the end of a grease laden meal. I don't enjoy drinking vinegar and leave mine untouched. Le Palais doesn't provide any mignardise to end the meal either. Most cheap Chinese restaurants in Taipei provide a complimentary fruit plate after the savory courses are finished. Even schlocky Chinese restaurants in the U.S. give a fortune cookie to their guests. Amuse bouche, mignardise, and bread (in a western restaurant), signal a sense of hospitality from the restaurant. While they are not itemized on the bill, the diner is paying for them indirectly similar to electricity and rent. When every bite of food is charged, the meal feels like a transaction. Why doesn’t the three-star restaurant want to project an illusion of generosity?

Unlike restaurants in Hong Kong, Le Palais serves dim sum at dinner. We order the shrimp dumplings and abalone shumai. Both are excellent. However, the server refuses to provide any condiment. In fancy Cantonese restaurants guests will be offered some soy sauce, vinegar and house made XO sauce. There's nothing at Le Palais, why be so miserly? At Le Palais vinegar is only for drinking rather than eaten with food. The server says we should enjoy the "original taste" or 原味. But can't the diner have a choice? I also try the turnip cakes and the "original taste" is bitter and not enjoyable at all. The idea of "original taste" is a bit disingenuous. If the chef is serious about the idea, why serve the turnip cake with slivers of frisée?

There are two signature dishes of duck at Le Palais: Flaming Duck 火焰片皮鴨 and Roast Baby Duck 先知鴨. Just about every table orders one of the two. The Flaming Duck is the more dramatic dish. A cook wheels a trolley with the duck affixed to a metal rod standing on an industrial-looking metal pan. This reminds me a bit of the American beer can roast chicken. The cook then flambés the duck table side. The server suggests we turn our camera to video mode to capture the moment. This cook must be the most Instagrammed cook in Taipei in the past months. Fire always makes for a good show, but unfortunately the food doesn't have the same wow factor. The duck is served three ways. The first is duck skin served in the traditional manner. This is good but the same cannot be said for the second serving: duck skin with romaine lettuce and fried mozzarella stick. The combination is awful. Is it inspired by California Pizza Kitchen? I cannot finish my portion. The server then brings over a plate of leftover duck meat with sauce on the side, this is just boring.

While the Roast Baby Duck is less pervalent on the Internet, the dish is the better of the two ducks. Chef Ken Chan 陳偉強 created this dish when he was still working at the My Humble House Restaurant at Le Meridien Hotel. Since Baby Duck in Chinese doesn't sound elegant, the owner of Le Meridien Hotel named the duck 先知鴨. The Chinese name is taken from a poem by one of China's most famous literay figures Su Dongpo (1037-1101). The poem was written in 1085 to compliment a painting by the monk Huichong, which depicted a scene during the spring time in the Jiangnan area of China. The first two verses are 竹外桃花三兩枝, 春江水暖鴨先知. Spring is arriving as peach blossom is starting to emerge; The temperature of the river is becoming warmer and the ducks are the first to know. With his words Su elevated the painting by adding another dimension to the drawings: the temperature of the river, which is very difficult to describe with paint brushes. The chef and the restaurant are very proud of the literary connection. Before the duck is served to the guest, the server has to recite or sing the poem. Regrettably, the view out to the windonw isn't peach blossom but an ugly concrete and metal metropolis. And the duck is not joyously peddling in water but dead and lying on a plate that is a little too small. Since the scene described in Su's poem is not present at all, why recite the poem? When I order a Tournedos Rossini or Pêche Melba in a French restaurant, I don't need an opera aria to be sung. I rather learn about the the cooking techniques behind the preparation of the duck. As the server recites the poem, I can't help but think, just make sure the duck is served hot. The taste of the breast meat is superb: well seasoned, juicy, and with crispy skin. The thigh and legs are good but not as flavorful.

The carcass of the roast baby duck is made into a second dish with a choice of porridge, soup, or wok-fried in typhoon shelter 避風塘 style with chili and garlic. We choose wok-fried and I regret the decision. The typhoon shelter style was invented by the boat people of Hong Kong. When a large storm is coming the boats retreat to the safe harbor. While waiting on the boat, they cook crab stir-fried with chili and garlic. Subsequently, this dish has migrated on shore and chefs have used the style to cook it with different fresh seafood.

Instead of fresh seafood, the chef of Le Palais chops up the leftover duck into small pieces of bones and tendons and stir-fries them in the typhoon shelter style. Unlike other fine dining restaurants where chefs elevate humble dishes for fine dining, the chef at Le Palais does the opposite and makes the dish even cheaper and less edible. The duck is not only twice-cooked but there is very little meat left to eat. The tendons are essentially not chewable. The meat from the neck can be gnawed on but it is more suited to be served at a beer house than at a three-star fine dining restaurant.

I understand the idea of not wasting food. For the roast duck of a larger size, the leftover carcass and bits of meat can make another dish. But after the baby duck is cut up, not much is left. Why not just let it go, or use it for a staff meal? When I eat the Poularde en Vessie at Paul Bocuse, they don't take the leftover chicken carcass and stir-fry another dish to serve to the guest. Three-star restaurants are about giving the finest pieces of ingredients to the guests. When I eat at a three-star sushi restaurant, the chef serves me the best pieces of fish from a large cut. The chef is not giving me every little scrap of the fish as another dish.

Some of the dishes Le Palais serves don't belong in a fine-dining restaurant. Chef Chan likes to boast about his creativity and it often means using cheap ingredients in novel ways. Besides the aforementioned duck carcass in typhoon shelter style, on television he demonstrates a dish by frying the junk food, dried squid strips. Another of his signature is stir-fried spicy pork tendon from the pig's eyebrow. Chan likes to tell people that these tendons used to be thrown away by the vendors because no one wants to buy them. Now he charges NT$780 for them. The wok-fried dishes at Le Palais are done with good techniques. The cooks at the wok station are definitely well-trained. But many of these dishes are more suited for late night bar food rather than cooking elevated to an art form. Le Palais should consider opening a bar room to serve these dishes. Follow the examples of some Michelin-starred restaurants in New York, where a separate bar room or salon is setup for cheaper and more experimental dishes.

As with the ducks there are also two types of char siu for order. I try both and I prefer the crispy sugar coated version. This is slice thinly and served with even thinner slices of lime. This is also cheaper. The more expensive version is almost double the price at NT$1,480. The pork is sliced thickly into only six pieces and served on a wood platter. I find the meat to be less flavorful and the untrimmed tendon inside that makes it harder to chew. The expensive version looks better in photo. Maybe I’m paying for the presentation.

At one of my dinners, the chef offers to make an off-the-menu dish of crab with meat pie. Meat pie is a Cantonese classic where the pork is usually paired with fermented rather than fresh ingredients. With fresh crab the chef seems to be trying to do something new, but it doesn’t really work. The fresh seafood doesn't have the concentrated flavors required to season the pork. The crab and the meat pie seem to be two separate things without much integration; simply not enough flavor. Furthermore, the idea of ugly-delicious hasn't caught on in Taipei, because this dish was just ugly.

If anyone fancies a crab dish, I suggest ordering the stir-fried crab with glutinous rice. This is delicious and packed with flavors.

Alternatively, order the wok-fried rice noodle with crab meat and egg 強哥炒米粉. This is probably my favorite dish of my two meals at Le Palais. Great flavor, light, pretty, and cooked perfectly. This dish is served near the end of the meal. Even with a full stomach I can still easily finish this dish.

The dessert menu has seven items and three of which are made à la minute with a waiting time of 20 to 30 minutes. I want to order Almond Milk but the server says they are out of it. This dessert is on the so called "Michelin Three-Star Set Menu”. How does the restaurant run out of this three-star dessert? Instead we have the Sesame Balls and Deep Fried Dough encrusted with cheese. Both are freshly made, served piping hot, and very good. These desserts are well executed, but they are essentially dim sum and street food rather than some imaginative creations. I wish chef Chan had channeled some of his creativity into the desserts. The meal at Le Palais doesn’t end on a high note.

I have written in a previous blog entry about my suspicion of Michelin’s inaugural guide for Taipei: by taking on the sponsorship from the Taiwan government, Michelin was obligated to find a three-star restaurant in Taipei. This is purely my conjecture as I have no proof. Ever since Michelin anointed Le Palais as three-star, the media has been filled with stories about how Le Palais accomplished the feat. But the more stories I read, the more suspicious I get about the three-star rating.

The General Manager of the hotel said a Michelin inspector came to Le Palais in September 2017. After his meal he toured the kitchen and spoke with the chefs. But at that time many of the dishes I had at my two dinners were not on the menu; they were added or modified in October and later. As Michelin was inspecting the restaurants in Taipei, Le Palais made many changes to its operation: buying better ingredients, not using frozen products, refining the presentations, and reducing the number of seats. The restaurant even closed for renovation for over a month, and reopened on the date of Michelin's announcement. Furthermore, the restaurant raised prices before Michelin's announcement, and anticipated a boost in business with a good rating. All the moves made by Le Palais seem to be guided with some inside knowledge of Michelin’s operations.

Two months after Michelin’s arrival, the local TV network TVBS ran an hour-long program on Le Palais. In the show, a manager of Le Palais claimed Michelin sent 150 inspectors to the restaurant before awarding the three-star. When the Hong Kong guide first launched, the then Director of Michelin Guide Jean-Luc Naret said the inspectors visited Lung Keen Heen in the Four Seasons Hotel 12 times before awarding the restaurant with three stars. Even if every visit was a table of ten, the number wouldn’t amount to 150. But somehow, when Michelin came to Taipei, they made 150 visits? It is very strange for Le Palais to make this claim. How would they know how many visits Michelin made? It is as if Le Palais knew many people question the three-star rating, and felt the need to justify the result by exaggerating Michelin's process. However, Le Palais' claim was so absurd that any rational person would conclude the restaurant was lying and something was afoot.



The media in Taiwan have glorified the two chefs of Le Palais and anointed them as heroes. Chef Ken Chan 陳偉強 and Matt Chen 陳泰榮 are both Cantonese. Chan started Le Palais in 2010 when the hotel opened. Chen on the other hand joined Le Palais in 2017, the year Michelin announced the launch of the Taipei guide. They are certainly experienced and considered to be two of the best chefs in Taipei. But throughout the media frenzy, the two chefs remain very humble about their achievement. At almost every interview, they said they felt lucky to receive three-star from Michelin. Michelin's rating seems to have exceeded their expectations.

In my mind Le Palais feels more like a two-star (worth a detour) restaurant than a three-star (worth a special journey). While the chefs are very creative, not all of the dishes taste good. Some of the dishes feel more like works in process rather than Michelin’s definition of three-star: cooking is elevated to an art form and destined to become classics. The dishes lack consistency in quality. The more classical dishes don't have the wow-factor. The food at Le Palais also lacks a central principle. The chefs need an editor to tighten the focus or reign in the ideas. Finally, many of the dishes still have room for refinement. The food at Le Palais doesn't seem to be the pinnacle of Chinese cooking yet.

While Michelin's stars only apply to food, the interior decor, service, and table setting, have a profound impact on our perception and enjoyment of the food. In this regard, Le Palais is far from being an elegant restaurant to dine at. Very little thoughts have gone into the various details that contribute to the overall feel of the restaurant. A three-star restaurant should strive for a higher standard. Moreover, Le Palais doesn’t feel generous nor hospitable. Nevertheless, the business at Le Palais is booming. After Michelin announced the rating, Le Palais said they received thousands of phone calls requesting reservation. Someone even booked a table for Chinese New Year Eve in 2019. At this point Le Palais probably doesn’t care about feedback from the average customers. I doubt the chefs will change their ways either. What do ordinary diners know about cuisine and service? After all Le Palais already have three stars from Michelin.

Michelin Guide Taipei

“Michelin is the only guide that counts," said Paul Bocuse. The great chef might be a little biased since he is French and his restaurant has been rated three stars continuously by Michelin for over 50 years. Since Michelin's inception in 1900, its supremacy has constantly been challenged by other restaurant guides: Gault and Millau, Zagat, Gambero Rosso, World's Best 50, La Liste, Dianping...etc. In cities around the world, local arbiters of tastes, such as the New York Times Restaurant Critic, may hold more sway with their local diners. While these different guides, crowd-sourced websites, and critics have all garnered enormous power, none of them have the same global influence and prestige as the Michelin Guide. The stars of Michelin is a global currency that doesn't require any translation.

The general public may debate the importance of the Michelin Guide, but chefs care deeply about their Michelin stars. Gordon Ramsay claimed to have cried when he lost his two Michelin stars in New York City. I didn't see the tears but I believe him. Last year, the Japanese sushi chef Mitsuhiro Araki wept openly at the Michelin ceremony in London. He had regained his three-star rating, but it felt like he found his lost child. When he hugged his wife and his lone assistant, they were all beside themselves; their hard work has been validated. It was an extremely moving scene. I didn't know a Japanese chef cared that much about the Michelin Guide.

The Michelin Guide is also the only guide that governments in Asia are willing to pay to come evaluate their restaurants. The Guides in Seoul, Hong Kong, Macau, Bangkok, and Singapore are all commissioned. The specific terms of each sponsorship are not known. The press in Korea reported that the Korean Tourism Organization pays Michelin around US$370,000 a year for four years to release a guide for Seoul. The press in Thailand claimed the Tourism Authority of Thailand pays Michelin close to US$1 million a year for five years to release a guide for Bangkok. The public may never know the real cost of the sponsorship as the deals with Michelin are kept secret. But clearly the governments in Asia see the benefit of commissioning the Guide to attract tourists and to market themselves to the world.

Despite the sponsorship, Michelin Guide is not a money-making business. The Financial Times once reported that the Guide loses US$20 to 30 million a year. This is a small amount for the Guide's parent company, which has net sales of over US$20 billion a year. However, the continuous losses mean, similar to other traditional publications, Michelin has not figured out a way to monetize its digital content to compensate for the decrease in sales of physical guidebooks. As such, Michelin likely will continue to rely on sponsorships to offset the cost of issuing the new Guides.

Ever since Michelin launched the Guide in Hong Kong and Macau in 2008 there had been rumors that the Guide would come to Taipei. Instead, Michelin went to Singapore, Shanghai, Seoul, and Bangkok. The persistent chatter in Taipei was the local government had been unwilling to pay for the Guide. Finally in late 2017 Michelin held a press conference to launch the Guide for Taipei, with sponsorship from the Tourism Bureau of Taiwan. The press in Taiwan reported the cost ranging from NT$50 to 80 million. While the money for Michelin is from the taxpayers, the exact price of the sponsorship is not made public. The government only says Michelin will be in Taipei for at least five years.

What did all the money buy? The inaugural Guide for Taipei, published in March of 2018, recommended a total of 126 restaurants and 25 hotels. Of the 126 restaurants, 20 are starred (1 three-star, 2 two-star and 17 one-star). When the list was announced, many people were surprised, shocked, or incredulous. This was inevitable because Michelin's list will never match anyone's own list. I had my own knee jerk reaction to the result. But the reality is, like most residents of Taipei, I have not been to all of the starred restaurants. Even for some of the ones I have dined at before, the visits were not recent. For instance, I have been to RyuGin only once and it was three years ago. At that time I thought the restaurant was a solid one-star. Has the restaurant improved to two-star as shown in the Guide? I cannot say. Until I visit all the restaurants in a limited span of time, I cannot judge fairly whether the restaurants deserve the stars or not. Nevertheless, I still have some problems with the list produced by Michelin.

Michelin defines one-star as a very good restaurant in its category. When Michelin was rating just the restaurants in France, the categorization of restaurants was quite simple. But ever since Michelin ventured outside of Europe, the idea of a starred restaurant expanded and no longer means a fancy or formal place. Interior design, tableware, and service, which had previously been thought of as an integral part of the criteria for Michelin star, have been downplayed.

This gave rise to casual restaurants being ranked the same as fine dining restaurants. In the first New York City Guide in 2005, the gastropub Spotted Pig was awarded one star, the same rank as Babbo, at that time the best Italian restaurant in the City. For chef Mario Batali who partly owns both restaurants, this was inconceivable. He said at the time, “[Michelin is] blowing it. They can’t put the Spotted Pig on the same level as Babbo.” Little did Batali know, Michelin was about to greatly expand the range of the one-star restaurant.

When Michelin Guide arrived in Tokyo, not only can casual restaurants receive a star, but even yakitori, ramen, tonkatsu joints have garnered one star. They have the same number of star as Maison Paul Bocuse in Daikanyama, Tokyo, a restaurant with a battalion of cooks in the kitchen and tuxedo-clad waiters in the dining room. In Hong Kong, the dim sum specialist Tim Ho Wan became the cheapest Michelin-starred restaurant. This was superseded later in Singapore when Liao Fan Hong Kong Soya Sauce Chicken Rice and Noodle received a star; forget tableware, the place doesn't even have a dining room. The signature dish chicken with rice costs less than US$2.

The need to separate restaurants into categories is understandable and perhaps necessary. Similar to the Academy Awards for Motion Pictures, the Oscars are awarded in different categories. It is not necessary to compare a short documentary with a feature film. Both can be great and both can have an award. Similarly there is no point in comparing restaurants across categories. But if one cannot compare restaurants across categories, how does Michelin determine if a restaurant is worth one star or not? The criteria for the one-star restaurant is too wide and random for the public to understand. If we simply accept Michelin's idea that any type of food establishment (including hawker stalls) can get a star, then surely there are more one-star restaurants in Taipei than Michelin has found.

Of the 20 restaurants with stars: six are Japanese, seven are Western, and seven are Chinese. The number of starred Western and Chinese restaurants seem disproportionate to the restaurant scene in Taipei. Compared to other cities with Michelin guides, Taipei is not a city with a strong western food scene.  Instead, Taipei has more varieties in Chinese food than others, including Hong Kong and Shanghai. The Chinese food culture is far more established than Western cuisine. Yet a visitor from abroad would not understand by looking at the list of starred restaurants in Taipei.

Michelin always seems to have a hard time judging Chinese restaurants. Part of the problem may be that the dining format of most Chinese restaurants simply don't suit the operation of Michelin inspectors. The majority of Chinese restaurants are not setup for single or two-person diners. Furthermore, most Chinese don't order tasting menus of little individual portions; most restaurants don't even offer a tasting menu. Instead, the typical Chinese diners share a variety of dishes that provide an overall balance and contrast of different ingredients, textures, and flavors.

Sometimes, I am simply puzzled by Michelin's choices for starred Chinese restaurants. This is especially pronounced for the starred Chinese restaurants outside of Greater China. For instance, currently there is only one Michelin-starred Chinese restaurant in New York City, Café China. The restaurant has maintained its one-star rating for several years. Last summer I purposely made a trip to try the restaurant. The food was a bit disappointing. There was very little refinement nor elegance. If Café China can earn one star, many restaurants in Taipei should certainly have one star as well.

The Director of Michelin Guide, Michael Ellis, says Taipei shouldn't feel there are too few starred restaurants (20), because the initial guide for Hong Kong only contains 22 starred restaurants. However, he fails to mention the discrepancy in the number of two-star restaurants. Hong Kong's first Guide contains seven two-star restaurants, while Taipei only has two: the Guest House and RyuGin. Close to one-third of the starred restaurants in Hong Kong has two stars. In contrast, the percentage in Taipei is just one-tenth. A comparison with the introductory Guide to Shanghai yields a similar discrepancy. Shanghai has a total of 26 starred restaurants, of which seven are awarded two stars. This is more than one-quarter of the total, also far more than Taipei.

The small number of restaurants in the two-star level is my biggest objection to the inaugural Michelin Guide for Taipei. Two restaurants in particular, Ya Ge at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel and L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon at Bellavita, deserve more than one star. They are both superior to the other restaurants in their categories.

Ya Ge and Three Coins are in the same category as both restaurants serve Cantonese food. Michelin awards both with one star and this is simply misguided. The food at Ya Ge is more refined than at Three Coins. Even without considering service and decor, Ya Ge is a superior restaurant. Furthermore, Ya Ge is on par with the two-star Cantonese restaurants in Hong Kong that I have visited.

The same problem exists in the French Contemporary category, where La Cocotte by Fabien Vergé and L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon both have one star. La Cocotte is a very good restaurant. Vergé and his wife surely deserve the one star. They have toiled for years doing things their own ways, and it is heartwarming to see their efforts recognized. Nevertheless, L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon is clearly the better of the two, starting from the bread all the way to the dessert and the wine list. Moreover, L'Atelier in Taipei is comparable to its two-star sister restaurant in Shanghai. Many of the dishes, such as the Beef Rossini and Caviar with Crab and Lobster Jelly, are the same.



Before Michelin launched the Guide for Taipei, I didn't think there was a three-star restaurant. But Michelin found one at Le Palais in Palais de Chine Hotel. The conspiracy theorist inside of me thinks it was imperative for Michelin to find a three-star restaurant in Taipei. The reason is Shanghai's first Michelin Guide has a three-star restaurant. It would be inconceivable for the Tourism Bureau of Taiwan to spend millions on commissioning Michelin to come to Taipei, only to tell the local taxpayers that the restaurants in Taipei (Taiwan) is not as good as the ones in Shanghai (China). Nevertheless, it takes two to tango. Michelin's desire or need to find a three-star restaurant still required a credible candidate.

Le Palais seemed to be clued into Michelin's intention and actively changed the restaurant to fit the bill. Le Palais opened in 2010 and was not a remarkable place. In fact, even less than a year ago the restaurant was not at the three-star level. But as Michelin was ramping up the operations in Taipei, Le Palais remade itself, starting in 2017, with luring chef Matt Chen 陳泰榮 away from Le Meridien Hotel to join forces with chef Ken Chen 陳偉強. The quality of the ingredients improved significantly. The hotel opened up the purse string and allowed the chefs to buy better ingredients. As chef Ken Chen said in an interview, as long as the owner is willing to spend money on ingredients, he can make good dishes. As such the dishes have also changed. For instance, the Shrimp Dumplings now have lobster as part of its filling, and are no longer served with the inelegant plastic syringes of red vinegar plunged through its center. More costly ingredients also mean higher prices. The dumplings used to be NT$280 a few months ago, now it is NT$360. The price of the Char Siu used to be NT$680 and is now NT$1480 and smaller in portion. After receiving the three stars, Le Palais pledged that it would not raise prices. This was a bit disingenuous since the restaurant had already increased the prices before Michelin's announcement. It was as if Le Palais anticipated the recognition.

When the Hong Kong Guide first launched, the then Director of Michelin Guide Jean-Luc Naret said the inspectors visited Lung Keen Heen in the Four Seasons Hotel 12 times before awarding the restaurant with three stars; the first Chinese restaurant to ever garnered that distinction. Did the inspectors for Taipei make that many trips to Le Palais? The current Director did not say. I have my doubts because if the inspectors went to Le Palais six months ago, they probably wouldn't have found a three-star restaurant.

I have not been to the new and improved Le Palais. I cannot say whether I agree with Michelin or not. I simply find Michelin's process of awarding three stars to Le Palais to be too casual. In France, Michelin puts chefs through the ringer before awarding them with three stars. When Alain Ducasse completely revamped the restaurant at Hotel Plaza Athénée in Paris, he was first downgraded to two stars before gaining back three stars. When Joël Robuchon opened the gastronomy restaurant in Bordeaux with his trusted chef de cuisine Tomonori Danzaki, who earned three stars in Tokyo and Las Vegas, he was awarded only two stars. When Marc Veyrat, who at one point had six Michelin stars total, started his comeback at La Maison des Bois, he had to settle with two stars. These superstar multi-three-star chefs must be amazed to know that a restaurant in Taipei can simply remake itself in a span of a few months and become a three-star restaurant.

Michelin works in mysterious ways. It doesn't reveal its process nor criteria. We will never understand how the inspectors arrive at their choices. Did the Tourism Bureau of Taiwan provide Michelin with a list of restaurants to start or exert any influences on behalf of any restaurants? We simply don't know. Maybe one day we will find out on Wikileaks. While we may question whether Michelin is reliable or relevant, the benefit of the Guide is very tangible. The restaurants awarded with stars and Bib Gourmand have all seen increases in their revenues. Good luck trying to make a reservation in the near future at the new three-star Le Palais. Not only has business at the restaurants picked up, the stock prices of the parent companies of the restaurants have all seen a bounce. The only restaurant that didn't benefit was La Cocotte by Fabien Vergé. Despite the recognition, Vergé and his wife have decided to close La Cocotte; Michelin came too late for them. Notwithstanding, Vergé is and will always be referred to as a Michelin-starred chef wherever he goes.

At the Michelin Gala dinner that followed the announcement of the starred restaurants, the Director of Michelin said the launch of the Michelin Guide is a very special day for the chefs. I wholeheartedly agree with him. Michelin has put a bright spotlight on the chefs of all the restaurants. This is especially important for the chefs in the Chinese restaurants. Prior to Michelin's arrival, most of the diners don't know and perhaps don't care who is cooking their food in the kitchen. None of these Chinese chefs cook in an open kitchen and are almost never seen by the guests. Stories about the chefs need to be written. While Michelin may not make 陳泰榮, 陳偉強, 林菊偉, 楊光宗, 謝文, and others into household names, they deserve more recognition than previously given. They are now part of the global network of chefs. I hope foreign, as well as local dinners, will seek them out. Instead of having Michelin-starred chefs come to Taipei to be guest chefs, perhaps we will soon see the Michelin-starred chefs of Taipei traveling abroad to showcase their talents and promote our food culture.

The arrival of the Michelin Guide to Taipei is a momentous event for the local food culture. For a city like Taipei that is without credible restaurant critics, sizable crowd-sourced websites, nor enough respect and appreciation for the people in the food industry, Michelin is a most welcomed addition. While Michelin will surely continue to confound us in the future, the Guide will drive the restaurants to improve and raise the public's awareness for restaurant professionals. If Taipei follows the pattern established by Michelin in other cities, the number of starred restaurants will only grow. And for the restaurants currently with one star or two stars, many will certainly look for ways to move up the rank. A few of them may even lose a star should the quality drops or if the chef leaves. The game of Michelin star has started and the Guide will be a positive force for the restaurant scene in Taipei.