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.

The Fortune of My Blog According to I Ching

In recent months I took three introductory classes on I Ching 易經, sponsored by the Hong's Foundation for Education and Culture 洪建全基金會. The classes were taught by Professor Pei-Rong Fu 傅佩榮. Prior to his retirement from National Taiwan University, Fu was the Chair of the Department of Philosophy and had written numerous books on Chinese classics. I Ching is the oldest of the Chinese classics with ideas that underpin many aspects of Chinese thinking for millenia. As with most Chinese, I know bits and pieces of I Ching and read parts of the book when I was younger.

Since the three classes on I Ching were only one and half hour long each, Fu could only provide an overview of I Ching. Fu said learning the entire text of I Ching would require around 40 classes. Obviously, I only scratched the surface of I Ching, but I have developed a greater appreciation of the text.

In the last class, Fu demonstrated the traditional way of using 50 sticks to derive a Guà 卦 (hexagram). Afterwards we were asked to try the method ourselves to seek our fortune. First we wrote down the questions and then used the sticks to derive six numbers, writing them down from the bottom to the top. The six numbers I drew were, 8 6 6 9 7 7. Each number forms a line (Yáo 爻): odd number means an unbroken line (Yang 陽 ) and even number is a broken line (Yin 陰). The Guà 卦 I got was the 12th one named Pǐ 否. Since the numbers 6 and 9 denote change, I also received a corresponding Guà 卦 (之卦): 57th Guà 卦 named Xùn 巽.

Deriving the Guà 卦 and looking up the related texts in I Ching are not difficult. The interpretation of the texts in relation to the question posed requires deep knowledge. After writing out the Guà 卦, Fu said because 3 of the 6 numbers I drew denote change, my fortune would be based on the texts of both Guà 卦. Furthermore, the focus should be on the main texts of the Guà 卦 rather than the specific Yáo 爻 (line).

Fu asked what was my question. I said, Will my blog make any money?

Fu said with Pǐ Guà 否卦, you probably haven't made any money from your blog. I replied, I never made a single dollar. Even without knowledge of I Ching, one knows the character Pǐ 否 is not good. Fu explained, 否 Pǐ means stagnation. The lower trigram is earth, Kūn 坤, and the upper trigram is heaven, Qián 乾. Heaven and earth are at their usual place but the two are separate and not connected.

But all is not lost as we need to examine the corresponding Guà 卦. Xùn 巽 consists of two trigrams of wind 風. The texts for the Guà 卦 reads: 小亨，利有攸往，利見大人. Richard Wilhelm and Cary F. Baynes translated the Chinese text as: Success through what is small. It furthers one to have somewhere to go. It furthers one to see the great man. Fu explains, my blog may be able to have a small fortune since the wind is starting to blow. However, I will need help from an eminent person.

While Xùn Guà 巽卦 offers a glimmer of hope, it is still the corresponding hexagram rather than the main one I drew. In terms of the overall fortune Pǐ Guà 否卦 is weighted a bit more. In other words, my blog is unlikely to make any money.

Actually ever since I started blogging, I have never imagined the blog would make any money. I didn’t even think the blog would last this long. I am just happy that my blog has a cult following; “cult” sounds so much better than “small”. I’m grateful to know that somewhere in the world someone is interested in reading my thoughts. And that’s plenty rich for me.

The Presence of Absence: Dinner at the Residence with Michel Roux

The Chinese has a saying, "Monks who come from afar know the scriptures better (外來的和尚會念經)." Hotels and restaurants in Taiwan have fully embraced this idea. These days one cannot open the local newspapers without reading about a foreign chef coming to Taiwan to cook for a few days. Usually the invited chefs are decorated with Michelin stars. Maybe because Taiwan doesn't have a Michelin Red Guide, the residents here are eager to engage the jet-set star chefs. In this day and age, chefs are like rock stars and there is apparently no limit to their rise in popularity and status.

The best hotel in Taipei, Mandarin Oriental, has introduced a parade of guest chefs. Since last May the hotel has invited Yoshiaki Takazawa from Tokyo, Oliver Dabbous from London, Peter Gilmore from Sydney, Thierry Marx from Paris, and Bruno Menard from Singapore. Less than three months into this year, Mandarin has already been visited by Nicola Portinari from Lonigo, Italy, and Michel Roux from Bray, England. There seems to be a guest chef at Mandarin every other month.

The idea of inviting star chefs to Taipei to cook special dinners is not new. Back in 1998, the relatively new local hotel, Sherwood, invited Michelin three-star chef Alain Ducasse. In the following year, Sherwood invited the Michelin three-star Pourcel brothers. It was during that visit the young cook at the hotel, Andre Chiang, met the brothers and subsequently decided to leave home and go work for them in France. The rest, as the saying goes, is history (in the making). Without the fateful encounter with the brothers, Chiang's career would be completely different. Clearly, inviting foreign chefs to demonstrate their ideas and skills is a good thing for the local hospitality industry.

Overseas events are beneficial for the visiting chefs as well. They get to see new places and explore unfamiliar cuisines. Beside the financial reward for the events, they can promote their brands and develop new customer base for their ever expanding business. The trips are also a form of reward for the staff who travel with the chefs, a chance to expand their knowledge and experience.

However, can the same be said for the paying customers? What do customers get out of the experience with the guest chef besides a nice meal and a selfie? Meals with the guest chefs are usually more expensive than meals at their restaurants back home. For instance, at Peter Gilmore's Quay in Sidney, the tasting menu plus wine pairing is 340 Australian Dollar or around NT$8,300. When Gilmore was visiting the Mandarin Oriental in Taipei, the eight-course dinner with wine pairing was NT$16,500 ($15,000+10% service charge), almost double the price. The premium partly has to do with the extra cost of transportation and logistics. Some hotels and restaurateurs have stated in public that while the prices are high, the costs are also high. Let's just assume that people in the hospitality industry are all generous and would never gouge the customers. The customers are still paying a premium. The only justification is the premium is still cheaper than the airline tickets to fly to the chef's own restaurant. But can the guest chefs replicate their restaurants away from home for the customers? Does money buy the same experience of a Michelin three-star restaurant that's "worth a special journey" without the journey?

A few nights ago I was invited by my friends to a dinner with Michelin three-star chef Michel Roux at the Mandarin Oriental. Of all the guest chefs that Mandarin has invited so far, Roux is by far the most accomplished. In England, there is no bigger name than the Roux family. Michel Roux and his brother Albert established the standards for fine dining in England and many of the Michelin three-star chefs in London, Pierre Koffman, Marco Pierre White, and Gordon Ramsay, passed through their kitchen. Michel Roux's restaurant, The Waterside Inn, has maintained the unbroken status of Michelin three-star since 1985. The Waterside Inn is said to be the Queen of England's favorite restaurant, where she and her husband celebrated their birthdays. Besides the restaurant, Roux attained the coveted Meilleur Ouvrier de France (MOF) for patisserie in 1976. He also wrote a number of cookbooks, all of which aim to pass on his knowledge. Roux is simply a legend in the industry.

I have a cookbook by Roux in my library that I purchased more than ten years ago. I have watched Roux numerous times on Youtube, mostly to learn his techniques for pastry. While I have never been to the Waterside Inn nor met Roux, I feel a sense of familiarity. His baritone French accented English is especially memorable. Needless to say I was very eager to meet Roux and to taste his signature dishes.

The Roux dinner was held at the Chairman's Residence of Mandarin Oriental. The Residence may sound like a home with two main rooms called the Living Room and the Library, but it is essentially a private event space under the auspices of the owner of the hotel. The Residence is located on the seventh floor of the hotel. The doors of the elevators open to a rectangular foyer with bookshelves tastefully decorated with books and objects. The design of the interior is nicely done and I assume by Tony Chi, who also designed the other three restaurants at the hotel. Some of the design and decorative elements of the Residence are the same as the restaurants on the lower floors. For example, one of the walls at the sitting area consists of a grid of tilting mirrored planes, a design Chi used for the ceiling at Café Un Deux Trois on the fifth floor of the hotel. It is interesting to note that particular design idea was actually recycled from Chi's earlier project: the South Gate Restaurant in New York City.

For the Roux dinner both the Living Room and the Library were set up with 8-person square tables. The tables look nice except they are not weighted properly. If one pushes down on one corner the table has a tendency to tip a little. My table was in the Library which was more intimate but not necessarily in a good way. The room had two adjacent tables for two parties, but only one set of sitting area. Realistically the room only works well if there's a single party. Instead we shared the cozy space awkwardly with total strangers. I arrived early to an eerie empty room and took a seat on the sofa instead of the table. Seeing I'm alone, the sommelier kindly invited me to go visit the open kitchen on the other side of the floor. However, when I returned I had lost my seat at the sofa. The other party inside the room took over the entire sitting area. Someone even removed my personal belonging (Michel Roux book) from the coffee table to another table. I suppose this is no different from being on the subway at rush hour in New York City. If you stand up from your seat, don't expect to get it back, and make sure you take your belongings with you. Since the Residence doesn't have a dress code, there's nothing from preventing people from dressing sloppily. While one would think dinner with an elder Michelin three-star chef demands a little respect in terms of wardrobe, sadly not everyone thinks the same way; certainly not the people from the other party in our room.

The visual discomfort was further exacerbated by the LED TV screens on two of the four walls of the room. As we were eating, the TV showed the direct marketing material for dinner. Since I'm sold and present already, why do someone need to remind me that I am at a Michel Roux dinner? After finishing the first course I couldn't stand it anymore and asked the staff if the TV could be turned off. He acquiesced but only turned off the screen facing me but not the one behind me. The server just didn't get it or perhaps having the TV on is the standard operating procedure of the Residence. But who in their right minds at the hotel think the guests want to eat while looking at a still image on a bright TV screen? The atmosphere felt more like a high end karaoke room than a Michelin three-star dinner.

The Chairman's Residence feels strange in other ways. The atmosphere appears very exclusive and private, yet not quite enough. For instance the private rooms of Ya Ge, the Chinese restaurant three flights down, have private bathroom inside. At the Chairman's Residence, the public bathroom is on the other side of the floor. The walk from my room is long enough to feel that one is at another restaurant. The way to the bathroom passes through the open kitchen, which is similar in design to the kitchen at Bencotto (Italian restaurant one floor below) but at a smaller scale. At the front there's a stone countertop with large rectangular lampshade above. But unlike the light fixture at Bencotto, the one at the Residence is without a glass enclosure, which actually makes it less opulent. The kitchen of the Residence is confined to a separate small space with no direct visual connections to the diners' tables. If diners cannot see the cooks preparing the food, why have an open kitchen at all?

When I walked by the front of the kitchen, the cooks were busy preparing the canapés. All of them were superb. I was particularly happy to see the anchovy straws because I've seen the recipe for them in the book that I own. The sommelier poured each of us a glass of Ruinart champagne and we were off to a great start.

The first course was a duo of ceviches with salmon and tuna marinated in olive oil and yuzu juice. Also on the plate was a slightly spicy guacamole with chips and lamb's lettuce. I like to start a meal with some raw fish that's light but flavorful. Paired with a glass of 2012 Riesling Heissenberg from Domaine Ostertag, this was a nice dish.

The second course was a warm escalope of foie gras with a slice of caramelized orange. The foie was cooked perfectly and simply delicious. The fruit and the fried capers provided a nice balance to the flavors. The wine pairing was a classic one with Sauternes, in this instance from Château Suduiraut 2008. I would have preferred a wine that's less sweet but it was fine.

The third course was a piece of sautéed scallop with slices of octopus. A touch of coriander provided an elegant flavor profile. The use of the tamarind sauce and the coconut emulsion gave the dish a south Asian twist that was refreshing. The wine selected to go with the dish was a 2012 Burgundy produced by Louis Jadot from the Chassangne Montrachet appellation.

The fourth course was Roux's signature dish, pan fried lobster with white port sauce and ginger flavored vegetable julienne. I was fascinated by this dish because, besides the port sauce, the technique and the use of ginger seem to have some affinities with Chinese cooking. As the waiter placed the dish on the table, it looked beautiful with the different shades of red. The lobster was cooked a little more than I preferred but it was still very good. The sauce was simply divine. The ginger provided a little heat that was just great. A glass from Domaine de Chevalier Blanc from 2012 was poured to accompany the dish.

For the final savory course there was a choice between beef tournedos Zingara style or roasted local duck with fondant potatoes. I asked our server what is Zingara style and he didn't know. I suppose we should have just googled the word together. Since no one seems to know, I chose the duck. The duck was first presented whole on a platter and then expertly carved tableside by Roux's manager. Each plate has a few thin slices of duck breast, a piece of the skin, braised baby fennel, and potato fondant. This was served with a wonderful truffle jus. The breast was tender and the skin with a little fat underneath was especially flavorful. The wine was a glass of Le Clos Saint Jacques 2008 from Louis Jadot. This was a great way to end the savory part of the dinner. The only downside was six of our party ordered the duck and there was only one person carving the two ducks. Hence, four of us were served first instead of everyone together. I also find it strange that Roux decided to serve the duck on plates with Restaurant Ya Ge's name on them. Why not use a more neutral plate? It felt like the Residence ran out of plates and had to borrow from the restaurant three-flights below. At the Waterside Inn I don't believe they would use plates with the name "Fat Duck" emblazoned on them. Even more bizarre was Roux would use the same Ya Ge plate for the dessert later on.

After a short break Roux came to our room with the pre-dessert, coffee creme brûlée. Roux explained that they roasted the coffee beans themselves and then infused the milk with the grounded powder. The flavor was very elegant and I thoroughly enjoyed this simple concoction. The dessert was paired with 1998 Gewurztraminer Selection de Grains Nobles from Hugel & Fils.

The last course was a yogurt dessert with raspberry and lime marshmallow and yogurt ice cream. This was the biggest disappointment of the night. Of all the desserts in the repertoire, I don't understand why Roux decided to serve this one. While he was in our room he actually said he couldn't serve the soufflé but he didn't explain why. It's probably not hard to guess. The soufflé is cooked a la minute and less predictable. The yogurt dessert can be made ahead of time and is easy to do. I had hopes of eating his famous raspberry soufflé, the favorite of the Queen of England. I'm not a royalty but my friends were spending a king's ransom on this meal. Moreover, Roux served soufflé as the dessert when he was a guest chef at the Mandarin Oriental in Bangkok and the Four Seasons in Hong Kong. So why not let the people in Taipei have soufflé as well?

In Roux's guest appearances elsewhere, he always served different desserts for lunch and dinner. Part of the reason was lunch was usually much cheaper and a little simpler. In Taipei, the lunch was half the price of dinner. But, inexplicably the desserts for both lunch and dinner were essentially the same. At lunch the yogurt dessert was served together with the creme brûlée as a set on a rectangular plate. At dinner the two were served sequentially with perhaps a slightly bigger portion.

I respect Roux's decision for not making a soufflé, but I would have preferred to see more effort put into making different desserts for dinner. For instance, since all the tables at dinner were parties of eight, why not make some large format desserts that could be cut table side? Better yet, why not go old-school and make an omelette à la norvégienne and flambé it table side. If it was another chef, perhaps my disappointment wouldn't be as great. But Roux is a pastry MOF and dessert is a major part of the meal at his Waterside Inn.

Besides the choice of dessert, my disappointment was extended to the appearance of the dish. When the server placed the dessert in front of me, the ice cream had slipped off from the setting. I surmised someone forgot to put a piece of cookie under the ice cream. The server didn't notice the error, and I didn't want to cause a fuss by sending it back. The pistachio marshmallow was also placed slightly off the center of the cookie. The dessert was just a plate of sloppiness. I can't imagine that Roux would ever allow this to happen at his restaurant back home.

At Roux's Waterside Inn, meals would end with a dazzling array of mignardises: palmier, custard tart, canelé, nougat, madeleine, and chocolate. In Taipei, Roux simply didn't bother with making the mignardises and just served ready-made chocolates and treats from the hotel's Cake Shop on the ground floor. The dinner started so nicely with the wonderful canapés, yet ended in a dissatisfying manner.

At the beginning of the dinner, Roux came to our room to introduce himself. He said for this dinner he brought four senior people from the Waterside Inn and assured us that it was the A team. Instead of being assured, I actually thought it was a bit strange. With the cost of the dinner being much higher than at the Waterside Inn, I expected nothing less. I didn't doubt Roux's word. In fact, in my brief encounter with Roux's manager I can attest that he was top notch – professional yet relaxed and warm. Perhaps Roux brought his A-team but did he bring his A-game? For the savory dishes, yes, but for the dessert, it was a resounding no. 

Besides the dessert the night was also slightly marred by the service. For instance, the server laid down the utensils for the last savory course very early on; it was just strange. As the night progressed, whenever a new dish was served the server would lay down another set of knife and fork outside of them. In other words for several courses I had two sets of utensils. In another instance, I asked for an espresso and was instead served a double espresso with no crema on top. Finally, at the end of the night the server laid down the plate of mignardises, but he mysteriously didn't explain the flavors of the chocolates. Perhaps it was meant as a test? Was one of them whiskey? These were perhaps minor infractions but I am sure they wouldn't meet the exacting standards of a Michelin three-star restaurant.

From the onset it was obvious that a Michel Roux dinner at the Mandarin Oriental would be very different from the one at his Waterside Inn. Sitting in an enclosed private dining room with a party of strangers was never going to be the same as enjoying the view of River Thames. Setting aside the physical constraints, I still had hopes that Roux and Mandarin Oriental would deliver a Michelin three-star experience. Sadly, this did not happen. In one of Roux's visits to our room during dinner, he talked about the idea of perfection as a goal and the impossibility of reaching it. I heard this idea expressed by other Michelin three-star chefs. I just didn't realize on this night, perfection was that far away.

Instead of a Michelin three-star dinner, I felt like I was participating in a promotional event under the watchful eyes of Mandarin's marketing team. Roux now carries the title of the Global Ambassador of the Waterside Inn. This event was certainly a promotion of the Roux brand. The dinner was interspersed with several talks by Michel Roux with a translator. Not once did Roux nor anyone else asked how we like the food or how we were enjoying the night. I supposed everyone just assumed we would be in awe. Besides the aforementioned promotional material on the TV screen, the console table in our room was lined with cookbooks written by Roux. At one point, Roux and a staff of the hotel made a soft sell of Roux's cookbooks. I didn't buy a book because I brought my own; Roux gladly signed the book after dinner. My friends had their pictures taken with the chef. During the dinner we all took enough photographs of the food to fill a weekend worth of our Instagram feed – proof of our presence at the event.

But what exactly did we experience? Michel Roux is one of the world's greatest living chefs and Mandarin Oriental is the best hotel in town, yet even they delivered a weak facsimile of a Michelin three-star meal. I have come to the realization that events with guest chefs are simply not worth the significant premium over the prices at the chef's restaurant at home; paying more but getting less. The irony is if one travels to the Waterside Inn to eat, one actually might not see Michel Roux. He lives in Switzerland and is only in England less than three months a year. His son Alain and his long time maitre d'hotel run the three-star restaurant. It is actually rare to see Roux running the kitchen, but he can't replicate his restaurant elsewhere. As Roux said at the dinner, he relies on a team to produce his best work. Unfortunately most members of the team are back home. In Taipei, he didn't do his best work. Roux may be present himself but we only saw the shadow of the Waterside Inn. 

Michelin defines a three-star restaurant as "exceptional cuisine, worth a special journey." To experience the real thing, one needs to leave home and visit the chef's restaurant. The customers and the chef cannot both be the guests at the same time. The journey to visit the chef might be far and costly in terms of time and money, yet there are no short cuts. As the Chinese proverb says, "True scripture is hard to find (真經難取)."

Arbitrage: Books

Despite the fact that I have an iPad and read e-books with the Kindle app or iBooks, I still like physical books. I like the construction and feel of a book as an object and enjoy the act of flipping through the pages. Therefore, I still buy many books every year, especially hardcover English-language books. However, I almost never buy them in Taiwan, neither online nor at Eslite bookstore. The reason is simple, the hardcover books are almost always cheaper at Amazon.com.

Recently I purchased the new cookbook by Daniel Patterson of Coi Restaurant in San Francisco. This book is available at Eslite for NT$1,521 at a special discount of 21% off the original price. At first glance the discount seems to suggest this might be a good deal, but it is actually not.

At Amazon.com, the same book is available for US$33.33 (33% off the list price). Since the book needs to be shipped to Taiwan, there are additional shipping charges of US$4.99 per shipment and US$4.99 per book. The total cost of the book purchased on Amazon.com is US$43.31 or around NT$1280.

Eslite would have to discount the book by around 33 percent from their list price to make the price to be about the same.

The cost difference between Eslite and Amazon is greater the more expensive the book because the shipping cost becomes a smaller percentage of the overall cost. Also, if one purchases multiple books in one shipment, the cost will go down as well since one of the shipping cost is per shipment. Furthermore, Amazon often offers greater discount for Best Sellers (around 45% off list) or for pre-ordering. Not only is pre-ordering cheaper but one also gets the book much sooner than the local stores. I pre-ordered Daniel Boulud's new book Daniel a few months ago, which Amazon was offering for 50% off list for US$30 or US$39.98 with shipping. I received the book a few weeks ago after it was published; as of today neither Eslite nor Books.com.tw have the book yet.

I am not sure why the local bookstore cannot be more competitive on price; then again, not too many companies anywhere can compete with Amazon. I just know I am not buying foreign books via a local seller.

The Convent on the Hill 山丘上的修道院

A few months ago a poster for the book, The Convent on the Hill - Le Corbusier's Last Vision  山丘上的修道院, was sent to our office. The book is by photographer Nicholas Fan, 范毅舜, and is mainly about La Tourette designed by Le Corbusier. Intrigued by the image on the poster and with La Tourette being one of my favorite buildings by Le Corbusier, I ordered a copy via books.com.tw. I spent a bit more money and bought the limited edition with the slipcover; I can't help it as I am a sucker for any book in a slipcover.

Only when I received the book did I realize this is more than just a collection of photographs. Fan wrote quite a bit of text to accompany his photographs. For the most part the text is fine. The story is essentially divided into two parts: the history before Le Corbusier received the commission and the design of La Tourette. The main protagonist of the first part is Father Marie-Alain Couturier, who was instrumental in hiring Le Corbusier to design La Tourette. Father Couturier was a visionary who pushed for the church to be the patron of the best contemporary artists and architects. It is very nice to see Fan discussed extensively about Father Couturier since great architecture cannot come to fruition without a great client.

While I enjoy reading about the first part of the story, I am disappointed with the second part - the design of La Tourette. Fan wrote admiringly about Le Corbusier's design. He  said that the first time he visited La Tourette in 1991 he hated the design. However, going back twenty years later to photograph the building, he has modified his views. In one caption to the photograph, Fan said he changed his attitude about Le Corbusier after seeing nature through the undulating glass surfaces (page 192). I can't help but wonder if Fan realizes that the windows were actually not designed by Le Corbsuier, but generally acknowledged to be the work of Iannis Xenaxis. Fan also made a big deal about Le Corbusier's creativity with the light canons, however, these were also credited to Xenaxis. In fact, the the seven light canons at the sacristy were also designed by Xenaxis.

To write about La Tourette but make no mention of Xenaxis is really unacceptable. A simple search on Wikipedia will provide some basic insights on Xenaxis' involvement in the design of La Tourette. Furthermore, even Le Corbusier had acknowledged the contribution by Xenakis.

Nevertheless, while I find the text to be wanting, I thoroughly enjoy looking at Fan's photographs as they are quite beautiful and capture the space and the life within the building. The book is certainly still worth buying for anyone interested in La Tourette.

Dinner with Robuchon at Robuchon

Chef Joël Robuchon was back in Taipei again, and similar to last year, we made a reservation at L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon to meet him and to eat some of the new dishes that he was planning. Given it is the season for white truffle, Robuchon devised a few dishes that were topped with thin slices from a sizable piece. Needless to say, dinner with Robuchon at Robuchon was amazing.

The dinner was also fun as the restaurant was fully booked and there was palpable energy emanating from the kitchen crew and the wait staff. Chef Angelo Aglianò was busy manning the pass and being watched over the shoulder by Robuchon and Chef Eric Bouchenoire and Chef Philippe Braun. Since Antoine Hernandez, the chief sommelier of the Robuchon group, didn't come this time, Benoît Monier was quite busy pouring wines for the different diners. For the wait staff, it was all hands on deck as even the staff from the 3rd floor Salon was present.

Throughout the dinner service Robuchon also went around the restaurant and greeted every guest. When he came by our area of the counter, I asked him with my rudimentary French to sign two of his books that I owned: Simply French: Patricia Wells Presents the Cuisine of Joël Robuchon and The Complete Robuchon. He was happy and probably a bit surprised to see the old book that he did with Patricia Wells. I thought he was just going to quickly sign the books and hand them back to me. Instead he took a little time and wrote two different short messages for the two books. After he finished he asked the wait staff to take the books and keep the signed pages open to ensure the ink dried. Robuchon's attention to this little detail for the care of the guest made me realize why he is such a great and successful chef.

Below is one of the two books that he signed:

Modernist Cuisine

I cannot remember when I first heard about Nathan Myhrvold's Modernist Cuisine, but since late last year I have been casually reading Modernist Cuisine's blog. I finally decided to pre-order the books on Amazon.com in the middle of February; one of the few times I purchased an expensive item without seeing it first in person. The books arrived in Taipei on April 11 via UPS.



Typically when I order books from Amazon.com to be delivered to Taipei, I don't have to pay import duty, as the costs of the books are usually small. With Modernist Cuisine, I was actually charged with a little tax, hence the orange C.O.D. sticker on the box in the above image. UPS said the shipment was too big and it didn't help the list price of the book was shown clearly on the box.

While the weight of the books is over 40 pounds, they were packaged extremely well for the shipment. With several layers of boxes, the books arrived in pristine conditions.

There are a total of six books with over two thousand pages. So far I have managed to just flipped through all of them and read a few parts.

Anyone interested should look through Modernist Cuisine's very informative website. I won't go into the details about the books except to say they are just stunning.



I will enjoy this set of books for years to come. For now, I cannot help but just marvel at this extraordinary achievement.

e-book

I have the Kindle app from Amazon on my iPhone, but the screen is too small for me to read books comfortably. With the iPad, I can now read e-books more like a physical book; who said size doesn't matter?

The first e-book I bought is The Nasty Bits by Anthony Bourdain. It was on sale at Amazon for US$3.32 with no sales tax and no delivery charges; instant gratification.

Cai Guo-Qiang and Public Art

Recently I have been reading a new book, 我是這樣想的, by 楊照 and 李維菁 on the artist Cai Guo-Qiang . The book is sort of a collection of Cai's stories about his life, works, and ideas.

I am particularly struck by his thoughts on public art in the following passage in the book:

蔡國強最討厭的是公共藝術，他說當你為一個場地完成一塊石頭 (公共藝術)，那個場地因為這塊石頭改變，讓很多人來了。然後，路燈，指示牌，紅綠燈等亂七八糟的東西又逐漸把石頭給淹了，根本喪失了原先的設計理念與氣息。你看著它變成一塊爛石頭，石頭上面還掛著大牌子烙著你的名字! "但你能說什麼？你已經把它賣出去了。"

Cai, welcome to architecture, welcome to my world.

Au Revoir to All That

Recently I finished reading Michael Steinberger's Au Revoir to All That. The book is about the decline of the quality of French food culture. There are chapters on the influence of the Michelin Guide, the problem with Camembert cheese, the rise of the entrepreneur chefs such as Alain Ducasse, and the success of McDonald's in France. I quite enjoyed reading the book.

I learned from the book that the McCafés in France serve macarons. I was quite amused by Steinberger's account of him trying the macarons along with other journalists:

Petit [Chief Executive of McDonald's France] began making the rounds with a plate of macarons and insisted I try one. I took a pistachio. Not bad, I thought, but no Ladurée. As if reading my mind, Petit immediately chimed in, "We get the macarons from Holder, the company that owns Ladurée."

Below is an ad for the macaron at McDo:

I am reminded of my earlier blog entry on asking Vera to choose between Robu's macaron and McDo. It looks like in France, it would be no contest.

Les Gouttes de Dieu

I finally got my hands on 神之雫 (Les Gouttes de Dieu) in Chinese. This Japanese comic book written by the brother and sister team of Shin and Yuko Kibayashi is about a competition between the son and the adopted son of a deceased wine critic to find thirteen wines.



In the books, wines trigger dramatic stories and images. For instance, the tasting of 1982 Chateau Mouton Rothschild evokes The Angelus by Jean-Francois Millet. Since the wine is rated 100 by Robert Parker and costs around US$1800 a bottle, I probably won't be able to have the same profound experience any time soon. Nevertheless, the comic books are fun to read and quite addictive. I read three books at one sitting and learned a few things about wines.

Another interesting thing I found was about the character 雫 in the title of the book. At first I didn't think 雫 is a Chinese character and certainly didn't know how to pronounce it. I thought 雫 is a Japanese character meaning drip and pronounced as shizuku. A little research on the Internet showed that many people were wondering about 雫 as well. This is a rarely used character and does not exist in most dictionaries. I finally found the character in the 10-volume 中文大辭典 in our home. The only problem is in 中文大辭典, the entry for 雫 says 義未詳. Since 神の雫 is a Japanese comic book, I will go with 倭俗 and interpret 雫 as drip.

Explanation of 雫 is also available here: http://www.yywzw.com/STW/stw5-11.htm

Shelved

With the arrival of our container I have been busy putting our books on to the Billy shelves we purchased from Ikea. We probably have around 2500 books and approximately half of them are on architecture. Just about all of the books were acquired after high school. The process of organizing the books triggers memories of the various parts of my life: the fascination with Le Corbusier, economics, and music in college; the interest in philosophy, Mies, and modern art in graduate school; and the pursuit of excellence in cooking and child rearing in recent years. While I now spend more and more time on the computer, I still enjoy buying and reading books. Since looking at the contents of other people's bookshelves is one of my favorite things to do, I thought I share a couple of views of my bookshelves.

White

Since I haven't had a chance to go a bookstore and my books from New York have yet to arrive, I started to re-read some of the books lying around the shelves in Taipei. One of them is Marco Pierre White's autobiography, The Devil in the Kitchen.

White is an English chef from Leeds known for his unique talent in the kitchen as well as his quick temper. He was awarded three Michelin stars when he was only 33 - the youngest at the time. He has inspired countless chefs, the most famous is his former protege Gordon Ramsay. At age 38 in 1999, White retired from the kitchen and gave back his Michelin stars. Now he no longer cooks but still owns and oversees a number of restaurants.

The book is quite moving as it tells the compelling story of White's early struggle, apprenticeships in the best restaurants in London, development as a chef, and the relentless pursuit of excellence. Interspersed between the biographical stories are White's ideas on food and cooking techniques including seasoning, refinement of classic dishes, frying an egg, and roasting a chicken.