The Curse of the Set Menu

Having a choice at a restaurant has become a luxury. The endless set menus are killing the pleasure of dining out.

There are two types of chefs: Those who serve what they want, and those who serve what I want. The latter are the worthy heirs of the "founder" of the modern restaurant. The success of (first name unknown) Monsieur Boulanger's establishment, the first of its kind in 18th-century Paris, was due to its innovative concept: Clearly displayed prices and a choice of dishes. The inns, taverns, and host tables of his time otherwise offered but a single dish. Brillat-Savarin praised the restaurant in 1825:

"...the consumer can, at will, have a hearty, delicate or dainty meal, wash it down with the best French or foreign wines, flavor it with mocha and perfume it with liquors from both world with no other limits than the vigor of his appetite or the capacity of his stomach."

For centuries, the customer had a choice until the arrival of those chefs who now serve what they want. They claim to serve the best that cuisine can offer, often between one and three dozen mini-dishes the size of an amuse-bouche. Logic dictates that they also serve absolutely everything the kitchen has to offer, as there's no other choice, and in the process, they create substantial savings. The certainty that all customers eat the same thing greatly facilitates the work in the kitchen and allows for better quantification of food purchased for the restaurant. A chef who offers a real menu can never be sure that his dishes will sell as he wishes. Don't tell me these chefs are fighting food waste. They're fighting for their wallets.

Why can't I love these interminable menus, despite the fact that I can taste everything the kitchen has to offer? it is simply because I'm deprived of the possibility to choose. Our behavior in a restaurant depends on the social context; we don't necessarily want to eat the same thing with our friends as with our boss; we don't eat the same way if we want to sign a contract or if we're in a seductive context. There are days when I crave lightness; there are days when I could devour an entire cassoulet. A good restaurant may be a theater of life, but it's not a theater where the same play is performed constantly. On the contrary, a good restaurant is a theater where a play is performed according to my wishes - imagine for a moment if a real theater could offer the same service. And then, these long menus lead to an avalanche of taste faux pas, as they no longer follow the sequence that our taste buds impose.

Every chef knows that composing a harmonious menu of four or six dishes isn't always obvious, as there are rules dictated by our perception of taste. First, subtle dishes, then more pronounced, full-bodied ones. We finish with sweetness because sugar tends to coat the oral cavity. Yes, it sounds classic, but sometimes things are the way they are for good reasons. If I start my meal with something sweet or gamey, and then I'm served a piece of sole as the second course, my taste perception will be altered.

In extra-long menus, we often find repetitions: Same techniques, same tastes, same ingredients. In the logic of a classic menu, this is a mistake, while with these long ones, it's mostly tedious. Early in the menu, a sweet taste quickly invades the palate. Perhaps it's because many modern creations only succeed thanks to Maltodextrin with their many different sugars such as glucose, maltose, maltotriose, oligosides and polyside, and that the industrial additives necessary to succeed in other dishes are in turn cut with the same substances. Then these "longissime" menus frustrate me with their miniature dishes. Then if by chance one of these mini-dishes turns out to be worthwhile, I'd like to taste more than just a spoonful.

And finally: These menus leave me with no memory or emotion, except for the truly failed dishes. I can easily list the dishes I ate thirty years ago at Girardet, Robuchon or Chapel. However, I'm well and truly incapable of remembering the entirety of a 20-course tasting menu that I digested last week. This is the tragic aspect of the set menu: The chefs who serve me all of their dishes to impress me have never marked my mind.