Chef Jérôme Banctel (3 Michelin stars) is known to run one of the toughest kitchens in all of Paris. Cooks and commis arrive at 8 AM for a marathon shift. A minute later than that, and the time is taken out of your break. A third tardy offense, and you’re sent back home and docked a day of PTO. You’ll earn yourself a healthy dose of resentment from your colleagues, while you’re at it, who now have to do their jobs plus yours.
This is the spartan, thankless environment in which the young cook Paul François found himself, after earning his diploma from the prestigious SciencePo Paris. That precious sheet of paper had confirmed the prophecies repeated to him by elders and peers. It was his ticket to cruise down Easy Street toward a life of corporate/political success, but the thought of it made Paul François miserable.
Much to my delight, Paul made the difficult decision to turn off of Easy Street and onto the culinary backroads which led him to his current post at Le Chamoiseau. But his first stop at Le Gabriel, under Chef Banctel, was a rude awakening. It seems to me that if Paul is anything (and he is many things), he is a voracious learner. He’d arrive at work every day asking question upon question to colleagues who treated his curiosity as a simple nuisance. Le Gabriel is a temple of perfection, and it’s expected that one arrive with a strong technical base.
For Paul, it was a discouraging start to his career. Actually, I think the word he used was “traumatizing,” but what he took with him from that experience was an appreciation of excellence and the grandiosity of the old “cuisine bourgeoise.”
Paul later fell into a culture of like-minded cooks pursuing a younger, perhaps geekier strata of “perfection” at FIEF on the other side of town. FIEF (Fait ici en France) is where Paul really cut his teeth and is the experience that most informs his style today.
From his hyper-local ingredient sourcing to his meticulous fine-tuning of sauces and “simple” manipulation of vegetables, the influences from FIEF were apparent during my time shooting with Paul. What I found perhaps more interesting, however, was a bit of a poetic role reversal.
Le Chamoiseau is a small restaurant. It’s a gastronomic bistrot, not a luxury palace with an army of white-clad cooks. Paul opened the restaurant working mostly by himself, but as the Parisians flooded back into the city from their summer escapades, some hiring needed to be done.
He brought in his friend Lucas, an eager apprentice; someone who, like Paul, got into the cooking game a little later than his peers. I observed the two work together tirelessly all the livelong day. They’d take the time, during the day’s prep, to crack some jokes, share some laughs, and, most importantly, teach and learn.
Service was another story, though, and Paul entered a different zone. This was game time, and when every order is urgent, the hierarchy needs to be clearly defined, even in a team of two.
This switch in personalities created some visible shockwaves. Lucas was used to having his reliable, instructive friend, and Paul was used to having a team of seasoned cooks, from his days in elite kitchens.
“How much time for the monkfish?” Paul would ask.
Silence.
“How much time?”
“Uhhhh.”
“I need a number!” Paul would bark before stepping behind the stove, pushing aside Lucas, clenching his teeth with angst.
When I stopped by a few nights later towards the end of service to show them the video I made, their faces were red, and their eyes watery. Lucas had finally cracked under the pressure and frustration, and they both started to cry. Paul remembered what it was like to want to do well, but to fall short, and to crave instruction, and receive reproach. The two hugged it out and relaxed over a beer after work.
I can only imagine the uncertainty they’re both feeling. Will Lucas rise to Paul’s expectations? Will Paul be able to help Lucas along and make a machine out of him? They both certainly hope so, but neither one knows. It seems like they’re just taking it day by day. And while those days might be stressful, arduous, and trying, they’re certainly more interesting than a day at the office.
Their team will soon be rounded out with a third cook. I’m confident they’ll find their groove.
In any case, I couldn’t recommend the restaurant more highly.
Happy Sunday, everyone. See you soon.
Max