Journalist, columnist, presenter but above all gourmet: Jean-Luc Petitrenaud, who died this Friday at the age of 74, the Auvergne native made the taste buds sing, he whose favorite dish was his grandmother’s potato pâté. mother Louise. For Paris Match, he wrote a column in 2008 and 2009 in which he collected the secrets of his guests, its title resembles it: At the table.
Extract :
Hermé, the architect of gentleness. “In pastry, everything is precise, precise, weighed, but super-technique must never be felt. She slips between the tongue and the palate, she is hidden… She is very shy, but it is still she who holds the controls. I seek to shape excellence, but the closer we get to it, the more it crumbles. » The idea of our lunch delighted him. It’s 1 p.m. sharp at Chez Fernand, its HQ on rue Guisarde. At 1:01 p.m., he texts me because he’s thirsty and hungry and really wants to talk.
While waiting for the competition, he warms up by chatting with Jean-Luc Roulière, the innkeeper. Both look like cabaret actors. Pierre Hermé is dressed in black like the singer-songwriter used to pocket theater. It’s a briny white that imposes the commas and ellipses on this conversation. Pierre Hermé drinks his glass like the blackbird at the edge of the fountain. With his head back, “he coos the drink”. “I like this wine because a friend made it. »
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At the table with Pierre Arditi
Extract
Propped against a barrel standing at attention on the terrace of “Père Claude”, he finishes a first small pot of rillettes which he spreads generously on toasted bread. In one lion’s mouthful, he swallows this little poem with a glass of white Sancerre from the winemaker Lucien Crochet to open this meeting. He selects this winemaker as he chooses the pen of Sacha Guitry. Nothing is left unspoken. Chance, surprise are salted, peppered then placed on the tongue. Across the way, I decide to taste a real Americano. He loves this aperitif but only likes it in Venice, at the foot of the Rialto. Esthete, Arditi, to the end of the palace!
At the table with Catherine Jacob
Extract
-Meeting others is like a game, she abuses it with relish. Dressed in black, her lips highlighted with a poppy red line, she places a kiss on the edge of the glass. The slate is placed in front of us. She announces the hunt in the form of stew or hare à la royale (one of the best in Paris), rare shellfish and dirty dishes. “This man has the art of matching the dish to my mood of the day. When I moved [elle a habité trente ans le VIe avant de choisir le XIXe]Mark was able to prepare a fresh and fabulously refreshing tomato salad for me. It wasn’t on the slate, he pulled that out of his hat. » She chooses knives stuffed with parmesan. No fork, fingers are the best utensils. She accepts without hesitation a portion of my calf’s head terrine. She appreciates it without detour.
“To hum the moment, Serge chooses a Kir”
At the table with Serge Lama
Extract
To celebrate the moment, Serge chooses a Kir, the aperitif of the famous canon of Dijon. I follow suit by drinking a cardinal (blackcurrant red). We feel good in this same church. Out of habit, he doesn’t have lunch, doesn’t have snacks, doesn’t have dinner either. He eats. He shares the table after the emotion of the scene and never before the curtain rises. He likes this abstinence, this restraint. “I always get up very early… around 11 a.m., or even noon! A coffee, a toast, I look like a monk. » His first laugh rocks the inn. Denise’s Lama is like a conscript coming home from the ball. We surround him. We make him talk.
We put a hand on his shoulder. He’s not a pair of dark glasses with a press officer and secretary, he’s a friend in all the nobility of the term. The day boss and the night boss of La Tour know him by heart. No card at Denise’s. The slate is there like a mirror. Night owls are found in the egg and mayonnaise, the pâté en croute, the herring fillet and its apple in oil. The dishes are simmered: mutton beans, Auvergne-style cod, beef bourguignon, tripe fondue pot. The drizzle of balsamic vinegar and the spices sprinkled on the edge of the plate are forbidden here. This kitchen, erect in its sandals, resembles Serge, his songs, his singing tricks.
At the table with Macha Méril
Extract :
At Serge Alzerat, cities and their products parade to the rhythm of provincial stations. Our pleasure railcar stops at Brouilly, Roanne, Moulins and Charolles. “What we eat reflects who we are. The table makes you smart. Philippe Faure-Brac (best sommelier in the world) taught me local wines, it is my main juice, my sap. » The innkeeper remains hanging on his pencil and his notebook. He talks about his terrine, his blood sausage, his veal chop, his entrecôte, his eggs and mayonnaise. Everything interests him. “The actor must not be cut off from real life, the plate is the basis of his success” (statement made to cereal-munching actresses). “Besides, cooking is a terrible weapon of seduction. How can they do without it (the nibblers mentioned above). Pleasing a man and showing him who you are through a meal is guaranteed success. »
