Plus tri

I am sitting in a French bar in Toronto and,

I admit, I had been craving two great classics: French onion soup and steak tartare. These are simple dishes that do not tolerate too much philosophizing, precisely because that is what makes them great — they have survived through time without needing to be constantly “improved.”

The onion soup arrived without a piece of baguette. So did the steak tartare. In France, I believe, that would be almost unimaginable. Because in these dishes, the baguette is not a decoration; it is part of their inner logic. In onion soup, it carries the cheese, absorbs the broth, and connects the sweetness of the onions with the saltiness of the cheese. Without it, the soup remains good, but somehow unfinished — like a sentence without a full stop.

The tartare, instead of being served with toasted bread or classic fries, came with truffle chips. Perhaps the idea was to make it look less simple. To me, it had exactly the opposite effect — as if someone had tried to improve French simplicity with the aroma of truffle from a bag of chips. Perhaps I am being too strict, but I had the impression that any French chef would be surprised by such a combination.

What is most interesting is that this was not really a problem of taste, but of culture. The soup was quite good, although the cheese reminded me more of something from McDonald’s than of Gruyère. But the whole experience showed how easily “fusion” can become an excuse for losing proportion and measure. Classic dishes do not ask for much imagination. They ask for respect.

Had I been in some country without any French gastronomic ambition, perhaps I would have accepted all this more easily. But in Canada, in Toronto, a city that prides itself on multiculturalism and restaurants from all over the world, I expected a better understanding of the basic grammar of French cuisine. Here, it seems, Toronto’s need to slightly change everything, to “modernize” it a little, to add some extra touch, prevailed — and in the end, two dishes were spoiled precisely because they are great only when they are allowed to remain what they already are.

This was not only a criticism of a restaurant as much as a small criticism of our time — a time in which classics are constantly being “improved” until they lose their soul.

♣

Sedim u francuskom baru u Torontu i, priznajem, poželeo sam dva velika klasika: supu od luka i tartar biftek. Ona jednostavna jela koja ne trpe mnogo filozofije, jer su upravo zato velika — zato što su preživela vreme bez potrebe da ih neko stalno „unapređuje“.

Supa od luka je stigla bez parčeta bageta. Tartar biftek takođe. U Francuskoj bi to, verujem, bilo teško zamislivo. Jer baget u ovim jelima nije dekoracija, nego deo njihove unutrašnje logike. Kod supe od luka on nosi sir, upija bujon, povezuje slatkoću luka i slanost sira. Bez njega, supa ostaje dobra, ali nekako nedovršena, kao rečenica bez tačke.

Tartar je, umesto uz tostirani hleb ili klasičan pomfrit, poslužen sa čipsom sa tartufima. Valjda da ne bude prosto. A meni je delovalo upravo obrnuto — kao da je neko pokušao da francusku jednostavnost popravi aromom tartufa iz kesice. Možda sam previše strog, ali imao sam utisak da bi se svaki francuski kuvar iznenadio pred takvom kombinacijom.

Najzanimljivije je što ovo nije bio problem ukusa, nego kulture. Supa je bila sasvim dobra, mada mi je sir više ličio na nešto iz Mekdonaldsa nego na grijer. Ali cela stvar je pokazala kako lako „fusion“ može da postane izgovor za gubitak mere. Klasična jela ne traže mnogo mašte. Ona traže poštovanje.

Da sam u nekoj zemlji bez francuske gastronomske ambicije, možda bih sve ovo lakše prihvatio. Ali u Kanadi, u Torontu, gradu koji se ponosi multikulturalnošću i restoranima iz celog sveta, očekivao sam više razumevanja za osnovnu gramatiku francuske kuhinje. Ovde kao da je prevagnula torontska potreba da se sve malo izmeni, malo „modernizuje“, malo začini, pa se na kraju pokvare dva jela koja su upravo zato velika što ne traže ništa više od onoga što već jesu.

Ovo nije bila samo kritika jednog restorana, već mala kritika našeg vremena — vremena u kojem se klasici neprestano „unapređuju“ sve dok ne izgube dušu.