Little bites, libraries of flavors

Christian Têtedoie on preserving the culinary heritage of France.

WORDS ��JOSEPH L. GARCIA

“Can you hear the butter sing?” asked French chef Christian Têtedoie as he prepared scallops. This was how he was trained by a mentor to know when the butter in the pan was ready.

Mr. Têtedoie, considered one of the finest chefs of his generation, shows that gastronomy toes the line between worldly sophistication and the reliance on primal senses. French cuisine, despite its snobbish reputation, is made up of elements both high and low: think stews and roasts made over fires in farmhouses to exquisite examples of French haute cuisine marked by spare plating — little bites containing libraries of flavors.

Named a Best Apprentice of France at 17, Mr. Têtedoie trained under legendary names such as Paul Bocuse and Georges Blanc and has worked at the�� Élysée Palace (the official residence of the Presidents of France) twice, during the administrations of Valéry Giscard d’Estaing and François Mitterrand. Today, he is enjoying his second term as President of the Association of French Master Chefs Worldwide (Maîtres Cuisiniers de France).

The French chef was more factual than flamboyant in his approach to food preparation. As he prepared foie gras in the Center for Culinary Arts campus in Katipunan, there were no noisy showy knife tricks while chopping shallots. There was not a hint of inflated pomp, save, perhaps, for the golden medallion dangling from his neck, a medal given only to the current president of Maîtres Cuisiniers de France.

As the head of the said organization, Mr. Têtedoie plays a role in preserving the culinary heritage of France. He does, after all, hold the secrets of several masters before him. “He considers it a duty to transmit this knowledge and further the prestige of French cuisine,” said his interpreter.

The French attachment to food is rooted in history. Mr. Têtedoie attributed the finesse of French food to Louis XIV, he who built Versailles, and made himself the center of all that was in France. Powerful nobles bowed to his whim, dressed him, and sat or stood depending on his favor. “At the time, basically, all the royal courts of Europe looked up at the Sun King, because nothing was good enough or too good for him, and he really pushed for excellence, in a lot of different domains — not just food,” he said through an interpreter. “The richness of French cuisine is diverse. The only thing that ties the different regions together is the search for excellence, whether simple dishes or complicated dishes.”��

GASTRONOMIC EVOLUTION

How, then, does a culture help preserve its heritage in a changing world that raves about the new? Mr. Têtedoie does his part by touring the world and promoting French cuisine. According to his interpreter, he also persuades French chefs to “step up their game, use local products, and just, generally speaking, cause the evolution of gastronomy.” Mr. Têtedoie added: “The challenge is to make sure that French cuisine stays on top of the game, and is still a reference for the whole world of gastronomy.”

When trade and immigration routes eased up around the world, specially in Europe, ethnic influences inevitably bled into “Western” culture. Mr. Têtedoie cited Auguste Escoffier as a paragon of virtue. Escoffier (1846-1935), hailed as the “king of chefs and chef of kings,” wrote Le Guide Culinaire, a book that remains the gold standard in French culinary arts decades after his death. “If you take Escoffier, he was always looking around for different�� types of cuisine and how he could integrate them in French cooking,” pointed out Mr. Têtedoie. “And it’s still kind of the same spirit today. The techniques are still the same but you’re always looking to integrate new elements and make cuisine progress.” To survive, then, is to adapt, but not so much as to completely change that nothing of the old remains.

Fusion cuisine is fine, as long as chefs don’t forget the basics. “Classic techniques are still important, because they allow you to make an interesting dish in a short amount of time,” said Mr. Têtedoie. “Fundamentals matter: sometimes people just go too far when it comes to fusion.”

On the flip side, one aspect of French cuisine that demands innovation involves classic recipes that make use of endangered ingredients. Consider the ortolan bunting, a tiny bird roasted then eaten whole. The consumption of ortolan was banned in 1999 after overhunting threatened to wipe out its numbers. Environmentalists also decried the supposedly “inhumane” way the bird was treated before being cooked. The ortolan became the center of a debate in 2014, when celebrated French chefs lobbied — and failed —�� for its return to restaurant menus. The ortolan also served as stuffing, along with other birds such as the bustard and the partridge, for a legendary roast that can no longer be served today for the same reasons.

Foie gras, another of France’s great culinary contributions, raises similar ethical issues. To produce the luxury delicacy, geese are force-fed to expand and fatten up their livers to a life-threatening level. PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) described the process as “grotesque” and “cruel.” If the organization garners enough public support, the days of indulging in fatty goose liver may be numbered. Who knows what foie gras will look and taste like a century from now.

“You modernize. You can’t do the same dishes that you were doing a hundred years ago,” said Mr. Têtedoie through an interpreter. “There was a French journalist who was said: ‘What’s important is not what was done before, but the spirit when those things were done.’ What’s important is to keep the spirit.”