The Palate Guard

In France, where a great chef can earn more glory than a general, the supreme accolade for a restaurant is a chaste *** in the Guide Michelin. Less a guidebook than the culinary conscience of France, the plump red volume is an annual honors list grading 3,036 (of 60,000) French restaurants and 6,600 hotels from Calais to the Cote d'Azur. Until this year the Guide counted only ten eating places--four in Paris--worthy of three-star grandeur, promising "the glory of French cooking," with "price no object."* The award of a single star usually boosts an establishment's business 50% overnight, while a fallen star can deflate a restaurant faster than a falling souffle. Says Guide Editor Rene Pauchet: "We feel somewhat like Moses bringing down the tablets."

The 1962 edition, out last week, was fraught with even greater suspense than most.

Ineffable Light. Since Moses & Co. enigmatically disclosed six weeks ago that the Guide would incorporate "a big decision about one Paris restaurant," culinary Cassandras have been predicting disaster for one of the capital's Big Four: Maxim's, Laperouse, Grand Vefour, Tour d'Argent (which was demoted to ** in 1952, restored in 1954). Last week, within minutes of the Guide's release, gastronomes learned that, instead, Michelin had pinned a third star on Lasserre, an epicurean pavilion off the Champs-Elysees. Among its celebrated specialties: Sole fourree Bagatelle ($2.20), breaded filets stuffed with lobster, mushrooms, truffles and cream sauce; Steak Dumas ($2.80), grilled, covered with beef marrow, and smothered in sauce of shallots, butter, white wine and veal bouillon.

Breathed Owner Rene Lasserre, 49, still misty-eyed with emotion: "A real restaurateur can't hope for more." Said an editorial in Paris-Presse: "Michelin, the lighthouse of our gastronomic navigation, has finally illuminated, with its ineffable light, one of the youngest, most beloved and elegant of Paris restaurants."

Though the patron had no inkling of their presence, eleven different experts had eleven different meals at Lasserre before reaching their final verdict, which was added to a dossier on the restaurant that dates back to its opening in 1950. The Michelin inspectors are a kind of Palate Guard chosen for their iron digestions, sensitive palates and impeccable integrity. In keeping with the Guide's slogan. Pas de piston, pas de pot de vin (roughly, no pull, no payoffs), they arrive alone and unannounced, sample food and wine, reveal their identities only when they have finished eating and ask to inspect the kitchens. A Michelin inspector is usually treated as respectfully as an FBI man in the U.S., though one irate restaurateur once protested to the Guide: "You set yourselves up as judges, and yet I personally saw one of your men smoke before the cheese course."

No Simmering. This year's Guide has blacked out six sets of two stars and 30 singles, while handing out almost as many new ones. There are four fewer restaurants in the top rank than in 1939, while * and ** restaurants have declined by 262. Explains Editor Pauchet: "Now everybody's in a hurry and the chef no longer has time to simmer a special dish."

Most experts agree that despite such lapses, the Palate Guard's severity is responsible for maintaining culinary criteria in France today. Peppery Alexandre Dumaine, owner of Saulieu's famed *** Hotel de la Cote d'Or and possibly France's greatest chef, declared last week: "The Michelin is so close to us, exemplifying all the things most important in our profession, that talking about it at all almost seems like sacrilege."

* The Guide's 62 ** restaurants serve "outstanding meals and wine," and are "worth a detour," while 581 * eating places are recommended as "a good place to break your journey." The 2,500 unstarred restaurants get up to five crossed spoons and forks for cleanliness and comfort, are mostly chosen as being the best in their area.

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