L’Effervescence
L’Effervescence is a textbook example of a Michelin three-star plus green star restaurant, deftly grasping the aesthetic preferences and listing rules of Michelin reviewers.
The restaurant's strength lies in its cleverness, appearing as a model student within the Michelin system - one that knows exactly what to "test" for, how to organize the answers to highlight scoring points, and how to arrange the presentation for higher impression scores. Many three-star plus green star restaurants are controversial among pure food enthusiasts but they all share this characteristic. For the pure foodies, a visit may not be necessary as it could lead to disappointment; however, for those in the industry aiming for awards, it's a learning opportunity.
I can distill the learnings from this restaurant into two points:
(1) Easy-to-understand Eastern aesthetics - Starting with a concept reminiscent of "The Peach Blossom Spring," combining the simplicity and elegance of French dining with Japanese wabi-sabi style in decor, offering a menu that’s intelligible yet philosophically rich, and a direct nod to "Franco-Japanese fusion" during the dining experience.
(2) A meticulously designed dining experience - The meal begins with a pause, ritualistic content is rhythmically interspersed, and there's a subtle nod to serious ingredient sourcing through supplier acknowledgments, as well as generous gifting.
First, easy-to-understand Eastern aesthetics:
For a restaurant aspiring for three Michelin stars, it's essential to be comprehensible not just to local but also to international diners, preferably without extensive explanations, since language can be scarce in cross-cultural exchanges. Unfortunately, the current state of many high-end fusion restaurants in China is such that even locals might not understand the concept after explanations.
L’Effervescence is exceedingly foreigner-friendly, selecting elements that are easily understood by outsiders when expressing Japanese or Eastern themes, preventing the confusion that could arise from cultural differences. For example, the entrance to the restaurant is like a scene from "The Peach Blossom Spring" - a taxi stops at a temple gate, and as the sun sets, its light falls softly on ancient pines and Buddha statues, giving the illusion of being in a secluded Kyoto temple. The restaurant is in a quiet alley off Omotesando, a bustling area in Tokyo. The path to the restaurant, lined with greenery, initially narrow, leads to a tranquil revelation.
Secondly, the meticulously designed dining experience:
L’Effervescence has evidently choreographed the entire dining experience from start to finish, aligning with the peak-end rule.
A. The dramatic pause at the beginning: As mentioned earlier, the restaurant’s choice of location and ambiance style seamlessly incorporates the beauty of the East into the French dining system. Upon entry, guests experience a "pause" as they are taken to a waiting room to sit briefly amongst displays of awards and magazines before being led to their table.
B. Ritual content interspersed rhythmically: The meal includes seven courses, with one cooked at the table, one for a photo-op, one with multiple choices, one showcasing a stunning plate, with the remaining three served normally. The design overall has a good rhythm, and performing elements are placed upfront, regular courses in the middle, ending with another performance.
C. Acknowledging suppliers: During the meal, L’Effervescence presents a list of nearly a hundred suppliers, with names, regions, and ingredients, subtly signaling to the diner the meticulous selection process.
D. Generous gifting: The restaurant has a lengthy gifting process, starting with a welcome drink and ending with six post-meal desserts, a special coconut drink, and matcha tea. After the meal, the server brings a large platter filled with a variety of souvenirs for guests to choose from, including nuts, jam, tea, honey, and spoons. As for the quantity of gifts, L’Effervescence is unmatched among the Western restaurants I've dined at.
Despite this elaborate presentation and experience, someone like me, who detests green leafy vegetables, may find the meal challenging, with too much emphasis on greens throughout. The chef seems enamored with the juxtaposition of bitterness and sweetness, resulting in protracted periods of both flavors in the meal.
The opening (Welcome) featured vegetable crisps with a texture akin to potato chips, paired with olive oil cheese, a nod perhaps to Q's sheep milk bavarois. The welcome drink (Omotenashi, which reflects the spirit of "hospitality" in Japanese) could be chosen with or without alcohol but was difficult to understand and quite bitter.
The first course, "Scallop and Sea Urchin Risotto" (Underwater forest), simulated the ecology of an underwater forest. Using Sasakamai rice from Miyagi Prefecture, Japan, to make risotto, it was combined with scallop meat, sea urchin, homemade caviar (the restaurant bought sturgeon to fillet in the kitchen), and perilla flowers. It was charcoal-grilled at the table to release the aroma, providing a salty and warm sensation that was comforting for hungry guests, though the sea urchin could be optional.
Bread (Genesis of civilization) was served first as a moist and hearty focaccia at room temperature, followed by a hot and tangy sourdough. The bread was decent, but a lot of carbohydrates were already consumed before the meal properly began.
The second course, "Vegetable Salad" (Ars longa, vita brevis), came with a list of suppliers, but I found it hard to swallow.
The third course, "Slow-cooked Turnip" (fixed point), was slow-cooked for four hours and had a nice texture (tender and juicy), served with breadcrumbs and a green sauce. However, it was not in season and was too bitter for my taste. As previously mentioned, this dish actually symbolizes the Franco-Japanese fusion. In my view, it was just a showy gimmick.
The fourth course, "Flounder" (Ocean), was poached in whey and served with green asparagus, bamboo shoots, and sour cream sauce. The flounder was well-prepared, pure and without a fishy taste, but the accompaniments and sauce were unremarkable.
The fifth course, "Kyoto Duck" (Forest), offered two servings of duck. The main dish featured duck skin scored and charcoal-grilled over Mizunara oak from Hinohara Village in Tokyo, accompanied by port sauce and various vegetables and pickled mushrooms. The village is known as Tokyo's only village with mountains, natural scenery, and ancient traditions, which was really just part of the show. However, the duck was quite well-prepared; the skin was crispy, the inside tender, and it was rich in fat - a tasty duck dish by Western standards. The other serving was duck leg meat 'gnocchi,' stuffed with dandelion greens, which nearly brought me to tears with its bitterness. The broth was also average, lacking in fat and duck flavor.
I did not choose the Japanese "Cheese Selection" (Migration).
The dessert, "Citrus Mousse" (New chapter), featured Hassaku citrus fruit flesh from Japan, with a base of milk chocolate and mousse. It was quite plain.
The lengthy post-meal dessert course included lemon puffs, peanut financiers, apple mousse, biscuits, chocolates, and soft candies - all exceedingly sweet and hard to stomach.
Thus, this restaurant, rather than offering a Franco-Japanese fusion Japanese-French cuisine, seems more focused on pleasing Western aesthetics and international judges, aligning with the Western gaze and imagination of the East. It's a deep study of the examination system and rules, a concession of self, but one that proves effective, as evidenced by its Michelin three-star plus green star recognition.
In reality, I think this is just another form of "high-end restaurant bluffing." Who is the real audience of a fine dining establishment - international judges or local diners? Can pandering to international judges really deceive local diners? With international guests returning to China, expression and communication have become the next significant challenges for domestic high-end restaurants.
