Lunching recently at Alain Ducasse’s Benoit on West 55th Street, enjoying its luscious salmon en croute and pate for just $19, I mentioned to my friend that Ducasse — after 10 frustrating years in New York — had finally found his groove.
“It makes me forget about Mix,” my companion said, referring to Ducasse’s goofy collaboration with Jeffrey Chodorow that collapsed like a soggy soufflé.
But the warm-and-fuzzies soon evaporated.
Last week, The Duke — long removed from the days he actually toiled in a kitchen — proclaimed London “the most important city in the world for restaurants.” He told Britain’s Telegraph that it “was [previously] level with New York, but the product has developed more here [in London] in the past five years.”
Oh, really? Some nerve, from a guy who travels so often attending to his global empire, it’s a wonder he knows where he is on a given day — much less what he eats!
Ducasse also dissed Paris and Spain — the land that’s merely produced the most talked-about chefs and restaurants over the past decade — and didn’t say a word about Tokyo, Chicago or Hong Kong, any of which has a plausible claim to the “restaurant capital” title.
Now, arguing over which city is best is fun, but as futile as arguing over whether the 2010 Yankees could beat the 1927 squad. You can’t put them on the same field, and you can’t fairly compare eating destinations unless you’ve tried all 25,000-odd places that call a city the size of New York or London home.
But as the White Stripes had it, “Any man with a microphone can tell you what he loves the most.”
Thanks to his global renown, Ducasse has the mike anytime he opens his mouth. But his pronouncements command a lot more attention overseas than in New York, where names like Keller, Ripert, Chang, Batali, Boulud, White and Humm mean more to the dining millions.
Ducasse’s put-down of NYC sounds like payback for our failure to love him. He admitted to New York magazine in January 2008 that the city had yet to embrace him. His effort to win our hearts and palates sounded patronizing: He ate everywhere trying to discern our tastes, even at McDonald’s.
His conclusion: In New York, “everyone is so rushed, so stressed, you have to give them easy pleasure.”
He has another reason for sucking up to London at our expense. The Michelin Guide just anointed his Dorchester Hotel venue — which had previously gotten by on a mere two stars — with three. He’d love to see the place draw more genuine locals in addition to the vagabonding sheiks and oligarchs who fill seats at his priciest establishments.
Ducasse even feigned antagonizing Michelin by saying it doesn’t sprinkle enough stars on London: “You should interview the editor and ask him why,” he said. (Ducasse knows the anachronistic arbiters of Michelin would not likely punish him if he accused them of abetting global terror.)
Ducasse’s obsessions with fellow chef/entrepreneur Gordon Ramsay and with Michelin, reflected in the Telegraph interview, betray how out of touch he remains with New York, despite living here part-time, and despite his close friendships with Boulud, Ripert and other French-born chefs more attuned to the Gotham terroir.
To most New Yorkers, Ducasse, Ramsay and Michelin are the unholy trinity of culinary irrelevance. Ramsay’s place in the London/NYC flopped so badly it was recently taken over by the hotel, and Michelin’s New York book is taken about as seriously by locals as Playbill’s dining-after-the-show listings.
But there’s a way Ducasse can yet make us love him, and it has nothing to do with flaunting Michelin stars. Almost stealthily, Benoit has become a truly fine, local place. It seems busier than ever day and night, often filled with people who couldn’t care that it’s Ducasse’s — if they even know.
Exploit this, Alain. Let the town know it’s yours. Hang out at the handsome Deco-style bar. Show up in the dining room often enough to give customers a thrill. They’ll forget about Mix and the Essex House — and maybe even forgive your newly Anglicized outlook.
DUCASSE IN NEW YORK
With a track record like this, can you really blame him for being cranky about us?
* JUNE 2000 — Ducasse opens Alain Ducasse New York at the Essex House with a then-unheard-of $160 prix-fixe — 33 percent pricier than anywhere else. A “six-month waiting list” for tables turns out to be phony. The Post easily gets reservations and finds the mediocre-plus menu worthy of only two stars, and “goofy pageantry” — such as elaborate presentations of pens for signing the bill — laughable.
* NOVEMBER 2000 — The Times weighs in with a three-star write-up saying ADNY was “a year away” from greatness — reportedly making Ducasse fume.
* DECEMBER 2001 — The Times elevates ADNY to four stars, an honor that nonetheless fails to consistently fill the place; tables remain easier to get than at the city’s other leading French restaurants.
* JULY 2003 — Ducasse opens Mix with Jeffrey Chodorow — a bizarre union of four-star chef and the operator of the zero-star Hudson Cafeteria. Critics pan its erratic kitchen and a menu more baffling than alternate-side parking rules. Crowds fail to materialize.
* MARCH 2004 — Ducasse replaces Mix’s chef and redesigns the menu. Crowds stay away.
* JUNE 2004 — The original Essex House chef leaves and is replaced by longtime New York favorite Christian Delouvrier, who earns four stars in The Post. Tables remain easy to come by.
* JULY 2004 — Critics find the relaunched Mix even worse.
* MAY 2005 — The Times demotes ADNY to three stars; Ducasse ousts Delouvrier.
* AUGUST 2005 — Ducasse and Chodorow finally close Mix.
* NOVEMBER 2005 — Michelin’s first New York guide awards the Essex House restaurant three stars, although many doubted that new chef Tony Esnault had been there long enough for Michelin’s tasters to try his food. Tables can still be easily had.
* JANUARY 2007 — Ducasse closes at the Essex House for reasons never fully explained.
* JANUARY 2008 — Ducasse launches Adour in the St. Regis. Less stuffy and less expensive than the Essex House, it pleases most critics and customers.
* APRIL 2008 — Ducasse launches moderately priced bistro Benoit in the old La Cote Basque space. The Post calls it “irredeemably dull.”
* OCTOBER 2008 — Ducasse urges critics to give Benoit another try. When we show up unannounced, Ducasse himself rushes in and personally oversees our dishes — which not surprisingly are delicious.
* NOVEMBER 2008 — Adour snares two Michelin stars.
* DECEMBER 2008 — Ducasse blames weak business at Benoit on “journalists” who didn’t “educate” New Yorkers about bistro cuisine. Several days later, he comes to his senses and replaces the chef.
* NOVEMBER 2009 — Michelin chops Adour down to one star.
* JANUARY 2010 — Ducasse says London, not New York, is the world’s “most important” restaurant city.
scuozzo@nypost.com