Institute of Technology Tallaght.

The life and Death of Bernard Loiseau,

An Abridged Version of “The Perfectionist”,

By

Rudolph Chelminski (2005)

Penguin Books.

BA Culinary Arts 2006

C Folan

Introduction

On a cold February morning in 2003, twenty-four of France’s greatest living chefs came to a

small town in rural France, to perform a sad but necessary duty. Many were Michelin 3 starred

chefs; many with further honours- some came with their Legion D’honneur stripes on their

collars, others wore their MOF (Meilleur Ouvrier de France) medals, but all had come, and

come in haste, to pay tribute to one of their own, Bernard Loiseau.

Chefs die every day, some often young, and mostly without fanfare, but what made this death

so tragic, was the senseless waste of pure talent. Loiseau was a tortured soul- he suffered all his

life from extreme bouts of depression-but he was a brilliant and gifted chef whose style was

often copied, but never surpassed. The news of his death made front-page news, and filled the

television screens of France for days. His funeral procession was broadcast live on national

television, and his passing caused an outpouring of sympathy and loss, similar, in our terms, to

the recent death of George Best.

Why was Loiseau so special? Why would the death of a chef make front-page news?

The answer is that Loiseau was many things to many people. Among chefs, he was recognised

a brilliant and innovative chef, creating a cooking style that was built on paring back

ingredients and creating sauces-rather essences, that were intensified from their key

ingredients. His style was called “Cuisine d’essence” or, as his long time friend and colleague,

Paul Bocuse, once jokingly referred to as “Cuisine de l’eau”. To others, he was an astute

businessman, the first to publicly launch his restaurant, name and product lines on the stock

exchange. To many, he was the face of French Cuisine, from his regular slots on television. To

others he was recognised as the only chef to take over a restaurant, which had lost three stars,

rebuild it, and regain the coveted three star mantle.

Why Loiseau decided to take his own life has prompted much comment and speculation.

Many have cited the pressure placed by guides and food critics on chefs to perform miracles

on a daily basis. As all chefs and restaurateurs know, the pressure of service in itself, can be

daunting enough, without the spectre of a Michelin inspector or a harsh critic sitting in

judgement on you. Likewise, the pressures of running your own business, maintaining the set

standards, the upkeep, maintenance, staffing, and above all, the sacred profit margin, all add

to the high-pressure environment that is the restaurant business.

Certainly, the guides in France are taken seriously, so seriously in fact, Loiseau’s biographer,

Rudolph Chelminski, suggests that the obsession with gaining and maintaining his three star

Michelin status may have had a causal effect in Loiseau’s suicide. Indeed, Loiseau was only too

keenly aware of the Gods of Michelin and Gault- Millau. And what the Gods give, they can

most certainly take away. And that is where the story of Bernard Loiseau begins, and then

tragically ends, with the search for glory, and the holy grail of Michelin stars.

The Young Loiseau.

Bernard Loiseau was born in 1951 in an industrial town, Clermont Ferrand, which is, ironically, the

home of the Michelin tyre company and the guide that would forge his life. His mother was a

shopkeeper, his father, a travelling salesman. As a young boy, Loiseau was not by any means

academically gifted and did not do well at school, failing the entrance exams to the local

Lycee or University. Realising that his future lay in more practical paths, he asked his father to

help him find work. He started work in a local Charcuterie and did general work around the

shop. When his father returned from a sales trip with an offer of employment for Bernard with a

well-known restaurant, little did he know the path he was setting for his son.

In fact the restaurant that Bernard Loiseau was heading for was better than well known. It was

soon to become a legend. But Bernard was joining at a time when the Troisgros brothers were just

beginning to establish a name for themselves. Bernard started life in La Freres Troisgros as a coal

boy, loading the stoves, and hauling up buckets of anthracite from the coal cellar, for months,

before he was even let near a knife. Then came the basic prep work- shucking snails, killing frogs,

plucking ortalons and snipe, peeling, scraping and eventually graduating to basic mis-en-place.

The Troisgros brothers had already achieved two Michelin stars, and within months of Bernard

starting work they had their third. The experience of seeing the kitchen staff celebrating their

achievement with champagne was not lost on Bernard. This formative experience in such a

rarefied environment was to teach Bernard the value of good preparation, and the Troisgros

commandment of mis-en-place from scratch, for every service, everyday. Such was the level of

freshness and perfection required, the brothers would often search for items of mis-en-place

hidden by more lazy chefs and discard them ceremoniously. Bernard took to this regime like a

fish to water and eventually with time, made it to the stove- Le Piano.

Bernard was in the right place at the right time. France was in a period of massive growth after

years of decline, people had money to spend and the French love their food. At this time, a new

style of cookery evolved, the Nouvelle Cuisine; with the Troisgros brothers were in the vanguard of

the movement, along with Bocuse, Chapel and Guerard. This new style of cookery lightened all

the heavy butter and cream based sauces and demi glace, replacing them with reductions

based on natural ingredients. The style of service had also changed in this period from the

traditional service a la Russe to plate service- a la Japonaise.

Again this style of cookery was not lost on Bernard and even then he was formulating his own

ideas. In 1971, Bernard received his C.A.P- the basic level chefs qualification, signed by the

Troisgros brothers, and then received the call for National Military service to serve a compulsory

year in the army. While in the army he got his first taste of command- in charge of the company

mess rooms.

A New Start.

After his national service, Bernard was at a crossroads, with no job and little idea where to go. He

returned home and worked in the family charcuterie business. A chance encounter with an old

workmate with the Troisgros brothers, led Bernard to Paris, and to the man who would have the

most influence on Bernard’s life, Claude Verger.

Verger was an astute businessman, who was well known agent for the Robot-coupe processor,

and had a hand in many businesses around Paris. He had money, and he liked to back promising

chefs- and perhaps one of the most famous- Michel Guerard. Verger was very influential in the

Nouvelle Cuisine movement. He had recognised that customer tastes had changed and he got

the chefs to meet these needs. He would often “front up” the cash, to establish a chef that he

thought would be a success.

He tended to give young chefs the responsibility of operating his restaurants (cheaper than

employing a well established chef), and he was not often wrong, unearthing a host of brilliant

young aspiring chefs such as Bernard and Guy Savoy.

Verger knew almost immediately that he had something special here, and set Bernard to work in

one of his restaurants in Clichy, a small suburb of Paris. Bernard took over the head chefs post

from Bernard Chirent, another young chef, who was heading to England to work for the Roux

brothers. A food critic from Le Monde had previously visited and had written a very

complementary article about Chirent and Vergers restaurant, Le Barriere de Clichy, and soon the

place was buzzing. Soon the Guide inspectors started calling. This led eventually to a Michelin

star. However Verger had no qualms about replacing Chirent with Loiseau. His instincts were right,

and soon Bernard had established himself and was producing brilliant stripped down food at very

reasonable prices. While Le Barriere maintained a Michelin star, both Verger and Bernard knew

that it would be impossible to get more without massive investment to both the kitchen and

premises. Verger found a suitable solution, but it was a long way from Paris.

Le Cote d’Or.

The Cote d’Or, in the small Burgundian town of Saulieu, was a restaurant with a reputation. It had,

in its heyday, a three star rating from Michelin, and now was firmly settled at two stars. Its owner,

Minot Dumaine, was selling up and Verger, as always, smelt a bargain. This was a place, which

given time, could be something special. This could also be the springboard for Bernard to

emulate Verger’s other protégé, Michel Guerard.

However, Bernard and Dumaine took an instant dislike to each other, and as soon as Dumaine

had taken the cash, apparently rang every contact he had to disassociate himself from the

restaurant, and made very quick work of disparaging Verger, Bernard, and his “Cuisine

Moderne”. The Michelin people obviously took note, and in an unprecedented step, withdrew

the Cote d’Or from the restaurant guide completely. Normally when a restaurant changes

hands, it would be common enough to drop a star, but to remove a restaurant completely from

a guide was unheard of. Naturally too, there was opposition and in some cases, open

resentment from the staff left behind from Dumaine’s ownership. The transition of ownership and

the changes wrought by Bernard, were obviously too much for some of the older staff.

Finally things came to a head, and Bernard had to make a stand- he gave the ultimatum- “I’m

here for the long run so get used to it- if you don’t like it, leave”. They did.

This gave Bernard, his wife, Dominique and Verger the chance to assemble their own team, front

and back of house. Slowly but surely Bernard and Verger built up the business, and Bernard’s

cooking was beginning to get noticed. Every spare hour he and his staff had, was spent in

painting, decorating, and trying to build up the old hotel back up to a decent standard.

Le Style Loiseau.

Throughout this time, Bernard was experimenting with new flavours, textures and techniques,

moving away from the traditional heavy sauces and accompaniments, and building a repertoire

of unusual and completely unique dishes. He kept a few of Dumaine’s classic dishes on board,

more to keep the older customers happy, but forged ahead with his own visions and creations.

His sauces or essences relied on large-scale reductions- his veal stock was concentrated at a

ratio of 8:1- that is, 40 kilos of veal gave up five kilos of Fond de Veau.

He reinvented traditional Burgundian dishes and placed his own unique stamp upon them, Le

style Loiseau. An example would be Escargots Bourguignon- traditionally served stuffed in the

shell with garlic and parsley butter, but not Bernard- he served them as a soup. He slowly

poached the snails in a strong Court-Bouillon and served the poached snails on a bed of brilliant

green nettle sauce, replacing the traditional Persillade.

Another Burgundian staple, frog’s legs, was also given the Loiseau treatment. Instead of being

lightly bread crumbed and pan-fried with garlic and parsley butter, Bernard French-trimmed

single legs back, into Jambonettes, leaving the bone exposed. He dressed the sautéed legs on

separate pools of garlic and parsley purees- simple and radically different. Cheekily, Bernard

would sell his essences of parsley or garlic in fancy aftershave bottles with his BL label embossed

in gold.

Bernard also created several signature dishes- his Sandre au vin rouge a la Moelle, is an ideal

example. A fillet of Pike-Perch is lightly pan fried and served skin side up on a pool of red wine

sauce and beef marrow. Nothing too radical in that you may think, but Bernard thought in colour

and in taste. The Pike Perch when fried skin side down, turns a beautiful golden colour and the

flesh is a pristine white. The sauce was a reduction of seven litres of wine down to less than a litre-

in effect, wine syrup, the consistency of blood and the same deep brilliant red. All these factors

combined to make a feast for the eyes, and more importantly the mouth. This was, in his way, his

Homage to the Troisgros brothers. It was also a distinct style, honest and concentrated- Intense

flavour and colour was the key to Bernard’s success, and success did come.

The Highlights.

The Gault-Millau guide described his cooking as “phenomenal” and declared him to be one of

France’s top ten Chefs. Michelin were soon to follow, giving Bernard his first Michelin star at the

age of twenty-six. This was the start of his meteoric rise in Haute Cuisine. Television appearances

soon followed, and Bernard’s natural ebullient nature made him a massive hit, countrywide.

Bernard began to live the high life, buying a Porsche and speeding up to Paris to make the

shows, but he always made it back for evening service. In fact, Bernard rarely, if ever, missed a

service. It was once estimated that he had taken only three days off in ten years. Meanwhile,

realising that if he wanted his dream of three stars, he would have to expand the Cote d’Or.

Seeking independent financial advice, he bought out Claude Verger, and aligned himself with

Relais et Chateau, a top end French hotel association, in order to make the necessary changes.

In 1980 Michelin awarded Bernard his second star, but Loiseau was still not satisfied. He wanted to

be the best, to equal Bocuse.

And eventually, he did. The two stars had followed after several years of unbelievable hard work,

networking, and a gift for self-publicity, but most importantly, it was through leading the line in the

kitchen, that Bernard was to emulate his hero.

The Three Stars and Burnout.

Professional recognition, while slower in terms of some of the other luminary chefs of the time,

came all the same. In 1985 Le Guide Hachette named him Chef of the year, and most

staggeringly, Gault-Millau raised his rating to 19.5 out of 20. No other chef in France had a higher

rating. In 1990 his wine list was voted the best in France, a very prestigious honour, and then,

finally, in 1991, he received a phone call from a Mr. Naegellen of Le Guide Michelin, confirming

that Bernard Loiseau and the Cote d’Or, would have three stars in the next edition. Within a few

weeks of the publication, business was up by 60 percent. A small chain of restaurants followed.

Peer recognition, while always there, reached its zenith with an extravagant lunch for Bernard, his

wife and children and all the Cote d’Or staff, hosted by none other than his idol, Paul Bocuse, to

celebrate and recognise his achievement.

Food companies came calling, looking for him to endorse their products, and Bernard, not

wanting to be left behind other well known chefs, gladly accepted. Expansion followed, and like

other chefs, Bernard planned to build a smaller Bistro style restaurant next door. A second Cote

d’Or was planned in of all places in Japan.

But then in the late nineties, several things then began to conspire against Bernard and everyone

in the industry. New tax legislation meant a bigger cut to the government. The working times

directive meant a cut in the working week, meaning no splits or twelve-hour days for commis

chefs. The huge improvements made and being proposed to the hotel had to be paid for, and

the banks were getting nervous. The economy while not in nose-dive, was certainly in down turn.

Suddenly there was war in the Gulf, and American tourists, a major economy driver, were not

coming. Major restaurants were closing or scaling down operations. The planned Kobe restaurant

never materialised. He had to shelve plans for the bistro. How was he going to finance the

building expansion? How could he keep going? By perhaps Bernard’s finest hour, other than his

three stars.

In 1998, Bernard again sought advice, and took the most radical and dangerous step of his life.

He went public. He offered his name, his restaurants and hotel, associated products to the stock

exchange.600, 000 shares at seven euro each. No one had ever seen anything like it before, and

what’s more it worked. Soon he was turning over a respectable profit, his hotel group was safe.

But then the demon, which had often haunted Bernard in the past, struck again- depression and

self-doubt. Bernard had always been prone to bouts of depression, sometimes going for years

without a problem, and then suddenly, without warning, he would collapse into a black

depression. The ebullient Bernard, the public face, hid a serious manic-depressive, riddled with

self-doubt and low self esteem. He could not seem to accept that he was a success, believing

that he was a failure as a father, husband and businessman. The larger than life persona was little

more than a hollow shell.

The gastronomic style was also changing- fusion food was in, and popular. New adventurous

chefs in France, Spain and even England were experimenting with new foods, new textures, and

what seemed to Bernard, almost ridiculous combinations, and to make matters worse, these

chefs were getting stars.

It was not just eating it was gastronomic entertainment. For all that Bernard had done, he realised

he was, after all, a classical French chef. His dishes were classical- tweaked and changed,

perhaps radically altered, but still classic French or regional cuisine. He felt that he could not

compete with these new styles and combinations and was reluctant, and in fact, unable to

change tack. (This was probably due to the fact that he walked straight from the Troisgros

brothers into a head chef’s position without experience of other restaurants, countries or even

other cuisines). This placed even further pressure on Bernard. It was almost an assault on his

professional ability.

He was fond of saying “ if you want Japanese food- go to a Japanese restaurant!” (This was a

little dig at well-known chefs using oriental foods and spices in their dishes). Bernard became

increasingly erratic in the kitchen –the self-doubt was palpable- showing distress even about his

seasoning- too much salt or none at all. He was becoming increasingly obsessive/compulsive.

There was increased feedback from his customers, showed a rising discontent; he would

frequently mutter to himself, questioning his ability, and comparing himself to other chefs.

This reluctance to change, and the customer rumblings perhaps, prompted Gault-Millau

dropping two points off his record 19.5. This was a bombshell to Bernard, and affected him

deeply. He told his wife, Dominique,” I’m certain of it- the media want my scalp” An article in Le

Figaro also mischievously predicted he would lose a star.

But when the next edition of the Michelin guide came out, the three stars still shone brightly.

Nevertheless, Bernard still felt his world was collapsing around him, and withdrew into himself even

more. It did not go unnoticed. His Maitre de Hotel, Hubert, had never seen him so bad, and

called a meeting of staff, asking them to “redouble their efforts as Mr. Loiseau is not doing well at

all”. In a later conversation with his widow, Chelminski quotes Dominique as thinking Bernard was

planning to go out in a blaze of glory- en plaine gloire- “It was a question of honour”. Having put

so much of his life on hold, the endless hours, days, months and years of searching for the holy

grail of three stars, only to have them taken away, was abhorrent to Bernard. He got his wish. On

Monday, 24th of February 2003, Bernard finished lunch service, and retired home. His wife

Dominique found him dead from a gunshot wound to the head, later that afternoon.

A few days later, three thousand mourners crammed into the little basilica in Saulieu. He was

given a guard of honour by twenty-four Michelin 3 star chefs, among them, Savoy, Bras, Ducasse,

Robuchon, and Bocuse. The brilliant, talented and loveable Bernard Loiseau, for one last time,

was still the star, still the greatest.

C.Folan 2006.