The 8th is not usually my favorite neighborhood in Paris in which to eat, but the fine dining chops of Chef Thomas Danigo, whose Galanga is located within the luxe boutique hotel Monsieur Georges, has me changing my tune.
Danigo’s five-course tasting menu offers an exploration of upscale plays on nostalgia, international influence, and loads of seasonal produce, all imagined with the fine-tuned execution of tableside service of sauces, reductions, and more. Indeed, despite a few small hiccups, this multi-course exploration of color, texture, and flavor has certainly charmed me.
Shall we begin with the aforementioned snags? Might as well – they don’t number many. Given my buckwheat allergy, I was a little remiss at being offered a gluten-free scone studded with raisins and orange peel in lieu of the restaurants buckwheat-based bread service. (A white baguette would have been a far more welcome option when it came to enjoying the house compound butter or soaking up some of those aforementioned luscious sauces.) That said, I can’t place all the blame for this on the restaurant; I hadn’t informed them of my allergy beforehand. (But I still think a hotel might have some baguette lying around…)
A bit of miscommunication also meant that our beverage service was fairly rife with flaws. But other than that, I have little to critique with regards to this refined fine dining locale: The kitchen more than made up for any service issues.
We began in the bar, where I sampled a seasonal cocktail pairing Champagne with melon, port, and timut pepper. Light and refreshing with just the right amount of depth from the port and pepper, it was the ideal apéritif to get the ball rolling.
We then got our tasting started with three amuse-bouches. (God, I love an amuse-bouche.) This one was my favorite: a warm chickpea panisse in the form of a cannelé, seasoned with parmesan and truffle mustard. While the truffle was nearly imperceptible, that little dab of what I believe was anchovy paste offered a welcome brininess to counterbalance the richness of the panisse itself.
This jellied tomato-pepper tartlet in phyllo dough had the barest whisper of chile to offset the sweetness from that flower of watermelon.
The taramasalata on a tapioca cracker was perfectly fine – it just wasn’t as surprising as the latter or as tasty as the former.
We were then served a cupful of savory broth made from vegetable scraps infused with the restaurant’s namesake galangal. It was mouth-coatingly rich (in a good way!) and I loved the pottery cup it was served in.
Our first course was touted as the chef’s signature dish: bruléed leek inspired by his childhood favorite, carbonara. The leek was served with a dusting of peppered pecorino and thin slices of crisp guanciale draped over the top, alongside puddles of Arbois vin jaune gelée and smoked zabaglione, with more of the latter served in a small copper pan on the side. I liked this dish (and would like to give particular mention to the choice to divide the leek into five bite-sized portions in the kitchen, for ease of consumption), but in its richness, it managed to be perhaps less surprising and offer less contrast than what would follow.
Poivrade artichokes were served with a sakura vinegar sauce and topped with a reimagined barigoule, trout roe, and dill, only to be generously doused with dill beurre blanc tableside. The chef pulled no punches here, and the risk rewarded us with a full-flavored dish that leaned into the pungency of dill, too often elided from French menus given its strength. A touch of texture from what I believe were crispy bits of phyllo… though they could have also been frizzled artichoke leaves (apologies for my forgetfulness) were just the textural touch needed to skyrocket this already balanced dish to next-level deliciousness. In lieu of bread, I happily spooned up what remained of the sauce like soup.
This dish of girolles served in bouillabaisse consommé was my favorite of the night, not just because of the aesthetic choice to surround the jumble of mushrooms, edible flowers, fresh almonds, and croutons, but also because it was so pitch-perfect in its marriage of sweet, savory, and briny notes. I also loved the way the hot consommé slowly cooked the mackerel, so that the dish took on even more texture the longer it sat on the table. (Granted… it didn’t sit for very long!)
Like the first dish, the fourth also came with its own saucepan alongside it, this time with a mound of perfectly cooked quinoa topped with a single perfect bite of Lozère lamb filet mignon cooked on a Japanese Konro grill. The chef recommended we begin with this small bite before dumping the quinoa onto the plate containing the main event…
…lamb fillet caramelized in herbed honey and topped with crispy quinoa. It was nestled atop a dab of pepper harissa and doused tableside with a spice-infused broth. I personally found the broth a bit too rich for the delicate lamb, but at this point, we’re really splitting hairs. From the rosy cuisson to the lovely balance of textures here, this dish, too, was a stunner.
I truly don’t know why I have yet to learn my lesson about restaurant cheese courses, which is that most of the time, they are the be-all and end-all of my least favorite restaurant trend ever: Thing on a Plate. I love me a gilded cheese cart; I do not need to pay 15 euros for the privilege of eating two thin slices of admittedly delicious Laguiole cheese with a mound of also admittedly delicious mirabelle jam. This one’s on me.
Despite not really having much of a sweet tooth at all, I couldn’t help but be charmed by this dessert starring seasonal figs. A roasted fig was plated alongside what almost ate like a rice pudding raviolo, albeit in a wrapper that had vanilla-scented gelatin vibes. (I mean that as a compliment). Served alongside a blackcurrant-fig sorbet and with a warm blackcurrant-marigold served tableside, it was lovely, fruity, and fresh with just the right amount of complexity to wrap things up in the manner to which, over the course of the past several hours, I had quickly grown accustomed.
In a beautiful mirroring of the beginning of the meal, we wrapped things up with a warm cup of fig leaf broth, redolent with almost cinnamon spice.
A double dose of mignardises saw this little peach tartlet encased in what looked like a fine phyllo crust but was actually crisp dehydrated peach slices.
And these little hazelnut tartlets sat pretty atop a mound of hazelnuts, the ideal final bite leaving me full but surprisingly (and very happily) not overstuffed.
Given the quality of this prix fixe, it’s actually a steal at 89 euros… which may be why the staff found it fitting to serve us five bottles of sparkling water at 10 euros a pop without so much as a question. But honestly, I’m not going to let that dampen my enjoyment of the exquisite cuisine and beautiful dining room here. (Next time, however, I’ll be asking for a carafe.)
Galanga – 17 Rue Washington, 75008