Rech — THE ARDENT GOURMET: RESTAURANT, HOTEL, AND TRAVEL REVIEWS

Rech, “Food cooked by accountants”

The Ardent Gourmet

Restaurant Review: Rech

“Food cooked by accountants”

October 22, 2018

The enormous windows of Rech (in the Intercontinental Hotel) open directly onto Victoria Harbor and its junks, ferries, fishing boats, yachts, container ships, sailboats, jet skis, and occasional police ships, vivid as tropical fish in an aquarium. Because of the thickness of the glass the scene is silent and, in its silence, phantasmagoric and riveting. By contrast, the restaurant’s interior, done in eggshell and dove gray, is muted, the room’s only color from lovely blue water glasses at each place setting. Can Rech’s food do justice to this drama? With Alain Ducasse, the renowned French restaurateur, at the helm and numerous enthusiastic reviews you guess the answer will be yes.

You commence lunch with colorful crackers made with seaweed that are set vertically into slots sawn into large stones, lapidary toast racks, quite a pretty display. The crackers, which have no seaweed flavor or much of any flavor for that matter, are unremarkable though they have good crunch and you like the zesty herb spread to go with them. And you like the way the knife for the herb spread has little fish scales embossed upon it. Many of the other implements are fishy or nautical in their design which delights the eye.

Appetizers are brought, for you a plate of crustaceans (an oyster, two shrimp, several small clams, two whelks) artfully set among stones, for your wife a mash of mushrooms topped by herbs and lettuce. You douse your oyster in mignonette sauce and moisten the rest with homemade mayonnaise. All are as exquisitely fresh and delicious as can be. The whelks are especially flavorful with a beguiling hint of sweetness and a chewy texture you love, rather like earlobes — or so you imagine. Your wife’s mushroom concoction is tasty, though nothing close to memorable.

One of the reasons you chose this restaurant is that they serve chestnut velouté, liquid Autumn. They begin by placing bowls before you with a mosaic of beautifully micro-diced vegetables and a whole, roasted chestnut at the bottom of each. A thin chestnut velouté is poured in from a small pitcher. Oh my, there is almost no chestnut taste. There is hardly any of the rolling-in-a-pile-of-fallen-leaves splendor of Autumn, of a forest in change, of frosty mornings, of wood smoke, barely a hint of it. There is a taste though of what you think is probably potato (that speaks of Russian winters) which has no place here. This can be such a dish to haunt your dreams. It can even absorb a drop or two of truffle oil on top without it feeling contrived. You mournfully sigh.

Your wife is allergic to shellfish and the only main course on the menu she can eat is their vegetarian offering of spelt and vegetables in a pesto sauce. (Spelt is spelt spelt, by the way.) For a restaurant of this stature, this is slim pickings. It is tasty, but no better than what you’d get from a good home cook who is trying out the vegan lifestyle (though they’d probably use toasted Israeli cous cous which would have been better).

Your main course is bouillabaisse which can be — should be — glorious, filled with plump fish and crustaceans, exuberant with flavor and scent. Though Rech’s version has a bit of sliced lemon zest in it and an herb or two, its broth is pallid — with no detectable taste of saffron, let alone orange peel or Pastis which is sometimes added — as though the intent is not to satisfy the most discerning eater but not to offend the least discerning eater. The monkfish and John Dory within are indistinguishable in their lack of taste. It contains just one shrimp and two mussels. Why not a bigger bowl, a larger serving, a more intense broth, and more shellfish? How about some langoustines? The crouton in the soup is dry, as though a batch of them had been made the day before, not toasted the moment before, and the rouille is, alas, devoid of all flavor. It feels as though an accountant weighed in on this soup’s creation. A very expensive, world class restaurant with roots in Paris, helmed by a famous chef can do better. You’ve had countless fish soups in your life, at unsung restaurants, better (and bigger and far less expensive) than this. What’s going on? This soup is penny wise, pound foolish. Could the fact that Mr. Ducasse only visits occasionally have something to do with this? Is his cooking, so to speak, dialed in?

Then, a slice of their “famous” Camembert, presumably a very special cheese indeed to be showcased at such an eminent restaurant. The cheese is tasty enough, but no better than you’d get at Trader Joe’s in the states. Your wife leaves most of hers on her plate. Come on Rech, you’re an esteemed restaurant; give us the fruits of your brilliant kitchen, don’t punt with a slice of fromage, no matter its college degree (which is no better, in fact, than that served at A.O.C. Eat & Drink, a local but mighty pipsqueak at a fraction the cost). It comes with a very good warm loaf of artisinal bread with a dense crumb. The butter, with bits of red seaweed mixed in, is formed fetchingly in a fish-shaped mold. Again, no flavor from the seaweed, but conceivably this is a good thing.

Dessert for you is a hazelnut souffle and for your wife pear ice with little leaves of meringue. The hazelnut souffle is cooked perfectly, puffed up high with a moist center. It would have been more flavorful yet if a bit of confectioner’s sugar had been sifted on top, nor would it have suffered with a foil of ice cream beside it (perhaps pear ice…. come on, for what you charge you surely could have afforded this). Your wife’s pear ice is delicious, but it too could have benefited from a foil of some sort, pastry perhaps.

Your wife’s cappuccino is served warm not hot. She sends it back and it is returned warm not hot. Your iced coffee is fine. They bring the wrong birthday cake (for which you paid extra. At Amber there’s no charge), but quickly make it right with a mango-coconut cake that is quite good (the taste of mango fresh and assertive). A warm but flavorless Madeleine is served. That is the meal.

Your charming server was French. Her service was very good.

With a birthday cake plus five shared glasses of wine, including a terrific pinot noir and sauterne, lunch for two was very expensive, 2650 HKD. Wine was almost half the cost (and their idea of a full pour did not overwhelm you) . Wine aside, the meal mimicked the restaurant interior: restrained, mild, muted. It would have done so much better to seek inspiration from the vivid, living scene without. There was a sense of food cooked by accountants, not chefs.

Other reviewers have written panegyrics of the place. Could it be that their meals were comped? Perhaps you hit the place on a bad day. Maybe you’re blind to genius. Then again, perhaps you’re spot on. Perhaps Alain Ducasse needs to spend more time in his kitchen. Perhaps Alain Ducasse needs to remove his accountant’s visor and put back on his toque.

You will not return.

Rating (on a scale of 0 to 5)

Food: 2

Ambiance: 4

Service: 4

Overall Value: 1

RECH

Lobby Level, InterContinental Hong Kong, 18 Salisbury Rd, Tsim Sha Tsui, Hong Kong

+852 2313 2323