Chicken breast and filet mignon are the garbage meats of the foodie world. It's for this reason alone that my antennae rise <<a la façon de Ray Walston>> when I see either of them on the menu of a fine-dining establishment.
There are two ways to interpret the presence of chicken breast and filet mignon: The low road is an appeasement to the masses, a capitulation to capitalism at the expense of artistic expression; the high road is a chef in the role of Tarzan, saying, "Guess what, my fellow kitchen rats? I can do this just as well as I can pull off a pompano-liver tartelette." Any decent pianist can seduce the crowds and cover up their faulty Liszt with pedal, but do they have the extraordinary technique needed to strip off all their clothing and play Mozart?
"Bertrand Chemel."
Finally. He looked up, rose from the bench in the tiny waiting area, and slowly walked onto the stage. The lights were in his eyes, but he looked down toward the judges' area, and took a small bow.
Chicken Breast "façon coq au vin," with bacon, Yukon gold potato, savoy cabbage ($30).
He then turned and sat down at the piano, took a deep, resolute breath, and heard over the loudspeaker:
"Mr. Chemel will play his choice of the Mozart Fantasia in C-Minor, K475, or the Liszt Hungarian Dance Number 5...."
Cheers, Bertrand, and welcome to Washington DC - we're lucky to have you here.
Rocks.
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