You came to Russia in the early 1990s, amid the surge of interest in the country. Before that, you worked in other countries, Scotland, a cruise ship? Why couldn’t you stay in one place in France?

Some people can’t imagine life beyond their homeland or comfort zone, while others are nomads who can’t sit still. I belong to the second group.

And how long have you been living in Russia?

For 33 years.

But aren’t you then a settler rather than a nomad?

True. In Russia, I became sedentary. I feel comfortable here. Russians think differently; they are proactive. When I described the dynamic changes here in the early 2000s to my friends in France, they couldn’t believe me. They couldn’t imagine existing comfortably amid such chaos.

Still, there are things in Russia that I dislike. For example, Russians struggle with lengthy apprenticeships. In my line of work, cuisine, a young chef joins a restaurant and believes he’s ready to lead after just six months. But that’s unrealistic. Six months isn’t enough to master the basics; it takes years of hard work. The kitchen is like an army: you start as a soldier, strictly following orders and learning diligently. That’s how it was for me at Tour d’Argent, the iconic Parisian restaurant where I acquired foundational skills and experience, which I still apply today.

After three decades of working in Russia, have you succeeded in training new chefs?

Indirectly, yes. When French chefs like myself arrived in Russia in the early 1990s, we introduced different culinary standards and cultures. I led a team of 33 cooks, maintaining respectful professional relationships in the kitchen. I confess, in the early years, I raised my voice but, with maturity, I became more professional and calm, especially at Le Carré.

Being a chef is exhausting. Renowned chef Eric Fréchon, who announced his retirement from his three-Michelin-starred restaurant in 2024, revealed that it was the first time in 25 years he spent Christmas at home rather than working. Don’t you ever grow tired of the kitchen?

Absolutely not. Eric Fréchon worked in a luxurious palace-hotel in Paris, facing a heavier workload than owning an independent restaurant like my Le Carré. Honestly, today I mostly direct the process, training the team, managing operations. As they say, I oversee service delivery, and I derive great satisfaction from it.

What defines your restaurant Le Carré?

Le Carré is orientated toward traditional, bourgeois, and classical cuisine, with organizational similarities to Tour d’Argent. Fresh ingredients are delivered daily. We prepare French dishes but over 90% of our ingredients are sourced locally in Russia. For instance, my foie gras comes from Belarus, undoubtedly the best quality product I’ve found in over 30 years of working in Russia. Scallops from Sakhalin, meanwhile, I find inelegant and oversized, so I rarely use them.

Have you discovered any unique Russian flavours?

Yes, I fell in love with butter courgette in Russia. They are rare in France, where zuccini predominate. Zucchini often taste bitter or sour, whereas courgettes are juicier and milder. I have a warm salad with goat’s cheese and butter courgette on my menu, it’s so Russian.

Your menu also includes a salad with endive. In France, endive is a staple, like courgettes for Russians, but in Russia, it’s relatively unknown. How do your guests react to it?

Very positively. My regular patrons trust me and are open to trying new things at my restaurant. The taste of endive is genuinely unfamiliar in Russia. However, I know how to persuade Russians: telling that a product is healthy convinces them, as wellness is a key factor for them.

Do you have any dishes that could be considered your personal “Proustian madeleines”, dishes that remind you of specific moments in your life or tell stories about you?

Yes, the apple tart is my diploma project. I first offered it to customers back in my bistro on Lubyanka Square, and it immediately became popular. Another signature dish is Shokomer, a chocolate dessert inspired by Tour d’Argent. I also prepare île flottante (floating island) following my grandmother’s recipe. Among special offers, there’s slow-cooked venison tongue in Gran Vener sauce with lentils, prepared just as my father did.

Which dishes on your menu are inspired by Russia?

Muksun fish from Yakutia. It is steamed and served with so-called forgotten vegetables, such as parsnips, which vanished from Russian cuisine but are now making a comeback. On top of the muksun, I pile a mound of black caviar, making it a quintessential Russian dish. Recently, I discovered black cod from the Kuril Islands. I couldn’t find the perfect way to prepare it; I didn’t want to steam it like muksun. Neither olive nor vegetable oil worked. Then a friend suggested using clarified butter. Fish quickly sautéed in butter becomes surprisingly tender, with a slight flavoor of hazelnut imparted by the butter. Black cod is more flavourful than cod but it’s difficult to cook, you need to master the basic techniques I mentioned, so, in restaurants, you can only find it steamed at best.

Over three decades in Russia, what aspect of the Russian character have you absorbed?

Living in Russia taught me not to fear sudden changes, to be resilient, and to embrace the idea that, if you lose everything today, you’ll regain it tomorrow, just keep going. This lesson stems from my experience in Russia in the 1990s. Incidentally, the same thing happened with my current restaurant Le Carré. I opened it five years ago, thinking it was a period of bad luck, followed immediately by the onset of COVID-19 and quarantine. Now, we are clearly progressing compared to previous years, and guests who visit us once tend to return.