Last week I attended Le Cirque’s “pop-up” (if one can call a dinner that involves fine linen and a four-fork table setting a “pop-up”) at the Tower Club, and aside a fine meal from the New York restaurant’s new chef, there was also some interesting news.
Le Cirque is an icon; the Maccionis a dynasty. Sirio Maccioni, who opened the famed restaurant over 40 years ago, is its consummate ringmaster. His is a fascinating story, as is that of the restaurant’s role as incubator for rising talent: chefs like Daniel Boulud, David Bouley, and Alain Sailhac, and pastry chef Jaques Torres. Le Cirque weathered the loss and gain of review stars, but always had staying power. It was where the crème de la crème went to dine—Frank Sinatra, Barbara Walters, Jackie Kennedy, Princess Grace. It now spans continents, with branches in New York, at the Bellagio in Las Vegas, and also in Mumbai, New Delhi, and Bangalore. It also has a little sister restaurant, Circo, an osteria-style concept in which the playful circus theme that has always animated the stately, haute-cuisine-focused Le Cirque is even more prominent, with harlequin-patterned upholstery and flying trapeze décor. There is a Circo in New York and one in Abu Dhabi. And, according to Mauro Maccioni, the youngest of the Maccioni clan, there is a possibility of Circo opening in Dallas next year. It is still only in negotiations, he says. But, not surprisingly, Dallas and Houston are well represented amongst Le Cirque’s clientele.
I always find intriguing the question of how institutions age, shifting with the times while staying true to tradition. Le Cirque is a fascinating example. But there is also the selection of dishes Stephan Pyles vowed to ferry from his now-closed eponymous restaurant, so great, presumably, would be the outcry were he to eliminate them. There is the Mansion’s tortilla soup. And meanwhile, these are exactly the places that are asking themselves the interesting questions. Maybe that’s why I was so tickled by the idea of seeing how Le Cirque was tight-rope-walking it.
And then, the idea of one iconic institution “popping up” in another just became a delicious thought experiment.
Scenario One, we know: when Le Cirque comes to the Tower Club, it’s a fittingly 48th-floor, high-rise aerial act.
But what about …
Le Cirque Comes to Tei-An: Massimo Bebber and Teiichi Sakurai nearly come to blows over how to sauce the fish (miso; no, nduja! no, miso!), but then bond over four-hundred-year-old secrets of soba-making and Nonna Bebber’s best pappardelle recipe.
Le Cirque Comes to the Mansion on Turtle Creek: So many people order the famed Le Cirque crème brulee that Nicolas Blouin throws in the towel, saying, “I see the people have spoken: from now on I make only crème brulee!” Or, alternately: “This is absurd! From now on, I make only chocolates!” (As a Frenchman, of course, he is perfectly categorical.)
Le Cirque Comes to Fearing’s: Everyone jovially glad-hands and hugs on the main floor, so much so that the kitchen staff, feeling upstaged, sneaks out to join in; no one notices till the wine runs out. (Also, there’s an impromptu Italian lesson in the corner, a lasso demonstration, and a serious showdown between hand-stitched Ferragamos vs. Luccheses.)
Le Cirque Comes to any Stephan Pyles restaurant: Flames break out during a circus act themed around the Heaven and Hell cake. Pyles wields a fire extinguisher, saying, “The show must go on!”
The lingering question: where do you take the Maccionis for barbecue?
