Jay Keyes
Google
It was in L'Espalier's dining room that I initially fell in love with my wife and, although the food was always great here and the service was impeccable, L'Espalier will be remembered by us as more than a mere restaurant. During my 20s, Chef McClelland's grand tastings were a true special occasion meal - one that I would budget for and look forward to for months.
That this historic 40-year-old restaurant sadly and suddenly closed on January 12th of this year has been difficult for me to process - it feels like a tragedy on the level of losing a close friend.
Unfortunately, the writing was on the wall. During what would be my final visit to L'Espalier this past summer in a bulky rental car, I was shocked to discover they no longer offered valet parking - something they had always done theretofore. Typical of L'Espalier, the restaurant went out of their way to provide special parking accommodations to me after explaining that, in these times of rideshare, no one drives to their restaurant anymore. Given the grayer demographic that L'Espalier attracted, this should have been a sign to me that the end was near. What should have nailed it for me was not receiving a coconut macaroon as I exited the restaurant - a plastic-wrapped fresh departure pastry that I had grown accustomed to leaving with each time I had visited L'Espalier. In fact, no one was manning the Maître d' station when I left the restaurant.
L'Espalier introduced me to so many "firsts" and influenced my dining vocabulary and sensibilities to the point that it became the quintessential French fine dining experience that I measure all others against. Even at the end, I was supremely delighted by McClelland's "Roasted Squab and Liver Vinaigrette," which bore strong nutty flavors of pine and acorn, yet did not feel out of place as a featured dish in a summer degustation. It was one of the best things I ate in 2018 as well as a dish that perfectly reflected the aesthetic sensibilities of L'Espalier's kitchen with its luxuriously decorative plating worthy of the exorbitant Back Bay rent-hikes that forced L'Espalier's closure.
The "Grand Fromage" cheese course was always excellent and possibly the aspect of dinner I would look forward to the most at L'Espalier. In fact, I would argue that Chef McClelland and fromager Matthew Helvitz's meticulously curated cheese courses are unrivaled by any others I've had here in the U.S. During each tasting, their cheese course would consist of: 1) a soft cheese selection consisting of anything from wrinkled goat cheese to a camembert, 2) an aged, natural rind cheese, typically sweet and nutty, 3) a stinky, complex washed-rind cheese like an Époisses or appenzeller, and 4) a blue cheese, typically rich and pungent.
The best thing I ever ate at L'Espalier? In late summer 2007, I was served a dish with lobster, Chatham squid, and pickled eggplant in a tomato broth that I can still remember every bite of.
Adieu, L'Espalier.
