The Consummate Host

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The New York Sun

Classic French restaurants have become an endangered species in Manhattan. But one oasis of Gallic cuisine tucked on a side street in Turtle Bay has stood the test of time: Le Perigord. This temple to sauces and souffles is celebrating its 40th anniversary this year, thanks to a secret ingredient (not so secret since he’s standing at the front door): owner and maitre d’ Georges Briguet.


This Swiss-born charmer is an elegant yet warm host whose courtly personality sets the tone for the restaurant. But he’s also modest. When asked about the importance of his character to the restaurant, he’s quick to point out the room’s other virtues. These, though, all bear his mark as well, from the traditional captain-and-waiter service to a shrewdly selected wine list and a consistently divine Dover sole.


Le Perigord ranks as both the lunchroom of the United Nations and the dining room of River House. If the walls of its 40-person private room could talk, it could dish for days on the city’s political and financial power players. At times there is more French than English spoken at its tables, but no matter what one’s nationality is, Mr. Briguet makes everyone feel at home.


After all, he gives diners what they want. All it takes is a phone call. Feel like having a Beef Wellington? It’s not on the menu, but it’s there. “They want to have pot au feu? No problem. We cook for them. If someone calls up and wants tripe, no problem,” the host said. “There are two kinds of food: the kind that the superstar chef serves for the critics. And there is the food that we serve, that the people enjoy.”


Born in 1937, Mr. Briguet grew up on his family’s vineyard and entered the hospitality industry as a young man. In 1960, he came to New York and took a job at the Waldorf-Astoria, where his Swiss training put him in good stead. “The whole country is geared to service. In any fine dining restaurant, we go out of our way to give people service,” he recalled.


Not long after arriving in New York, Mr. Briguet found himself at the French boite Pierre Au Tunnel, where a lovely jeune fille from Brittany, Marie-Therese, was a cashier. The two married and have been together for almost 45 years. “The secret is that I work all the time, so we don’t see each other too often,” he said with a laugh, noting that the real secret is in the details. “Let her drive the car. Let her pay the bills. That way there are no arguments.”


After working his way up the food chain to La Grenouille, Mr. Briguet and one of La Grenouille’s chefs decided to start their own establishment. When looking for the cash to cover start-up costs, Mr. Briguet approached a frequent Grenouille patron, David Rockefeller, who instructed the up-and-comer to go to the bank at 57th Street and Third Avenue, where he would be given a loan.


On a recent afternoon when Mr. Briguet was recounting Le Perigord’s history, Mr. Rockefeller came in for lunch. Mr. Briguet spied him and rushed over to greet the longtime supporter. “He’s the guy who gave me the money!” exclaimed Mr. Briguet, with a boyish enthusiasm.


In the early days, Le Perigord caught a few breaks, including rave reviews. But what really drove business was a celebrity sighting. Before Liz Taylor and Richard Burton made their relationship public, they would dine together at the restaurant’s back corner table (a favorite for VIPs).


“One day, on the front page of the New York Post, there was Liz Taylor and Richard Burton leaving our restaurant,” Mr. Briguet said. “You had the awning of Le Perigord right on top of them. From that day on, the restaurant was busy forever.”


But more than movie stars, diplomats have kept Mr. Briguet busy – and they have taught him a bit of diplomacy as well: “I never seat an ambassador next to an ambassador. I always try to seat some businessmen in between, or some empty tables.”


Allowing diners a dash of privacy has often been a critical matter: “During the Falklands War, every day for lunch, you had the British and Argentinean diplomats meeting here, sitting at the same table, and talking about how to stop the war,” the restaurateur recalled.


Though no fistfights have ever broken out, there was once a heated discussion at a table led by the French ambassador. As things were becoming intense, the diplomat took off his socks and shoes and put his foot up on the table. He said to his guests (and Mr. Briguet tells this story with great panache, adding a French twist to his own Swiss accent),”Hey, I want you to look at my legs. Do you think I have beautiful legs?”


The memory is enough to still get a laugh from a maitre d’ who’s seen it all: “Everybody had a big laugh, and the tension reduced. That was reported in all the papers because it was so . . . fantastic, dramatic.”


Presidents, including Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan, frequented Le Perigord (the latter particularly enjoyed the famed Dover sole), and typically sat in the back corner table, which kept them far away from the long row of street-level windows “President Reagan had so much charisma. But the guy who had even more charisma was Charlton Heston. They came in together,” Mr. Briguet said.


Though Le Perigord boasts many traditional touches, it has not remained static. The bar was moved to the back room so that the main dining room would be quiet and peaceful. The sauces have become lighter. And the wine list has accommodated changing tastes.


“When I opened the restaurant 40 years ago, the sales were maybe three-quarters liquor and one-quarter wine. Now, its 80% wine,” said Mr. Briguet, who is known for not inflating his wine prices. “I buy wine in future. I don’t believe in having 2,000 wines on my list. I have 180 different kind of wine, but it is wine that people keep buying.”


It’s a philosophy that dovetails with Mr. Briguet’s advice to young people starting restaurants. “It’s about running a business, period. You have to know, exactly, the numbers.”


The numbers, yes. But also the names, the countries, the families, the likes and dislikes. All of which Mr. Briguet, and his team, know by heart.


The New York Sun

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