In these days of instant living, shopping plazas that have become houses of worship, anonymous food courts full of strangers’ sambal encrusted kids, Internet deliveries and freedom fries, Escargot shines out like a garlic-soaked beacon of hope in the South Jakarta area.
Behind an anonymous suburban front gate in Cipete lurks a merry rabble of bons vivants, a broad cross-section of (mainly) European and American patrons who love “The Snail” dearly for its congenial atmosphere and excellent food.
The restaurant’s interior is a small but brightly decorated grotto of paintings, objets d’art and other curios, and also contains the most petite bar you’ve ever seen. Many of the patrons, however, like to sit outside in the beer garden area and chain-drink Bintangs whilst shooting the shit with friends and colleagues. To them, the restaurant’s easy-going humility is an antidote to the impersonal and pretentious spray-on sheen of many of the feted bars around town.
But people also come to Escargot for the food, of course, and in terms of its cuisine The Snail simply cannot be faulted. Founded by the late, much lamented Chef Dupain, or Jacques to his friends (and everyone at The Snail was his friend, he made very sure of that) and his Indonesian wife Nina, The Snail is very much the real French deal, and the food excels. The restaurant comes from an older, slower world; one in which French diners take several hours savouring various flavours and enjoying each other’s company. I often visualize Escargot as a World War II bistro in the north of Normandy frequented by resistance fighters and Luftwaffe officers. The menu itself is a compendium of French favourites such as Boeuf Bourguignon, Roti de Porc, Coq Au Vin, Steak Tartare, onion soup and, of course, snails. All of the dishes are excellent and I should know, I’ve just about eaten my way through the entire menu over the last year or two. A meal at The Snail also represents great value, however, with main courses clocking in at around the Rp.40-45,000 mark. The Escargot raises a defiant, onion-stained middle finger to the ersatz world of fast food and Le Big Mac culture.
However, it also eschews the haughty, rarefied atmosphere of snobby French restaurants that serve up nouvelle cuisine-size portions that wouldn’t sate the appetite of a domestic hamster. The food is great, the portions are hearty, the people are friendly -- it’s a total experience and Chef Dupain was one of that rare breed of people who lived, as opposed to just ate, their food.
REMEMBERING CHEF DUPAIN.
If you’ve never visited this charming little restaurant, then jump a Bajaj to Cipete (there’s always plenty of these orange demons chainsawing down the road outside) and step back in time. You will emerge several hours later with a broad grin on your face and a bulging waistline. Also, take note that Escargot are planning some more, lovely Friday night barbecues which were Madame and Monsieur Dupain’s latest project before Jacques sadly passed away last month. Salute!!
f any expat ever deserved the soubriquet, Bon Vivant, then it was Chef Dupain or Jacques to his friends, who were many. A veteran of the French military, Jacques came to Indonesia in the 1980s, married Nina and subsequently ran restaurants in Menteng, on the coast at Pelabuhan Ratu and finally in Cipete. He wasn’t too fluent in English, and my conversations with Monsieur Jacques were a brain-frying mixture of Indonesian and stuttering, schoolboy French. However, Jacques could convey an idea simply by virtue of his immense enthusiasm. Every night he was there in the thick of his customers and patrons, Cognac in hand, seemingly enjoying life as much as he must have done on the opening night of his very first restaurant. M. Jacques sadly passed away last month; however the memory of this Ricard-fuelled culinary legend will live on at The Snail. He’s up there now with the angels, beaming down benignly on the emporium and its customers, harp replaced with his trusty accordion. We salute you Jacques! Rest in peace.
Simon Pitchforth
