Case of the “3-Star” Chef: Fame Is No Protection
At 15, he decided to have three stars. And that was, I think, an obsession for him. His obsession since 15 was the third star. And when he got it, he wanted to keep it.
He got it 12 years ago. The story that made the front page of the New York Times and has kept it ever since.
What was it like the day that you got the third star?
We opened the champagne in the kitchen and saw it was something for Bernard. It was something very special. And I was tell you that, in the same week, we had our second child. The little boy Bastian.
And Bernard was unhappy because of this child because it wasn't a warm moment. You know what I mean? He said, why do we have this child this week? But I said, Bernard, nine months ago, we couldn't know that.
So to have a son was an unwanted distraction.
A little bit, yes. Yes, I must tell you that's the truth. Yeah.
[FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
This was Bernard's final television appearance. His funeral, earlier this year, after he'd committed suicide. It was broadcast live on French TV. Thousands stopped what they were doing that day to watch and mourn.
Many of them couldn't fathom why someone who appeared to love life would put a rifle in his mouth and take his life. He was 52 years old. Besides Dominique, Bernard left behind three young children. And he left behind a multimillion dollar empire. Three bistro's in Paris, a line of gourmet frozen food, six cookbooks, and the pride of his life, his hotel and three star restaurant called La Cote d'Or.
Go inside and you will enter a magnificent manor house with beautifully manicured lawns and spectacular rooms. Located in the quaint village of Saulieu in the country's Burgundy region. La Cote d'Or is one of only 25 restaurants in France-- culinary temples, really-- that Michelin has awarded three stars.
It's a shame to eat it. It's so pretty.
Those stars are the reason hundreds of food lovers each year make the pilgrimage here.
It just dissolves in the mouth. It's so tender.
For many of them, it's the meal of a lifetime.
It's just incredible. The taste is marvelous.
Bernard Loiseau liked to say that he was a merchant of happiness. What he meant, of course, was that he sold happiness to other people. The happiness that came along with one of his incomparable meals.
But Loiseau, himself, was rarely happy. He suffered demons. And what he feared most was that Michelin would take away a star. That coveted third star that meant the world to him.
I must tell you that two days before, I remember, he came back in the evening. It was 11:00 PM. He took off his veste de cuisinier. And he said, no, Dominique. I'm sure. I said you're sure about what? And he said, now I know the press want to kill me. I said, Bernard, please.
He believed the press wanted to kill him.
Yes, yes. But it was really not true. But it was like that in his mind.
A short time before Bernard committed suicide, Gault Millau-- a French restaurant guide less influential than Michelin-- lowered La Cote d'Or's rating from 19 to 17. That hurt Bernard. About the same time, a story in the French newspaper, Le Figaro, said that Michelin, too, would soon take away a star.
The story wasn't true. When the guide came out, Bernard still had his three stars. He knew that. But depressed, he killed himself anyway.
If you never sink, you never sink. At this point, somebody's going to kill himself for this. Next course is the fillet of red mullet.
Robert [INAUDIBLE] is the maitre d' at La Cote d'Or. He'd work for Bernard for more than 20 years and knew him well. And Robert couldn't help noticing, in the weeks before the suicide, how depressed Bernard was.
So enjoy.
Thank you.
The last week, he was so tired and so fed up everything. And he was just walking around in the kitchen in here and he said, I'm not good enough. I did what I could. But I'm not good enough. I'm not real good.
I said, no. Don't say this. You're the most known chef in France, maybe, and one of the most known in the world. And day after day, maybe, the last week was crazy time. Crazy.