This was going to be his year. His best year.

After enduring the loss of his infant daughter, former Maisonette chef Jean-Robert de Cavel will open his downtown restaurant, Jean-Robert at Pigall's, on Tuesday. (Michael E. Keating photo) | ZOOM |

        Last summer and fall, after announcing his departure from the five-star Maisonette to open his own French restaurant, chef Jean-Robert de Cavel withstood frustrating construction delays and the loss of investors, his friends.

        The new year brought happiness. As the dreary gray days of February ended, Mr. de Cavel's wife gave birth to their first child. And by spring, his restaurant on Fourth Street, downtown, at the storied Pigall's, was taking shape.

        The popular, nationally acclaimed chef was about to realize goals he had worked and waited for - a family and a restaurant to call his own. His 40th year should have been his best.

        But on a drizzly June afternoon, that joy was shattered when his dark-haired, brown-eyed daughter, Tatiana, died in her sleep. She was 3 months old.

        For weeks, he searched for reasons to care about the color of carpet and other seemingly mundane details of opening a restaurant. The fleeting months with Tatiana showed him there was much more.

        Passionless, he couldn't hold a pan over a flame or fashion a menu on paper.

        “I wake up almost every morning,” he said a month after his daughter's death. “I wonder: What do I have to prove?”

        A grief-stricken painter would have past work to show for his art. But Mr. de Cavel had nothing until he cooked again. That was his biggest challenge.

        Somehow, he has put aside the pain, or numbed it enough to function. And Tuesday, he will open Jean-Robert at Pigall's.

IF YOU GO

Jean-Robert at Pigall's, 127 W. Fourth St., will open Tuesday.   Dinner will be served 6-10 p.m. Tuesday-Friday and 5:30-10:30 p.m. Saturday. (Closed Sunday and Monday.)   The restaurant may begin serving lunch in December.   Reservations: 721-1345.   Information: www.jeanrobertatpigalls.com.

        The restaurant is daring in concept, cuisine and timing - considering the economy and the troubles downtown. Mr. de Cavel and his partners have poured more than $3 million, and more than a year's effort into creating an upscale French restaurant in a vacant 19th century townhouse. Mr. de Cavel has assembled an all-star staff, including the Maisonette's former maitre d', a talented sommelier and a dependable close friend as his second in command. Local artists have created artwork, fixtures and dishes for the restaurant, and the chef has brought in the best linens and china from France.

        “We understood from the beginning that he was planning a restaurant on a national scale,” said partner Martin Wade. “He told us when we open, we don't get to do it quietly. Everyone will be watching.”

        The generous Frenchman who has embraced Cincinnati as his home wants to give the city a restaurant such as it has never seen.

        Now only days away from serving his first meal, the chef can smile, even laugh a little. But for him, this long-awaited restaurant opening will be bittersweet.

        Nearly nine years ago, when the reserved 32-year old breezed into the Maisonette from New York wearing blue jeans, he never thought he would one day open a restaurant in Cincinnati. The city was too small and not metropolitan enough for the rising star. Mr. de Cavel told himself he might stay five years at the most.

ABOUT THE CHEF

• Born: Sept. 12, 1961, Roubaix, France.   • Home: Hyde Park.   • Marital status: Married to Annette Pfund de Cavel.   • Education: Le Feguide culinary school, Lille, France.   Work experience: Sous-chef, La Bonne Auberge, Antibes, France; chef, La Bonne Auberge, Hotel Malliouhana, Anguilla, British West Indies; executive chef, Le Regence in Hotel Plaza Athenee, Manhattan; executive chef, La Gauloise, Manhattan; chef de cuisine, Maisonette.   • Honors: Nominated as Best Chef, Midwest, by the James Beard Foundation, 2000 and 2001.   • Self-portrait: “If you have passion and are proud of what you do, it will definitely show in your work.”

        He would replace Georges Haidon, a quiet, commanding chef who had led Maisonette to 22 consecutive years of Mobil five-star ratings. Mr. de Cavel's mission from the Comisar family, owners of the restaurant, was more daunting. He was to update the menu, heavy on the French classics of butter and cream, while pleasing many regular patrons who would order the same lobster bisque and sautied Dover sole every time they dined.

        Above all, Mr. de Cavel was to maintain the unprecedented string of five-star ratings.

        It was a delicate dance, but he was the perfect chef to make the steps. Born in Roubaix, a small town in the north of France, he grew to love cooking while watching his mother in the kitchen. He apprenticed in his teens and perfected his stocks, sauces and other basics in culinary school. Mr. de Cavel went on to work in the Caribbean and New York, where he was exposed to lighter, fresher ingredients - olive oil, seafood and vibrant sauces based on vegetables and herbs.

        At age 26, he earned three stars from the New York Times as chef de cuisine at the Plaza Athenee Hotel in New York, and was later a partner at a short-lived bistro in Greenwich Village. When the Comisars let it be known they were shopping for a chef in 1993, Daniel Boulud, esteemed chef-owner of Daniel in New York, recommended Mr. de Cavel.

The chef poses in his restaurant last August. (Michael E. Keating photo) | ZOOM |

        The young man respected the classic dishes, but loved to improvise. For one of his first degustation menus, a chef's sampling, at Maisonette in 1994, the chef offered a crab-avocado-mushroom appetizer bound with a balsamic-walnut vinaigrette, splashed with red pepper coulis. He served a roasted, mustard-encrusted salmon fillet with celery puree and rich veal jus. Next to the stodgy standards of lobster Thermidor and Chateaubriand, his food was stunningly refreshing.

        This creativity and his grueling work ethic soon impressed the Maisonette staff, earning their loyalty. They were awed by how Mr. de Cavel could manipulate flavors and create dishes off the top of his head, often without tasting the ingredients.

        David Falk, a former Maisonette cook who owns Boca in Northside, remembered the chef once telling him: “I don't know a lot, but I do know flavors.”

        Gradually, Mr. de Cavel overcame his shyness and ventured into the dining room, to charm guests with his self-effacing humor. He was the first chef at the Maisonette, renowned as a stuffy shrine, to leave the kitchen and chat with patrons. Regulars began to look forward to his dining room strolls.

        “When he started coming out a little more, all of a sudden he went from wallflower to superstar,” remembered regular Maisonette patron Dennis Speigel.

        Those who came to know him soon realized Mr. de Cavel was in many ways the antithesis of the stereotypical haughty French chef. He was a playful, M&M-popping man who sometimes loved to eat fried chicken, green beans and meat loaf. A regular guy. Friends and colleagues began to call him “J.R.,” a nickname better suited to a truck driver.

de Cavel and wife Annette Pfund outside the Fourth St. restaurant. (Michael E. Keating photo) | ZOOM |

        Almost from the beginning, after he arrived in Cincinnati with his German-born companion, Annette Pfund, Mr. de Cavel would pull out a map on Sundays - his only day off - and explore the Tristate, shopping for antiques and adding to his quirky collection of salt and pepper shakers. At stores and markets, people began to recognize the friendly Frenchman with the stray shock of brown hair.

        He loved to share his knowledge, and began to teach classes at local cooking schools, such as Jungle Jim's Market in Fairfield and Cooks' Wares in Symmes Township. He hobnobbed with folks at church ravioli dinners. If a charity called to ask him to appear at a benefit, he rarely said no. At his favorite coffee shop in Hyde Park, a gaggle of fans would sometimes gather to watch him eat pastries.

        Soon, he began to appear at cooking events across the country. In 1998, he was the first Cincinnati chef invited to cook for the foodie elite at the prestigious James Beard House, named for the late, noted cooking teacher and cookbook author, in New York. He did this after taking time off at his own expense, without telling the Cincinnati media. Oddly, the Comisar family didn't promote this honor.

        In 2000 and 2001, Mr. de Cavel was nominated as “Best Chef, Midwest,” by the James Beard Foundation. The Beard Awards are the equivalent of the Oscars for the food world, and no other Cincinnati chef had earned this distinction. Again, the Maisonette owners failed to praise him publicly.

        Meanwhile, the chef fulfilled his primary directive: Every year of his tenure, Mobil awarded Maisonette a five-star rating.

        By 2000, after he had worked nearly seven years at the restaurant, rumors began circulating like smoke above the stove about Mr. de Cavel's conflicts with partners Nat and Michael E. Comisar. The talented chef was growing restless, according to the stories. Those closest to him knew he was planning to leave.

        But they didn't talk.

        Much of the Cincinnati restaurant community was not surprised, on May 15, 2001, when Mr. de Cavel announced he was leaving Maisonette. His career was peaking. There were other, greater kitchens to conquer - in New York, on the West Coast, or back home in France.

de Cavel checks on the progress of construction in July. (Michael E. Keating photo) | ZOOM |

        But jaws dropped when he announced he was going to open a restaurant at the former Pigall's on Fourth Street. Backed by a small group of investors, Mr. de Cavel hoped to open within five months, in October.

        His timing was bold. The economy was slipping into recession and earlier that spring, race riots had ravaged Cincinnati, frightening customers from downtown. Yet Mr. de Cavel was planning a small restaurant offering pricey food in the heart of downtown, an establishment that would undoubtedly compete head-to-head with the Maisonette.

        On average, like other small businesses, eight out of 10 restaurants fail within their first four years of operation, said Bill Guilfoyle, an assistant professor of marketing at the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, N.Y. Business at fine dining restaurants in particular has declined since Sept. 11 and because of the economic downturn, which slashed business spending accounts.

        Mr. de Cavel was hoping to also attract attention, and customers, from beyond Greater Cincinnati. That can be tough in a medium-size Midwestern city, said John Mariani, restaurant writer for Esquire magazine and Wine Spectator. “If he's trying to recreate a Maisonette, the national reaction might be a big shrug,” Mr. Mariani said.

        It was risky, but the chef was determined. “I can't wait until just the right time,” he said.

        Naturally, the Comisars were upset. But the parties struck an amicable chord, at least in public, and Mr. de Cavel agreed to stay on at the Maisonette for two more months, until the owners hired a new chef.

        “I think he was ready to go,” said Nat Comisar. “He signed on for five years. Staying for seven was a blessing.”

        His last night in the Maisonette kitchen, July 21, a sultry Saturday, was almost anticlimactic. Many of his friends had come in that week to ceremoniously eat their last Maisonette meal cooked by their favorite chef. But for those who did come that Saturday, Mr. de Cavel prepared a brilliant 12-course degustation menu - seared foie gras with sun-dried cherries, fried zucchini blossoms stuffed with lobster on basil cream and anise butter and other signature riffs. He was a bird out of his cage.

On Jan. 8, 2001, de Cavel celebrates the Maisonette's 37th five-star rating with maitre d' Brad Anderson (second from left) and managing partners Nat and Michael E. Comisar. (Gary Landers file photo) | ZOOM |

        “This is the kind of food he'll do at the new place,” one waiter whispered.

        Back in the kitchen, even at 11:30 p.m., the chef dipped creamy Reblochon on plates for the cheese course, trying to act as if it was just another night at work.

        Before midnight, he emerged for one last turn in the dining room. As most of the patrons stood, friend Roger Ach raised a glass.

        “Jean-Robert, today, and forever!” he toasted.

        There was applause, and the chef smiled uncomfortably. After the restaurant closed that night, staff and friends gathered next door at Barleycorn's for his going-away party. Michael E. Comisar brought a case of champagne.

        “When you have someone who gives their heart and soul to you for seven years, you have to love him for it,” Mr. Comisar said.

        Sipping coffee at Le Cezanne in Hyde Park the next week, the chef looked rested and relaxed in khaki pants and polo shirt. He was ready to talk freely about how he came to leave the Maisonette, and how he accidentally “rediscovered” the deserted Pigall's.

The chef looks at an old Pig Al's logo in his restaurant, which was last a short-lived barebcue joint. (Michael E. Keating photo) | ZOOM |

        “The building is special to me,” he said, remembering he first ate at the restaurant on Bastille Day in 1994, his first year in Cincinnati.

        Squeezed between a sporting goods store and a jewelry shop, the narrow, stuccoed building was built around 1825 as a residence and later housed several businesses. It first held a dining room in 1963, when Maurice Gorodetsky - a Frenchman and another former Maisonette chef - relocated his Pigall's restaurant there from Fifth and Pike Street.

        Named for a red-light district in Paris, the classic French Pigall's flourished in the old building, earning a Mobil five-star rating for seven years. Under new owners, the restaurant was reopened in 1991 as a casual cafe. But the once proud Pigall's sank to its nadir in the fall of 1999, when it was stripped to bare concrete floors and transformed into Pig Al's, a cleverly named barbecue joint that lasted only until April 2000.

        Not long after that closing, Mr. de Cavel stumbled onto the empty building. On a spring day, he walked to Fourth Street to meet Ms. Pfund at a nearby day spa. She was still wearing a cucumber cream facial masque when he arrived, so the chef wandered down to what was once Pigall's and peeked in the window. Excitement rushed over him.

        The next week, he arranged for a walk-through of the building, and promptly fell in love. Pigall's reminded him of La Caravelle and other small French restaurants in New York. Downstairs, he found faded old signs - Garcon and Cuisinier - on doors.

        “I could feel it,” he said. “It was like a French person still owned the place.”

        This would be where he would open his restaurant. He would even keep the name.

        The kitchen is his domain. Mr. de Cavel is the first to admit he is not a businessman. After deciding to open a restaurant, he knew he needed advice and investment capital. He found both in July 2000 - just a few months after rediscovering Pigall's.

In July, workers installed windows in the face of the early 19th-century townhouse. (Michael E. Keating photo) | ZOOM |

        Friends Tom and Kathy Huff of Mason invited him to their home in Jackson Hole, Wyo., that summer as a guest chef for a wine festival. Mr. de Cavel had met the Huffs at the Maisonette, and he knew Mr. Huff, who owned a Fairfield company that designs grocery stores, was a successful businessman. One chilly night, the chef confided to Mr. Huff he was planning to open a restaurant, and asked if he would advise him.

        To Mr. de Cavel's surprise, Mr. Huff not only agreed to consult for him, he asked, with little hesitation, to invest in the restaurant. The next morning, after talking to the chef, Mr. Huff called mutual friends Martin Wade, and his wife, Marilyn, in Blue Ash to ask if they wanted to invest. The Wades, who had taken a sailing vacation with Mr. de Cavel the year before, thought about the proposition for two days before calling back to say yes.

        The Huffs' stipulation: The two couples would be the only investors.

        It was a chef's dream. In two days, with little effort, Mr. de Cavel had found investors with the resources and business acumen (Mr. Wade is a Certified Public Accountant) to help him open his restaurant. They adored the chef and believed in him. They promised creative freedom.

        “I could never find investors like that to help me open a restaurant in New York,” the chef said.

        This was a factor in his decision to stay in Cincinnati. But even more important was his growing affection for the city and its people. He and Ms. Pfund liked the comfortable, small-town feel. They knew their neighbors and walked the streets near their home in Hyde Park. Ms. Pfund had found a promising job as a sales representative with Air France. They had discussed having children. And everyone knows Cincinnati is a great place to raise a family.

        “I have spent seven years of my life here and never dreamed I would stay this long,” he said. “But soon I realized Cincinnati wasn't so bad after all.”

        The chef left the coffee shop that muggy July morning smiling. He was excited not only about finally starting work on his restaurant, but about going to Avignon in the south of France, to spend two weeks with his mother and family.

        By the time he returned, things were already going wrong for Jean-Robert at Pigall's.

        The investors had purchased the Pigall's building for $365,000 in November 2000. Months before, an inspector hired by Mr. de Cavel cleared the building for minor renovation. Asbestos wasn't a concern unless it was exposed by tearing down walls, floors or ceilings.

The bold terra cotta-colored awning for the restaurant went up this month. (Michael E. Keating photo) | ZOOM |

        At first, the owners weren't considering such structural changes. But plans evolved to require the gutting of the interior. And when workers began their efforts, they found asbestos in the old building. The men in protective suits arrived in mid-August and worked for nearly two months, hauling away truckloads of the insulation. The asbestos removal cost close to $100,000, an unplanned expense that made the chef uneasy.

        A week after Mr. Wade told him about the asbestos, Mr. de Cavel admitted he didn't realize the magnitude of the problem.

        “I thought asbestos was little bugs,” he said. “I thought you could spray to get rid of them.”

        The Wades had tried to persuade him to open at a prime suburban site in Montgomery. But the chef, who calls himself a “downtown person,” wouldn't budge.

        This stubbornness may have contributed to the breakup of the partnership. Mr. Wade sensed the beginning of the end May 2001, during a meeting in which Mr. de Cavel and Mr. Huff exchanged angry words over how and where food would be served. (Mr. Huff declined to comment for this story.)

        On Aug. 22, the Huffs told Mr. Wade they were giving serious thought to pulling out, but said nothing to Mr. de Cavel. The chef still didn't know two days later, when he and the investors met in Chicago to review the first interior design for the restaurant at Jordan Mozer & Associates. Mr. de Cavel detested the design, which featured sterile futuristic furniture, metal-topped tables and stone floors. The chef described it later as a “retro-diner.”

        The next week, the Huffs told the Wades they were leaving the project. Their reason, according to the Wades: “The economic investment was going to take more than they anticipated.”

        The Huffs never informed Mr. de Cavel of their decision, which crushed and baffled him.

        “I understand if they changed their mind,” he said. “But why can't they talk to me?” He sent his friends a letter and the Huffs responded with their explanation in writing - but not with a meeting or phone call.

        The abrupt dissolution of the partnership also ended the friendship between the Huffs and Wades. The Huffs withdrew their account with Mr. Wade's CPA firm and now, Ms. Huff will only say for the record: “We wish them (the partners) nothing but the best.”

The chef works in the kitchen with Roy Silcott. (Michael E. Keating photo) | ZOOM |

        Through it all, the Wades' commitment never wavered. On Aug. 29, a week after making their first presentation, Chicago designer Jordan Mozer and architect Jeff Carloss, who built their reputation conceiving restaurants for Disney and other big name clients, came to Cincinnati for another meeting. There, Mr. Wade bluntly told them everyone “hated” their design. Stunned, the men agreed to come up with a new concept. Much of the problem, the Wades said later, was that Mr. Huff hired Mr. Mozer without consulting them. Mr. Huff was the only one to see preliminary designs, according to Mr. Wade. And the chef was never able to talk to the designer during the planning.

        “In any project, you look back and wonder what was your biggest mistake,” Mr. Wade said. “Our biggest mistake was not firing Jordan Mozer on August 29th.”

        Mr. Mozer would not have a revised interior design ready until January, which would push the restaurant's opening back until at least May 2002 - nearly a year after Mr. de Cavel had left Maisonette. But the chef's disappointment was tempered by exciting news: Ms. Pfund was pregnant. The baby, the couple's first child, was due in early March.

PART 1: Restaurant's opening bittersweet Can new restaurant succeed downtown? Pigall's building dates from city's early days