Lost Tables: Café de France

Café de France

The French Cafe in Omaha, Nebraska was an epicurean paradise of haute cuisine from 1969 to 2012. In 1976, the restaurant's 34-year-old chef gave a cooking demonstration at Omaha's Central High, chronicled in the school newspaper.

Marcel Keraval has that friendly aura about him that is as distinctive as the scent of fresh baked bread. His dark black hair complements his French features. As a unique trademark, his smile is immortal.
When attempting to speak English fluently, he sometimes allows a French term to replace a forgotten English word in his rolling sentences. However, he is recognized as a "showman" in his field.
Marcel, a chef at The French Cafe, demonstrated his skills in the art of the French cuisine recently at Central for a French II class and a home economics class.
Because he was born in Brittany, a section of western France near the sea, he prepared a dish which originated from that area, seafood crepes.
In a heavy French accent, Marcel admitted, "Being a chef is a job you have to like in order to be successful. You must constantly be ready to prepare and serve lunch and dinner."
Central High Register, Mar 10, 1976


Marcel Keraval Central High Register, Mar 10, 1976	The French Cafe Omaha, Nebraska

Marcel Keraval was born on May 31, 1941 in Quimper, a small city in Brittany, on the west coast of France.

My granduncle was a chef and from the time I was 10 years old, I knew I wanted to be a chef, too.
In France, there are no high schools, like here. Kids go to technical school. So from age 15, I was trained to be a chef. And I never tried anything else, except when I was drafted into the army . . . and I did not cook there.

Keraval attended the Culinary School of Tours in the Loire Valley. After passing a rigid examination by the finest chefs in Tours – "I cooked and they tasted" – he worked in restaurants in Paris, Lausanne and Basel, before coming to New York in 1969.

I was in the Bahamas at the time and wanted to get to the USA. I worked for three years at Rockefeller Center, at The Rainbow Room.

It was in New York that Keraval became friends with Jean-Claude Guillossou, who was a chef at Sign of the Dove on Third Avenue. It was also in New York that Keraval met Monique Lavoie, a French Canadian whose sister Rachel was married to Guillossou.

Marcel and Jean-Claude were friends. You know they lived only 60 miles apart in Brittany, but only met each other in the States. I will always remember the day, because it was in 1969 when the first man walked on the moon. Rachel and I walked into the apartment and the men were watching all of this on television. We were married in New York at a French church, St. Vincent de Paul, during a big snowstorm!

The next stop for both the Keravals and the Guillossous was The French Cafe in Omaha. Both Marcel and Jean-Claude were recruited by the restaurant as chefs, but the Guillossous' stay was short lived. They moved to St. Louis in 1972. And not long after Marcel's cooking demonstration at Omaha's Central High, he and Monique followed.

It was 1976. My brother-in-law, Jean Claude, was chef at Westwood Country Club. We decided to become partners and open L'Auberge Bretonne.

Jean-Claude Guillossou and Marcel Keraval
L'Auberge Bretonne, circa 1977

L'Auberge Bretonne was advertised as "the only French restaurant with two executive chefs." Located at the corner of Olive and Woods Mill in Chesterfield, it was soon recognized as one of the best French restaurants in the area.

Although the West County restaurant flourished, the brother-in-law chefs wanted a venue closer to downtown. So three years later, in December of 1979, while Jean-Claude and Rachel stayed behind to run L'Auberge, Marcel and Monique opened a second restaurant at 410 Olive Street, on the ground floor of the Merchants Laclede Building.

After three years, we took over a place called Chez Jean Pierre – a good chef, yes, but too high-priced. We called our place Café de France.

The atmosphere at Cafe de France was simple but elegant. Upon entering the restaurant, a tiny bar was located to the right. Beyond that was a small dining room used for private events and overflow.

The main dining room had a double-high ceiling with two large crystal chandeliers overhead. Subdued floral wall paper and gold-framed paintings formed a quiet background for tables covered with heavily starched linen, extra-heavy silverware and crystal wine glasses. Blue wainscoting and doors matched fabric in the armchairs.

Café de France's Main Dining Room

Marcel Keraval in Café de France's Main Dining Room
St. Louis Post-Dispatch, July 4, 1984

Monique Keraval greeted diners with a "bon jour" or "bon soir" in the small reception area. She was "the boss," according to her husband Marcel.

She is maître d' and bartender. She answers the phone and takes the cash. She can do anything.
When we met, Monique did not cook. She didn't burn water, but she didn't cook either. Now she is my official taste tester, food advisor . . . it is her I look to.
We are together 24 hours a day and miss each other when the other one isn't right there. We don't fight, but talk and work out our disagreements. When the last table is seated, we dine together in the small dining room, something light, wine of course, we relax.

Marcel and Monique Keraval
St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Mar 15, 1995

Although Café de France was basically a classic French restaurant, Keraval heartily embraced the ideals of the nouvelle cuisine movement and often applied French techniques to American foodstuffs for a new approach.

I do my own cooking, my own idea of French cuisine. Some dishes are very traditional, very classic, but sometimes there is some nouvelle influence.

His generation of chefs in France was the first to question their classical teachers.

We asked our teachers, "Why should we cook the same things the same way they did 50 or 100 years ago?" If painters worked like this you could never tell a Renoir from a Gauguin. Cooking is the same way.


1984 Café de France Menu (click image to enlarge)

In June of 1985, Café de France began offering special menus featuring the cuisine from various regions of France. Jerry Berger announced the first in his June 4, 1985 St. Louis Post-Dispatch column.

Welcome to our town, Jean Claude DeMay, director-of tourism for the French province of Normandy. DeMay was cornered the other night at Cafe de France, where he helped to launch a two-week menu featuring the cuisine of Normandy (at dinner and lunch), beginning Monday. Cafe owners Monique and Marcel Keraval described some of the fare (with bountiful hints of calvados – apple brandy – indigenous to Normandy) and said they hoped to offer gourmet menus of Brittany and Burgundy later on.


June 1985 Café de France Menu (click image to enlarge)

Marcel Keraval likened his trade to the art of painting. The plates were his canvas, the sauces were his medium, the food his subject for an edible still life.

One of his most popular soups was the fresh seafood seasoned with saffron. It arrived crowned with a puff pastry "lid." Keraval's trademark was another stylish touch; he presented food with two-color swirls of sauces. Entrees arrived with vegetable or meat sauces in pools around the dish. Desserts were ringed with intensely flavored fruit sauces.

Escallope de Veau Pommery


Winter 1988/1989 Café de France Menu (click image to enlarge)

A decade after Café de France had opened, tastes and attitudes towards food were changing, and Marcel Keraval's menus changed with them.

Less butter, less cream . . . today we say to feed the customer, not kill them. Make it flavorful, but light. Customers do not want to leave a restaurant feeling stuffed and uncomfortable. We want to make them feel good! Years ago, in France, there was a famous colonel who would go into a restaurant’s kitchen and if the chef was not fat, he would assume the food not good and not eat there.

In December of 1989, to celebrate Café de France's tenth anniversary, Keraval designed a menu featuring his "finest specializes of the decade." His customers likely left the celebration "feeling stuffed and uncomfortable."


Café de France 10th Anniversary Menu (click image to enlarge)

* * * * *

In May 0f 2001, Charles Drury announced he had purchased the 110-year-old Merchants Laclede Building and intended to renovate it. At the time, the historic building was empty except for one tenant – Café de France.

The building was to become a Hilton hotel with a restored ornate lobby. Marcel and Monique Keraval's restaurant would be rebuilt bigger and better.

We thought this would be a nice thing for us. Drury said he wanted to demolish the restaurant and redo the whole thing . . . and that it would reopen at the end of October.


Merchants Laclede Building, March 2001 (Café de France, red awnings lower right)	Marcel and Monique Keraval October 2001

The Keravals closed their restaurant in mid-August so demolition could proceed in the otherwise-empty building. They put the restaurant's furniture into storage and temporarily dismissed their 16 workers.

But after September 11, things changed. Drury said his plans for the building had "slowed down" because of the sagging economy. He told Keraval he didn't expect renovation to resume at full speed until the following year at the earliest.

The restaurant's gone . . . destroyed, and we had expected that to be our retirement. And now I have to go look for a job, or try to find a small restaurant to buy . . . and get back on my feet.

The Keravals did find a small restaurant to buy. In June of 2002, Café de France moved into a space at 7515 Forsyth Boulevard in Clayton that had formerly housed Fio’s La Fourchette and, before that, The Leather Bottle.

Fio’s La Fourchette, 7515 Forsyth

Café de France's move went relatively well. Although the unexpected duration of their furlough caused waiters from the downtown location to find other work, most jumped at the chance to rejoin Keraval in Clayton.

And according to Joe Bonwich in his August 1, 2002 St. Louis Post-Dispatch review, the local emperor of haute cuisine had emerged from his exile.

Old classic-French standbys like Dover sole, Chateaubriand and rack of lamb remain on the menu (or among the specials) and soufflés account for more than half of the desserts served, but menu items just as frequently incorporate non-Gallic influences like nori, tabouleh and jasmine tea. Whether the preparation was straight up or with a twist, many of the dishes we tried left us with a strong urge to dance on the table.

But the Keravals never seemed to hit a good stride in Clayton. In 2003, Marcel Keraval suffered a stroke. While he completely recovered, in September of 2006, Café de France closed for good.

Two months after we opened in Clayton, [French president Jacques] Chirac went against the war in Iraq, and all at once, people here became anti-French. That was a tough time. But we survived for five years.

Monique and Marcel Keraval, 2003

Marcel Keraval had intended to retire after closing Café de France. But he felt the urge to get back to doing what he loved.

It gets in your blood. And stays there. Chefs have to keep moving. They get crazy if they don’t. Or they need a serious hobby!
I thought that the routine of doing something like banquets would be good for me . . . so I went to work at The Chase hotel.

And then, in 2010, Leon Bierbaum called looking for a chef for his restaurant Chez Leon, which had relocated to Clayton.

Leon called me several times. First I thought no, then maybe, but I feel good, so I thought, "Why not?" I was lucky with that stroke . . . To me, it was a sign to keep cooking. So I do. I just don’t want to fall into my sauce!

Marcel and Monique Keraval with Leon Bierbaum, 2011

In May of 2012, Chez Leon abruptly closed and, at the age of 71, Marcel Keraval decided it was finally time to retire. But in a May 12, 2012 Sauce Magazine interview, Keraval was still planning meals. His last one.

Start with some caviar, foie gras . . . a little lobster, and who knows after that? A nice cheese with fruit and a beautiful chocolate soufflé, sabayon, something like that. And some good wine, a good vintage Bordeaux. Oh, some Champagne probably with the caviar. After that I would so say, "Bye-bye, all of you. Au revoir."