It was a sad Monday last week when I saw the name Andre Lecomte in the obituary column. He was invited to come to Japan in the '60s to be the head pastry chef at the Okura Hotel. Before Andre, the taste of bread and pastry available for those with a Western preference was always somewhat askew. After Andre, as Japanese chefs learned from him, the situation changed and I would not be surprised if now even the discriminating French might want to take some of their favorite products home with them when they leave on their holidays. A lot of the credit for this vast improvement should be given to Andre _ and it has been. He has received honors for his achievements from both the French and Japanese governments as well as international culinary organizations.

I will share with you my two favorite memories of Andre. After retiring from the Okura, he opened a shop near Roppongi, the first of its kind. On the first floor you could buy bread and pastries; on the second, there was a salon where you could have your selection served to you with, perhaps, cafe au lait, a sensational new treat for many of his customers. I had written that finally people could have freshly baked croissants every morning. I lived nearby, so I went there on opening day to be among the first customers. There was already a line of people halfway around the block waiting for the door to open. Andre spent most of the day baking croissants.

The other was several years later, shortly before Easter. I stopped in to see what specialties he was preparing for the holiday. I was told he was in the kitchen and to go in. And there he was, in his chef's hat and apron, gently stirring a huge pot of chocolate. The aroma was devastating. He had a spoon in his hand, and had just tasted his creation. The expression of joy and bliss on his face was beyond description, a master who has just realized that he has achieved perfection. Whenever I saw Andre after that, at a party he was catering, at one of his restaurants, I remembered that expression, and as I think of him now, he always looked like he had just created something wonderful, which indeed he generally had. Soon there were many other distinguished French chefs in Japan, but Andre was the first. Some place there should be a memorial. Perhaps a statue? Andre at the stove with a pot of chocolate and a tasting spoon?