Carême Review: Apple TV+’s Sexy Historical Cooking Drama is (Mostly) Delicious

It’s not an exaggeration to say that Apple TV+’s new French historical drama Carême is like nothing else coming to television this summer. 

One part French language period piece, one part espionage thriller and one part extra horny romantic drama, all topped off with gloriously decadent shots of incredible-looking food, its story may not be particularly historically accurate, but it darn sure is fun. 

Benjamin Voisin in “Carême” Episode 1 (Photo: Apple TV+)

Technically, Carême is based on a true story — or at least the life of an actual person. The real Antonin Carême is remembered as a founding father of French haute cuisine, credited with codifying the so-called “mother sauces” — velouté, béchamel, allemande, and espagnole — that are still hallmarks of classic recipes.

A celebrity chef who cooked for a variety of famous figures and heads of state, he wrote influential cookbooks, and invented the tall chef’s hat known as a Toque that we still recognize today. (Yes, that’s a plot point in the show.) 

His fictional counterpart feels larger than life even when his character is technically a nobody, bursting with rock star swagger, slinky hips, and loads of charm. The show that bears his name is similarly flamboyant, a throw-everything-at-the-wall sort of drama that incorporates political intrigue, romantic angst, professional tension, revenge, blackmail, lots of sex, and even a Top Chef-style cooking competition. 

It’s overwhelming at times, but Carême‘s overstuffed narrative leads to a sort of swing-for-the-fences storytelling attitude that goes for broke in a way that’s impressively entertaining to watch unfold. Despite its deeply Prestige feel — and the sets and opulent food are wildly impressive — this isn’t a series that takes itself too seriously, and it’s all the better for it.

The story begins when the great Carême (Benjamin Voisin) is a mere pâtissier apprenticed to his adoptive father Sylvain Bailly (Vincent Schmitt). But when Bailly is arrested on trumped-up charges of treason by the Javert-like Minister of Police, Joseph Fouché (Micha Lescot), Carême reluctantly goes to work for powerful political Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord (Jérémie Renier), where his talents are put to use crafting ambitious dishes for Napoleon’s inner circle and engaging in a bit of spycraft on the side. 

Ostensibly, Talleyrand has promised to help Carême free his father from prison, but it likely won’t surprise anyone to learn that he’s more reluctant to release his hold over his new protege than he might appear. 

As the cold war for the future of France’s new republic between the Machiavellian Talleyrand and completely unsubtle Fouché escalates, Carême finds himself engaged in everything from petty theft to royal diplomacy, using food and sex to advance his boss’s aims. (A scene in which he becomes one of Josephine Bonaparte’s (Maud Wyer) lovers to blackmail her regarding one of Talleyrand’s political goals is particularly and gloriously ridiculous.)

What follows is….a lot.

As Carême’s star rises, he finds himself cooking for everyone from Napoleon to the Pope, crafting impressive, beautiful, and occasionally gravity-defying dishes even as he discovers secrets about the underbelly of French politics and the manipulative nature of those jockeying for control of the country in the wake of the French Revolution. 

Elsewhere, his personal life is further complicated by his romance with ladies’ maid Henriette (Lyna Khoudri), who has her own fair share of secrets to keep, and his chemistry-laden interactions with his talented sous-chef Agathe (Alice Da Luz), who longs to lead a kitchen in her own right.

Benjamin Voisin appears in the bulk of the series’ scenes, and his performance is the linchpin around which the rest of Carême turns. Luckily, he’s note-perfect, oozing charisma as he flirts and sexes his way through the upper echelons of European society, with a dash of desperation always lingering underneath.

His Careme is reckless and self-destructive, confident in his skills, and haunted by various elements of his unknown past. If his performance has a bit of The Bear’s Jeremy Allen White about it, it’s natural — the show itself presupposes he came up with that ubiquitous “Yes, chef!” response. 

Koudri and Da Luz make excellent scene partners for Voisin, and each has arcs that go beyond their characters’ relationship with the show’s titular character. 

Renier is surprisingly understated as manipulative Talleyrand, whose motivations are never truly clear to anyone around him (or the audience watching at home).

But perhaps anyone would look restrained next to Lescot, who is clearly having the time of his life demolishing the scenery as the over-the-top head of police, who honestly feels as though he could burst into a number from Les Misérables at any moment.

Carême is narratively most interesting when it’s exploring the connection between food and human emotion. 

Carême uses his dishes to both impress and communicate, relying on the rich flavors of everyday peasant fare to treat a king in exile, fashioning a decadent lunch to send a message to a political prisoner, smoothing over a diplomatic incident by burning a complicated pastry in effigy, even using fresh cream as a prelude to foreplay. 

Almost none of his dishes are solely about the ingredients they’re comprised of, and it adds interesting layers to the series’ more outlandish storylines. It’s all interesting enough that you’ll likely find yourself questioning the show’s decision to foreground its spycraft elements at the expense of the historical cooking show underneath.

Carême often feels as though it doesn’t quite trust its exploration of culinary history enough to carry the show on its own, and each episode tends to throw in a few extraneous action and/or espionage mission-related bits that aren’t entirely necessary. 

The series also could have gone a bit further when it comes to lampshading the specific ways Carême’s visionary cooking broke new culinary ground (inventing the vole-au-vent!) or pushed boundaries (making Napoleon’s favorite chicken dish with veal!). 

But the show is gorgeous to look at, from its sets to its supporting cast, and so unrelentingly fun that you’ll find yourself hoping it gets the second course it’s clearly angling for by the end. Bon appétit. 

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Carême premieres April 30 on Apple TV+.

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