Bruce Deachman: How do you get a meal from Yannick La Salle, who will represent Ottawa at the 2027 Canadian Culinary Championship? Start with a law degree.

If you thought it was hard to get a seat at Yannick La Salle’s restaurant before he was crowned the capital’s culinary king at the 2026 Great Kitchen Party competition, it’ll now be—

Oh, wait, no.

It was already virtually impossible to get a meal from the chef who will represent Ottawa at the 2027 Canadian Culinary Championship in January. His latest accolade simply makes his duck confit all the more tantalizing and coveted.

That’s because La Salle is executive chef at the Supreme Court of Canada, an extremely exclusive eatery where he cooks meals — lunches, mostly — for the nine sitting justices. Occasionally, there are larger functions that take place in the court’s 50-seat dining room, and the judges sometimes have guests, but by and large, La Salle’s gastronomic glory is shared with just the five men and four women on the bench.

That’s a far cry from the masses of constitutional non-experts who enjoyed his seasonal dishes at Les Fougères in Chelsea, Que. where he was head chef before packing up his knives to head courtside in 2022.

It was as Les Fougères’ chef that La Salle won the national culinary title in 2019.

So how can you and I taste his cooking? There are restaurants in Ottawa where it’s nigh on impossible to get a Saturday-night reservation, but not many where you first need to be vetted by the Prime Minister, cabinet and Governor General before getting to see the menu.

Naturally, the first thing I did was investigate the possibility of becoming a Supreme Court judge myself.

It turns out it’s not terribly difficult, but like that old joke about how to get to Carnegie Hall (practice, practice, practice), it takes time — three years to get a law degree, another year or so of articling and passing the bar, and then a decade of practice, practice, practice — to meet the minimum requirements. Plus I’d have to convince a future Prime Minister to have me appointed.

By then it would be moot, though, because like so many things in my life, I’ve left it too late. By the time I become eligible to be an SCC justice, I’ll have passed the mandatory retirement age. In effect, I’ll age out before I can eat in.

Perhaps it’s not too late for you, though, especially if you’re already swimming up the legal stream. At the very latest, a new SCC justice will need to be appointed by 2028, when current judge Malcolm Rowe turns 75 and has to hand in his robes and gavel.

(If you’re considering this route to get some of La Salle’s beef, celeriac and horseradish soup, you’d do well to remember that by tradition, one SCC seat goes to Atlantic Canada, and Rowe is currently it. It’s doubtful you’d get called to replace him if you hang onto your 613 area code.)

Keep in mind, too, that there’s no free lunch, not even at the highest court in the land. Justices are billed for their meals. I’m also told they do not tip, for which, as a former restaurant and bar worker, I am withholding judgment.

Also keep in mind that committing a crime that is ultimately adjudicated at the Supreme Court does not, as far as I can determine, entitle you to either the chicken suprême or court-boullion.

If we can’t all become Supreme Court judges, then, perhaps some of us can be a culinary judge.

The national championships are being held in Ottawa at the end of January, after all. Surely I can qualify for that without all that practice, practice, practice.

Well, not so fast.

Chris Johns, national culinary adviser for the Canadian Culinary Championship and its head judge for the country, told me they look for judges who are respected in their local food communities — restaurant critics, food writers, cookbook authors, culinary instructors and chefs among them.

I mentioned that I own all of Yotam Ottolenghi’s cookbooks.

“Good start,” Johns said. “I’m not going to take that away from you.”

I pointed out that I actually use them.

“Even better,” he said. But apparently not enough to bump any of this year’s judges.

“But if you keep on this path for another 13 years,” Johns added, “I think we can get you in ahead of the line and make it easier than becoming a Supreme Court judge.

So that’s some progress. I just shaved a year off my wait for dinner.

But there is, it turns out, a third option.

Anyone can simply buy a ticket to the competition. The Mystery Wine competition on Jan. 29. where La Salle and the other chefs will be handed a mystery bottle and asked to create a dish to accompany it, is open to the public. Tickets are $250.

The following night’s Grand Finale, where the chefs serve the signature dishes they’ve spent months perfecting, is also open to the public. Tickets for that one are $425.

That’s considerably more than I’ve ever spent on a meal. On the other hand, it’s a lot less than law school.

Thankfully, I’ve discovered other possibilities. La Salle occasionally does pop-ups on his own time, including at the Casino du Lac-Leamy fireworks festival. Additionally, people can contact him on Facebook or Instagram to inquire about having him cook private dinners in their homes, schedule permitting.

So I might not need a constitutional amendment to taste the food being served at Ottawa’s most exclusive kitchen. I can just DM the chef.

I rest my case.

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