Nudging on perfection – simple meals in France
Having reached his fortieth birthday, Cyril Connolly reminisced in war torn London about his earlier adventures in France: “Peeling off the kilometres to the tune of ‘Blue Skies,’ sizzling down the long black liquid reaches of the Nationale Sept, the plane trees going sha-sha-sha through the open window, the windscreen yellowing with crushed midges, she with the Michelin beside me, a handkerchief binding her hair . . .”
Cyril could have also mentioned the satisfyingly mesmeric sound of cicadas when you drive beyond Valence into Provence. Perhaps part of their attraction is because it is tangible proof that you have left northern Europe behind or that they only sing when the temperature is above 83F.
One of my favourite indulgences is driving through France while my family looks through restaurant guides to find anything intriguing an hour or two further along the route for lunch. I have never quite understood the logic of the Michelin Guide’s grading restaurants according to the distance you are prepared to travel to eat there. In their reckoning, one star is worth a stop, two a detour and three a special journey.
Perhaps I am an extreme case, but why should the length of the journey be purely dependent on whether or not a restaurant is renowned and expensive? I have actually driven from one end of France to the other (Noirmoutier to Orange) to dine in a restaurant that doesn’t even have a Michelin star. To make matters worse, my car at the time was suffering from an extreme bout of emphysema and struggled to go up even the slightest incline at more than 40 mph. On this occasion, the day-long journey was certainly worthwhile as it was to go to Restaurant La Beaugravière north of Orange, which has one of the greatest wine lists in France at modest prices.
Located just off the Route National Sept in Mondragon, Guy Julien and his wife Tina have run this simple establishment for 45 years, serving local specialities like Pieds et paquets d’agneau à la Marseillaise (lambs feet stuffed with tripe) or Poularde de Bresse with black truffles under its skin, better known as half-mourning chicken. However, the reason people flock to La Beaugravière is more to do with its wine list, nearly 50 pages painstakingly written and updated by the patron, who has four cellars underneath his restaurant, full of the greatest Rhone wines, along with classic Burgundy all the way back to his own (excellent) birth year of 1949.
On this particular journey, I was also travelling further south to the other side of Orange to visit Château de Beaucastel, one of the finest Châteauneuf–du-Pape vineyards. Co-owner Francois Perrin showed us around the estate, which has been organic for more than half a century and biodynamic since the mid Seventies. The journey was with Stephen Browett, head of Farr Vintners and James Suckling, then the chief wine writer for the Wine Spectator, which probably explains why Francois kept opening older and greater bottles in his vast cellar.
After ending with the 81, one of my favourites, we headed off to his new venture above Gigondas, a small plot of old vines in the shadow of the Dentelles de Montmirail, the jagged limestone outcrop that resembles an ill-kempt row of teeth. Francois said we may as well have lunch at L’Oustalet, his local restaurant in Gigondas, which he has opened with chef Laurent Deconinck.
Belgian born Laurent has worked in a number of well-regarded places, such as Pierre Gagnaire and Michel Rostang in Paris as well as Raymond Blanc in Oxfordshire but here he focuses on exquisite simple regional dishes – Roast veal with Spring Truffles or John Dory in almond milk. But it is not just the cuisine, or the splendid wine list of the local specialities as well as Bordeaux and Burgundy from further afield, but the location. Perched on the side of the village square, this simple stone Provençal house has to be in one of the most evocative locations of any restaurant in France, with its outsized table constructed around an old olive tree with a natural canopy provided by the overhanging plane trees. L’Oustalet has just this year been awarded a Michelin Star, which is well-deserved but almost irrelevant, as for me it is the simplicity and unpretentiousness of the place that makes it so special.
After wandering over his new estate, Francois took us down the hill to an outside table at L’Oustalet. He brought along a handful of the very best Beaucastels from our tasting but was curious to hear our opinion about Clos des Papes, a highly esteemed Châteauneuf. He conjured up a 2007, one of the first Châteauneufs to be awarded 100 points by wine guru Robert Parker. I was expecting it to be an OTT fruit bomb, given that it has an alcohol level north of 15%, but it was extraordinarily balanced and elegant for such a behemoth. I remember thinking that only someone supremely confident in their own wine could serve such a formidable rival.
If you would like to make an entire journey from Paris to the south of France only eating at simple but perfect places, the other restaurant worth making a detour for is La Ferme de la Ruchotte, a rustic farmhouse only open to the public on weekends just outside Beaune. On first glance, chef Frederick Ménager looks more like a roadie than a chef, with his intricate tattoos and Black Sabbath T –Shirts. He only serves set lunches at the weekend using local produce such as girolles on toast or one of his organic chickens or guineau fowl. This and a vast cheeseboard is why it is a favourite haunt of leading Burgundy producers such as Jeremy Seysses of Domaine Dujac.
Of course, it is also fun to make the journey south from Paris only stopping at the classic three star restaurants that have been around for 80 years or more, something I have done in a Morgan AeroMax, but that is another story.
La Beaugraviere: www.beaugraviere.com
L’Oustalet www.loustalet-gigondas.com
La Ferme de la Ruchotte www.lafermedelaruchotte.com