bleudauvergne

Last night upon returning from work, my husband said that as a surprise for me, due to yesterday being an obscure professional milestone for me, he had made a reservation to have dinner out. He would not tell me where we were going, and it was not until after we had gotten on the metro and ridden two stops to the 6ème, gotten off near Chocolatier Bernachon, and taken stroll around the corner onto a residential street one block south of cours Vitton that I realized. I thought he was taking me to another place altogether, I had in mind that maybe he’d be taking me to “Le Splendid”, a bistro across from the old gare de Brotteaux, and that he wanted to take a stroll. But no, we stopped in front of a rather unremarkable looking place, which had the look of a local restaurant with a yellow and orange wallpapered color scheme but simple, clean tables dressed in white linen. It was Gourmet de Sèze. I have heard this restaurant mentioned by friends, who have remarked on the comfortable and informal dining room, and the fabulous menu that changes every 10 days, based on market and season, a living, breathing kitchen. How happy I was to be entering this restaurant! Warm and friendly atmosphere, I was perfectly at ease in my clothes from the office. My husband was wearing one of his newer professor sweaters and matching pants, and he had brushed a little polish on his shoes, a step up from his usual. We were greeted warmly, the guest list was checked, they took our coats, and we were shown to our table. The gastronomic event began as soon as we sat down and ordered the aperitif from the sommelier who suggested 3 wines, all white. Such a relief to be here at the end of the day and enjoy a cool glass of Macon with my husband, who ordered the Muscat. With the wine, he brought out a plate of nibbles with two of each: small toasts with slices of a mini terrine de foie gras, smooth and buttery, each with a dusting of spices, just a touch of fleur de sel, and minced fine chives. Toasts graced with a thin slice of an ashed bouche de chevre, drizzled with fruity olive oil and fresh leaves of thyme. Toasts with a subtle caviar d’aubergine backdrop upon which were arranged minced green and red bell pepper, and a hint of something spicy. A small porcelain pot containing cubes of comté and florets of cauliflower speared on toothpicks, to dip in a mayonnaise sauce seasoned with fresh fines herbes. Another pot of the same shape and size with still warm from the oven whole grain artisan matchstick crackers, to dip in a classic lyonnaise cervelle de canuts, which is a fromage blanc with a mixture of herbs, garlic, and shallots. I felt that there was a play on scale going on here, with the carefully prepared pots of dipping sauces cradling intimately in our fingers, the toasts, small perfect mouthfuls that we nibbled slowly to appreciate their varied details, almost like miniature paintings, in contrast with the bountiful wine that pulled us up, taking us back and forth from landscape to portrait, each experience with similar intensity. It was at that moment that we fell into a state of complicity with and complete trust of the sommelier. The menu découvert for €40, with the €15 supplemental option “Marions-Les”, a different wine for each course chosen by the sommelier, was the natural choice for the both of us. The meal began, first with presentation and serving of with the next wine, a 2003 Coteaux Varois, Domaine de Loou. Having spent my last three summers sipping on wines from the Var, I was at once struck by the way this wine was not even close to those that we find on the table on the terrace at my in-laws, nor was it pink. It was a white wine, special, elegant and proud like the wines from the Var I know, but more refined, mature, developed. Questionned about the grapes that went into this wine, the sommelier responded that it was a 70/30 mix of Semillon and Rollie (sp?). The amuse bouche to accompany it was a mound of braised market vegetables, fresh green peas, diced haricots verts, carrots, which bloomed on the palate, having been cradled a langoustine gelée, with one morsel of chilled langoustine tail on top of the mound. It was served in a small glass bowl with a spoon. A silent wave of some obscure spice washed over me with every bite, I immediately got the impression that the dish was steeped with a subtle asian influence, and could not place it. Just at the last spoonful, an image came to mind, which had to have been it – a cheesecloth sack filled with Sichuan peppercorns and sewn shut, left to infuse in the cooling bouillon des langoutines that eventually made the gelée. I could be completely wrong. Sometimes these images come to me, though. I am going to try it, anyway. At some point during the amuse bouche, the bread was served, which I completely ignored until I came back to the surface from my little glass bowl. My husband pointed out that all of their breads are made on site. The small pain au levain loaves contained a mixture of flours, with a hint of rye and texture coming from farine integral. Our wine glasses were topped off and we were presented with the appetizer, 5 generous langoustine raviolis, served on a bed of wilted spinach and cream, with a dollop of rustic mashed potatoes and a spoon of caviar in the center. This was napped with a reduced crustacean sauce. The potatoes had a great texture and were the perfect backdrop to the caviar, and the meat in the raviolis was cooked to perfection. The sommelier brought out an exquisite 2001 Domain de Tours vin de pays de Vaucluse and poured us each a generous glass. The nose on this wine was spectacular. Flowers bloomed just before we fell into a vast open space and we were buoyantly caught in a lingering net which evolved slowly, starting in a reverie of caramel de beurre salé that eventually ended in emotions I hadn’t felt in ages, a certain adolescent shame, even. (really.) There was absolutely no need whatsoever to fret about the ability for the main dish to stand up to the personality of this wine. This was described as a “Lotte de Petit Pecheur” by the waiter, who explained that it had been fished that day and delivered straight to the restaurant. Lotte by nature is a fish that has the texture and flavor to stand up to strong seasoning and long cooking times, and it is normally braised for long periods. A classic dish features chunks of this fish wrapped in bacon and stewed for ½ hour or more and served in a thick ragout. What we were served last night was completely new, a wonderfully harmonious dish, incorporating the tradition of braised vegetables strongly recalling the terroir tradition that a ragout represents, but much more refined, for a complete absence of “stew” in any sense of the word. Slices of the lotte tail, poached in a complex boullion which must have featured among other things an subtle infusion with coriander seeds, the poached fish composed around the plate under a meltingly delicious fricassee of braised artichoke hearts, white and green asparagus, fennel, celery, and young carrots, which was topped with a little onion and anchovy tart the size of an old silver dollar. The dish was surrounded with a drizzle of a reduction with incorporated mustard à l’ancienne (with the grains). It was clear to me that each of the vegetables had been braised separately and they sang in perfect harmony. The lotte was tender, flavourful, and not overly seasoned – the fresh flavor of the fish was a pure delight. At this point I began to think about value, and what we’d been discussing here on eGullet with regards to what we consider a valuable experience in a meal. I began playing with numbers in my head about what this was eventually going to cost us. No prices were on the menu for the aperitifs, nor the bottle of water we ordered to go with the meal, nor the coffee that we would eventually order. The number 160 sprang to mind, I guess it was an estimate of what I would be happy to pay over the €110 already committed to the rest of the meal would progess in a similar fashion, with no bad suprises. My thought was, this menu is so completely inexpensive for what we are getting right now, I would still pay lots more and be happy. Again more of that great wine for my husband, (the sommelier never missed a beat and asked if we wanted more each time the glass was empty) to accompany the cheese plate, which featured a chevre frais drizzled with olive oil, St. Marcellin, Selles sur Cher, Picodin, and a meltingly delicious brebis des Dombes. The cheese plate also featured in a major award winning supporting role – a hot raisin nut levain roll straight from the oven. I had trouble making it last to the end of the cheeses because I found myself putting an itty bitty bit of cheese on and taking a huge bite of the roll. I almost asked for another roll, they were so incredibly delicious, but I am glad I did not. Because - then the desserts came, along with TWO other wines, a Muscat de Rivesaltes, from les pyranées orientale, which was not the same Muscat that my husband had enjoyed during the aperitif, but still on the dry side which married well with the first three desserts, and a dark as port cordial glass of 1998 Banyuls – to go with the last chocolate dessert, which was a house specialty and called for it’s own wine. 4 separate plates were placed before us, which we were instructed to eat in the following order: Sablée with lemon cream, fresh fruit salad with mint sauce, a white chocolate ring filled with chantilly and topped with vanilla ice cream, and last but not least, this wonderful incredible thing they called a “chocolat mousse à la chickory”. I did not taste the chickory in it, and it resembled a cake that you dig into, and a slick rich ooze of chocolate comes running out onto your plate. Better than pocket coffee. Speaking of coffee, at that point I was tempted to forgo it because I was afraid I was just going to die from overindulgence. But we ordered it anyway. So the coffee came, with FOUR other little things to have with it, which I was unable to finish – a warm Madeline, the size of the end of my thumb, which I was able to take a nibble of, a little pot of crème au chocolate, high on cocoa content and very creamy, which I took only one small bite of, a mini crème brulée, which I also tasted and passed to my husband, and a small artisan made pyramid shaped chocolate filled with orange marmalade which I was able to eat. You could skip dessert and still be completely satisfied. When it was time for us to move, the waiter instantly arrived and the transaction was painless – a grand total of 135,50. We were then helped with our coats, and as we reached the door, there stood the chef, M. Mariller, at the door, to ask us how the meal was. I took his hand in both of mine and replied: “Parfait”. Sigh. edited to add : Le Gourmet de Sèze, 129, rue de Sèze, 69006 Lyon. Tél. : 04 78 24 23 42. (reserve at least one week in advance)

Sounds like a fabulous lunch. Thank you so much for telling the tale.

Those who live in France can watch Joël Robuchon's cooking show, where he invites chefs from all over France to come and teach us how to cook their dishes. The website that goes with this show has a recipe database and a chef database where you can search by ingredient or look up a chef and get the recipes that have been featured on the show. You can also get a bio of the chefs. Many of the chefs of restaurants discussed in the France forum have recipes featured in this database. I love it! Anyway, I'm going to try and make the famous Aussie in France William Page's Raviolis de Foie Gras dans un Bouillon de Poule next week, and take it one step further from an idea of an eGullet poster who had this dish (forgot where) with bouillon de poulet de bresse. But that will have to take place next Thursday because the market where I can get the poulet de bresse direct from producer (thus reasonably priced) is next wed. If anyone gets any of the recipes from this site and they turn out well, post here about it! The recipes are in French... Edit to thank naf for initially posting the link to the website in the Mon Vieil Ami-New Bistro thread!

Just to note: Your andouille for gumbo will definitely not be French andouille.

Invite all the neighbors! Oh, and I'll bring the chestnuts! Yea, so you can throw them in the fire and watch them explode? Tom, I also moved for love to a foreign country. Best of luck to you in that endeavor. It's really great that your ILs have decided to do a Xmas dinner in April in honor of your visit. I want a description of each and every crustacean - your punishment for not purchasing a camera specifically for this Foodblog.

Joël Robuchon's show, you mean? It's called Bon Appétit Bien Sur. And actually this week, the show is featuring Westermann the junior (Eric Westermann). I have to agree that this show is indeed amazing. To answered bleudauvergne, Mon Vieil Ami is operated by the father, Antoine Westermann Yes, that show! I don't know how Joel turned into Paul... Duh.

If you do make pesto, don't forget to add EVOO, and salt + pepper. I would also chop the basil by hand rather than puree in food processor because basil takes an off taste when pureed. You're so lucky to have all that basil.

Sure, Hathor. Whatever you say.

So sorry about the sprain. Having something like that happen while traveling is even worse... Thinking about how I might convince the other occupants of our building to allow us to set up a spit roast in the courtyard out back one spring evening.

Only half? You're sure?

I cook for two and I simply adore that wonderful class. Why not cook these few days and share with us, Basilgirl? I'm willing to listen, anyway. What do you have going? -Lucy

I have this favorite cooking show on French TV where chefs come as guests to cook in Joel Robuchon's kitchen. They do the most amazing recipes. I like to follow them when I can at home. I've done a whole lot of them. Anyway, There's Westermann the elder and Westermann the younger. Clearly father and son. I'm not sure, excuse my ignorance, who is the one who produced this kitchen in Paris. edited to say we threw out the t.v. proper and now see programs a la carte from the internet, a big step up from the minitel I must say Edited to fix Mr. Robuchon's first name which I got completely wrong

I have always always tossed salt over my left shoulder, not only when I spill it, but even when I have a little extra. Never knowing all of the missed possibilites, which I have learned from Anna N. It has kept me pure in any case. With regards to garlic, vampires, peppers and the evil eye, I understand and yet I do not. There must have been an instinctive reason why I was drying the peppers in the kitchen.

I'm so happy to read your adventure and excellent descriptions of the food you had. Thank you.

Memories of the waffle iron are coming to mind. I recall thinking as a child that it seemed so easy, easier than pancakes. And better. (my mom made the thin ones) Why didn't we eat waffles every day?

The obvious would be to decorate or garnish, but then again it's probably not that obvious...

OMG you watched that series?? I think it might have been shipped to France because no one in Australia wanted to watch it When we first got here, I spoke no French, It was basically the only show I could follow - You're right it was a pretty wierd show. I learned all about rank and what counts as insubordination on the Australian fire fighting force. We also used to get another australian show about a vet who flew around in a helicopter. That was a pretty good show. We have since thrown out our television and live T.V.-less. It was done for a very good reason. You're kitchen sounds really lovely. And the sushi!

I will never try and peel chestnuts on Thanksgiving. oooh, i did that one like 5 years ago. i agree. {Step 6: Just before the turkey is ready to be stuffed and placed in the oven, Parboil and carefully peel the 2 pounds of freshly bought chestnuts.} Which should read: Dunk the chestnuts in boiling water. Remove from water and score the rock hard surface of each one in two complete perfect concentric circles, forming a band, with a razor sharp knife. Be sure to wipe up all of the blood spilled in the process, as bloody countertops are not appealing to incoming guests. Re-parboil the chestnuts with the hope the peels come loose. Rinse in cold water. Attempt to peel them with a vegetable peeler. Try crushing them. Utilize a small screwdriver and rubber mallet to carefully chip the inside out of each chestnut, after attatching to counter top with screw type vise. After two hours and 45 minutes of messy and difficult labor, send husband to buy pre-peeled chestnuts.

Hi, we're back from the weekend in Megeve. We went to Michel Gaudin - and it was ... interesting. I'm not sure he's still in the kitchen, though. The guy at the inn where we stayed said he was on the verge of retirement. A very memorable weekend in all ! Thank you for your responses. Tonight I will post in this thread the places where we went. -Lucy

Oh do post a photo, Fi.

i think it's pearl sugar, isn't it? That would be pearl sugar.

Happy Easter and Happy Anniversary, Tom! A couple of years ago here in France I used to watch this T.V.show (very badly dubbed into French) about the trials and tribulations of a unit of Australian fire fighters. It sounds like you cook and eat a lot better than they did on the t.v. show. Your Easter dinner sounds like it was an amazing feast. About your gravy stock - do you soak your dried mushrooms before adding them to the stock, or do you just toss them in and let them macerate in the soup? Can you describe your FH's kitchen?? I would love to hear about that.

Thanks Brooks! What a wonderful way to spend the week! I'll be coming back to this blog often just to look again. -Lucy

balex, it is not a different question at all. The two (boulangeries and lingerie shops) are actually intricately related. One is to remind us not to buy the other.

I have to add that it has little to do with the skill of the baker. Franky2Times comment is like saying bagels are so much better in Brooklyn because the bagel makers in other parts of the country don't know what they're doing and don't care. That's kind of silly. When I was in Beijing, there was someone there who had opened a bagelry. After she had trouble producing good bagels there, she researched every possible aspect about bagel making. She already had the training, having made bagels in Brooklyn in the past. She found out it was the water. Brooklyn tap water makes the bagels so good there. Once she realized that and having actually considered importing brooklyn tap water, she then resigned herself to makeing the best possible facsimile of the bagel she could given her circumstances. The product was really good. We would drive across town to sit in one of the only coffee shops in Beijing to munch on a real bagel (with real coffee!). But they would never be exactly the same as the Brooklyn bagel. If we could re-create at will (or through training) every wonderful gastronomic experience we wanted, and it was that simple, French baguette wouldn't be so special, in my opinion. Some gastronomic experiences are place specific. French baguette is one of them (especially in Paris...) We are in Lyon and we rarely eat baguette, mainly because if we did buy it twice daily we'd be the size of hippos within a few months. We usually get more substantial specialty breads that we can eat for two or three days, and not feel like we've got to finish it off. You can buy a half baguette, but it's not smiled upon as a regular practice, especially by the boulangers here... Every baker has his own names, but our favorite at our baker is called pain de champs, which is a substantial loaf and has a mixture of grades and types of flours. It includes a smattering of different grains in the crust - mmmm. It should be noted that the specialty breads are really the product that supports the boulangers in France, since the boulanger is forced to sell baguette at a government regulated price which gives almost no profit margin. (Regulation created to allow everyone, regardless of their degree of poverty, the right to have bread at every meal.) edited for clarity