Where
do you find the best-dressed diners on the French Riviera?
Before I answer this important question, let me ask another. Why
are old ladies so courageous? I have puzzled over this ever
since, as a small boy, I witnessed my Auntie Maud – a lady of
diminutive stature, not much taller than I was myself at the
time – wipe the floor with a pompous local bureaucrat who
thought he could lord it over ‘a little old lady’. Recently, at
a performance of Handel’s Messiah, I suddenly realized, to my
horror, that the conductor did not want the audience to follow
the tradition of standing for the Alleluia chorus. I wanted to
spring to my feet, but instead remained rigidly in my seat as
the first few bars went by, fearful of making myself
conspicuous. So who took the lead? Two old ladies, of course.
And soon the whole audience was standing – better late than
never.
Now what does all this have to do with fine
dining?
The scene is the terrace of a very grand
restaurant overlooking the Mediterranean. It is the evening, a
time to sit back and enjoy the sound of the lapping water and
the sight of the distant lights on Cap Ferrat. But the wind has
risen. Candles are being blown out, awnings are flapping and
tablecloths are starting to imitate sails. The diners, including
your correspondent, cling to their menus and pretend that
nothing is happening. Then one of the two elderly American
ladies at the next table gets to her feet and declaims (it is
most certainly a declamation, for we can all hear it), “Just
because it’s the South of France, I’m not eating in a gale.”
With that she motions to her companion and they both march
inside – to be followed shortly afterwards (and somewhat
sheepishly) by the rest of us.
The lady in question was most beautifully
attired, in the highest of haute couture. And so now I will
answer my opening question. Where do you find the best-dressed
diners on the French Riviera? At La Réserve de Beaulieu.
This pink palace in the Florentine
Renaissance style was opened in 1880 and has been one of the
places to be seen ever since. Now, I am pleased to say, it is at
its very peak and has been showered with awards by the guides –
including two stars for its Restaurant des Rois from the
Michelin men. I hope to be able to report on the hotel side of
La Réserve in the future. For now, let me commend to you Chef
Christophe Cussac’s food, which is disarmingly simple and
spectacularly good. It is entirely appropriate that it is eaten
by those who, clearly, go to great pains to appear elegant.
Safely installed in a corner of the light and
pretty dining room, I began to purr at the quality of my meal.
Marinated tuna with peppers made a dramatic plate of pink fish,
red slices of pepper and yellow pepper coulis. And, more
important, the flavours in the mouth were robust and superbly
balanced. Red mullet with crispy red onion was delicate in
comparison, but was beautifully realized. My main course showed
how successfully a peasant dish can be served in a palace – as
long as it prepared by a master. Broiled piglet, with crackling,
aubergines and courgettes is a Provençal recipe of rich,
luscious tastes. I loved it. The concluding Grand Marnier
soufflé (of the individual sort, served with an excellent
sorbet) was enjoyable and of a decent size – but was slightly
over-cooked, and therefore collapsed in upon itself. (From the
carte these four courses cost £90, but they were all available
on one or other of the set menus at £52, £68 and £85.)
I liked the pleasant formality of the
service, from waiters in black tie. They added considerably to
the aura of luxury. In such an atmosphere you would not expect
the wine list to be full of cheap offerings. Nor is it, although
a Provençal rosé can be had for £24. More typical is the page of
DRC burgundies (1964 Romanée-Conti is £2,500) and the fine
vintages of first growth clarets (1955 Haut Brion is £1,000,
1970 Margaux £670). Still, you can drink well without heart
tremors.
Sommelier Jean Louis Valla, a gentleman of
impressive presence, brought me the 1999 version of one of
Provence’s best regarded whites – Château de Bellet, De Charnacé
- £50 (with a buttery nose and reminiscent of a good Côte de
Beaune), and a well-balanced Lalande de Pomerol with a cabbage
nose (Ch. Haut Surget, 1996 - £70).
If you like to wear good clothes and you like
to eat delicious food, I recommend you join the best-dressed
diners on the French Riviera at Beaulieu. La Réserve awaits.
And while we are in this part of the world,
it would be a pity to overlook the restaurant at the Hotel
Belles Rives in Juan-les-Pins – also on the coast, but on the
other side of Nice. The joy of this Art Deco villa is the view
from its terrace. And here you must have clement weather, for
then you can dine – as I did – next to a white balustrade, with
the water below and a whole bay of flickering lights set out
before you. The pianist played ‘Stranger in Paradise’ and it
seemed appropriate.
This is not the place for two-star food, but
Chef Thierry Grattarola takes care over the dishes which the
waiters in black and white striped waistcoats bring to your
table. Expect to pay about £60 for 4 courses of hearty fare from
the carte. I tucked into lobster ravioli, risotto with sausage
and mushrooms and beef fillet with foie gras and crisp potato
slices. From a list of modest length, I drank a smooth,
medium-bodied red burgundy with a slightly vegetal nose (Chambolle
Musigny, J. Drouhin, 1997 - £49). Here, too, my fellow diners
had made an effort to look smart for dinner. The world would be
a better place if everyone would do the same.
© 2002 Francis Bown. Used by
permission. All rights reserved. For reviews of hotels and
restaurants across the world, visit
www.BownsBest.com
