The Gourmet's Guide to Europe Part 6

Creme Livonienne.

Filets de Sole Waleska.

Baron de Pauillac a la Broche.

Puree de Champignons.

Pet.i.ts Pois Nouveaux.

Merles de Corse.

Salade.

Asperges. Sauce Mousseline.

Souffle du Parmesan.

Friandises.

The Hermitage, in which MM. Benoit and Fourault are interested, shares the rush of fas.h.i.+onable diners with Ciro and the Paris and Grand, but I cannot speak by personal knowledge of its dinners.

There are other restaurants not so expensive as the ones I have written of, and further up the hill, which can give one a most admirable dinner.

The Helder is one of the restaurants where the men who have to live all their life at Monte Carlo often breakfast and dine, and Aubanel's Restaurant, the Princess', which one of the great stars of the Opera has very regularly patronised, deserves a special good word. The Restaurant Re, which was originally a fish and oyster shop, but which is now a restaurant with fish as its speciality, is also an excellent place for men of moderate means. Madame Re learned the art of the kitchen at the Reserve at Ma.r.s.eilles, and she knows as much about the cooking of fish as any woman in the world. When it came to my turn in the interchange of dinners for six to provide a feast, I went to Madame Re and asked her to give me a fish dinner, and to keep it as distinctive as possible of the princ.i.p.ality, and she at once saw what I wanted and entered into the spirit of it. She met me on the evening of the feast with a sorrowful expression on her handsome face, for she had sent a fisherman out very early in the morning into the bay to catch some of the little sea hedgehogs which were to form one course, but he had come back empty-handed. The menu stood as under, and we none of us missed the hedgehogs:--

Canape de Nonnats.

Soupe de poisson Monegasque.

Supions en Buisson.

Dorade Bonne Femme.

Volaille Rotie.

Langouste Parisienne.

Asperges Vinaigrette.

Dessert.

The _Soupe Monegasque_ had a reminiscence in it of _Bouillabaisse_, but it was not too insistent; the _supions_ were octopi, but delicate little gelatinous fellows, not leathery, as the Italian ones sometimes are; the _dorade_ was a splendid fish, and though I fancy the _langouste_ had come from northern waters and not from the bay, it was beautifully fresh and a monster of its kind.

The Riviera Palace has a restaurant to which many people come to breakfast, high above Monte Carlo and its heat, and the cook is a very good one.

Any mad Englishman who like myself takes long walks in the morning, will find the restaurant at the La Turbie terminus of the mountain railway a pleasant place at which to eat early breakfast; and the view from the terrace, where one munches one's _pet.i.t pain_ and drinks one's coffee and milk, with an orange tree on either side of the table, is a superb one.

After the tables are closed the big room at the Cafe de Paris in Monte Carlo fills up with those who require supper or a "night cap" before going home; and though a sprinkling of ladies may be seen there, the half-world much preponderates. The night-birds finish the evening at the Festa, some distance up the hill, where two bands play, and there is some dancing, and where the lights are not put out until the small hours are growing into big ones.

Mentone

Mentone has a splendid tea-shop at Rumpelmayer's, and a pleasant restaurant at which to lunch is that of the Winter Palace. Many people drive from Monte Carlo to lunch or take tea at the Cap Martin Hotel, and it is a pleasant place with a splendid view from the great terrace, though sometimes people not staying in the hotel complain of the slowness of the attendance there.

The Pyrenees

As a gastronomic guide to the Pyrenees I cannot do better than introduce to you my very good friend C.P., who knows that part of the world as well as any native, and whose taste is unimpeachable. I therefore stand down and let him speak for himself:--

Throughout the Pyrenees, in nine hotels out of ten, you can obtain a decently cooked luncheon or dinner--neither above nor below the average.

But in order to depart from the beaten track of the ordinary menu, abandon all hypocrisy, oh, intelligent traveller! and do not pretend that you can turn a fastidious nose away from the seductions of the burnt onion and the garlic clove, the foundations upon which rests the whole edifice of Pyrenean cooking. Pharisaical density would be only wasting time, for these two vegetables will be your constant companions so soon as you decide to sample the _cuisine bourgeoise_ of the country.

You should on no account fail to venture on this voyage of exploration, as some of the dishes are excellent, all of them interesting, and, once tasted, never to be forgotten.

To attempt to enumerate them all, to describe them minutely, or to give any account of their preparation, hardly comes within the scope of these notes. Suffice it to give the names of two or three.

First comes the _Garbure_, a kind of thick vegetable soup containing Heaven knows what ingredients, but all the same sure to please you. Next comes the _Confit d'Oie_, a sort of goose stew, utterly unlike anything you have tasted before, but not without its merits. Next, the _Cotelettes d'Izard marine_ may interest you. The izard, or chamois of the Pyrenees, has been _marine_ or soaked for some time in wine, vinegar, bay leaves, and other herbs. It thus acquires a distinctive and novel flavour. Don't forget the _Ragout_ and the _Poulet_, either _cha.s.seur_ or else _paysanne_; nor yet the _Pie de Mars_ if in season.

By way of fish you will always find the trout delicious, either fried or else _a la meuniere_. (Don't miss the _alose_ if you are at Pau.) Lastly, the Pyrenean _pates, Gibier_ and _Foie de Canard_, are justly celebrated, and can more than hold their own in friendly and patriotic rivalry with any of those purporting to come from Strasbourg or Nancy.

At first acquaintance you will not care much for _pic-a-pou_ or the wine of the country, but with patience you may possibly learn to appreciate the Vin de Jurancon. Tradition has it that Henri Quatre's nurses preferred to give this form of nourishment rather than the Mellin's Food of the time. Perhaps babies were differently const.i.tuted in those days.

In any case you will always be able to get a good bottle of claret, bearing the name of some first-cla.s.s Bordeaux firm, such as Johnson, Barton Guestier, or Luze, etc. If you are lucky enough to obtain a gla.s.s of genuine old Armagnac, you will probably rank it, as a liqueur, very nearly as high as any cognac you have ever tasted.

A word of warning! Don't be too eager to order whisky and soda. The "Scotch" is not of uniform quality.

So much for eatables and drinkables. A few hints now as to where you might care to lunch or dine.

Pau

To begin with Pau. There is really a great artist there--a man whose sole hobby is his kitchen, and who, if he chooses, can send you up a dinner second to none. His name is Guichard. Go and have a talk with him. Hear what he has to say on the _fond-de-cuisine_ theory. Let him arrange your menu and await the result with confidence. That confidence will not be misplaced.

For purely local dishes of the _cuisine-bourgeoise_ type, you might try a meal at the Hotel de la Poste. But for general comfort the English Club stands easily first. The coffee-room is run admirably, and as for wine and cigars, they are as good as money can buy. A strong remark, eh?

But true, nevertheless. For a supper after the play you might give a trial to the restaurant at the new Palais d'Hiver. Other restaurants are at the Hotel de France and the Hotel Ga.s.sion.

For confectionery, cakes, candied fruits, etc., Luc or Seghin will be found quite A1. Whilst for five o'clock tea, Madame Bouzoum has deservedly gained a reputation as great as that of Rumpelmayer on the Riviera. But again a word of warning! Be discreet as to repeating any local t.i.ttle-tattle you may possibly overhear. So much for Pau.

Throughout the mountain resorts of the Pyrenees, such as Luchon--Bagneres de Bigorre, Gavarnie, St-Sauveur; Cauterets--Eaux Bonnes, Eaux Chaudes, Oloron, etc., you can always, as was stated previously, rely upon getting an averagely well-served luncheon or dinner, and nothing more--trout and chicken, although excellent, being inevitable. But there is one splendid and notable exception, viz., the Hotel de France at Argeles-Gazost, kept by Joseph Peyrafitte, known to his intimates as "Papa." In his way he is as great an artist as the aforementioned Guichard; the main difference between the methods of the two professors being that the latter's art is influenced by the traditions of the Parisian school, while the former is more of an impressionist, and does not hesitate to introduce local colour with broad effects,--merely a question of taste after all. For this reason you should not fail to pay a visit to Argeles to make the acquaintance of Monsieur Peyrafitte. Ask him to give you a luncheon such as he supplies to the golf club of which Lord Kilmaine is president, and for dinner (being always mindful of the value of local colour) consult him, over a gla.s.s of Quinquina and vermouth, as to some of the dishes mentioned earlier in this article. You won't regret your visit.

In conclusion, should you find yourself anywhere near Lourdes at the time of the Pelerinage National, go and dine at one of the princ.i.p.al hotels there--say the Hotel de la Grotte. You will not dine either well or comfortably, the pandemonium being indescribable. But you will have gained an experience which you will not readily forget. _Adishat!_

Provence

Any one who is making a leisurely journey from Ma.r.s.eilles to the Roman cities of Provence, and who halts by the way at Martigues, the "Venice of Provence" should breakfast at the Hotel Chabas; and if M. Paul Chabas is still in the land of the living, as I trust he is, and you can persuade him--telling him that he is the best cook in Provence, which he is--to make you some of the Provencal dishes, the _Bouillabaisse_, or that excellent _vol-au-vent_ which they call a _Tourte_ in the land of Tartaria, or the _Sou Fa.s.su_, which is a cabbage stuffed with a most savoury mixture of vegetable and meat, you will be fortunate. At Arles the Hotel Forum has a cook who is a credit to his native province; but if you stay in the house, make sure that you have a room to the front, otherwise you may only look into the well-like covered court of the house. At Tarascon, if you feel inclined to hunt for the imaginary home of the imaginary hero, a great man whom the town repudiates as having been invented in order that the world should be amused at its expense, take your meal at the Hotel des Empereurs and ask for M. Andrieu. At Avignon the Hotel de l'Europe is a very old-fas.h.i.+oned house with old furniture in the rooms, old latches to the doors. The servants seem to have caught the spirit of the place, and there is one old servitor, still, I trust, alive, who might have been the model for all the faithful old servants in the plays of the Comedie Francaise. The house is kept by an old lady; the cook is a man. Several people of my acquaintance choose Avignon as their halting-place on their way to the Riviera because of the quaintness of the old hotel and of the excellence of its cuisine. A breakfast on the Isle de Barthela.s.se, when the mistral is not blowing, is one of the holiday treats of the inhabitants of the town. At Remoulins the old Ledenon wine at the one hotel in the place is worth a note. At St-Remy, M. Teston, who keeps the hotel named after him, is an excellent cook. At Nimes, at the Hotel du Cheval Blanc, there used to be some excellent old Armagnac brandy, and probably some of it still remains.

"Cure" Places

Most of the French cure places are for invalids and invalids only, and the gourmet who goes to them has to lay aside his critical faculties and to be content with the simplest fare, well or indifferently cooked, according to his choice of an hotel.

Aix-les-Bains

The big Savoy town of baths is the princ.i.p.al exception to the rule, for the baccarat in the two Casinos draws all the big gamblers in Europe to the place, and one half of Aix-les-Bains goes to bed about the time that the other half is being carried in rough sedan chairs to be parboiled and ma.s.saged.

In the late spring there is an exodus from the Riviera to Aix-les-Bains; doctors, _maitres d'hotel_ musicians, lawyers, fly-men, waiters move into summer quarters; and any one who has time to spare, and enjoys a three-day drive through beautiful scenery, might well do worse than make a bargain with a fly-man for the trip from the coast to the town on the banks of the lake. When a fly-man does not secure a "monsieur" as a pa.s.senger, he as often as not drives a brace of friendly waiters over just for company sake. Thus any gourmet who knows his Riviera finds himself surrounded by friendly faces at Aix-les-Bains. There are excellent restaurants in some of the larger hotels, and you can dine in a garden, under lanterns lit by electric light, or on a gla.s.sed-in terrace whence a glimpse of the lake of Le Bourget under the moon may be obtained; and there are at the big Casino, the Cercle as it is called, and at the smaller one, the Ville des Fleurs, quite excellent restaurants. These two restaurants are managed by first-cla.s.s men from the Riviera--the proprietors of the London House at Nice and of the Reserve at Beaulieu, were, I believe, last year the men in command--and the King of Greece, who is a gourmet of the first water, sets a praiseworthy example when he is at Aix of dining one day at the Cercle and the next at the Villa. The prices are Riviera prices and the cooking Riviera cooking.

The Anglo-American bar, nearly opposite the princ.i.p.al entrance to the Cercle, a bar where a whisky and soda costs two francs, always has its tiny dining-room crowded. Durret's, also opposite the Cercle, a small restaurant, is good and cheap. There are half-a-dozen little restaurants in the street running down to the station, but the sampling of the most likely looking one did not encourage me to try any further experiments.

To keep up the illusion that Aix-les-Bains is a part of the Riviera, there is a Rumpelmayer cake-shop within two minutes' walk of the Villa des Fleurs.

Many of the excursions from Aix have a little restaurant as the point to be reached. At Grand Port, the fis.h.i.+ng village on the borders of the lake of Le Bourget, there is a pleasant house to breakfast at, the Beaurivage, with a garden from which an excellent view of the lake and the little bathing place can be obtained. They make a _Bouillabaisse_ of fresh-water fish at this restaurant which is well worth eating and which is generally the Friday fare there. At Chambotte, where there is a fine view of the lake, Lansard has a hotel and restaurant. At Marlioz, near the race-course and an inhalation and bathing establishment, the pretty ladies of Aix often call a halt to breakfast, _Ecrevisses Bordelaises_ being a speciality. At one of the little mountain inns, I fancy that of La Chambotte, the proprietor has married a Scotch wife, and her excellent cakes, made after the manner of her fatherland, come as a surprise to the French tourists. The chalets at the summit of the Grand Revard belong, I believe, to Mme. Ritz, wife of the Emperor of Hotels, and the feeding there naturally is excellent.

Most people who go a trip to the Lac d'Annecy breakfast on the boat, though I believe there is a fair breakfast to be obtained at the Angleterre. On the boat a very ample meal is provided--the trout generally being excellent--which occupies the attention of the intelligent voyager during the whole of the time that he is supposed to be looking at waterfalls, castles, peaks, and picturesque villages.