Skip to main content

CHÉ OLIVE / LE ZINC, CREISSAN: RESTAURANT REVIEW

No, it's not Chez Olive. It is indeed Ché complete with red star and black beret. I have no idea why and I wasn't about to ask. The French are the French and not to be analyzed too closely when it comes to politics, especially these days.

Creissan is the next town over from our village of Quarante. We pass through it often and Ché Olive is right there on the main road at the entrance to town. (One of the signs still says Le Zinc. Olive says he prefers Ché Olive though.) Olive opened it a couple of years ago after leaving the Bar 40, Quarante's basic local watering hole that's undergone a bit of a renaissance lately. We hadn't heard much about Ché Olive from our usual sources for dining recommendations. So we just kept passing by. For reasons not central to this review, we decided to stop in for lunch on a mid-week in late December.

The bar is cozy, the restaurant open and bright and modern. Newly renovated and perhaps a bit sterile. We were the first in and we weren't offered a menu, though I suppose that we could have asked for one. We tend to start at a new place with the plat du jour. If a kitchen can't properly prepare the featured dish of the day, what hope is there for the rest of the menu?

So, a choice of a charcuterie plate or a salad with chick peas for a start, slow-cooked beef for the main, and a mousse for dessert. All was quite satisfactory. The charcuterie was not the typical plate of smoked ham, paté, and saucisson. Frankly, I don't know the proper names of most of what we ate. I think that there was a bit of tongue, but I could be wrong. With a very nice, crusty roll and a bit of butter, an interesting and enjoyable mix. (We didn't try the salad but it looked ample and fresh.) The beef was falling-apart tender, swimming in a light gravy enhanced by red wine, with potatoes done just firm enough. Fresh parsley for color. A substantial portion for a chilly December day. Our server refreshed our basket of rolls, necessary to sop up the gravy. The smooth, creamy mousse for dessert came with crunchies on top and a bit of red fruit stirred in.

My café créme was positively tepid, almost cool. Too bad, but there's always something...

With a demi of wine, the tab came to 33€. Good food at a good price. And when we asked to see the dinner menu, the slate that was brought over looks the same.

Ché Olive doesn't have a website or a Facebook page. No one can accuse the French of intrusive marketing. No one can accuse the French of marketing at all. Open most weekdays for lunch and starting Thursday night for dinner...I think. You'll just have to call. 06.69.95.48.03





Comments

  1. Thanks for the review; I am sure we will visit next time we are in town. I notice that he has Magret de Canard on the dinner menu. I still remember the best breast of duck that Olive prepared at the Bar de Quarante. We always enjoy your reviews and add the restaurants to our to list.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Tamra. Let us know the next time that you are in town.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

GRAND CAFE OCCITAN: RESTAURANT REVIEW

  We made our way to a new restaurant the other day, up toward the hills past La Liviniere in the small town of Felines-Minervois. None of our party had been there before, but a friend had visited and said that she'd enjoyed it. She's a vegetarian. First clue. Now don't get me wrong. I have no gripe with those who choose to go meatless. I understand the environmental concerns and I understand the horrors of factory farming. But I also understand that form follows function in the design of tools, in the design of appliances, and in the design of human teeth. Our incisors and canines did not develop over the course of hundreds of thousands of years to rend the flesh of a fresh-caught broccoli. We are omnivores by design, Darwinian design. And I enjoy eating omni. Enough preamble... I never went inside the Grand Cafe Occitan. A young lady who would be our server met us at the front door of the nicely pointed old stone house, leading us to a pebble-covered courtyard on the side

DANCING AND SEXISM, JANET JACKSON, HILLARY AND DONALD, AND MORE: #16

   DANCING AND SEXISM Norman and I went to the same high school at the same time, we knew each other, but we had no classes together and weren't really friends. A big, ungainly kid, as a teenager Norman played keyboards for services at a local church. I learned some years after graduation that Norman had gone to a fine arts college and had worked his way up to Resident Organist at a major, big city Protestant congregation. Fast forward to our 25th or 30th high school reunion, I don't remember which. I do remember that when the dancing started, one couple who were obviously into ballroom dancing glided and posed across the floor with serious expressions on their faces. Carefully well rehearsed. Then Norman stepped on the floor, blue suit, white shirt, red tie and all. He stomped. He twirled. His arms and legs flew in every direction. Norman truly danced like no one was watching. I envy Norman's dancing to this day. Sanna Marin wears leather coats, goes to rock concerts, and

MONARCHY, BUTT PATTING, SELF CHECKOUT, AND RANDOM STUFF: #17

  MONARCHY It is not possible to be an English-speaking expat living in Europe without having gained some understanding of how the UK works and how UK policies and politics affect European life. And so, a word about the monarchy is in order today. I'm no monarchist. As an American, I have grown up believing in liberal democracy. Today, I consider myself a democratic socialist. But I have come to appreciate the manner in which British royalty has accommodated itself to the modern world. There is no doubt that accommodation has diminished the role of the monarch. That's probably a good thing. But a diminished monarchy need not necessarily herald the end of the monarchy. Elizabeth's monarchy became simply the personification of her country's flag, to be trotted out to acknowledge community, in good times and in sad times, expressing publicly what was being felt privately. There was a time, during Brexit, when I was furious with Elizabeth. As one of the richest, most well-