GRAZIE TRATTORIA - MEZE RESTAURANT REVIEW

We're not water people, not swimmers in pools or in the Mediterranean. But some of our favorite restaurants are near the Med or on the Canal du Midi. Particularly when spring comes, before July and August when the French decamp to the shore en masse, we like to head for the coast for lunch on a sunny day, stop for a sip and a nibble, and watch the world pass by. On a recent Saturday, breezy but with clouds making way for a bright sun, we stopped at Grazie in Meze for lunch.

Grazie is a smallish space with a glassed-in verandah and a few tables inside across from the bar. Calls itself a trattoria. Due to the cool, breezy weather, the outside tables and chairs that could be set up across the pedestrian walkway next to the boats moored in the marina were stacked and unused.

The veranda filled quickly, about ten tables of from two to six diners including a couple of noisy children. No, I'm not a grumpy old man who can't stand children in a restaurant. But combined with a packed, happily gabbing crowd in a relatively small space, it became difficult to converse with my soft-spoken table mates. 

The servers were pleasant and attentive without being intrusive, explaining both a printed off-menu special and a chalkboard special. The main menu was a bit thin. Limited choices. Cathey chose the poulpe, Eveline the fish special - mullet, and I had a pizza. All arrived in reasonable time taking into account that it's France and we're retired so don't check our watches. And every dish was well presented, well portioned, and properly prepared. Cathey worked her way through more food than she usually does, a definite indication of a quality meal. Likewise, Eveline finished her plate. My anchovy pizza had a decent crust, not the typical French toppings-on-a-cracker, and was covered with caper berries.

The desserts mirrored the quality of the mains. Tiramisu for Eveline (Grandma's recipe, so the menu said.) and a medley of citrus tastes including limoncello for me, both fine finishes. 

With a bottle of wine, no coffees, about 35€ apiece. 

I have clearly picked a nit or two. I did enjoy the meal. But I'm compelled to say that Grazie probably won't join our regular rotation. Not enough choices. Not enough elbow room. But give it a try. You might very well feel differently.

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, shaded by a few trees and suspended reed matting. Mismatched tables and chairs. Paper place mats and napkins. A wine list, but a slate for a menu. French country ambiance.

I started with rillettes de porc - slow cooked, shredded pork with the fat reincorporated to make a kind of paste. Not quite confit but holding to the idea that much of the taste is in the fat that it's cooked in. Three small gherkins accompanied a chunk of rillettes on a small plate. I took my bread from the basket on the table. OK start, mostly because I like rillettes. But certainly not exceptional and totally lacking presentation. (French chefs have spoiled me,) Of the other starts, the salad with the fried. homemade pork-liver sausage was the winner for me, interesting taste for those of us who like that sort of thing.

I was doing fine up to this point. The wine helped. I can highly recommend Chateau Maris rosé.

The three mains took me off the rails. Table mates said that the menu was all about French country cooking. I would be surprised to be served vegetarian cassoulet or skate in a French country kitchen. Cathey enjoyed the skate though, a fish that is sufficiently hard to cook that pleasing Cathey is commendable. Several of us chose the third choice, basically boiled chicken, a leg and a wing floating in a rather plain broth, with potato and leek and onion and an herb pesto. Boiled chicken. Really? French chefs have spoiled me.

The desserts followed the formula, limited choices, familiar faces, the one standout being the ice cream garnished with chunks of fresh figs. Not a drop of chocolate in sight. There's always chocolate. But not here. French chefs have spoiled me.

\Service was attentive and cheerful. The pace of the meal suited our lazy afternoon. I cannot speak to the total price because I didn't see the bill including the wine. But 24€ for three courses is certain;y reasonable.

I'm picking nits. I may have been the only one at the table who was less than enthusiastic. But the drive to Felines-Minervois lasted over 40 minutes and I can count a dozen or more restaurants on the way that I might have preferred. French chefs have spoiled me.

BAR LE 40: RESTAURANT UPDATE

Quarante has a takeout pizza joint, an upscale-wannabe restaurant just outside of town, and the Bar Le 40.

Tito's Pizza is OK. It offers thin-crust French pizza, if you like that sort of thing - or can at least get used to it. Christophe, the owner, also runs the local wine co-op. (Why is Christophe's place called Tito's? I've never asked.) Because it's the grape harvest now, Christophe is busy day and night. Tito's is closed. Pizza will have to wait for a few weeks.

The Terminus, as you might surmise if you have a bit of French, is in the old train station just outside of town. The owners have spent the past few years 'upgrading' the menu to the point that they have priced themselves out of our rotation.

And then there's the Bar Le 40, which most of us just call Bar 40 because who needs the extra syllable?

The management of Bar 40 has changed hands several times since we moved here more than seven years ago. The latest owner, Alex, is the son of a previous owner who has opened a restaurant in a neighboring town. Alex is a young guy, a rugby player, hooked into the local scene and well-liked by all. More importantly, he has upgraded the menu while keeping the price low. Lunch is the only meal that he serves, although he does do bar-appropriate tapas in the evening and takeout burgers on weekends. (Really fine takeout burgers, by the way.) 

Given the uptick in quality, we have taken to checking out the week's menu that Alex posts on Facebook and on a slate in front of the door on Monday mornings. This week, we took special note of the slow-roasted leg of lamb for lunch on Thursday. If you have read my scribbles, you know that I am of the opinion that lamb in France tastes the way that lamb is supposed to taste. If you like lamb, and I like lamb, you will love the lamb in France. I love the lamb in France. We booked for lunch on Thursday.

We began with a choice of starters, fresh melon wrapped with serrano ham or a mixed salad topped with little balls of deep-fried bleu cheese. Both were full plates, well presented, with fresh ingredients and appropriate dressings. The lamb that followed was superb. The French use a word that was fully appropriate in this case - impeccable. The thick slice of meat was roasted to perfection, soft but still firm, smothered in its own reduced juices. Some of us chose the French beans for the side, some had frites - fries. For dessert, a little lemon tart, more like a cookie, with a bit of salty caramel sauce. (One of us chose two scoops of ice cream instead.) The five of us finished a liter of wine between us and three of us had coffee at the finish.

Here's the kicker. The tab came to just over 16€ apiece. About $19. How can you beat that?

CHICKEN TIMES BEZIERS: QUICK TAKE

Cathey makes dynamite fried chicken. Dynamite. Once a year. If I insist. Too messy, she says. Makes the kitchen all greasy, she says. Then, today, next to the podiatrist's office, I see a sign.

Fried Chicken.

You're kidding, right?

Wrong.

Real fried chicken. Not Cathey's fried chicken. No, not top tier. But real fried chicken. And better than the local KFC. I tried KFC in Narbonne once. I was desperate. I'll never go back. But I'll go back to Chicken Times in Beziers.

Crispy on the outside, hot on the inside, with just enough grease to let you know that these wing pieces were definitely not oven baked. Real fried chicken. In Beziers. With decent, if pre-cut and frozen, frites.

And Cathey said that her burger was flame broiled.

Real fried chicken. 3 Boulevard Maréchal Leclerc. Cathey visits the podiatrist for a checkup in four months. I can't wait.

LE CHAT QUI PECHE (THE CAT THAT FISHES), ARGELIERS: RESTAURANT REVIEW

You would think that after over five years of searching for restaurants serving good food at reasonable prices, I would have made my way to Le Chat Qui Peche before now. After all, it's only about ten minutes from our house, in a beautiful spot along the Canal du Midi. But it took a friend to suggest that we would like the place. So we went. And we did.

Port-Argeliers isn't much a port, just a spot along the Canal du Midi that boats use as a stopping place. Like a town that might be described as just a wide spot in the road, there hardly seems to be a reason for it to exist other than the fact that it does. So Le Chat Qui Peche, at the foot of a narrow but driveable bridge over the canal, commands a view of the canal that can't reasonably be described as bustling and scenery that might best be described as bucolic.

We were among the first to arrive on a lazy summer day, breezy so we chose an outdoor table with less of a view but sheltered. Our server practiced his English while we practiced our French. While we sipped rosé, he brought over a slate and explained the menu and the prices - some interesting choices that did require explanation, 19€ for a start and a main, 24€ to add dessert.

Cathey started with carpaccio, filling the plate, fresh and sweet and colorful. Liz's salad with thin slices of smoked duck breast was also fresh, tasty and a full portion. Nicola and I tried different twists on the same dish. Small ceramic pots with a radius of a fried egg came filled with a cheesy cream sauce, croutons, and bits of chorizo in my case, veggies instead of chorizo for Nicola. There may have been a name for the dish but I don't remember it. In any event, look at the picture. The surprise was that the egg yolk was not even warm while the filling that it covered was piping hot, an indication that the egg was precooked and plopped on top, I suppose. But an interesting and enjoyable dish nonetheless.

My knife-chopped tartare de boeuf with bits of shaved cheese and the occasional pine nut was, like the carpaccio, nice, sweet beef. Cathey had the catch of the day, back of cod. She cleaned her plate. Nicola and Liz both ordered a Charolais rib steak sangnant (rare), cooked to order but, as is the case with much French beefsteak, cut a bit thin for our taste. And, again typical, just a bit chewy. Not the fault of the chef, the fault of French beef. But that's my common, constant complaint. Let's just say that the serving was above average for French beef.
 
We passed on dessert...well...I had two scoops of fine chocolate ice cream.

With coffees and two carafes of rosé, the tab came to just over 25€ per person. A pleasant way to spend two and a half hours with friends and family on a lazy summer day. Recommended.

Le Chat Qui Peche is on Facebook. You can check out more of my restaurant reviews HERE. If you haven't already, why not subscribe to my blog?

SAPORI, LEE-ON-THE-SOLENT, HAMPSHIRE: RESTAURANT REVIEW

Restaurants in seaside towns can be a bit tricky. They cater to captive audiences, often providing limited choices. The norm is to serve basic fare at slightly inflated prices, take the money, and count on turnover rather than repeat customers to keep the till full. When our friend Sharon took us to the seaside town of Lee-On-The-Solent not far from her home in Fareham and suggested an Italian restaurant, we were not certain what to expect. We needn't have worried.

Sapori has created a nice space, brick and wood and not too crowded. Service was pleasant and timely. I chose a plate of fried cheese with pesto for a start with a calzone to follow - cheesy with spicy salami and fresh chilis. Enough to share. (I didn't.) Cathey and Sharon chose from the lunch menu of the day, two courses for about 10€. Cathey started with a plate of deep-fried whitebait with a side salad and went on to the fish cakes. Sharon had a plate full of prosciutto and mozzarella followed by pasta with mushrooms. All as advertised. All well prepared. All proper portions. All with a bit of flair but not too fussy. Solid. And with a bottle of wine and coffee at the finish, under 50€ total. Worth a return.

You can check out Sapori's website HERE. For an index of my restaurant reviews, click HERE.

Isle of Wight in the distance...

We're told that this train station was built because Victoria thought that the folks in Portsmouth didn't cheer sufficiently for her when she came to the seaside.

BEZIERS PLAGE OR GUINGUETTE DU ROY OR BAR BOEUF AND COW OR CHATEAU VAISSERIE: RESTAURANT REVIEW

Yeah. I know. It's a strange title. Well, it's a strange place.

We were traveling north of Beziers along the ring road, took a wrong turn, and came across a sign for Beziers Plage. Given that we were on the wrong side of Beziers for any plage that we knew of, and given that I love nothing better than getting lost in order to find my way back to where I'm supposed to be going in new and different ways, I followed the sign. A barely maintained paved lane led to an unpaved parking lot and a sign for Guinguette du Roy. We didn't go in but we noted the name and. upon returning home, checked out the website. I suggest that you do the same HERE. But beware. The tapas bar is apparently only open evenings. We never saw a plage. I think that there may be a restaurant in the Chateau Vaisserie but I'm not certain.

But Bar Boeuf and Cow came complete with a confetti cannon, not operating but apparently fully functional the previous evening given the amount of colored paper scattered about, with a squawking peacock and mate who enjoyed bits of bread and olive as though by right, and with a mid priced and tasty lunch. Who knew?

Mike had the entrecote from the barbecue grill, a bit pricey but a fine cut of beef. Properly cooked hot and fast, crusty outside and red inside, the cut was more than he could finish. The ladies had seche from the grill as well, one with veggies, one with rice, more carefully prepared over lower heat. Both very happy with tasty, full portions. I had an undistinguished burger. Entrecote next time. One of the ladies had the molten chocolate cake with chantilly, a fine specimen, and I had two scoops of good French chocolate ice cream. With coffees and lots of wine and a beer or two and enough bread for us and the peacocks as well, the bill came to about 28€ apiece

There's no sense trying to describe the place. If you like quirky, you'll like it. Give it a try.

OSTERIA DELL'ARCO, ALBA, ITALY: WHITE TRUFFLE FESTIVAL RESTAURANT REVIEW

Truffles, like wine, create an almost cult-like atmosphere when their devotees gather.

The connoisseurs of both truffles and wine converse in specific and mystical languages. They may wear badges and ritual clothing. They take that which is common out of the realm of the ordinary, elevating it to heavenly status. Cult-like. Am I being serious? Kinda sorta. Anybody who grows grapes can make wine. Anybody with the patience to plant and nurture an orchard can produce truffles and train a pig or a dog to find them.

OK. Maybe making good wine is a complicated chemical process requiring precision timing from harvest to vinification. And it's certainly true that if truffles were as easy to farm and as plentiful as grapes, they wouldn't be quite so expensive even without what I consider their artificially constructed mystique. But you get the picture. We're talking about products of nature here, known to mankind for centuries. We don't have tasting contests for peanut butter. And I'm one of many who are passionate about that delicacy, particularly when wed to chocolate.

But I digress. And, if you read ahead, you will learn that a white truffle shaved in a restaurant, even if the truffle isn't at your table, can be a sensory experience like no other.

Cathey and I don't exchange gifts on birthdays or our anniversary or Christmas. Instead, we designate special times as surrogates for those purposes. In 2018, I arranged a surprise trip to Alba, Italy for the International White Truffle Festival. I didn't tell Cathey where we were going and why. I did tell her how many nights we would be staying at our destination, what the weather would be like, and what types of clothing might be appropriate to the activities that we would be undertaking. Given the popularity of the event, I booked our Airbnb well in advance and, after much online investigation, reserved all of our dinners and a lunch or two in highly rated Alba restaurants. (I was pleased that our Airbnb host considered my choices spot on.)

I will discuss dinner on the night of our arrival in a following post. We took our first luncheon, after a stroll around the picturesque Old Town and some serious window shopping, at Osteria Dell'Arco. It took a bit of finding, tucked away in an unmarked courtyard. We had to ask directions after our GPS took us to a blank wall. But once found through a passageway between two shops, definitely worth the effort. It's a semi-formal but inviting white table cloth and crystal restaurant with a diverse and interesting menu, helpful and knowledgeable waitstaff, and most importantly, good food well-prepared and reasonably priced for the place, time, and quality.

We don't do aperitifs. We start with wine. We eschewed the list and simply asked for a bottle of local white, not too sweet. The result was a crisp, clean Piedmont. Perfect. And at 13€, nicely priced for a restaurant bottle.

I won't spend time critiquing each dish. Everything that we ordered came prepared as we expected it to be, plainly but elegantly presented, in proper portions, cooked and spiced to perfection, and delivered in a timely yet unhurried fashion.

Cathey began with salt cod garnished with black truffle shavings and in-house baked crackers, had slow-cooked rabbit for her main, and sorbet for dessert. I started with veal tartare, went on to slices of local beefsteak, and finished with a very chocolatey chocolate construct for dessert. Cathey enjoyed every bit of her meal. Double for me. It turned out to be one of my two favorite meals of the trip. And the veal tartare was a revelation.

With coffee for me at the finish, a small cover charge, and a small charge for a bottle of still water, the tab came to 77€. I've spent much more for meals that I enjoyed much less.

Below, you'll find a picture that I took of the folks at the table next to us, a three-generation family who had brought a softball-sized white truffle with them. After they posed the toddlers with their hands on the truffle, the chef came out and shaved the truffle onto their pasta. I can only describe the resulting aroma that filled our entire side of the restaurant as awesome. Foodie perfume. Completely different and much more aromatic than any black truffle experience that I have ever had.

Almost worth joining the cult...