Pic II

Dinner started on a lovely outdoor terrace overlooking the bistro. We had glasses of champagne (a vintage Moet & Chandon rose for Guy and me) and Pol Roger blanc for Kate and sipped away for a few moments before a long narrow heavy glass plate containing a series of little amuse bouche (if any of my dear readers knows how to pluralize this, feel free to exercise some license here in your reading) was put in front of each of us. One was a little ball of foie gras mousse; two was a peanut marshmallow; three was a little green quivering ball of basil and ricotta that seemed hollow in the middle but was perhaps just very light; and four was a macaroon of sundried tomato and lemon. They were all delicious, with many different textures and tastes, but the last one was (in my view) the standout. We lingered for a while over these while Guy browsed the telephone book of a wine list and consulted with the sommelier over our wine selections. That task over (and the sweat wiped off his brow) and our plates and champagne flutes emptied, we were escorted to our table in one of three indoor dining rooms, where our bottle of red was waiting in a little cradle.

Our first wine, however, was a viognier made by a female winemaker. The label is pictured below. Very tasty we all thought, and a perfect accompaniment to yet another amuse bouche, quite easily the tastiest thing I have ever eaten -- it was a little foie gras creme brulee with a dollop of Granny Smith apple mousse on top.

There is no picture of the next course, which involved a ring-shaped parmesan crisp topped with little vegetables (a paper-thin baby-radish slice, some little peas and pea shoots) topped with cepes (porcini mushrooms) in a light light touch of a cream sauce. We were a bit over-stimulated at this point and neglected to take a photo, until I remembered when only a shard of the parmesan crisp remained. Soon we had to calm down and focus, because there were several more courses to follow.

The next course was a thick slice of foie gras de canard, pan seared, and served with a whole roasted black fig and topped with a lemongrass butter. All the dishes came un-sauced and then a waiter attended with a little pot containing just enough sauce for our table and drizzled it on our individual plates, spoonful by delicious spoonful.

Next we had langoustines (scampi), two ways. One was uncooked, chopped finely, marinated with sweet caramelized onion and lavender and formed into a disk on which sat a whole flash-seared scampi. The sauce was a scampi broth. Again, nothing at all to complain about here!

Lightly-steamed turbot followed, accompanied by a bit of cucumber mousse, and some morsels of sweet and sour cucumber with a little anise butter drizzled over.

I have had to consult the photo gallery to verify that the next thing that came our way was a little palate cleanser in the form of a concoction of coffee and limoncello foam.

By this time we were ready for a red wine -- a very nice Cote Rotie (label pictured). It had very strong vanilla notes and was simply delicious. Definitely among the top few bottles I have tasted.

This is where the faint of heart might have taken a deep breath. Pan-seared veal sweetbread with a tomato-pineapple chutney with nutmeg. Kate had never eaten this particular "abat" before, and Guy essentially told her not to bother ever ordering it again because whatever she ordered would not measure up.

When the cheese cart was wheeled over, Kate actually sprang to her feet in rapture, much to everyone's (including the "driver's") amazement. Guy made a remark about children and Father Christmas which seemed to settle us all. The server asked each of us what kind of cheese we liked and then recommended certain ones and cut off small servings, so that we each had a slightly different course. I have no idea how many different cheeses were on that cart -- 50 or so maybe -- but she really had to know her business, as in fact did all the staff.

In the fine French tradition, an off-the-menu "pre-dessert" (Guy's term) followed. There were three little items on a plate that we were told to eat in one mouthful. The flavours of each were incredibly intense. Equally interesting were the textures, which varied from one to the other in much the same way as the range of amuse bouche had. Also it was served with a cup of something foamy, which none of us can remember now as I write this 36 hours later, and truth to tell probably could not have remembered when we were brushing our teeth before bed the night we consumed it.

The advertised dessert was a "declinaison de fraises" -- strawberries in various forms -- as a marshmallow; as a marmalade; and as spun and caramelized, all served on a tasty hit of peppermint sorbet.

We were waddled out to another terrace for coffee, which of course was served with a few more little morsels of chocolate. We declined brandy and cigars etc. It was already 12:30am and we had been eating since 8:00pm.

The following morning we all rose to face the day with our livers miraculously intact. Two went running, and one attempted to update her blog but none of the Google sites were available. What a waste of time that was! The runners returned, feeling "peckish", which I found a bit hard to believe. After we had all enjoyed the luxurious shower facilities and lounged about a bit in the robes and slippers provided, we decided to venture down to breakfast at the fine hour of 10:30am.

As we popped out of the elevator, we all started to twitch and coo in unison because there before us was Anne-Sophie Pic herself, very diminutive in her chef's whites, and introducing herself to all the guests. She was extremely gracious when Guy said how much we had enjoyed the meal and apologized for not having come to see us the night before and thanked us for trusting her to feed us.

We all swooned and carried on waxing rhapsodic into the garden, where we settled our widening butts into the chairs and proceeded to enjoy pastries (croissants, pain au chocolat, various breads, madeleines -- my first and now the experience I will always remember when I have one!), jams, fromage frais with coulis, raspberries and strawberries, cafe au lait, something we called yoghurt but which was in fact a chilled vanilla pot de creme with a bit of set fruit coulis on top -- amazing. When we had just about stuffed ourselves silly the waiter came to see if we would like anything savoury. I saw Kate's eyes light up, so I indicated that "she would" and a plate of cheese (fresh picodon and another much tastier goat cheese) and charcuterie (Iberian ham and chorizo) appeared. Of course Guy and I immediately dove in as well and we polished that off in no time flat and finally rose from the table.

After we had claimed all our belongings and checked out and stowed them in the car and were just about to take a small digestive walk (to the cooking school and boutique two blocks away if the truth be known), someone came running out with bottles of Vittel for our drive.

What an amazing experience. It was, hands down, the best meal I have ever had -- quite a bit ahead of Charlie Trotter and Lumiere. It is food just the way I like it. For the most part very simple preparations of the highest quality ingredients with just a single counterpoint to the dominant flavour offered by a sauce, also with one single flavour. The amuse-bouche, the pre-dessert, and the palate cleanser still demonstrate the focus on single intense flavours, but also serve to show the boy chefs of the world that she knows how to use a chemistry kit too. It is no surprise at all that she has 3 Michelin stars and has recently been named France's chef of the year.

Thank you very much to Guy and Kate for such an unforgettable 24-hours.