Basque-born self-taught chef Inaki Aizpitarte set the bistronomy (bistro-gastronomy) scene in Paris alight when he opened Le Chateaubriand. Famed for its accomplished and affordable cooking, it currently holds 9th place in the San Pellegrino 50 Best Restaurant in the World Awards. Le Dauphin is the baby sister of Le Chateaubriand and is located next door to its elder sibling. The menu at Le Chateaubriand is a no choice set menu, but at Le Dauphin, the menu offers more variety by way of a tapas-style menu with starter size portions.

The restaurant is modern with lots of marble and simply furnished. A number of tables are allocated for bookings, but there is also a central bar area for walk-in diners.

We started with corn velouté with gouda (€9) which was sublime with its lovely sweet corn flavour and beautiful creamy texture. The dashes of gouda cheese running through the velouté provided a robust contrast, and the sprinkling of fresh dill added a lovely aroma to the dish.

Corn velouté

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Creamed egg with chive oil & views over Laguiole

I once swore that I would never go back to Rodez.

It happened in July 2006 when I was due to fly to Toulon in Provence on Ryanair. Missing my flight by the skin of my teeth, I weighed up all my various options, these being to change my flight to an alternative destination, or to come back the following day for the next flight to Toulon. Faced with the daunting prospect of having to travel out to Stansted Airport again, I decided that an element of adventure and daring was called for. And so I decided to fly to an unheard of destination in Southern France, somewhere I thought would be close to Toulon, and make my way overland instead.

Well that particular destination was Rodez. Standing at the Ryanair customer services counter and peering into the destinations map, the distance between Rodez and Toulon did not appear so far. But as I was to find out soon enough, maps on walls can be rather deceptive.

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As part of the planning for this road trip, I trawled through the Michelin website. Within about a thirty-five kilometre radius of Munster there were some fifteen or so Michelin-starred restaurants. Sigh, which one to choose? Do I choose on the basis of geography, how good the food looks on the restaurants’ websites or how nice the people are to me when they answer the phone? Uncertain, I read each and every restaurant description, one by one. Next were the emails to my friend. “Here are numbers one to eight, others to follow. I liked number three best but number eight looked great too. What do you think?” and so it went. Curiously most were one-star, until I got to number twelve on the list, Auberge de L’ill. Interestingly, this was a three star. What could set it so distinctly apart from all the others? Was this the Sirius Star in a constellation of restaurants? Well that settled that. A decision was made.

The banks of the River L’ill

Auberge de L’ill is so named for it lies on the banks of the River L’ill in Alsace, Eastern France. Established in 1878 and famed for the finest of fine Alsatian cuisine (and by some accounts, the best restaurant in Eastern France), it has been an outpost for the creations of many generations of the Haeberlin family. So it was with awe that I stepped onto the path that led us to the key address of this family dynasty. As the door swung open I was simply stunned.

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My first taste of the Alsace region of France was Eguisheim, which we approached from La Route des Crêtes (the Crest Road). This route runs through one of the oldest mountain ranges in France and gives you some amazing panoramic views, some as far as the Black Forest.

La Route des Crêtes (the Crest Road)

We’d come to Eguisheim in the Alsace for the sole purpose of this little restaurant that I’d discovered in the Michelin guide. I was particularly drawn to the description which mentioned that the restaurant was once the home of a former winegrower. ‘Quaint’, I thought, and I do adore quaint. So of course we had to come. See, some people choose where to travel to and then pick the restaurants, or even go with the flow. Not me. I’ve to choose which restaurants I want to eat at and then pick the route. So to Eguisheim we went. Eguisheim was probably on of those places I would’ve never thought to visit for the sheer fact that it has never registered in my radius of knowledge. However, it turned out to be wonderfully delightful. A medieval village surrounded by the mountains, there are German influences throughout given both its proximity to Germany and that for long periods in history was under German occupation. It has now been beautifully restored to resemble a kaleidoscope of colours and on the first day of real sunshine on our driving trip thus far, it was truly picture postcard perfect.

Egusheim: Picture postcard perfect

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The bistro: Le Bistroquet

As mentioned in my Crêpes in Troyes post, we had come to Troyes to same the andouillette. Le Bistroquet was the restaurant where we came to sample the andouillette here in Troyes. It was a gorgeous, classic-looking French bistro with warm beige tones, rich brown wooden panelling, soft muted lighting and touches of art deco throughout. Was I ever excited! Such surroundings to me always promise more to come – and come they did. Our waitress was a petite little thing; full of feistiness but with a charming, mischievous grin. She took our order, and on quiet reflection, she hesitated ever so slightly when we came to order the andouilette, but such is the beauty of hindsight.

A starter of scallops grilled in butter proved to be lovely; plump and meaty, it was served with a light and crisp side salad dressed wonderfully in extra virgin olive oil. The froid (cold) foie gras had a lovely creamy, rich, melt-in-your-mouth texture, but unfortunately was a little too salty. Despite this, I was pleased with what had been presented so far. With no reason to suspect any surprises, my expectations remained high.

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