During the past few decades, when the automobile has reduced the adventure of traveling over the highway between Paris and the Mediterranean to an entirely casual affair, a few traditions have gradually established themselves. One of them is that a rapturously epicurean, hang-the-expense, overnight stop (or maybe two of them) should occur along the way. Thus a string of the very finest restaurants in France now await the traveler about midway. Among them are the celebrated shrine of Point, Restaurateur, at Vienne, the Hôtel de la Poste at Avallon, the Hôtel Côte d'Or at Saulieu, the unobtrusive Hôtel Bourgeois in Priay, the Hôtel Barattero in Lamastre, the Restaurant Pic in Valence, not to mention the garland of gastronomic glories in Lyons.
Another tradition, slightly less gustatory, is that an incidental visit to the luminous, mystical plains of Provence is almost an obligation. Barring mortal combat in one of the above-mentioned kitchens, or a raging tempest along the banks of the lower Rhône, I cannot imagine anyone's being disappointed in either of these pre-Riviera diversions.
Provence is a strange land of alternating poverty and plenty. Some of its barren, hilly stretches are austere and melancholy, relieved only by rolling acres of olive trees and clusters of live oaks. Then suddenly you come into a brilliant, lyric garden in the delta of the Rhône, a fabulously fertile area where low fields of vegetables and berries adjoin orchards heavy with cherries, peaches, pomegranates, and almonds. To protect such delicacies from the mistral, the devastating north wind which occasionally swoops down in winter, long hedges of cypresses have been closely knit together down through the years, forming a somber hurdle against the elements.
The farmhouses are low and colorful, often pinkish, mauve, or pale green, and their tile roofs are weighted down with stones to keep them from being blown away in winter. These farmhouses and their regimented hedges of cypresses, together with the inevitable olive tree, a gnarled dwarf flashing its silvery mantle, constitute the hallmark of Provence. A haunting perfume lingers over the countryside. It is undefinable, but it seems to contain a dash of lavendar, the odor of ripe melons and drying figs, the aroma of pure olive oil blended with a suspicion of fennel, thyme, and saffron, and, of course, a gentle breeze of garlic.
The Provençal climate is idyllic most of the time. The villager takes shelter from the hot summer sun under the thick foliage of plane trees. When it gets too chilly, there is a pleasant glassedin café terrace to welcome him. Everything seems to conspire to make this a nice relaxed place where people talk and gesture a lot, play boules under the trees, and don't try to work too hard. There is joie de vivre here, and plenty of laughter, good wine, late hours, and amorous smiles.
They love their food, too. Theirs is a good country cooking, boldly spiced and haunted by that ”truffle of Provence,” garlic. Pure olive oil replaces butter in most of the cooking. “A fish lives in water and dies in oil” is a Provençal truism. They aren't boastful about their meat, although their salt-marsh mutton is more than presentable, but what they do to that fish of theirs!
Bouillabaisse, bourride, baudrois, brandade—each a strange local word denoting an exotic method of sublimating the “fruit of the Mediterranean”—are fixtures in most Provençal households. They dote on morue, salt codfish, manipulating it in strange and delectable ways which would stand emulation in other countries. Their celebrated aïoli, a sort of mayonnaise, unctuously blends finely ground garlic, egg yolks, and olive oil. Their snails, while not so sumptuous as the ocher-shelled giants from Burgundy, are just as delicious—and “fragrant.” The eggplant, the onion, and the “apple of love” (tomatoes to us) are their chosen vegetables. Melons, peppers, and black olives are a ritual part of their hors d'oeuvres. The ripe fig is their cherished fruit, and they have a weakness for sweets, especially glacéed fruits and melons, nougat and chocolates.
Not that all natives of Provence are gastronomically minded. Take, for example the exposed citizen who watches over the flocks of sheep grazing on the hills of Camargue and in the swampy lowlands of the Scamandre. It's a hard life, and the famished shepherd will eat about anything. Herons, gulls, or any available fowl, even though it gorges itself on fish and tastes accordingly, is acceptable. He will eat fox when he has to. He soaks the carcass of the fox in the Rhône to make it tender, then hands it in a strong wind for a few days until it loses some of its strong perfume. Finally, after soaking it in vinegar, he cooks it in wine.
One wine reigns supreme in Provence — the ardent, soul-warming Châteauneuf-du-Pape. The sun-soaked slopes in this part of the Rhône Valley produce a wine of enviable richness and body, imbued with the color of purple sunsets and the subtle bouquet of ripe raspberry. At one time no wine name was more abused and misappropriated (unless, perhaps, it was Chablis), but the laws on appellations have restored to Châteauneuf-du-Pape its fine integrity. The subject deserves more exploration, and if you want to see how noble this wine can be, try a bottle of a good year from one of these properties: Château Fortia, Château de la Nerthe, Cabrières-lèsSilex, Château des Fines-Roches, Château de Vaudieu, Domaine de Nalis, Clos de Papes, or Château Rayas. There are two good inns at Châteauneuf-du-Pape whose cellars contain many of these crus. Château Rayas, by he way, produces a remarkable fruity white wine running over 15 degrees in strength.
The vins rosés of Tavel are the second proud boast of Provence. They are nervous, limpid wines, with a delicate amber-rose color. They are best when they are young, and hey carry deceptive strength. In Provence, as elsewhere, they are served cool, and they go equally well with fish or meat. The pink wines of Lirac and Gigondas have a little less subtlety but are worth trying.
The actual territorial limits of Provence are a little vague. It seems to spill over many borders, bringing its gaiety and its aromatic cooking along. For the purposes of this gastronomic chapter, I have taken the liberty of limiting discussion to the four départements of Vaucluse, Bouches-duRhône, Var, and Basses-Alpes. For a succeeding article, the Côte d'Azur running from Marseilles eastward and the AlpesMaritimes départment have been grouped. Let no one assume that the cuisine of the Comté de Nice and Provence are one and the same. Far from it!
Provence, as thus delimited, included two quite different areas—the foothills of the Alps and the fabulous, romantic triangle of land which fans out toward the sea south of Avignon. It is this latter charmed countryside which attracts visitors from all over the world. At the risk of being guidebookish once again, I can't resist setting down some of the highlights of this perfectly marvelous country, made to order for the artist, the poet, the historian, the archaeologist, and the substantial garden variety of tourist who does the most to make up the dollar deficit. The classic list of towns to visit is in every guidebook, and I have the temerity to repeat it here merely because these sources aren't always so useful in suggesting where the hungry visitor should stop, and where he should whisk by.
Starting at the top of our informal map you find:
ORANGE—A sleepy, close-knit town which preserves two extraordinary reminders of its splendor in Roman days, a triumphal arch and a massive antique theater. The magnificent north wall of the theater is still, after two thousand years, the most imposing wall in Europe. Orange is definitely not a place to stop overnight, but it offers a first-class relay for luncheon or dinner, the Restaurant le Provençal. This is the most up-and-coming enterprise in this somnolent city, an inviting auberge restored in the contemporary Provençal style. A gracious lady, a “cordon bleu emeritus” they tell me, receives her guests and keeps a sharp eye on their needs. The service is able, and the fare (which is less Provençal than the décor) very good. hey have their own way of preparing a terrine and a leg of lamb, and are rightfully proud of their canard aux olives, which was scrumptious accompanied by that limpid sunshine, Châteauneuf-du-Pape.
VAISON-LA-ROMAINE—Another antique site where excavations have uncovered the eloquent remains of a Roman city, more modest than Pompeii but reminiscent of it. The town is built on both banks of the rive Ouvèze. After visiting the excavations and the hilltop theater, you cross this river by a Roman bridge to be confronted with a semideserted Renaissance hill town whose steep cobbled streets look forbidding indeed. But if you leave your car on the lower level and climb the narrow passage on foot, a true epicurean award awaits you! This is the Hôtel Le Beffroi, as atmospheric a country inn as you will find in many a moon. An appreciative landlord has restored this fine old house, furnished it appropriately, and endowed it with a tradition of fine cooking. His flowery terrace dominates the old Roman town, and you may dine with an inspiring panorama before you. The food is almost as good as the atmosphere, which is intended as high praise.
The idea of installing a temple of gastronomy in some remote hill town is gaining ground in France. Another visit to the old “Ostellerie” in the fascinating, half-abandoned hill town of Pérouges (mentioned in GOURMET, March 1949) tempts me to underscore it as one of the best recommendations in this series.
VAUCLUSE—Deep in a rocky gorge near this little town is one of the most celebrated curiosities in France, the Fontaine de Vaucluse. From a grotto hedged in by cliffs, a subterranean river bursts forth with a roar, becoming in a few yards the placid river Sorgue. Here came Pettarch in the fourteenth century to write and mediate for long years about his beloved Laura. As a result, every institution from cafés to pastry shops and garages seems to be named after either one or the other of the lovers. It is pleasant to report that in the Jardin de Pétrarque you will find a worthy spot for luncheon. This is the Restaurant Philip, whose greatest asset is its idyllic setting beside the newly born stream. In this cool, sylvan spot they provide a good luncheon, highlighting trout, crayfish, and poularde de Bresse for something like a thousand francs, wine included. The setting alone is worth that!
CHÂTEAUNEUF-DU-PAPE—The archaeologist won't stop long here, except to take a fleeting glimpse at the ruined tower of the old château, but the oenophile and the epicure will find it a haven of contentment. There are two restaurants which merit your consideration. Both of them do justice to the proud name of their city and the vineyards which rise above it. The Restaurant La Mule du Pape is one of them. It is named for the humble mule, the approved means of locomotion for the Pope in the days when Avignon was a papal stronghold. The food has more of the true Provençal character here, and you can order a meal dominated by regional specialties. You can't in most places. They appear to think that too “fragrant” a cuisine drives away the carriage trade, and maybe it does. We indulged in a whole panorama of fragrance: olives, onions, eggplant, brandade de morue, moussaka, tomates provençale, and a luxurious bunch of grapes to tidy up the palate. The wine was just what you would expect—a revelation in just how good Châteauneuf-du-Pape can be.
The Restaurant Mère Germaine in the same town has its own specialties, among them a rich game pâté and a Provençal interpretation of the famous lièvre à la royale. This is a very serious cuisine, as students of the craft put it, and generous as well. And it offers that some wonderful choice of wine, although we wish they would devalue their wine card just a little bit.
AVIGNON—The famed walled city of the popes is one of the prime attractions of Provence. Famed for its gigantic Palace of the Popes and its nursery rhyme Pont St. Bénézet, Avignon is a gay city, filled with theaters and openair cafés, and makes very agreeable headquarters for the traveler. There are three or four acceptable hotels. The ancient town of narrow streets has been bisected by one modern avenue, the classic rue de la République. At either end of this animated thoroughfare are several restaurants where you can get along. After a considerable stay, however, this weary explorer can't recommend one above the other. Avignon must have its food-conscious citizens among those who scribble on public walls, however. On a gray plaster surface near the Préfecture the printed inscription “Vive le roi” has been deftly transformed by the addition of one horizontal and one vertical line to “Vive le rôti.”
VILLENEUVE-LÈS-AVIGNON—Across the river in this picturesque town facing the battlements of Avignon, the outlook is better. Here, behind the church, is a Provençal inn, established in an aged priory, which will delight antiquarians and voluptuaries alike. You may dine either in a sheltered courtyard or in a large paneled dining hall in the Hôtel le Prieuré, and in either case the experience should be memorable. We tried all of the specialties listed on the prix fixe dinner and found them delectable, especially the crêpes de Prieur. These were thin, squared pancakes folded over diced ham, covered with a sauce béchamel and grated cheese and then browned in the oven—a regal entree. Monsieur Mille, the cordial proprietor, is capable of arranging a truly fine dinner party, if you feel in the mood for one.
LES BAUX—This underpopulated, haunting Renaissance village, perched on a steep promontory, is one of the most extraordinary hill towns in France, and no visitor misses it. There is added reason for commending it here, for the best food in Provence can, in our modest opinion, be found in this remote, craggy spot. It is all due to the fact that a truly distinguished restaurateur, Monsieur Thuilier, chose this isolated location (much visited by motorists, however) as the site of his postwar hostelry. The gastronomic peak of your travels, by this happy circumstance, lies high in the weird hills of Les Baux in the Oustau de la Baumanière. The picturesque old Mas de Baumanière has been handsomely restored and furnished by Monsieur Thuilier.
You may dine in large, vaulted rooms or on a verdant terrace overlooking, of all things, a swimming pool. Above you rises the ghostly form of the village, and beyond the stretches an unforgettable view of the Camargue. One immediately compares this inn with some of our own resort hotels high in the western hills. But the comparison stops when you taste Monsieur Thuilier's cooking! This is truly la grande cuisine française, immaculately served and indescribably delicious. There are a few regional specialties, but most of the dishes are on a loftier plane. This is one case where the adjective Lucullan is not misapplied! The service is deft and attentive, and the prices are fair for the circumstances. There a few rooms for overnight guests, and it is wise to reserve them ahead of time. You need a sharp eye to find this shrine to good living. It is just outside the village, off a bend in the road leading toward Arles. You turn off sharply at a concrete post marked with the simple word Restaurant to find the epicurean apex of all Provence.
ARLES—The road leading down from Les Baux passes through Fontvieille, where the old windmill made famous by Alphonse Daudet still crowns the hilltop, and then past the haughty, melancholy ruins of the Abbaye de Montmajour (whose final eclipse came as a result of a scandal which would delight any tabloid editor) to the gracious city of Arles. Once a leading port of the Roman Empire, Arles still retains its incomparable arena and antique theater from the days of Caesar. The church of St. Trophime and its cloister represent two superb treasures of Romanesque art. The city where Van Gogh painted is celebrated for its comely maidens, too. The arlésienne, immortalized by the music of Gounod and Bizet, is still to be reckoned with. Mademoiselle France of 1949, recently elected to the throne of Miss Europe, is an arlésienne herself.
To the gourmet, all of these appealing items do not atone for the fact that the food is indifferent in Arles, despite its famed sausage. There are great sprawling café terraces under the trees, and there is a good hotel named after Julius Caesar, but you had better do your feasting in Les Baux!
The gastronomic desert extends to other famed objectives in Provence. On the outskirts of St. Rémy are two Roman monuments of great beauty and significance. In St. Gilles is one of the most beautiful Romanesque church façades in the world, especially when viewed in afternoon sunlight. The walled town of Aigues-Mortes is the most nearly perfect unrestored example in France. In none of these towns can you obtain good food or accomodations. Here are the places for that picnic lunch, accompanied by a good Châteauneuf-du-Pape! The Pont du Gard, the best preserved of all Roman aqueducts, offers tranquillity to the traveler seeking a serene night's rest. There are two country hotels in this isolated valley which are blissfully quiet, and their food is fair. Finally, there is the large city of Nîmes, equally famous for its Roman architectural treasures. There are good hotel accommodations here, of course, and the food is, shall we say, adequate.
AIX-EN-PROVENCE — this aristocratic old university town, whose surrounding hills were painted with such affection by Cézanne, boasts a topnotch hotel in the fine old tradition and with a notable cuisine. This is the Hôtel Roi-René, and exceedingly comfortable, well-run hostelry. There are Provençal specialties to be found on this menu, and delicious ones. We feel that the Roi-René can offer you as pleasant a séjour as any large hotel in Provence.
LE LUC-EN-PROVENCE—If you motor inland to the Riviera, there are a few good relais gastronomiques along the way. Two of them are in the picturesque valley town of Le Luc. The Hostellerie du Parc, surrounded by a pleasant garden, offers the classic trout, crayfish, and chicken routine to the traveler, and does it skillfully. The Hôtel de l'Etape leans more to Provençal fare. You can sample a worthy bouillabaisse here, or that subtle specialty, brandade de morue. The regional wines in both inns are very palatable.
LA CELLE—A mile or so outside of Brignoles is the restored Abbaye de la Celle, long recognized as an epicurean oasis. More regional dishes await you here, notably that delectable onion tart called pissaladière.
DIGNE—The large area covered in this article also includes the foothills of the Alps, through which many motorists drive northward to Grenoble. The hilly capital of Digne is an established stopover along this route. The Ermitage Napoléon, on the outskirts of the town, is a most comfortable small hotel with a gifted chef. His pâté en croûte still lingers in mind. The trout from nearby mountain streams is an added comfort. Good regional fare will also be found in the Hôtel Grand Paris, where you dine with a fine view of the mountains. So there is a choice in Digne, which is race.
BARCELONNETTE—This is a very remote town indeed, but if you happen to wander that far in the hills, the Touring Hôtel is there to offer you hospitality and the best food in the region FORCALQUIER—This pleasant town offers you the Hotellerie de la Louette as a fitting stopover for luncheon or dinner. There is an agreeable garden, and the food is substantial and good.
If the quality of Provençal cookery hasn't the finesse of that of Burgundy or the richness of that of Périgord, it has greater variety than either. Provence ranks fist among all the French provinces when it comes to diversity and number of regional recipes. Very few provinces can boast a good book on local cookery. You'll search in vain for a volume on the cuisine of Brittany or the Touraine or even Paris and the Ile-de-France. But Provence has three or four excellent ones, the most famous of which is La Cuisinière Provençale, by Jean-Baptiste Reboul. Printed on outrageously poor paper, with a shoddy paper cover, it is nevertheless a treasure for collectors. Another enticing volume on Provence has been written exclusively by food-conscious French doctors, traditionally astute in gastronomic matters. Provençal cooking is so many-sided that it seems almost impertinent to select a few recipes at random. But space is limited, and we hope that you try these simple Provençal dishes with the realization that they only scratch the surface of the subject.
Aubergines Farcies aux Anchois (Eggplant Stuffed with Anchovies)
Cut in half lengthwise an eggplant of the long oval shape. Do not peel it but cut the center crisscross in all directions with slits about 1/2 inch deep. Sauté the two halves on the flat side in 3 tablespoons hot olive oil for about 10 minutes. Place them in a shallow baking dish and cover with the following stuffing:
Mash together to a paste 10 flat anchovy filets and 3 cloves garlic, chopped, 4 tablespoons bread crumbs soaked in 3 tablespoons strong beef bouillon, and a little pepper. Mix well and after spreading it on the eggplant, sprinkle with finely chopped parsley, a few bread crumbs, and a little oil. Cook in a hot over (400° F.) for about 30 minutes.
Paupiettes de Veau Provençale (Veal Birds Provençal)
For 4 average-sized and thinly sliced escalopes of veal (4 by 6 inches more or less) make the following stuffing:
Chop very finely and mash together 5 tablespoons finely diced bacon (or half bacon, half salt pork), 2 tablespoons chopped parsley, 1/4 teaspoon each tarragon, basil, and thyme, 1/2 teaspoon rosemary, and 2 cloves garlic, chopped.
Season the veal slices with salt and pepper. Spread a good spoonful of the stuffing on each of the thin slices of veal. Roll them up and tie with kitchen string.
Cook these slowly in butter until they are brown on all sides. Add 1/2 cup veal or other stock, cover, and continue cooking until done, or for about 1/2 hour in all, depending upon the thickness of the veal. Add more stock while it is cooking if it dries out too much. When done, remove to a hot platter, and 1/4 cup Madeira to the sauce, and simmer for a minute, stirring in all the good brown stuff in the bottom of the pan. Pour this sauce through a fine strainer over the paupiettes and serve.
Petits Pâtés à la Provençale (Small Turnovers Provençal)
Pound together in a mortar until creamy: 5 anchovy filets, canned in oil, 2 medium-sized shallots, chopped, 1 clove garlic, chopped, and 4 peppercorns.
Add to this mixture 1 teaspoon oil from the anchovy tin, 1 teaspoon olive oil, 1 tablespoon finely chopped parsley, 1 teaspoon chopped chives, and 1 tablespoon brandy.
Mix and let all this stand together a short time before adding 1 cup chopped ham, 2 tablespoons creamed butter, and 1 egg yolk.
Mix all thoroughly together and place 1 tablespoon of the paste in the center of small rounds of pastry dough. Wet the edges, fold hem over, and pinch together. Bake in a medium oven (350° F.) for about 40 minutes, or until the crust is golden-brown.
A recipe for flaky pastry for an average-sized pie will make ten turnovers.
Omelette aux Tomates à la Provençale (Tomato Omelette Provençal)
Peel 4 ripe tomatoes, squeeze out the seeds, and chop the pulp rather coarsely. Cook this in 3 or 4 tablespoons oil with 2 slices onion, finely chopped, salt and pepper, and 1 clove garlic, chopped until soft. Add 1 tablespoon finely chopped parsley and fold into the center of a 6 egg omelette.
To make this omelette, beat up 6 eggs with 3 tablespoons cold water and salt and pepper and cook it in oil in a hot omelette pan large enough for the eggs to spread well in order to cook quickly.
FOR THOSE fortunate gourmets who are sailing or flying to France this year, here is a handy checklist of the restaurants and hotels already recommended by Samuel Chamberlain in “An Epicurean Tour of the French Provinces” which began in GOURMET'S March issue.
ALSACE
Département of the Bas-Rhin
Chatenois—Hôtel de la Gare
Haut Koenigsbourg—Hôtel Schaenzel
Marlenheim—Hôtel Cerf
Moosch—Hôtel de France et Relais 66
Obersteinbach—Restaurant Anthon
Schirmeck—Hôtel Donon
Stambach—Hôtel Fameuse Truie
Strasbourg—Maison Kammerzell, Restaurant Valentin Sorg, Restaurant Zimmer
Wasselonne—Hôtel de la Gare
Wissembourg—Hôtel Ange
Department of the Haut-Rhin
Colmar—Restaurant de Têtes
Kaysersberg—Hôtel Chambard
Ribeauvillé—Restaurant Pépinière
BRESSE
Département of the Ain
Aremare—Hôtel Berrard
Belley—Hôtel Pernollet
Bourgeen - Bresse — Hôtel de France; Hôtel de l'Europe; Restaurant à l'Escargot
Ceyzeriat—Restaurant Balcon
Ferney-Voltaire—Hôtel de Pailly
Nantua—Hôtel de France
Pérouges—Hostellerie de Pérouges
Priay—Hôtel Bourgeois
St. Germain-de-Joux—Hôtel Reygrobellet
St. Jean-de-Gonville—Restaurant Demornex
Thoissey—Hôtel Chapon Fin
BRITTANY
Département of the Côtes-du-Nord
Dinan—Chez la Mère Pourcel; Hôtel de la Poste
Perros-Guirec—Hôtel Printania; Hôtel le Sphinx
Pointe de l'Arcouest—Hôtel le Barbu
Sables d'Or — Hostellerie des Dunes d'Armor
Saint-Briac—Hostellerie du Centre
Saint-Brieuc—Hôtel Croix Rouge
Saint-Efflam—Grand Hôtel St. Efflam
Le Val-André—Le Grand Hôtel
Département of Finistère
Huelgat—Hôtel d'Angleterre
Landerneau—Hôtel des Voyageurs et du Commerce
Locronan—Auberge Saint-Ronan
Port Manec'h—Hôtel Julia
Quimper—Hôtel de l'Epée et Relais Saint-Corentin
Quimperlé—Vieille Maison
Riec - sur - Belon — Restaurant Rouat (Chez Mélanie)
Département of Ille-et-Vilaine
Hédé—Hostellerie du Vieux-Moulin
Saint-Malo—Hôtel de l'Univers
Département of Loire-Inférieure
Nantes—Hostellerie du Change; Restaurant Mainguy
La Baule—Hôtel Toque Blanche
Département of Morbihan
Auray—Hôtel du Pavillon, Lion d'Or et Poste
La Trinité-sur-Mer — Hôtel-Restaurant des Voyageus
Vannes—La Rôtisserie
LOWER BURGUNDY
Département of the Yonne
Auerre—Hôtel de l'Epée; Tour d'Orbandelle
Avallon—Hôtel de la Poste
Chablis—Hôtel de l'Etoile
Joigny—Hôtel Escargot
La Cerce—Relais Fleuri
Sens—Hôtel de Bourgogne; Hôtel de Paris et de la Poste
Valée du Cousin—Moulin des Ruats
Vézelay—Hôtel Poste
Villevallier—Pavillon Bleu
UPPER BURGUNDY
Département of Côte d'Or
Beaune—Hôtel de la Cloche; Hôtel de la Poste
Chatillon-sur-Seine—Hôtel Côte d'Or
Chenove—Hôtel de l'Escargotière
Dijon—Hôtel Nord; Grande Taverne; Restaurant Pré-aux-Clercs; Restaurant aux Trois Faisans
Les Laumes—Hôtel de la Gare
St. Seine-l'Abbaye — Restaurant de la Poste
Saulieu—Hôtel Côte d'Or
Départment of Saône-et-Loire
Anost—Restaurant Guyard
Auton—Hôtel St. Louis et de la Poste
Chalons-sur-Saône—Hôtel Royal
Charolles—Hôtel Moderne
Fleurville—Hôtel Chanel
Mâcon—Auberge Bressane
Pontanevaux—Hostellerie Compagnons de Jehu
Tournus—Hôtel du Sauvage
LYONNAIS
Département of the Loire
Feurs—Hôtel Parc et Provence
St. Priest-en-Jarez—Le Clos Fleuri
Département of the Rhône
Bans—Restaurant Cros
Les Halles—Hôtel Charreton
Lyons—Restaurant Morateur; La Mère Guy; La Mère Filloux, La Mère Brazier; Le Molière; Garcin; Farge; Restaurant du Café Neuf
Tassin-la-Demi-Lune — Restaurant la Sauvagie
NIVERNAIS
Département of Nièvres
La Charité-sur-Loire—Le Grand Monarque
Clamecy—Hôtel de la Poste
Nevers—Hôtel de France et Grand Hôtel, Auberg de la Porte du Croux
Pouilly-sur-Loire—Hôtel l-Espérance
PÉRIGORD
Département of Corrèze
Beaulieau-sur-Dordogne—Central Hôtel
Département of Dordogne
Bergerac—Hôtel de Bordeaux
Beynac—Hôtel Bonnet
Brantôme—Hôtel Moderne
Les Eyzies-de-Tayac—Hôtel Cro-Magnon
Périgueux—Hôtel Domino
Département of Lot
Rocamadour—Hôtel Lion d'Or
St. Céré—Touring Hôtel
Souillac—Grand Hôtel
TOURAINE
Département of Indre-et-Loire
Amboise—Auberge du Mail, Hôtel de Choiseul, Hôtel de Lion d'Or
Chaumont—Hostellerie du Château
Chenonceau—Hôtel Bon Laboureur et Château
Chinon—Hostellerie Gargantua
Langeais—Family Hotel
Loches—Hôtel de France
Monnaic—Hostellerie Coq Hardi
Tours—Hôtel de l'Univers, Grand Hôtel, Hôtel Métropole, Restaurant Lyonnais, Hôtel Moderne, Hôtel Bordeaux
Vouvray—Hôtel Pont de Cisse