As you probably know, you can approach the Restaurant de la Pyramide in various ways. You can write ahead (which is wise) ; you can have a preliminary conference and discuss the fare; or you can arrive unannounced and take (do I dare use the expression?) potluck. In any case, the result is fabulous. Last October we arrived cbez Point late on a Sunday afternoon with the way unpaved even by a postcard. We were utterly famished, with a day's premeditated fasting behind us, and quite willing to put ourselves at the mercy of the maître d'bôtel, and to be told what we were going to have.
Perhaps you know the ritual which follows. First there are four incredible bors-d'oeuvre served as four separate courses. These were, in turn. pâté en croûte, foie gras en brioche, feuilleté niçoise, and escargots de Bourgogne. (The sandwich, glass o' milk, and apple pie executive would stop right there!) This was followed by the world's lightest but most unctuous quenelles de bracbet(pike quenelles) with a sauce Nantua, then by a bécasse flambée. (woodcock), quail, partridge, or steak of your own choosing, followed by salad, cheese and a kaleidoscope of desserts, pastries, ices, coffee, liqueurs—all this without a menu of any sort.
It is a complete experience, and it's not Monsieur Point's fault if our untuned Anglo-Saxon stomachs are not geared to it. They aren't, so if you can force yourself to nibble at and not devour this divine fart, you will probably be happier the next day. Of course it's expensive, of course it's too copious for most of us, but Monsieur Point, his gracious wife, his kitchen staff, and his waiters, his garden, his wine cellar, and his glorious individuality provide something unlike anything else in this world. Skimp on plenty of things, but don't mass Monsieur Fernand Point, Restaurateur!
Valence-sur-Rhôuh (Drôme)
This animated city on the Rhône is a natural stopover for travelers. Comfortable hotels and excellent dinners await the motorist who encircles Valence on his map. Along its broad, tree-lined thoroughfare arc two gratifying hotels. One is the HÔTEL CROIX D'OR, at 8 place de la Republique. Spacious and patrician, its reputation dates back for decades, and its chef is capable of producing a commendable dinner. The other is the HÔTEL DE L'EUROPE, facing the esplanade. Its chef, Monsieur Tortel, comes from the celebrated Hôtel de la Poste in Saulieu, which means that handsome fare awaits you.
But the fairest and most famous flower in the gastronomic bouquet of Valence is unquestionably the RESTAURANT PIC, at 285 avenue Victor Hugo on the southern outskirts of the town. The illustrious Monsieur Pic is one of the great cbef-bôteliers of France, and he has the gift of choosing and training a remarkable staff. At present his principal chef is Monsieur Reboula who served for a score of years Chez Mahu, one of the soundest restaurants in Normandy. You may count upon an unforgettable dinner at Monsieur Pic's celebrated board. Furthermore, his prices arc very considerate for such regal fare. You will have a more Lucullan meal than your host, for Monsieur Pic is permanently engaged in a slimming process, and very successfully, too. The saddest thing is that the doctor makes him give up tobacco also!
Lamastre (Ardèche)
I can't resist taking you a little out of bounds at this point, for the most memorable epicurean episode of our recent Dauphiny trip occurred in the old hill town of Lamastre, some twenty-five miles west of Valence. Here on the main square is a neat, unostentatious place called the HÔTEL DU MIDI. You wouldn't look at it twice (except to make a mental note that its sheltered awning was inviting), unless you were conscious of the name BARATTERO lettered upon the door and knew its gastronomic significance. For this unusual name has signified the highest peak in French regional cooking for decades. Generations of gourmets have made the detour from the Rhône Valley just to taste the splendors of Monsieur Barat tero's cuisine. For a quarter of a century and more it has been a mecca for most of the fins bees of France. Monsieur Barattero is no more, alas, but his gracious widow is still there to greet her guests and a gifted young man from the Barattero family is installed in the kitchen, a worthy heir to the master's cooking secrets.
Over a glass of port in the smiling Madame Barattero's salon, we planned our dinner, choosing a seductive sequence of dishes and exploring her wine list. We can't recall a more pleasant formality. The dinner turned out to be a balanced symphony, but one dish stood out majestically from the others. It was truly extraordinary, and we have decided that is was by far the best dish we tasted during the entire four months' trip. Its name: pain d'écrevisse sauce cardinale, a lighter, larger, more fragrant variation of quenelles, I suppose you could call it. with a sauce that defies description. We splurged on a Montrachet 1937 for this dish, and they were seraphic companions. Later we visited the large, immaculate kitchen and met the keeneyed young chef and his staff. They were in a stale of subdued excitement, for Madame Barattero had just told them that she had been selected to present the annual “regional week” at the famous Maxim's on the rue Royale in Paris, and that the whole staff would soon he spending a week in those celebrated kitchens. It did, and the handsome widow was the toast of Maxim's.
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