Restaurant review - Bistrot de France, Apt

My wife and I have a happy marriage. It’s not often that we fall out and rarely over something as trivial as a restaurant.

So who was to blame for the ear-shrieking row that reverberated around the Combe de Lourmarin last Sunday night and the resulting disgraceful chocolate tart thrown on the floor, retaliatory yogurt arcing past its target (my wife) and splurging against the wall, behaviour?

Enter Nick and Kate - a couple of friends from university who were our guests at the time. It would be hard, no nearly impossible, to find two nicer, funnier, more endearing, generous people, and yet I have now worked out that the whole incident was all their fault.

We planned Nick and Kate’s visit very carefully, with the obligatory trip to the market, game of boule on the dusty drive outside our house, and of course visit to one of the finest local restaurants. Tanya and I had thought long and hard about our choice - La Petite Maison - to formal for a lunch with friends, La Fenniere unjustifiably expensive, L’Ardoise in Cadenet, perfect but shut. Finally we decided on La Closerie in Ansouis. It’s a restaurant that delivers exquisite inventive Provencal food at great value for money. We sat Nick and Kate down and told them our plans.

“Oh no, we don’t really want too much for lunch, perhaps just a salad, certainly only one course….”

None of the above describes a meal at La Closerie, so with a last minute change of plan I suggested Bistrot de France in Apt, unwittingly putting an otherwise happy marriage on the line. Café de France is one of those restaurants that you can forget about for months or even years at the time. Apart from the food it’s a totally unremarkable place sitting in a line of ersatz cafes on the main road into Apt. But every time I remember its existence I am seized by an irresistible urge to visit. Certainly the earthy cepe omelette I had there two years ago still lingers on the collective memory of my taste buds. Then there’s the green garlic salad, which accompanies every meal, and which seemed so appropriate for our apparently herbivore friends.

Nick and Kate approved the choice and half an hour later we arrived. There are few more disappointing sights in France than arriving at a restaurant on a reasonably warm day and finding the proprietor has decided to serve inside. Sometimes this is done to ensure the food and wine is served at the right temperature, but more often than not its through sheer bloody mindedness and laziness.

Knowing the proprietor of the Bistrot de France I am sure it is the former, because there are few chefs in the Luberon who take more pride over their food. In any event the terrace was dispiritingly empty, and when we looked inside, I was seized by a momentary sadness. The bustling brasserie full of old tables and chairs had had a make over. In it’s place was a dining room full of anaemic silver seats which wouldn’t have looked out of place in an airport terminal.

I looked at our guests and I saw doubt in their eyes. I looked at Tanya and she flicked her head towards the door. Stupidly I ignored her and we sat down. We then preceded to have some of the best food I’d eaten for weeks. The aforementioned garlic green salad woke up our taste buds. My scallops arrived sizzling in their own little brass saucepan with a garnish of bitter burnt mange tout and a garlic oil. The scallops were seared to perfection on the outside, and moist and melting succulent on the inside. Tanya’s fillet mignon to pork in a cepe sauce, was rich, succulent and hearty. Kate and Nick sticking to their promise of not eating very much ordered Pistou Soup and griddled red snappers. They munched happily away, reassuring me that I’d made the correct choice.

That impression didn’t last long. No sooner had our friends crunched down the drive on their way to the airport than the recriminations began. It was all amicable at first. A gentle disagreement over the prerequisites of a meal out with friends visiting from England. And I have to admit that Tanya has a point, for people who spend 300 days a year looking up in resignation at a rain filled sky, eating inside on a sunny day in the south of France is more than a little dispiriting. And there you have the dilemma that is Bistrot de France - ambiance vs. great food.

Take my advice wait for a sunny day and most importantly never ever ever overrule your wife, otherwise you may end up throwing a yoghurt pot at her.

Bistrot de France, 67 Place de La Bouquerie, Apt, 04 90 74 22 01

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