La Bonne Auberge: A Jewel in the French Culinary Crown

La Bonne Auberge  (The Good Inn) sits unobtrusively in a drab suburb of Forbach, France, so close to Germany you can only tell you’ve crossed the border when the roasty smells of wurst and beer disappear.  Suddenly, it’s France and just as suddenly the food changes, and you’ve left behind the tried and true meat and potatoes. My German friends won’t like to hear this, but you haven’t just stepped up a rung, you’re on a different ladder, surrounded by ambrosial clouds.  I always say, the French can teach anyone how to eat.  At La Bonne Auberge even the French can learn a thing or two.

In this small inn, one does not eat; one dines amid the tinkle of sparkling crystal and glint of polished silverware.  Awarded a Michelin Star some time ago, it’s never lost that distinction.

A word about the Michelin star system for American readers:  One Star:  So amazing, you will insist on telling even complete strangers you happen to pass on the street.  Two Stars:  It’s here where God’s angels gather for a meal.  Three Stars: God has a permanent reservation, and the waiters call him by his first name.  That’s according to those who do the rating. 

My rating system is different, but what do I know?  FYI:  I’ve visited many Michelin starred restaurants.  And what is it I look for?

My ultimate question:  Would I return, even if my credit card were full and my bank account low?  For La Bonne Auberge, the answer is:  Three thumbs up and the next round is on me!!

Another question:  Would I invite a friend to join me and still pick up the bill?  For La Bonne Auberge the answer is:  It would have to be a friend who not only knows what Dom Perignon is, but knows how to spell it.  In other words, a close friend and congenial gourmet, with table manners worthy of a prince or princess.

Still another question:  Would I walk away thinking I could have done better?  After a meal at La Bonne Auberge, the answer is NON, NON, et NON.

Want to read some more specifics about Michelin Stars?  http://www.andyhayler.com/star-system

Isabelle (standing), a woman with a compelling sense of color and design,  and Lydia, whose bright eyes and warm smile shower you with imagination, innovation and culinary courage.

Let’s get to the meat of the matter.  Two sisters, Isabelle and Lydia both own and run La Auberge, with help from significant others.  They began circa 1980 or 81, when Isabelle was 19 and Lydia 21.  To clean things up in your mind, Isabelle is the sommelier, and maître d’, and interior decorator.  Lydia is the innovative magician in the kitchen. 

In Lydia’s case, Chef is far too bland a word.  What she brings to the kitchen is ingenuity, imagination, and sensuality that take your breath away with each glance and each bite.

La Bonne Auberge is more than a restaurant, much more.  Part artist’s atelier, part elegance, part design studio, and above all a dining experience that leaves you speechless, as you eat and sip your way from one part of paradise to another, each step of which is narrated by Isabelle’s lyrical voice.

You think this is just a restaurant?  Are you mad?  Insane?  This is culinary heaven, a lifetime event.   Ok, now you’re sure I’m exaggerating.  Point of fact, the two old friends who took me to luncheon at La Bonne Auberge last visited the inn some 25-30 years prior.  We were greeted at the door as visiting royalty.  Yes, everyone remembered my friends’ names!  Of course, we got kisses on both cheeks and warm embraces on the way in.

As we were seated, our eyes swiveled at the wonder of the interior.  Aperitifs appeared.  Lightly flavored Crémant, Alsace’s delightful rendition of sparkling wine.

“My how the place has changed,” one friend remarked.  Yes, it has.  Old photo albums quickly appeared at our table.  Thirty years ago, the restaurant was beautiful and pleasant, but ordinary.  Now, Cinderella has turned into a princess.  Now La Auberge is an elegant gallery of art in all its many forms.  In addition to the incomparable foods and dishes, huge canvases, alive with color, fill every wall.  Statues and ceramics.  But, rather than go on raving like a man who’s just won the culinary lottery, I’ll let the accompanying photos speak for the artistry that is La Bonne Auberge.

New York, with skyline and Central Park

Every detail, even the chair covering is exquisite

I'll come back in the Spring and enjoy the garden.

No detail is too small for Isabelle's practiced eye.

An olive tree grows in the central atrium.

I dare not attempt to name all the dishes or ingredients from Séduction, the six-course chef’s selection on the extensive menu.  The six courses include at least three or four individual tidbits in individual sauces.  Sacre bleu! In the French manner, portions, small and dainty, politely graced our china plates. 

The American appetite always growls for more … and faster.  The American appetite is indescribably foolish.  Relax. Sip the wine.  Enjoy Lydia’s artistry, as she fills your eyes with wonder and treats your taste buds divinely.  Listen attentively to the elegant descriptions provided by Isabelle.  Savor the silky blends of flavors you had never even considered before today.

Too vague?  Ok, let’s look at the mushroom plate, which the French call Cep, the Italians call porcini, the Germans Steinpilzen, and Americans call, ‘them brown mushrooms with big caps.’  Even this simple fare is graced with aromatic sauces that bring alive the woodland wonder of freshness and flavor.

Or the shrimp plate.  Only three shrimp, but you cut them time and again, relishing the small bites that capture the flavors of fig and mint and others whose names are forever lost to my mental acuity, but forever remembered by my palate.

From left to right:  Foie Gras wrapped in pasta, minced beef with beef liver, chicken gizzards

Oh, hell yeah!  1995 come alive once more!

Sorbet, accompanied by desiccated eggplant (aubergine) skin, encrusted with sugar.

Smoked trout in a melange of diced fruit and vegetable.

How dare I so rudely cut into these works of art???  I dared.

When the meal ended, both Isabelle and Lydia and company joined us for a few minor miracles of sweetness to accompany tiny cups of espresso.  We lingered for another hour or more amid laughter and conversation.  Believe me, you will too! Push aside the Michelin ratings.  Banish them.  This is dining at it’s very finest, an enjoyment of food and friendship that will last a few hours, but cling to your memory forever.  La Bonne Auberge.  

After lunch sweets.

No, there is no Internet site.  Isabelle does not accept that a wonderful dining experience rests on the click of a mouse.  Call her.  Listen to her voice.  Let her listen to yours.  Start with the human contact that will lead you back to La Bonne Auberge again and fill your dreams in between.

‪15 Rue Nationale, 57350 Stiring-Wendel, France

‪+33 3 87 87 52 78

Even the color and design of the small rugs capture your attention.

An Inn you will never forget!

Le Schlossberg Restaurant - Ahhhh French Cuisine!

So, you foolishly think I confine myself to England?  Mas non, mesdames et messieurs!  Certainement pas!

I stray across other borders, into small towns, wine caves, fine restaurants, and as long as the money holds out and my trousers fit, I will continue to consume fine potables and nosh at tables that require no rush, and no qualitative guessing.

Just last weekend, my current girlfriend, who keeps referring to herself as my wife, and I visited Le Schlossberg Restaurant in Forbach, Alsace, France.

As the name implies, the restaurant shares a space up on a hill, in the castle in the center of Forbach.  The castle itself dates to somewhere in the 11^th or 12^th centuries, although wars and whatnot have led to considerable rebuilding.  The grounds are part of an expansive park, with rolling green slopes and slender trees that set the castle apart from the town and allow for a quiet, and restful repast, divorced from the traffic below.

We stumbled on the restaurant perhaps a year ago, a wrong turn, a fortuitous find.  It was closed at the time, but we always meant to go back.   Our first attempted return foolishly involved inviting friends to join us, and when that didn’t work out, we cancelled.  (We also crossed the so-called friends off our Christmas Card List, and left an anonymous tip on the drug abuse hotline.)

Months passed.  Maybe a year.  Who knows when you wash down a bottle of wine each night?  Well, maybe a fourth of a bottle.  I’m always aided by my ever-eager-to-help family.

Then one Saturday, I woke up fairly early, which is to say well before cocktail hour.  The sun was not shining.  After all, this is Germany.  But, it was not raining, or snowing, nor was there enough road construction to stop a determined column of Panzers.

You’ve heard of German efficiency?  Don’t believe everything you hear.  Stretches of major highways are sometimes down to one lane for months, or even years.  The famed speed limit-less autobahns slow to what you might find in Los Angeles during a riot, without the accompanying gunfire.

The road to Forbach, France lay open, clear, and without stagnation.  I’d been studying French and had that innocent swagger of confidence.  Bonjour, merci, au revoir rolling fluidly off my silvered tongue.

I always say the French can teach anyone how to eat.  No matter if you drop into a rowdy neighborhood bistro, or op for the elegance that comes with Michelin Stars, you’ll soon wonder how food can taste this good, or be presented so artfully.

 Bonjour! I said happily to the lovely woman who greeted us at the door. Deux personnes, s’il vous plaît.  No matter what, in France the first word out of your mouth must be Bonjour.

Always best to let the locals know with whom they’re dealing.  They soon found out.  French flew back at me like the sting of ricocheting shotgun pellets.  When under attack, stutter and stammer, or in my case, smile like an idiot and nod.  The waitress saw my problem, but treated me gently.  German? She inquired.  English? I countered.  She shook her head, as if to say, Messieur, this is a respectable restaurant.  I smiled as sheepishly as a schoolgirl being asked to her first ménage a tois.  German it is!  But, I also reserved the right to ravage the French language to the best of my ability.

French cuisine is frequently held as the gold standard and I’m often asked, “What’s different about French cooking?”

It’s been said, the three secrets to French cooking are butter, butter, and butter.

I have a different take.  My answer comes in just a few words:  Time.  Attention to Detail. Freshness.

Time:  Good cooking cannot be hurried and that means: neither cooked rapidly, nor prepared ahead.  Every sauce is strained and tasted time and time again, until the ingredients meld and the satin creaminess brings out the best of the dish.

Attention to Detail:  Every texture, flavor, and color is important to the French chef.  Every vegetable is prepared exactly, from peeling, to cutting, to cooking.  It’s arranged on the plate exactly, and cooked to bring forth both taste and aroma.  Meats ,fish, and vegetables will never be overcooked.  Even a ragout, in which the meat literally falls apart, is cooked to exactly the right point so that flavor is not lost.  Another part of detail is providing a blend of flavors and textures that tease and please the palate.  

Freshness:  A can has never seen a French kitchen.  As one French housewife put it, “I do not buy vegetables that do not have dirt on them.”  Fish never smell fishy because, freshwater or sea, they go from swimming to the pan. Breads and rolls are crusty outside, warm and soft inside.

French cooking may fool you into thinking you’re not going to get enough to eat.  Small to tiny portions dominate, but after several courses, unless your stomach was a donor organ from an NFL lineman, you’ll come away pleasantly pleased and politely satisfied.

A French meal is to be relished, discussed over wine, compared to delightful things in heaven and on earth.  A time of dining and conversation. Better than sex?  No, for the French, one is merely a continuation of the other.

Rather than ramble on, with the address, hours and other restaurant details you can quickly find on Le Schlossberg’s web site, just feast your eyes on photos from the best lunch I’ve had in a long time.   

(http://www.restaurantleschlossberg.com)

Even the table setting sports an elegance.

A bit of red vermouth as an aperitif.

An appetizer. From the left, dots of reduced balsamic vinegar, a broccoli compote, a red bell pepper compote.

The first course.  From the left, pear sorbet, stacked silky paté, coarse paté, the compote of figs

Velouté, one of the five classical French sauces.  This one is fish, with mussels, shrimp and thin sliced broccoli.

A main course.  scalloped potato tart, dimples of potato mashed with spinach, a row of sweetened red cabbage and finally, veal "in its skin," which is actually a Wellington style crust.

Dorada fish (bream).  Note the tiny vegetables around a scoop of creamy saffron rice.

A cheese plate to finish.  Green grapes, Chève cheese, Brie, Tomme, and Brouère. The first and third are goat cheeses.

Elegance even with the resting crystal.