After two nights of disappointment in my quest for a nice dinner, I was determined to get it right. And I'd planned for this one, since I had taken the, for me, unusual step of booking a restaurant for tonight. I'd spotted an interesting candidate in my earlier searches, and when I happened past the place several days ago it looked like it would be a nice place. So I went in and made a booking.
I'm happy to report that I had a memorably good meal, so it was third time lucky for me.
Le Pipelettes - Restaurant Bistronomique is a tiny little place run by two girls: one takes care of front of house and the other works in the (open) kitchen at the back of the restaurant. It's almost more like dining at someone's house than at a restaurant, and I liked that. With ten customers the restaurant was about two-thirds full. The decoration is minimalist and I couldn't help finding the "chattering" decoration on the windows a bit tacky (I got to look at it during the entire meal, and it distracted me by forcing me to decipher what it said in mirror image since I was looking at it from the wrong side of the glass). It was also a little cool in the restaurant and with no visible heating, I wonder what it would be like in winter. During the evening, I couldn't help noticing that apart from the fact that I was the only single diner (not unusual) I was also the youngest person eating there. But the waitress and chef made up for that by making me feel quite old in comparison.
The waitress was easygoing and cheerful, had a stud through her lip, and looked like she was barely out of her teens. She did a terrific job looking after everyone throughout the evening. The chef looked no older than her partner and also did a great job: everything was nicely prepared, plated, and of course most importantly, was delicious. Even if it wasn't all something I might have chosen. You see, this little place had no menu; you ate what you were served. But the good part was that it was a "degustation" consisting of six courses. And not tiny little morsels on enormous plates like you might see in some appallingly expensive places; passing bite-sized snacks off as "courses". Not here. In fact this was almost too much in the other direction; we're talking six courses, each pretty much the size of a normal restaurant course.
Velouté de cresson avec crème à l'ancienne started the food service. I'd already begun the evening with a glass of Jurançon Sec, which was something new to me. I'd always thought Jurançon was (only) a sweet wine, but the dry variety was a revelation - particularly to me as an almost wine-is-red-by-definition person. This was a complex and interesting wine, with a rich almost orange colour. The soup, which had a dollop of crème fraiche infused with moutarde de Dijon (I think) in it, was served in a glass and it was good. If I'm going to be picky, I would say that the spoon it was served with was too big for the glass. Actually, while we're talking about cutlery, this is probably my other gripe about the place; the cutlery wasn't changed between courses, meaning that some flavours of the previous course risked finding their way into the subsequent course. I did what any good French person would do and wiped my cutlery on my bread (which of course I then ate).
I am forced to admit - and this blog contains the evidence - that I broke another of my restaurant rules: don't take pictures of your food. But I was very discrete about it and somehow it seemed like the right thing to do here.
Coquilles Saint Jacques followed. These arrived in their shells - of course - and instantly took me back to my three-week bike ride on the Camino de Compostela, the subject of most of the posts in this blog so far. An interesting connection. Not at all something I'd normally select on a menu, and so all the more interesting. And in fact, rather nice it was too.
Filet de Merlu, served on a risotto of white and black rice as well as linseeds followed, and I was impressed. Again, not something I'd be ordering, but here I was enjoying it.
Daube de Boeuf was prettily served in a miniature cast iron pot and it was delicious. Even better, I accompanied it with a very pleasant Syrah. Not a big wine to be sure, but interesting just the same.
After four courses it was time for desserts (plural, since the final two courses were both desserts). The penultimate course was a little tarte aux pommes which has an incredibly delicate pastry base and was nicely caramelised.
A meal like this would not be complete without some chocolate, and the final course was a gâteau au chocolat façon brownie, which was better than it might sound: moist, dense, rich, yet delicate.
At the end of the meal - something like two hours after I'd started - I had a chat with the the girls, complimenting them on the evening. There was the usual "where are you from" discussion, and they were suitably impressed to discover that I'd flown in from Australia just to eat at their restaurant. The restaurant had been going for just on nine months "it's like a baby" and the girls were clearly still very enthusiastic about the whole thing. I wondered if I should ask if they were the "chatterboxes" behind the name of the restaurant, but thought better of it.
I walked back through the cold, drizzly streets of Pau content and thinking that perhaps I might have eaten just a little more than I should have, but not regretting it for a second.
I'm happy to report that I had a memorably good meal, so it was third time lucky for me.
.jpg) |
| The Jurançon sec was a revelation |
The waitress was easygoing and cheerful, had a stud through her lip, and looked like she was barely out of her teens. She did a terrific job looking after everyone throughout the evening. The chef looked no older than her partner and also did a great job: everything was nicely prepared, plated, and of course most importantly, was delicious. Even if it wasn't all something I might have chosen. You see, this little place had no menu; you ate what you were served. But the good part was that it was a "degustation" consisting of six courses. And not tiny little morsels on enormous plates like you might see in some appallingly expensive places; passing bite-sized snacks off as "courses". Not here. In fact this was almost too much in the other direction; we're talking six courses, each pretty much the size of a normal restaurant course.
Velouté de cresson avec crème à l'ancienne started the food service. I'd already begun the evening with a glass of Jurançon Sec, which was something new to me. I'd always thought Jurançon was (only) a sweet wine, but the dry variety was a revelation - particularly to me as an almost wine-is-red-by-definition person. This was a complex and interesting wine, with a rich almost orange colour. The soup, which had a dollop of crème fraiche infused with moutarde de Dijon (I think) in it, was served in a glass and it was good. If I'm going to be picky, I would say that the spoon it was served with was too big for the glass. Actually, while we're talking about cutlery, this is probably my other gripe about the place; the cutlery wasn't changed between courses, meaning that some flavours of the previous course risked finding their way into the subsequent course. I did what any good French person would do and wiped my cutlery on my bread (which of course I then ate).
I am forced to admit - and this blog contains the evidence - that I broke another of my restaurant rules: don't take pictures of your food. But I was very discrete about it and somehow it seemed like the right thing to do here.
.jpg) |
| Souvenirs of the Camino de Compostela |
.jpg) |
| Filet de Merlu |
Daube de Boeuf was prettily served in a miniature cast iron pot and it was delicious. Even better, I accompanied it with a very pleasant Syrah. Not a big wine to be sure, but interesting just the same.
.jpg) |
| Daube de boeuf |
A meal like this would not be complete without some chocolate, and the final course was a gâteau au chocolat façon brownie, which was better than it might sound: moist, dense, rich, yet delicate.
At the end of the meal - something like two hours after I'd started - I had a chat with the the girls, complimenting them on the evening. There was the usual "where are you from" discussion, and they were suitably impressed to discover that I'd flown in from Australia just to eat at their restaurant. The restaurant had been going for just on nine months "it's like a baby" and the girls were clearly still very enthusiastic about the whole thing. I wondered if I should ask if they were the "chatterboxes" behind the name of the restaurant, but thought better of it.
I walked back through the cold, drizzly streets of Pau content and thinking that perhaps I might have eaten just a little more than I should have, but not regretting it for a second.
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