Everett Potter's Travel Report

La Table des Anges, Paris

Unfortunately it doesn’t happen very often, which is why I appreciate the very rare pleasure of spontaneously deciding to try a restaurant in Paris even more. As a food writer, you see, I’m obviously obliged to keep up with the latest new addresses, and since I don’t like going to restaurants on the weekend if I can avoid it–as a rule of thumb, Parisians generally cook or entertain at home then, which leaves the city’s restaurants to suburbanites or tourists, and I’m also too busy to go out to lunch, this leaves me five available meals per week to test the latest openings. This may sound adequate, but recently a whole week went by during which I didn’t find a single meal that was worthy of writing up here, even if only in negative terms.  

Yesterday, though, after we couldn’t get into “Mud,” which opened here yesterday, Bruno and I decided to go for a long walk after having spent a print-drunk day at home. Knowing that the fridge was bare, I hoped the Tunisian green grocer at the bottom of the rue des Martyrs would be open so that we could buy some asparagus and rustle up a simple dinner at home. But he’d already closed, so we keep walking up the rue des Martyrs with the idea of doing sort of a H shaped walk home. Along the way, I found myself regretting the two branches of Fuxia that have opened here–the food’s okay, but it is a chain, and also thinking that it had been a very long time since I’d last eaten at Le Cul de Poule, which was packed last night. The menu there didn’t really speak to me, though, and Bruno had already said he didn’t want to eat at a restaurant, so we keep moving, and then it started to rain again, so we stopped under the awning of La Table des Anges to wait out the shower, and of course I read the menu posted outside. It looked really good, and there was a reasonably priced 32 Euro prix-fixe, so I turned to Bruno, who said “Non” even before I’d opened my mouth. “Well, why ‘Non,’? We don’t have anything to eat at home, it’s getting late, I’m hungry, this place looks good.” “We still have some salad.” He could live on lettuce and other leaves, but I can’t and won’t so I told him I’d invited him to dinner and stepped inside.

La Table des Anges, Paris

Seated at a wooden table with Kraft paper place mats by one of friendly owners, who immediately brought us a complimentry serving of speck and salami to nibble while we studied the menu, I liked the look of this place. The exposed stone walls gave it a warm atmosphere, and the slicing machine by the chalkboard announcing the daily specials inspired confidence, too. Still, tempted though I may have been, I was not going to order langoustine risotto in a Paris restaurant I didn’t know–I’ve had good risotto exactly once in Paris during twenty-five futile years of trying, and so instead decided on the asparagus veloute and the brandade de morue, which is one of my favorite dishes. Bruno chose the homemade duck terrine and the quenelles de brochet (pike perch dumplings), and we ordered a bottle of Fleurie, a perfect Spring time wine, from the short but interesting wine list. Happily, the bright cherry-jam nose of the Fleurie dissolved whatever peevishness Bruno was still nursing over this impromptu dinner outing, and then things took a decided shift for the better when our starters arrived.

Studded with pistachios, Bruno’s duck terrine was homemade, beautifully seasoned (thyme, green pepper corns), generously served and accompanied by a ramekin of tangy onion jam. My froathy soup had a superb depth of flavor, too, and the bread served with these dishes was excellent crusty baguette with a lacy crumb and a faint perfume of wood smoke. I overheard the couple sitting in the corner across from us congratulating themselves for having found this place, too, and grinned as I watched the owner serving them each a complimentry tot of fiery hazelnut eau de vie that had been made by monks somewhere in the Yonne. I hoped we’d get to taste it, too.

Menu at La Table des Anges, Paris

Since brandade de morue, that sublime mixture of baked olive-oil lashed whipped potatoes, salt cod and garlic that’s perhaps best sampled in Nimes, can be a sorry business when it’s not made with real care, I hoped our luck would hold with the main courses. Ditto Bruno’s quenelles de brochet, which can be leaden and tasteless when made from industrial ingredients in industrial quantities. This apprehension surely explained Bruno’s alarm when the waiter revealed his enormous quenelle in a covered Staub casserole. As if reading his mind, however, he reassured Bruno that it was homemade and also explained that the accompanying sauce had been made with broth and a little cream but no flour. The quenelle’s delicate sauce was also garnished with mushrooms, carrots, baby onions and a potato. 

Potently garlicky and almost airy in its lightness, the brandade was superb, as was Bruno’s quenelle. When we claimed a well-fed pause before dessert, the owner returned to the table with two glasses of Fleurie from another producer, a thoughtful gesture, and we complimented him over his chef. “Thank you, yes, he’s very talented,” said the proprietor, who told us his name is Yan Duranceau, a young up-and-comer who has already worked at Le Grand Véfour, the Plaza Athénée and Taillevent.

Both of us finished up with fine slices of brebis d’estive, which is made by Christine Arripe at her Ferme de la Montagne Verte in the Ossau valley and shipped directly to this restaurant in Paris. The particularity of this rich but subtle ewe’s milk cheese is that it’s only made during the transhumance period from June to September in the up-mountain valleys of the Bearn. Not surprisingly, it has won a Slow Food label, and it’s just superb.

And finally, two slugs of that mysterious hazelnut eau de vie, which made our eyes water and tasted exactly the way a rafter in the attic of Burgundian barn might if you gave it a good lick–grass, dust, caramel, smoke, it was just lovely, and we walked home with the fuzzy happiness of having inadvertently discovered a delightful new everyday restaurant in our neighborhood embroidered with the warm halo induced by the monks’ skills with a still.

La Table des Anges, 66 rue des Martyrs, 9th, Tel. 01-55-32-24-89. Metro: Pigalle or Notre Dame de Lorette

www.latabledesanges.fr, Closed Sundays and Mondays. Lunch menu 16 Euros, prix-fixe menu 32 Euros. Average a la carte 45 Euros. 

   Alexander Lobrano was Gourmet magazine’s European correspondent from 1999 until its recent closing. Lobrano has written for almost every major food and travel magazine since he became an American in Paris in 1986. He is the author of “Hungry for Paris”  (Random House), his personal selection of the city’s 102 best  restaurants, which Alice Waters has called “a wonderful guide to eating in Paris.” Lobrano’s Letter from Paris runs every month in Everett Potter’s Travel Report. Visit his website, Hungry for Paris.(Photo by Steven Rothfeld)

The crowd at Bones, Paris

Last summer I had the insane good luck of going somewhere I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d see in this lifetime: Tasmania, the stunningly beautiful island which looks like a piece of Australia that snapped off and floated 150 miles south. Flying down to Hobart, Tasmania’s largest city, from Sydney to meet my friends Peter and Mike for a week’s exploration of this heart-breakingly gorgeous place, I sat next to a chatty lady who poured a tiny bottle of gin into her orange juice and told me she’d moved to the island from Melbourne a year earlier for ‘private reasons.’ And when I didn’t touch that bait, she changed course and went on and on about the island’s wonderful food and wine. I had, to be sure, heard friends in Sydney rave about Luke Burgess at Les Garagistes, but nothing prepared for me for the unselfconscious and sinewy genuis of the head-to-tail farm-to-table ethos of brilliant little restaurants like Ethos or the wonderful Pigeon Hole Cafe, which served me one of the best caffe macchiato I’ve ever had. To wit, the best young Australian chefs not only source as carefully and locally as possible, they grow and make as much of what they serve as they possibly can, and its the pervasive seriousness of Tassie’s artisinal food culture that ultimately makes the island such a superb place to eat.

Curiously enough, I found myself replaying these summer meals as I walked through the snow near Place Leon Blum in the 11th arrondissement the other night on my way to Australian born chef James Henry’s new restaurant Bones. Following my trip down under, I had a keener understanding of exactly why I’d liked Henry’s cooking at Au Passage, where I’d first come across him after he’d moved on from a stint at Spring, so much–he’s a quintessentially Australian chef in terms of his relationship with the produce he uses and his cooking and hospitality style, which is warm, direct, and completely unpretentious.

Chef James Henry of Bones, Paris

James’s food is very nice, too. For all of the forearm tatoos, dude strut and punk-rock sound-track (fun!), Henry is a damned serious eye-on-the-ball chef, which is why his constantly evolving prix-fixe menu is a challenge he lives up to.

 I really liked this flirty little hors d’oeuvre of shaved celery bulb with smoked trout and trout eggs, was happy to taste his griddled squid with baby onions and squid’s ink again (a version of same was on the menu at Au Passage), and his yellow pollack (lieu jaune, in French) with candy-cane carrots from potager princess Annie Bertin was very good eating, too, as part of his 40 Euro prix-fixe menu. The dish that really bore Henry’s signature, however, was the pigeon with kale–a big crinkly leaf of this still little-known in the Old World vegetable that was a sight for sore eye, and salsify with a punch-you-in-the-nose-mate sauce of blood, bird juice and gizzards; I loved it.

In fact I think Henry really likes giving his clients the bird, as it were, and when we had a chat, he told me that once he knows his following here better, he’d love to serve a lot more offal and other bits and pieces that might rough up a young French crowd that’s been slowly sucuumbing to one of the most heinous of all American vices–chicken breasts. The only reason I learned to eat–and love, snouts and feet and innards of all sorts is that I moved to France, so the idea that a younger French generation is becoming disaffected with barnyard eating is an honest heart-ache for me.

Since my date was flu-ish we skipped the cheese course from the Auvergne, and side-swiped dessert instead. A composition of almonds, coffe and lemon, it was just fine, but nothing memorable–I’ve never asked him, but I just don’t feel Henry to be someone who cares very much about the sweet end of a meal. Instead he’s all about the energy and agitation of getting the feed started and the almost literal blood-and-guts of making sure you’re well fed. So despite the fact that his cooking isn’t very precise and lacks the cool-operator suave of Louis-Philippe Riel at Le 6 Paul Bert, this place matters most as the launch pad for a young man who is quite certainly fated to become a very successful and well-known chef, whether this future unfolds in Paris or elsewhere. It’s also just a big sweet gulp of fresh air for anyone who wants Paris to ignore the 3 Bs–Berlin, Barcelona and Brooklyn, and coin its own idea of a grandly Gallic good time at the beginning of this new century as surely as it did the last one.

43 rue Godefroy Cavaignac, 11th, Tel. 09-80-75-32-08. Metro: Charonne or Voltaire. Open Tuesday-Saturday for dinner, bar up front is open from 7pm-1am. Prix-fixe dinner 40 Euros for four course, 47 Euros with cheese. www.bonesparis.com

  Alexander Lobrano was Gourmet  magazine’s European correspondent from 1999 until its recent closing. Lobrano has written for almost every major food and travel magazine since he became an American in Paris in 1986. He is the author of “Hungry for Paris”  (Random House), his personal selection of the city’s 102 best  restaurants, which Alice Waters has called “a wonderful guide to eating in Paris.” Lobrano’s Letter from Paris runs every month in Everett Potter’s Travel Report. Visit his website, Hungry for Paris. (Photo by Steven Rothfeld)

Le Grand Bistro Breteuil, Paris

For many years, Le Bistro de Breteuil has been a very well-liked restaurant in the silk-stocking 7th arrondissement due to its lovely location overlooking the Place de Breteuil, its charming sidewalk terrace for al fresco dining in good weather, and most importantly of all, its perfectly decent good value prix-fixe menu. For 42 Euros, you got an aperitif, starter, main course, dessert, half-bottle of decent plonk, and a coffee, and the quality was respectable enough so that it pulled as many staffers from UNESCO and parsimonious loden-wearing owners of those vast neighboring flats overlooking the ur-bourgeois Avenue de Breteuil as it did tourists. It was also a perfect place for any group dinner, because there wouldn’t be any tiresome haggling about who owed what, and offered some of the best people watching in Paris.

Now, restaurateuers Willy Dorr and his son Garry have rebranded this address, along with three of the other bistros they own, and the reboot means a new name, Le Grand Bistro Breteuil, and a new decor–out goes the sort of anonymous, inspired by one of those Louis somethings decor in favor of a louche lounge look that spins on a black, red and white color scheme and low lighting, an effect that comes off as both aspirationally Costes and urban Saint Tropez. They’ve also given the place a serious gastronomic gussying up in terms of a new 42 Euro menu that represents the apotheosis of a seemingly accelerating local trend towards giving a big shout out to one’s brand-name suppliers. So on the new menu at Le Grand Bistro Breteuil you get oysters from David Herve, vegetables from Joel Thiebault, olive oil from the Chateau d’Estoublon, cheese from Marie-Ann Cantin, Poujauran bread and butter from Jean-Yves Bordier. You can also order a steak, veal chop or pigeon sourced from star butcher Hugo Desnoyer for a 9 Euro supplement to the main menu, or content yourself with meat from Frank Samoyeau.

Terrace at Le Grand Bistro Breteuil

I have very mixed feelings about the branding game, since on the one hand, all of the people mentioned above do seriously excellent produce, and it’s extremely important to make people aware of all of the variables that can affect the quality and healthfulness of what they eat, and yet on the other hand, the whole branding business seems to be getting wearisomely out of hand. I mean even the lousy little menus on Air France now note the brand names of all the spirits, soft drinks and liquors they serve, i.e. Cola de Chez Pepsi, or some such. And the simple fact of the matter is that branding has always been designed to incite and assure loyal consumption of the branded product, whether its laundry soap, a hotel room, or, more recently, a restaurant meal. When it comes to cooking, however, you can stock a kitchen with all of the super-luxe pedigreed produce you like, but it’s sort of a lost cause, if the cook isn’t any good. And much more alarming than that, in some restaurants, branded produce seems to be intended as some sort of surrogate for real cooking. Or in other words, ‘Well, of course it’s going to be good! it’s Poulet Bio du 9eme Arrondissement d’Alec Lobrano (TM)!”

Anyway, I’ve never counted my chickens before they’ve hatched, and since they’re not going to as long as I’m living in Paris, I went off to meet a bunch of friends for lunch at Le Grand Bistro Breteuil with a lot of curiosity. Would this be an If-it’s-not-broken, don’t-fix-it story, or a substantial improvement to a deservedly long-running restaurant?

Well, I have to hand it to the Dorrs and to their culinary consultant, the charming and very talented chef Jean-Jacques Jouteux, since the food here is not only solidly good but even a little better than that for the fact of being made with such high quality ingredients. And the service is charming and well-drilled, too, which makes this place just the ticket for the very same demographic it so thoroughly pleased before being revised. To be sure, this is a meat-and-potatoes restaurant and not a place to come in search of cuisine d’auteur, and I also have a feeling that some of the locals aren’t going to like the rather flashy new decor. But putting that to one side, Le Grand Bistro Breteuil has been successfully retooled as a useful work horse of a restaurant for a century when Paris cooking is so auspiciously shading towards the locavore, organic and generally healthy. And hey, where else are you going to find black Hawaiian sea salt on the table without boarding the hot-air balloon of haute cuisine?

Girolles at Le Grand Bistro Breteuil

For an extra 4 Euros, I got a huge plate of French (as opposed to eastern European) girolles as a starter, an excellent buy in my book, while pals were delighted with their lobster Bellevue–a real Belle Epoque beauty of a dish, that one (+9 Euros); Thiebault vegetables with sauteed squid; and very good foie gras. None of these dishes bore any particular chef’s signature, but rather they demonstrated a well-disciplined kitchen, solid technical competence and honest respect for product.

Main courses were first-rate, too, including my perfectly cooked Desnoyer veal chop, an estimable grilled sole with beurre noisette, griddled sea bass with sauce vierge and a very good Desnoyer steak sauteed with Sarawak pepper. Appealing side dishes added to the festive, generous nature of this meal, too–you get a choice of potato puree made with Bordier butter, real frites, wok-sauteed Thiebault vegetables, sauteed spinach with green onions or arugula dressed with Chateau d’Estoublon olive oil and organic lemon. The house Bordeaux was just fine, and we hemmed and hawed over the dessert selections for a while, because there were so many things that sounded good. In the interest of research–visitors to Paris just love crepes Suzette, and I do, too, I ordered same, while the others had the daily special of baba au rhum, a superb tarte fine with organic apples and freshly made vanilla ice cream, and profiteroles with more of that just-made vanilla ice cream and Valrohna chocolate sauce.

So, great food? No, but good food, and with that swell terrace, late serving hours seven days a week, and a 19 Euro children’s menu, all I can say to the Dorrs is, shame about the decor, but hey, come on, baby, light my fire; this is a respectable and very useful restaurant.

   Alexander Lobrano was Gourmetmagazine’s European correspondent from 1999 until its recent closing. Lobrano has written for almost every major food and travel magazine since he became an American in Paris in 1986. He is the author of “Hungry for Paris”  (Random House), his personal selection of the city’s 102 best  restaurants, which Alice Waters has called “a wonderful guide to eating in Paris.” Lobrano’s Letter from Paris runs every month in Everett Potter’s Travel Report. Visit his website, Hungry for Paris. (Photo by Steven Rothfeld)

Le Bistro Urbain

Le Bistro Urbain

Then the good-value chalkboard menu proposed a lot of dishes that were a perfect bull’s eye in terms of the type of meal we were gunning for–exalted French comfort food. So three of us had the marinated salmon with an excellent remoulade sauce and a trio of freshly baked miniature rolls, and the third tucked into an excellent warm salad of deboned rabbit with rosemary on salad leaves. Though I had not gone to dinner with my professional food writer’s cap on, I couldn’t help but noticing that the food was really well sourced, and eventually asked one of the owners if he worked with Terroirs d’Avenir, the ur trendy and excellent super well-sourced provisioner to many of Paris’s best young chefs.

Like the magician who’s afraid that the audience might be on to how he pulled the rabbit out of his hat, he was initially startled by the question, but then answered with a nod and a grin while he scrutinized our table for a clue as to why we might know of this wonderful little company, a cook’s secret. Our main courses, by chef William Ransonne, ex-Les Parisiennes, were very good, too.

A busy night at Le Bistro Urbain

Bruno and Laurent went wild–with partridge and wild dove respectively, for a reasonable supplement to the prix-fixe menu, Carole was happy with her maigre, and I scarfed down a juicy onglet (hanger steak) served with baby potatoes and a creamy sauce of mustard, cream and deglazed meat juices.

Desserts were excellent, too–petit pot de crème à la chicorée (chicory flavored custard) and ravioles aux coings sauvages (dessert ravioli stuffed with wild quince), and by the end of our meal, we were in really good spirits. “This was a really good meal,” exulted Laurent, adding, “The food was great, but it’s also really wonderful see the renewal of the neighborhood bistro by a new generation of talented chefs and restaurateurs.”

It is indeed.

103 rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis, 10th, Tel. 01-42-46-32-49, Metro:  Gare de l’Est, Poissonnière & Château d’Eau, www.bistro-urbain.fr  Open Monday-Saturday for lunch and dinner, closed Sunday. Lunch menus 14.50-19 €, dinner menu 25-30 €.

 Alexander Lobrano was Gourmet magazine’s European correspondent from 1999 until its recent closing. Lobrano has written for almost every major food and travel magazine since he became an American in Paris in 1986. He is the author of “Hungry for Paris”  (Random House), his personal selection of the city’s 102 best  restaurants, which Alice Waters has called “a wonderful guide to eating in Paris.” Lobrano’s Letter from Paris runs every month in Everett Potter’s Travel Report. Visit his website, Hungry for Paris.(Photo by Steven Rothfeld)

Chef Katsuaki Okiyama of Abri

Two of the most interesting things going on in the Paris restaurant scene this rentree are the turbo-speed rate with which the 10th arrondissement continues to go gourmand and the wonderful acceleration of the internationalization of the culinary talent pool in Paris. As I’ve mentioned before, in much the same way that Paris has long been the global beacon for talent in the fashion business, it’s now attracting ambitious and talented young chefs from other countries in such numbers that it’s no longer a surprise to learn the chef who just cooked your dinner in Paris is Mexican or Italian or American or, most likely of all, Japanese. The Japanese, you see, continue to revere French cooking with a seriousness and passion that’s long since dwindled in other countries, and this is why talented young Japanese chefs come to France in droves to do apprenticeships in the country’s restaurant kitchens and also why so many of them stay on to open their own restaurants. It make great sense, too, since the the culinary cultures of the two countries venerate best quality produce, admire technicity, and are profoundly fascinated by aesthetics of everything edible.

Beet with tomato and crabmeat in miso dressing at Abri

Abri is located in the 10th

Millefeuille at Abri

Okiyama’s cooking was so excellent, in fact, that I was already a semi-ecstatic convert by the time dessert arrived. Instead of being just a sweet little P.S., however, it delivered an unexpected knock-out punch. We’re talking about the best millefeuille I just might ever have eaten–a magnificent rubble of delicately caramelized buttery brown pastry leaves garnished seconds earlier with vanilla-flecked creme patissiere and lazer fine slices of dried and fresh nectarine. This was easily the best happy ending I’ve enjoyed all year, in fact, and it underlined the 360 degree excellence of this miniature kitchen and its remarkably self-exigent high-performance staff. This inflection of charm, excellence and affordability won’t last long, so go now.

92 rue du Faubourg-Poissonnière, 10th, Tel. 01-83-97-00-00. Metro: Gare du Nord, Poissonnière or Cadet. Closed Sunday. Four-course lunch menu 22 Euros, six-course dinner menu 38.50 Euros.

  Alexander Lobrano was Gourmet magazine’s European correspondent from 1999 until its recent closing. Lobrano has written for almost every major food and travel magazine since he became an American in Paris in 1986. He is the author of “Hungry for Paris”  (Random House), his personal selection of the city’s 102 best  restaurants, which Alice Waters has called “a wonderful guide to eating in Paris.” Lobrano’s Letter from Paris runs every month in Everett Potter’s Travel Report. Visit his website, Hungry for Paris. (Photo by Steven Rothfeld)

The Lone Star, Barbados

By Ian Keown

“We have people come in off the beach and order caviar and a bottle of Chateau Lynch-Bages,” says Rory Rodger, manager of the Lone Star Restaurant on the fashionable Platinum Coast of Barbados.

Clearly, beach dining in the Caribbean has come a long way from the days when everything was grilled over charcoal on an upended steel drum.  Caviar, wraps and sushi now take their place alongside grouper Creole and beer from the bottle at driftwood shacks.  Today’s top beachside bistros come with tablecloths and quality china and often cater to expense-account executives who come in the front door while the sun-worshippers shuffle in off the sand.  Some of them are just so comfy and congenial the guests tend to hang out and make the restaurant their daylong base for fun in the sand.  “La Plage,” says owner Thierry de Badereau of his restaurant on St.Barths, “is a place where people come for lunch, stay through dinner, then go for a midnight swim.”

One reason for the upgrade in beachside dining has been the number of Michelin-starred and celebrity chefs who have decided to ship their talents from New York and Paris to the balmy Caribbean, as chef or owner or consultant.  The most recent high-profile example is the arrival of Jean-Georges Vongerichten on St.Barths to supervise cuisine at the ultra-chic Eden Rock, including Sand Bar, where the bikini-clad can now munch on whole wheat pizza with black truffle beside the island’s most photographed beach.

I’ve been tracking the shacks-to-riches story of Caribbean beach restaurants for more than quarter-of-a-century and after several calorie-defying missions to the islands I’ve distilled the possibilities to an elite selection that includes both the newsworthy and some longtime favorites.  Most of them have a few things in common: cover-ups are usually requested, except where the tables are set directly into the sand; they’re all open to the cooling trade winds – refrigeration is reserved for the kitchens; and they can all be entered directly from the beach – in other words, from towel to table in a few brisk steps across the sand.

Barbados, with its relatively prosperous executive class, has more than its fair share of these upgraded beach bars.  The Lone Star shares its white sands with luxury rental villas so you might find yourself  brushing past actor Hugh Grant or millionaire soccer stars.  A former garage (“Lone Star” was an early brand of petrol), it’s now a chic 4-suite hotel with a stylish dining pavilion decked with navy blue awnings, 24 ceiling fans and tables covered with double sets of cloths.  Thai Chicken and Blackened Dolphinfish share an eclectic menu with British/Bajan stalwarts like Leek & Herbs Bangers & Mash and Flying Fish Cutter.  The well-balanced wine list is sensibly priced — but that Chateau Lynch-Bages 2000 to accompany your caviar will set you back $820.  (246/419-0599; www.thelonestar.com; lunch 11:30-3:30 seven days a week; entrees mostly $14 to $28; spacious restrooms can double as changing rooms.)

An ideal location for lunch at Laluna, Grenada

On Grenada, Hotel Laluna brings a celebrity buzz to tucked-away Morne Rouge Beach (its cottages attract actors and fashionistas like Morgan Freeman and Jerry Hall) so the lunchtime pizza-and-sandwich menu struck me as something of a downer even for a thatch-roofed pavilion.  “It’s a lunch menu,” responds Italian owner Bernardo Bertucci, “if someone wants to order from the dinner menu, that’s fine!” Take him at his word and upgrade to Pappardelle Laluna or Thai Peanut Chicken Curry — they do more justice to the Richard Ginori china than a fish sandwich.  (473/439-0001; www.laluna.com; lunch 12-4, 7 days a week, year round; entrees $12-$24; showers, spacious restrooms).

La Plage, St. Barth's

Not surprisingly, St.Barthelemy is a prolific source of what the French call pieds-dans-l’eau dining with style and flair– but you may need a stiff cognac when you see the tab.  Restaurant La Plage, a tent-like setting right on the sands of iconic St.Jean Bay, serves up the kind of dishes you’d expect to find on the Cote d’Azur — Carpaccio de Betterave au Chevre and Feroce d’Avocat a la Langouste — each dish presented like a work of art.  Even the menu covers are color-coordinated with the pillows and cushions. (590/27 53 13; www.tombeach.com; open 7 a.m. to 10:30 p.m., seven days a week; entrees $30-$45; alfresco showers, spacious restrooms.)

Jacala, Anguilla

If the big news in beachside dining these days is the arrival of the estimable Jean-Georges on St.Barths, the newcomer that gave me the biggest charge is the new Jacala on Anguilla because it’s owned and managed by the former chef de cuisine and maitre d’ of the much-lauded but temporarily-shuttered Jo Rostang at Malliouhana Hotel.  Located on mile-long, restaurant-rich Meads Bay Beach, the building itself is an undistinguished, open-sided pavilion fronted with an open dining deck, so what makes Jacala so special is its polished service and refined cuisine. Jacques Borderon and chef Alain Laurent (hence, Jac-ala) both trained in some of France’s highest-rated restaurants and have now transformed their new beachside quarters into a French oasis with the kind of refinements that signal “class act.”  The butter is fresh (and chilled under silver toques, no less), breads are freshly baked, olive oil comes in dainty miniature cans and the presentation is meticulous.  Grilled Watermelon and Goat Cheese Salad drizzled with home-made balsamic dressing is a multi-tiered masterpiece of culinary refinement – and the perfect mid-day restorative.  Especially when topped off by a glass of Laurent’s home-made orange-flavored digestif.  (264/498-5888; open 10a.m. to 10p.m. Wed-Sun; entrees $12-$38; loungers and sunshades are “free for everyone, not just clients – we are not that kind of restaurant”; spotless restrooms are adequate for quick changes to cover-ups.)

Forget the sun, sea and sand — any one of these restaurants could lure me back to the Caribbean time and time again.

  Ian Keown is currently a contributing writer for Caribbean Travel & Life. Over the past 30-odd years his byline has appeared in Travel & Leisure (as a contributing editor), Gourmet (as contributing editor), Diversion (as contributing columnist), Departures, ForbesFYI, San Francisco Examiner, Worth and Opera. His guidebooks include his own series of lovers’ guides: Guide to France for Loving Couples, Very Special Places: A Lover’s Guide to America, European Hideaways and Caribbean Hideaways (which the Miami Herald called “the bible.”).   He is the recipient of the  Marcia Vickery Award for Travel Writing and the first Anguilla 40 Award for in Recognition of Outstanding Contributions to Anguilla Tourism.

Verjus

By Alexander Lobrano

Unfortunately, I was never able to book a place at The Hidden Kitchen, the running series of private dinner parties cooked and hosted by the hugely talented Braden Perkins and Laura Adrian in their Paris apartment, because I travel so often and these meals were so popular you had to commit weeks ahead of time. Many of my favorite dining companions in Paris had raved about both the food and the hospitality at these meals, however, and so it was with intense curiosity that I went to Verjus, the restaurant the couple have just opened in a passage linking the rue de Richelieu and the Palais Royal for dinner the other night.

Arriving, I loved this dining room immediately, since it overlooks the Palais Royal and the Theatre du Palais Royal just across the street through huge picture windows, and mismatched flea-market chairs were stationed at smooth oak tables. Somehow it didn’t really feel like a restaurant, though, maybe because the atmosphere was so much more relaxed, and because it quickly became apparent that all of the usual role play incumbent in dining out had been rather refreshingly jettisoned. I was mulling this over, in fact, over a flute of very good Champagne before dinner when Bruno said, “This place doesn’t really feel like a restaurant.” I asked him why. “They’re not doing all of the formality and rites of a restaurant,” he said. “Instead it’s kind of like being at someone’s house.”

We decided to order the four-course 55 Euro menu–the other option at this dinner-only address is the 70 Euro six-course meal, and a bottle of Jurancon Sec instead of the 30 or 40 Euro wine-option. Our meal began when Braden arrived tableside with an amuse bouche–two baked baby beets lightly sprinkled with caraway seeds on bamboo skewers in a shallow glass dish filled with froathy buttermilk. What I liked best about this debut was that this trio of flavors–so unexpected in Paris, astutely referenced the cooking of Central Europe–Poland, Lithuania and beyond.

Alexander Lobrano was Gourmet magazine’s European correspondent from 1999 until its recent closing. Lobrano has written for almost every major food and travel magazine since he became an American in Paris in 1986. He is the author of “Hungry for Paris”  (Random House), his personal selection of the city’s 102 best  restaurants, which Alice Waters has called “a wonderful guide to eating in Paris.” Lobrano’s Letter from Paris runs every month in Everett Potter’s Travel Report. Visit his website, Hungry for Paris.(Photo by Steven Rothfeld)

Darren Strand with a Maui Gold pineapple

Story by Tom Passavant

All photos by Karen Glenn

What would it take to tear you away from Maui’s gorgeous beaches? If you love good food, especially of the local and sustainable variety, I can now suggest several dozen reasons to put down the tanning lotion and pick up a knife and fork.

Maui is home to a booming food scene centered on the truly vast array of things that can be grown, caught, raised, and created on its 729 square miles—the second largest of the Hawaiian islands. In just six days recently, we tasted everything from the expected pineapples and macadamia nuts to local lamb, goat cheese, strawberries, and honey. We had out-of-season mangoes that were heartbreakingly luscious. And unexpected treats like egg fruit, chocolate sapotes, Surinam cherries, and Maui coffee. There was even a local organic vodka called Ocean, made with sugar cane and distilled sea water. When we return next year we might even get to sample Maui-produced blueberries and—believe it—olive oil.

To understand all this, a little geography lesson is in order. Maui is dominated by 10,023-foot Haleakala, a dormant volcano. Occasionally there is snow on top. Want to grow cool-weather crops like grapes? Just head up the fertile slopes. Need more rain for your bananas? Go east, towards the rainy windward coast. Now add a growing number of chefs dedicated to doing business with local farmers and fishermen, a vibrant Slow Food chapter putting on regular tastings and tours, and you’ve got one tasty food scene.

Local ingredients at the Flatbread Company

We started on the north shore, a few miles east of the airport, in the funky crossroads village of Paia. Once a town built on sugar cane, it’s now a seriously laid-back refuge for surfers and stoners. (I can’t vouch for the pakalolo, but the waves here are awesome, dude.) We could easily have spent a relaxing week here, inspecting the growing number of excellent art galleries and restaurants. Flatbread Company (808/579-8989), which pulls beautifully-charred pizzas out of its wood-burning oven, won a Friend of Agriculture award for using local ingredients. They even make their own chocolate sauce from Maui cacao. Across the street is the even more causal Paia Fish Market (808/579-8030), where the ultra-fresh catches of the day—often snapper, wahoo, and tuna—are charbroiled and served up as soft tacos or burgers. The Paia Inn (808/579-6000), set smack in the center of town, looks like a place cobbled together by footloose hippies, but has stylish suites and highly professional service. “When the owners built this place, they put in double-glazed windows and poured sound insulation between all the walls,” says Carly, one of the charming hosts. Paia Inn also has some freestanding bungalows running down to the beach.

After a peaceful night, we headed upcountry in search of the obvious: pineapple. A century ago, Maui was practically synonymous with pineapple. Today, smaller producers determined to offer a quality product can still make their mark. At Hali’imaile Pineapple Company, president Darren Strand told us that 70% of their sales are within the state of Hawaii. That said, if you send in an order from anywhere in the country, Darren or one of the other owners will go out in the field and pick an extra sweet, low-acid Maui Gold pineapple for you, then ship it via FedEx.

Surinam cherries

A few miles east is Makawao, an old ranching town that’s recently become a charming blend of upcountry and upscale. There are some fine women’s clothing boutiques and, every Thursday morning, a farmer’s market in a vacant lot on Baldwin Avenue. Maybe a dozen vendors show up with coconuts, papayas, bananas and—new to us–Surinam cherries. Our small bag of the tart, peppery fruits came from a Summer of Love veteran who grew them in her front yard. Makawao also boasts one of the best restaurants on the island. The two-year-old Market Fresh Bistro (808/572-4877), with a chef from New York’s Union Square Café, has made a big impression on Maui’s local food scene. Dinner one night included roasted leg of lamb from the slopes of Haleakala and fresh swordfish over a bed of spring onion risotto. Do not miss this place.

The next morning we left the Paia Inn at 7 a.m. for the drive to Hana. The Hana Highway is every bit as beautiful as advertised, 36 coastline-hugging miles with more twists than a Dan Brown novel. Hana itself is a zero-stoplight blip, but we were headed another five miles down the even-hairier road to what promised to be tropical fruit heaven.

Lily Boerner of Ono Farms

Lilly and Charles Boerner have owned Ono Organic Farms ( 808/248-7779) for 35 years. Every weekday at 1:30, by reservation only, Lilly or her daughter Autumn conducts a tour and an extensive tasting of whatever is ripe on their 50 lush acres. Sitting on the covered porch of the charming wood home, my wife and I bit, sucked, slurped, and chewed our way through 15 different fruits as Lilly regaled us with facts about the farm and how each is grown: Apple bananas, far sweeter than the dull variety back home. Intense papayas. Eggfruit, a dead ringer for creamy yams. Custardy chocolate sapote. Soft white rambutan. Jackfruit, guava, mountain apple, cacao nibs, coffee beans, honey and jams. It’s the Garden of Eden, totally off the grid except for a phone line. Sign us up.

After the long drive back, we were happy to bed down at The Old Wailuku Inn at Ulupono (808/244-5897), a 13-room bed and breakfast that dates to 1924. The plantation-era main house has been tastefully updated, the beds draped with fine Hawaiian quilts. Owner Janice Fairbanks mingled with an eclectic array of guests during the justly-famous breakfasts. One morning over French toast we traded notes with Bonnie Friedman, who leads food tours to Maui restaurants and farms. She also offers personalized Maui restaurant guides called Cuisine Confidential, which I highly recommend ( 808/242-8383).

By now, Maui’s beaches were definitely calling us, so we pointed our rental car for the west side of the island. First stop: Yee’s Orchard in Kihei, to stock up on the most fragrant mangoes on the planet, then lunch at year-old Star Noodle in Lahaina (808/667-5400). Not for nothing has sleekly hip Star Noodle, set in an industrial park above town, been nominated for James Beard Awards this spring, for Best Chef and Best New Restaurant in the Pacific region. The array of share plates and noodle dishes included a sparkling salad made with local fiddle head ferns, old-fashioned “fried soup” with thick chow fun noodles, and the finest tofu dish we’ve ever tasted, broiled cubes with sautéed local mushrooms and red miso.

As for the sea and sand, we chose Kapalua resort, on the lush northwest side of the island, for its peaceful setting and what we’d been told was an array of excellent, local-centric restaurants. This sprawling resort, with two famous golf courses, centers on a Ritz-Carlton hotel (808/665-7231) that’s very un-Ritz like in both its laid-back demeanor and emphatic commitment to Hawaiian traditions and culture. “We try to balance culture, commerce, and trust,” said Clifford Nae’ole, the hotel’s Cultural Advisor. He leads free programs that offer insight into native Hawaiian traditions and beliefs, including a large burial site whose presence required the original hotel location to be moved. Added Nae’ole, “The most rewarding moments for me are when tourists ask questions.”

We didn’t have time to try all the Kapalua restaurants, but we couldn’t resist the Pineapple Grill (808/669-9600), which last year was named the best restaurant on Maui by Honolulu magazine. Highlights included a slab of supremely fresh ahi coated with pistachios and wasabi peas, served with sautéed mushrooms—an umami-rich combination perfect with a pinot noir from their deep wine list. Oh, and the most luscious pineapple upside down cake ever.

Peppers in the Chef's garden at the Ritz-Carlton, Kapalua

But the real eyebrow-raising meal came at the Ritz-Carlton itself. The Banyan Tree dining room had been under the command of chef de cuisine Jojo Vasquez for just a few weeks, but he’d already made his mark. Dishes such as his ahi kampachi ceviche with green mango and coconut, and roasted hapu (a local sea bass) with island mushrooms and lemongrass foam showed both a delicate hand and a way with bold flavors. He’s planted a big new garden on the property, growing eggplants, peppers and lots more. “We’re about to convert a couple of the tennis courts to aquaculture, and raise fish,” he told us. Another net gain for food lovers.

For more information, consult the excellent website gohawaii.com/maui. Maui Revealed, by Andrew Doughty, is a very insightful guidebook that’s frequently updated at wizardpub.com.

Tom Passavant is a former editor-in-chief of Diversion magazine. Now a freelance travel and food writer based in Colorado and Hawaii, his work has appeared in Aspen Magazine, Gourmet, Four Seasons Magazine, Town & Country Travel, ForbesTraveler.com, Ski, Powder, Luxury Living, and many other places. He is the co-author of “Playboy’s Guide to Ultimate Skiing.” A former president of the New York Travel Writers Association, Passavant has won a Lowell Thomas Award for his travel writing and has served as judge for the James Beard Journalism Awards. See more of Tom’s work at TomPassavant.com.

Karen Glenn is a freelance writer, poet, and photographer based in Carbondale, Colorado. Her writing and photography have appeared in Diversion, McCall’s, Edible Aspen, Seventeen, Savvy, Good Food, Self, Aspen Magazine, The New York Times, Mademoiselle, and many other places. Her poem Nightshift was featured on NPR’s All Things Considered.