Algernon Bastard

The northern ports—Norman and Breton towns—The west coast and Bordeaux—Marseilles and the Riviera—The Pyrenees—Provence—Aix-les-Bains and other "cure" places.

I propose to take you, my gastronomic reader, first on a little tour round the coast of France from north-east round to south-east, pausing at any port or any watering-place where there is any restaurant of any mark, and then to make a few incursions inland.

Calais is, of course, our starting-place, and here my experience of leaving the buffet at the Terminus and exploring in the town is that one goes farther and does not fare so well. The buffet at Calais always has had the reputation of being one of the best in Europe, and though the Englishman new landed after a rough passage generally selects clear soup and stewed chicken as his meal, it is quite possible to obtain an admirably cooked lunch or dinner in the room off the restaurant; and the cold viands, the cream cheese, the vegetables and fruit are all worthy of attention. The "wagons-restaurants" which are attached now to most of the express trains, no doubt have cut into the business of the buffet restaurant; but as a contrast to the ordinary British station refreshment- and dining-room the Calais buffet deserves to be mentioned.

Boulogne

At Boulogne there is a restaurant in the Casino, but I think it adds very little to the revenues of the establishment. Most people take their meals contentedly or discontentedly in their hotels, but the little restaurant on the pier, which used to belong to the widow Poirmeur but is now the Restaurant Garnier, with its miniature terrace and its windows which look out on to the waves when the tide is up, has an individuality of its own, and is one of the haunts of the gourmet who enjoys a meal with unusual surroundings. In the winter the little restaurant hibernates. If customers appear the wife of the proprietor cooks dinner or lunch for them, and cooks very fairly; but with the advent of summer a cook is engaged for the season, and it is a matter of importance to the sojourner in Boulogne whether that cook ranks as "fair" or "good." He generally is good. Fish, of course, is always fresh at Boulogne and generally excellent in quality, and the shell-fish are above suspicion—at least I never heard of anybody suffering from eating moules,—therefore a Sole Normande or any similar dish generally forms part of a dÉjeuner on the pier, and this with an entrecÔte and an omelette au rhum makes a fine solid sea-side feast. The buffet at the station, since it was taken in hand by the South-Eastern Railway, is not the dreadful place of ill-cooked food it used to be. At the terminus of the tramway which runs into the forest a little cabaret gives a simple meal, and the trip out and back is the pleasantest short excursion from Boulogne. At Wimille it is wise to inquire what charge the new hotel proposes to make before sitting down to a meal. Ambleteuse is another little watering-place to the north on the coast. Here the mid-day meal at the principal inn is lengthy if nothing else.

Following the coast along, Paris-Plage has not as yet developed any restaurant of note, and the inn at Etaples, which is the town on the railway whence the walk or drive to Paris-Plage has to be undertaken, is more famous for having given shelter to generations of artists, some of whom have paid their bills with sketches, than for its food, though some of the best prÉ-salÉ mutton in France comes from the fields over-flowed by the estuary at high tide. A goodly proportion of the shrimps and prawns one has to pay so highly for as hors-d'oeuvre in the restaurants of Paris come from Paris-Plage, Le Touquet, and their neighbour down the coast, Berk. Indeed, if any gourmet has a penchant for shrimps and asses' milk, Berk would be his paradise. TrÉport requires no description, but

Dieppe

is a place of importance, and in the days of the Second Empire Lafosse's Restaurant in the Grande Rue used to be one of the very best dining places in the provinces of France. Good cooking is now to be looked for from Cabois, 74 Grande Rue, from Beaufils, Rue de la Barre, and from Lefebvre, Rue de l'HÔtel de Ville. M. Ducordet, the proprietor of the Grand Hotel, who was the happy man chosen to supply M. FÉlix Faure with a banquet when he visited Dieppe, caters for the Casino and the Golf Club. The Casino restaurant is worthy of all commendation. The buffet at the Gare Maritime is above the average of buffets in its cookery.

The restaurant of the HÔtel ChÂteau at Puys, a mile and a half from Dieppe, is owned by Mons. Pelettier of local celebrity, who has collected an excellent cellar of wine.

At Pourville, two miles from Dieppe, Mons. Gras is responsible for the entertainment at the HÔtel Casino. The restaurant has a special reputation, made by "Papa" Paul Graff, who was formerly one of the many chefs de cuisine of Napoleon III., and who left the Tuileries to keep the hotel. The proprietor is very proud of his kitchens and larders, and is delighted to show them to visitors.

Havre

is one of the towns in which the Englishman or American crossing to Southampton or coming thence often finds himself for some hours. Tortoni's in the market-place has a reputation for good cooking, but judging from the two or three dinners I have eaten there, both À la carte and the table-d'hÔte one at 5 francs, the cookery is of the good solid bourgeois order, eight courses and a pint of wine for one's money. In days long gone by there used to be this footnote to the carte du jour at Tortoni's, "Les hors-d'oeuvres ne se remplacent pas," which was translated for the benefit of the English, "The out-of-works do not replace themselves." Tortoni's HÔtel Restaurant must not be confounded with the Brasserie Tortoni quite close to it, which is a bachelor's resort; but which I, as a bachelor, have found very amusing sometimes after dinner.

Frascati's Restaurant, an adjunct to the big hotel on the sea-shore, is the "swagger" restaurant of the place, and many a man who has come over by the midnight boat and has stayed for a bathe and a meal at Frascati's before going on to Paris by the mid-day train has breakfasted there in content. The Ecrevisses Bordelaises, the CroÛtes aux Champignons, the Salade Russe here have left me pleasant memories. In the winter the chef retires to Paris or elsewhere, and the restaurant is not to be so thoroughly trusted; and sometimes when a crowd of passengers are going across to Southampton by the night boat to catch an American steamer, I have found the attendance very sketchy, owing to the waiters having more work than they can do satisfactorily. The restaurant is in the verandah facing the sea.

So much from my own experience. Other people with larger knowledge all have a good word to say for Frascati's, but all a word of caution as to its prices. It is wise to look at the price of the champagnes, for instance, before giving an order. The official dinners at Havre are always given at Frascati's, and it is here that the British colony holds its annual banquet on the King's birthday. I append a menu of a dinner of ceremony at Frascati's which, though it is miles too long, is a very noble feast:—

Tortue claire À la FranÇaise.
CrÈme Du Barry.
Rissoles Lucullus.
Caisses de laitances Dieppoise.
Barbues dorÉes À la Vatel.
Selle de Chevreuil Nemrod.
Poularde du Mans CambacÉrÈs.
Terrines d'HuÎtres À la Joinville.
Cailles de vigne braisÉes Parisienne.
GranitÉs À l'Armagnac.
Faisans de CompiÈgne rÔtis.
Truffes au Champagne.
Salade ChrysanthÈme.
Pains de pointes d'Asperges À la CrÈme.
Turbans d'Ananas.
Glace Frascati.
Dessert.

The HÔtel de Normandie is another hostel at which the cooking is good and the wines excellent. This is a menu of a table-d'hÔte dÎner maigre served there on Good Friday, and it is an excellent example of a meal without meat:—

Bisque d'Ecrevisses.
Reine Christine.
Filets de Soles Normandy.
Nouillettes Napolitaine en Caisse.
Saumon de la Loire Tartare.
Sorbets SuprÊme FÉcamp.
Coquille de Homard À l'AmÉricaine.
Sarcelles sur CanapÉ.
Salade panachÉe.
Asperges d'Argenteuil Mousseline.
Petits Pois au Sucre.
Glace Quo Vadis.
Petits Fours. Corbeille de Fruits.
Dessert.The cooking at the Continental Hotel is reported as being good, but its wine-list does not meet with so much praise. The Burgundies, red and white, at the HÔtel du Bordeaux are highly praised.

One of my correspondents sends me an account of Perrier's, a little restaurant, which I give in his own words. "The quaintest and most original place in Havre is a little restaurant on the quay, opposite where the Trouville boats start from. It is known equally well as 'PÉrier's' or the Restaurant des Pilotes. It is kept by one Buholzer, who was at one time chef at Rubion's in Marseilles. He afterwards was chef on one of the big Transatlantique boats, where he learnt to mix a very fair cocktail. The entrance is through a tiny cafÉ with sanded tiled floor. Thence a corkscrew staircase leads to a fair-sized room on the first floor. All the food you get there is excellent, and Bouillabaisse or Homard À l'AmÉricaine 'constructed' by the boss, is a joy, not for ever, but in the case of the first named, for some time. The house does not go in for a very varied selection of wines, but what there is is good. Ask for their special roll." The same correspondent goes on to tell me that the proprietor of the Broche À RÔtir at St-Adresse, who used to be his own chef, and attained much local celebrity, has sold the goodwill, but that the place is still to be commended, and that BÉquet of the Restaurant BÉquet can, if he likes, cook the best dinner in the department; but that you must find him in the mood.

Of cafÉs in Havre, the CafÉ Prader, near the theatre, and the Paris are the two where the drinkables are sure to be of good quality.

Rouen

At Rouen the gourmet has a right to expect the Caneton Rouennaise and the Sole Normande to be cooked to perfection; and outside the hotels, some of which have excellent cooking, there is a restaurant, the FranÇais, in the Rue Jacques le Lieur, a street which runs behind the HÔtel d'Angleterre, parallel to the Quai de la Bourse. Of course the Rouen duck is not any particular breed of duck, though the good people of Rouen will probably stone you if you assert this. It is simply a roan duck. The rich sauce which forms part of the dish was, however, invented at Rouen. The delights of the Sole Normande I need not dilate on. A good bottle of Burgundy is the best accompaniment to the duck. The Restaurant de Paris, in the Rue de la Grosse Horloge, is a very cheap restaurant, where you get a great deal to eat at dinner for 2 francs, and where you will find the Choux Farcies and other homely dishes of Normandy as well as the excellent little cream cheeses of the country.

Crossing the Seine, one is in the land of cider and Pont l'EvÊque cheese. At Honfleur you will find a very good table-d'hÔte at the old-fashioned Cheval Blanc on the Quai; and at the Ferme St-SimÉon up on the hill, in beautifully wooded ground, there is to be obtained some particularly good sparkling cider. Honfleur has a special reputation for its shrimps and prawns.

Trouville Deauville

During the Trouville fortnight, when all the world descends upon Trouville, the various big hotels and the Casino have more clients than they really can cater for. At the Roches Noires one is likely to be kept waiting for a table, and at the Casino a harassed waiter thrusts a red mullet before one, when one has ordered a sole. The moules of Trouville are supposed to be particularly good, and also the fish. There are table-d'hÔte meals at the restaurants of the Helder and De la Plage, the second being the cheaper of the two, and food is to be obtained at the little CafÉ Restaurant on the edge of the promenade des planches. But Trouville in the season may be taken to be exiled Paris in a fever, half as expensive again, and not half so "well done."

Of the little bathing-places immediately east of Trouville—Houlgate-Beuzeval, Dives, Cabourg—there is little or nothing to say. At Cabourg the HÔtel des Ducs de Normandie has some kiosks with a full view of the sea, where it is pleasant to breakfast, and the Casino can always be taken for granted as a pis aller at all these little bathing-places. The quaintness of the old inn Guillaume le ConquÉrant at Dives counts for something, and the 5 franc table-d'hÔte dinner there is good of its kind.

Caen

Tripes À la mode de Caen may be a homely dish but it is not to be despised, and it can be eaten quite at its best in the town where it was invented. I have eaten it with great content at a bourgeois restaurant, opposite to the Church of St-Pierre, the Restaurant PÉpin, if my memory serves me rightly, and a Sole Bordeaux to precede it. The proprietor, M. Chandivert, was very anxious that I should add a Caneton Rouennaise to the feast, but I told him that "to every town its dish." He gave me a capital pint of red wine, and impressed on me the fact that he had obtained a gold medal at some exhibition for his andouillettes. Caen is the town of the charcutiers, and you may see more good cold viands shown in windows, in a walk through its streets, than you will find anywhere else outside a cookery exhibition. Caen is an oasis in the midst of the bad cookery of Western Normandy; and the restaurant at the HÔtel d'Angleterre and the Restaurant de Madrid are very much above the average of the restaurant of a French country town. In both restaurants you can dine and breakfast in the shade in the open air, the Madrid having a good garden, the Angleterre a great tent in the courtyard,—a welcome change from the stuffy rooms, full of flies, of most Normandy hotels. I have a most pleasant memory of a Homard AmÉricaine, cooked at the HÔtel d'Angleterre, which was the very best lobster I ever ate in my life. The old chef who made the fame of the Angleterre has retired, but his successor is said to show no falling off in the art of preparing a good dinner. I would suggest to the wayfarer to breakfast in the garden of the Madrid and dine at the Angleterre. There is a little restaurant, A la Tour des Gens d'Armes, on the left bank of the canal which is much frequented by students, and where an al fresco lunch is served at a very small price. The food is good for the money, and there is always a chance of finding some merry gathering there. A note of warning should be sounded as to the cider and vin ordinaire supplied as part of the table-d'hÔte dinners in Caen, and indeed everywhere in Normandy. There is almost invariably good cider to be had and good wine on payment, but the cider and wine usually put on the table rival each other as throat-cutting beverages. Vieux Calvados is an excellent pousse cafÉ. It reads almost like a fairy-tale to be able to recount that the delicious oysters from the coast-villages of Ouistreham and Courseulles can be bought at 50 centimes the dozen or very little more.

Cherbourg

This calling-place for Atlantic steamers is a very likely place for the earnest gourmet to find himself stranded in for a day, and I regret that there is no gastronomic find to report there. A most competent authority writes thus to me on the capabilities of the place:—

"There are no restaurants, in the true sense of the word, in Cherbourg.

"The leading hotel, where most of the people go, and which is the largest, with the best cuisine and service, is the HÔtel du Casino. This hotel is managed by Monsieur Marius, and though partially shut during the winter season, travellers can always get a good plain dinner there. During the summer season, that is from May till October, the hotel is fully open, and has a petits chevaux room, entry free of course, and also good military music in the gardens, twice a week. The gardens are also very prettily illuminated very often, whilst from time to time firework displays help to pass away the evenings. The dining-hall faces the only nice portion of beach in the town, and being entirely covered in with glass, is warm in winter and cool in summer, when it can all be open. The meals are usually table-d'hÔte, but it is possible also to order a dinner if one prefers to do so. Here also the traveller will find a little English spoken among the waiters and management, which may be useful to him. The wines are pretty good, but there is no very special brand for which the place is known; also good Scotch and Irish whisky can be obtained at a reasonable price; the hotel does not boast of any special plat either.

"The HÔtel de France, another fair-sized hotel, is the one patronised mostly by the naval and military authorities of the town, but is not so amusing a place for the traveller to stay at or dine at; though I understand that the dinner to be obtained there is in every way satisfactory.

"Finally, I might mention two other hotels at which one can dine comfortably; these are the HÔtel d'AmirautÉ and the HÔtel d'Angleterre, at both of which a good plain dinner is served.

"The chief joint obtainable here to be recommended is of course the mutton, as Cherbourg is noted for its prÉ-salÉ all over France; but beyond this the food is of the usual ordinary kind to be obtained in most French towns of this size."

M. Roche, who made a little fortune in London in Old Compton Street, has taken a little hotel near Granville, and as he learned cooking under Frederic of the Tour d'Argent, he may be depended upon for an excellent meal.

Breton Resorts

Of the land of butter and eggs I have not much to write. Correspondents at St-Malo say a good word of the feeding both at the HÔtel de l'Univers and the HÔtel du Centre et de la Paix; but I cannot speak of either of these from personal knowledge, nor do I know anything of Dinard, though it is said that the best cookery in the province is found there. Cancale of course has its oyster-beds, and the esculent bivalve can be eaten within sight of the mud-flat on which it erstwhile reposed. The one restaurant in this part of the world for which every one has a good word is that of Poulard AÎnÉ at Mont St-Michel, where there is a cheap table-d'hÔte and where a good meal À la carte is also to be obtained.

Artichokes, prawns, potatoes, langouste, eggs, lobsters, crabs, are good all along the Breton coast; and at Quimper, at the HÔtel de l'EpÉe, you can—if you are in luck—get fresh sardines.

Here is a typical Breton menu, one of the meals at the HÔtel des Bains de Mer, Roscoff:—

Artichauts À l'Huile.
Pommes de terre À l'Huile.
Porc frais froid aux Cornichons.
Langouste Mayonnaise.
Canards aux Navets.
Omelette fines Herbes.
Filet aux Pommes.
Fromage À la CrÈme.
Fruits, biscuits, etc.
Cidre À discrÉtion.

This is rather a terrible mass of food ranged in the strangest order, but I insert it to show the traveller in Brittany that he need never think his meal ended when he reaches the omelette, and that he had better take a gargantuan appetite with him.

Apart from being a good homely place to stay at, La Villa Julia at Pont Aven is worth a visit, for it has been the temporary home of many of the greatest French painters, notably poor Bastien Lepage. They are welcome, and are provided with studios, only being charged 5 francs a day "pension." "The country is charming" writes an enthusiastic correspondent "and one lingers there, and the food is excellent. Even were it not, dear old Mlle. Julia is worth a journey. She is one of the most delightful of French landladies. In the old inn the walls of one large room are covered with pictures and sketches given her by her chers artistes."

Brest

This great naval town has better cafÉs than it has dining or lunching places; the CafÉ Brestois in the Rue de Siam, and the Grand CafÉ in the same street being both good. Besides the restaurants attached to the HÔtels des Voyageurs, Rue de Siam, Continentale, and de France in the Rue de la Mairie, there are the Restaurant Aury and the Brasserie de la Marine, both on the Champ de Bataille, but I have no details concerning them.

Skipping Nantes as being out of the route of the Anglo-Saxon abroad, though in the Place Grasselin the FranÇais and the Cambronne both deserve a word, and the Plages d'OcÉan which lie between Nantes and Bordeaux as being purely French, though Rochefort has a European reputation for its cheese, and Marennes for its oysters, I step down from the platform to make room for my co-author A.B., who will take up the parable as to

Bordeaux

Bordeaux is, of course, the home of claret, and good feeding goes with good liquor, the combination being essential. The result is that here you can procure a good dinner with the best of wines, which being consumed, so to say, on the spot where they have matured, are in perfection both as to flavour and condition.

The HÔtel Restaurant du Chapon Fin, under the management of MM. Dubois and Mendionde, is perhaps the best in the town. Here an excellent dinner À la carte is to be had and the service is trÈs soignÉe. The cellar comprises the finest wines of the Gironde, Lafite, Haut Brion, Latour, Margaux Leoville, etc., with Pommery, Mumm, Cliquot as champagnes. But to my idea, any one asking for champagne at Bordeaux would order a pork pie at Strasbourg. The Chapon Fin is fairly expensive, but good food and good Lafite are not given away. The appointments of the hotel are excellent.

The CafÉ de Bordeaux is a more popular establishment with brilliant decorations, and if you do not wish for an À la carte dinner, you are provided with a very good "set" dÉjeuner for 4 francs. Dinner can be had for 5 francs, with a concert thrown in.

Another good hotel and restaurant with fairly moderate terms is the Bayonne, also boasting of a fine cellar of wine and service À la carte. In fact many people aver that at the Bayonne one can get as good if not a better dinner than at any other restaurant in Bordeaux.

The HÔtel des Princes et de la Paix has the Restaurant Sansot attached to it, which is quite good.

The Restaurant de Paris, situated on the lovely Promenade des AllÉes de Tourny, is a first-class establishment with very moderate prices, where a capital dÉjeuner can be obtained for 2 francs 50 centimes, or a dinner for 3 francs. The proprietor, Mons. Debreuil, was chef at some of the best cafÉs in Paris, and he has a clientÈle of many well-known epicures in Bordeaux.

All these restaurants have saloons for private parties in case you require them.

The principal spÉcialitÉ of Bordeaux, besides claret, is lampreys, which, when cooked À la Bordelaise, are about as rich and luscious a dish as a most ardent candidate for a bilious attack can desire. If you are there in the autumn, don't forget to order CÈpes À la Bordelaise.

To the above of my worthy confrÈre, I would only add that the Chapon Fin is a winter garden, somewhat resembling the Champeaux Restaurant in Paris; there are rockeries and ferns, and a great tree-trunk runs up to the roof, the foliage and branches being no doubt outside. A speciality is the Potage Chapon Fin, a vegetable soup which is excellent. The restaurant of the Bayonne is in a great conservatory. Judging from the few meals I have eaten at each, I should class the Chapon Fin and the Bayonne as being equal in cookery. The first floor of the CafÉ de Bordeaux is now decorated with mirrors and white walls, after the manner of the chic Parisian restaurants, but the Englishman who wishes to drink whisky and soda there—an unholy taste in a wine country—and who demands a special brand and Schweppe's soda, should ask how much he is going to be charged for it before he commits himself.

Arcachon

Of cooking at Arcachon there is nothing in particular to be said. The place has a celebrity for its oyster-beds, and a great number of the oysters we eat in England have been transplanted from the bay at Arcachon to the beds in British waters.

Biarritz

The average of cookery in the hotels at Biarritz is very good, for the competition is very keen, and as money is spent by the handful in this town on the bay where the Atlantic rolls in its breakers, any hotel which did not provide two excellent table-d'hÔte meals would very soon be out of the running. In the basement of the building in which is the big Casino, "Mons. Boulant's Casino," as the natives call it, is a restaurant where a table-d'hÔte lunch and dinner are served; but the restaurant of Biarritz is the one which Ritz has established on the first floor of the little Casino, the Casino Municipal, where one breakfasts in a glazed-in verandah overlooking the Plage and the favourite bathing-spot, and at dinner one looks across to the illuminated terrace of the other Casino. The decoration of this restaurant is of the simplest but at the same time of the most effective kind, being of growing bamboos which form green canopies above the tables. Biarritz depends but little on the surrounding country for its food, as the Pays Basque gives few good things to the kitchen. Fish is the one excellent thing that Biarritz itself contributes to all the menus, and the Friture du Pays is always excellent. Here is a menu of a little dinner for three at the Ritz. The Minestrone is an excellent Italian soup (which, by the way, Oddenino of the Imperial in London makes better than I have tasted it anywhere else out of Italy); the veal, I fancy, came from Paris, the ortolans from the far south:—

Melon.
Minestron Milanaise.
Friture du Pays.
CarrÉ de Veau braisÉ aux CÈpes.
Ortolans À la broche.
Salade de Romaine.
Coupes d'Entigny.

I have not kept any bill for this, but I know that I regarded the total as moderate in a town where all things in September are at gambler's prices. The Royalty, in the main street at Biarritz, is the afternoon gathering place for the young bloods, who there drink cooling liquids through straws out of long tumblers, while the ladies hold their parliament at tea-time in Miremont the confectioner's.

Marseilles

Once more I step down from the platform to give place to my colleague A.B.

Two of the best hotels in Marseilles, with restaurants attached to them, are the Noailles and the HÔtel du Louvre; the latter is owned and supervised by Mons. EchÉnard, who with Mons. Ritz helped to create the popularity of the Savoy Restaurant in London, and is also his coadjutor in the management of the Carlton Restaurant; it is needless to remark that any cuisine that Mons. EchÉnard takes in hand is worthy of attention. Mons. EchÉnard has lately acquired the RÉserve at Marseilles—a very pretty cafÉ and garden about half-an-hour's drive from the CannebiÈre, along the Corniche Road; it stands in a commanding position, with a lovely view of the bay and the surrounding mountains. It has furnished apartments attached to it, and for any one having to stay at Marseilles, either while waiting for the Messageries Maritimes liner or for the arrival of a yacht, it is infinitely preferable to the hot, stuffy town, and would be an excellent winter quarter. Like many similar seaside cafÉs abroad, it has its own parc au coquillages or shell-fish tanks, and you here get the world-renowned Bouillabaisse in perfection.

The best shell-fish are the praires and the clovisses, about the same size as walnuts or little neck clams; the clovisses are the largest, and rather take the place of oysters when the latter are not in season, in the same way the clam does in America; others are mussels, oysters, and langoustes. Langoustes differ as much as a skinny fowl from a Poularde de Mans. Mons. EchÉnard gets his from Corsica, and you then learn how they can vary. He has also a Poularde RÉservÉ en Cocotte Raviolis, which is a dish to be remembered; and a small fat sole caught between HyÈres and Toulon is not to be despised.

I am free to confess that the Tutti Frutti de la Mare, or stew consisting of the many lovely and variegated small fish that are caught in those waters, has no charm for me. Personally, I would as soon eat a surprise packet of pins, but of course, chacun À son goÛt. Anyway, if you are stranded in Marseilles for an afternoon or longer, you could go to many a worse place than the RÉserve.

I suppose it is not necessary for me to add to A.B.'s discourse any description of what Bouillabaisse is, or how the Southerners firmly believe that this dish cannot be properly made except of the fish that swim in the Mediterranean, the rascaz, a little fellow all head and eyes, being an essential in the savoury stew, along with the eel, the lobster, the dory, the mackerel, and the girelle. Thackeray has sung the ballad of the dish as he used to eat it, and his rÉcette, because it is poetry, is accepted, though it is but the fresh-water edition of the stew. If you do not like oil, garlic, and saffron, which all come into its composition, give it a wide berth. The Brandade, which is a cod-fish stew and a regular fisherman's dish, is by no means to be despised.

Before leaving the subject of Marseilles and its cookery and restaurants, let me record the verdict of a true gourmet and Englishman who always lives the winter through in Marseilles. He writes me that in Marseilles itself there are no restaurants worthy of the name, the best being Isnard's (HÔtel des PhocÉens), Rue Thubaneau, and another good one that of the HÔtel d'OrlÉans, Rue Vacon, where the proprietor and the cook are brothers and charming people.

Those adventurous souls who wish to eat the fry of sea-urchins and other highly savoury dishes, with strange shell-fish and other extraordinary denizens of the deep as their foundation, should go to Bregaillon's at the Vieux Port. It is necessary to have a liking for garlic and a nose that fears no smells for this adventure; but if you bring your courage to the sticking point, order a dozen oursins, a petit poÊlon, which is a tournedos in a casserole, and a grive. Cassis is the white wine of the house; and it has some good ChÂteau Neuf de Pape.

Cannes

Cannes is the first important town of the Riviera that the gourmet flying south comes to, and at Cannes he will find a typical Riviera restaurant. The RÉserve at Cannes consists of one glassed-in shelter and another smaller building on the rocks, which juts out into the sea from the elbow of the Promenade de la Croisette. The spray of the wavelets set up by the breeze splash up against the glass, and to one side are the Iles des Lerins, St-Marguerite, and St-Honorat, where the liqueur Lerina is made, shining on the deep blue sea, and to the other the purple Montagnes de l'Esterel stand up with a wonderful jagged edge against the sky. Amongst the rocks on which the building of the restaurant stand are tanks, and in these swim fish, large and small, the fine lazy dorades and the lively little sea-gudgeon. One of the amusements of the place is that the breakfasters fish out with a net the little fishes which are to form a friture, or point out the bigger victim which they will presently eat for their meal. The cooking is simple and good, and with fish that thirty minutes before were swimming in the green water, an omelette, a simple dish of meat, and a pint of Cerons, or other white wine, a man may breakfast in the highest content looking at some of the sunniest scenes in the world. There is always some little band of Italian musicians playing and singing at the RÉserve, and though in London one would vote them a nuisance, at Cannes the music seems to fit in with the lazy pleasure of breakfasting almost upon the waves, and the throaty tenor who has been singing of Santa Lucia gets a lining of francs to his hat. Most of the crowned heads who make holiday at Cannes have taken their breakfast often enough in the little glass summer-house, but the prices are in no way alarming. The ladies gather at tea-time at the white building, where Mme. Rumplemayer sells cakes and tea and coffee; and the Gallia also has a clientÈle of tea-drinkers, for whose benefit the band plays of an afternoon.

Nice

At Nice the London House is one of the classical restaurants of France, and one may talk of it in comparison with the great houses of the boulevards of the capital. I am bound to confess that the great salon with its painted panels, its buffet and its skylight screened by an awning, is not a lively room; but the attendance is quiet, soft-footed, and unhurried, and the cooking is distinctly good. It has of course its spÉcialitÉs du maison, and classical dishes have been invented within its walls; but the man who wants to take his wife out to dine, and who is prepared to pay a couple of sovereigns for the meal, will find that he need not exceed that amount. Here is the menu of a little dinner for two which I ordered last winter at the restaurant. With a pint of white wine, a pint of champagne, a liqueur, and two cups of coffee, my bill was 46 francs.

Hors-d'oeuvre.
Potage Lamballe.
Friture de Goujons.
Longe de veau aux CÉleris.
Gelinotte À la Casserole.
Salade Romaine et Concombre.
Dessert.

The little Restaurant FranÇais, on the Promenade des Anglais, is one of the cheeriest places possible to breakfast at on a sunny morning. In the garden are palm-trees, and the tables are further shaded by great pink and white umbrellas. A scarlet-coated band of Hungarians plays inoffensive music under the verandah of the house, and the page and the chasseur water the road before the garden constantly with a fire-hose, in order that the motor-cars which go rushing past shall not smother the breakfast-eaters with dust. Broiled eggs and asparagus points, a trout fresh from the river Loup—if such a fish is on the bill of fare—and some tiny bird either roasted or en casserole, with some light white wine, is a suitable meal to be eaten in this garden of a doll's-house restaurant. The house has its history. It was formerly the Villa WÜrtz Dundas, where so many art treasures were collected in the salons Louis XV. and XVI. Mons. Emile Favre, the new proprietor, has added considerably to the old house.

The Restaurant du Helder, the white building in the arcade of the big Place, has good cookery, and its table-d'hÔte meals are excellent.

On regatta days the world of fashion occupies all the tables of the restaurant on the jetÉe at breakfast-time.

Two resorts patronised by the young sparks of Nice are the RÉgence and the Garden Bar. The subjoined menu shows what the RÉgence can do when a big dinner is given there:—

Hors-d'oeuvre variÉs.
ConsommÉ À la d'OrlÉans.
BouchÉes Montglas.
Filets de soles Joinville.
PiÈce de boeuf Renaissance.
Chaud-froid de foie gras.
Petits pois À la FranÇaise.
Faisans de BohÊme À la broche.
Salade niÇoise.
Mousse RÉgence.
PÂtisserie. Dessert.The great confectioner's shop in the Place Massena and the Casino Municipal are always crowded with ladies at tea-time.

Beaulieu

At Beaulieu the Restaurant de la RÉserve is famous. It is just a convenient distance for a drive from Monte Carlo, and the world and the half-world drive or motor out there from the town on the rock and sit at adjacent tables in the verandah without showing any objection one to the other. The restaurant is a little white building in a garden, with a long platform built out over the sea, so that breakfasting one looks right down upon a blue depth of water. There are tables inside the building, but the early-comers and those wise people who have telephoned for tables take those in the verandah if the day be sunny. There are tanks into which the water runs in and out with each little wave and in these are the Marennes oysters and other shell-fish. Oysters, a Mostelle À l'Anglaise—Mostelle being the especial fish of this part of the world—and some tiny bit of meat is the breakfast I generally order at the Beaulieu RÉserve; but the cook is capable of high flights, and I have seen most elaborate meals well served. The proprietors are two Italians who also own the neighbouring hotel, and who take their cook with them to Aix-les-Bains when they migrate during the summer to the restaurant of one of the casinos there. A little band of Italian singers and musicians add to the noise of this very merry little breakfasting place.

At Villefranche there are two unpretentious inns where men with an unnatural craving for Bouillabaisse go and eat it, and return with a strong aroma of saffron and garlic accompanying them, saying that they have partaken of the real dish, such as the fishermen cook for themselves, and not the stew toned down to suit civilised palates.

Monte Carlo

The first time that I stayed for a week or so in the principality, I lodged at the HÔtel du Monte Carlo, on the hill below the Post Office. It was a dingy hotel then, not having been redecorated and brightened up as it has been now; but it had the supreme attraction to a lieutenant in a marching regiment of being cheap. When the first day at dinner I cast my eye down the wine-list, I found amongst the clarets wines of the great vintage years at extraordinarily low prices, and in surprise I asked the reason. The manager explained to me that the hotel was in the early days used as a casino, and that the wines formed part of the cellar of the proprietor—whether Mons. Blanc, or another, I do not remember. Most of them were too old to bear removal to Paris, and they were put down on the wine-list at ridiculously low prices in order to get rid of them, for, as the manager said, "In Monte Carlo the winners drink nothing but champagne, the losers water or whisky and soda." So it is. In Monte Carlo, when a man has won, he wants the very best of everything, and does not mind what he pays for it; when he has lost he has no appetite, and grudges the money he pays for a chop in the grill-room of the CafÉ de Paris. The prices at the restaurants are nicely adapted to the purses of the winners; and there is no place in the world where it is more necessary to order with discrimination and to ask questions as to prices. At Monte Carlo it is the custom to entirely disassociate your lodging from your feeding, and you may stay at one hotel and habitually feed at the restaurant of another without the proprietor of the first being at all unhappy. Ciro's in the arcade is a restaurant only, and is very smart and not at all cheap. A story is told that an Englishman, new to Monte Carlo and its ways, asked the liveried porter outside Ciro's whether it was a cheap restaurant. "Not exactly cheap," said the Machiavelian servitor, "but really very cheap for what you get here." On a fine day grand duchesses and the haute cocotterie beseech Ciro to reserve tables for them on the balcony looking out on the sea, and unless you are a person of great importance or notoriety, or of infinite push, you will find yourself relegated to a place inside the restaurant. At dinner there is not so much competition. Ciro himself is a little Italian, who speaks broken English and has a sense of humour which carries him over all difficulties. Every day brings some fresh story concerning the little man, and a typical one is his comforting assurance to some one who complained of an overcharge for butter. "Alla right" said Ciro complacently, "I take him off your bill and charge him to the Grand Duke. He not mind." The joke is sometimes against Ciro, as when, anxious to have all possible luxuries for a great British personage who was going to dine at the restaurant, and knowing that plover's eggs are much esteemed in England, he obtained some of the eggs, cooked them, and served them hot. Ciro's Restaurant originally was where his bar now is; but when the CafÉ Riche, almost next door, was sold, he bought it, redecorated it, and transferred his restaurant to the new and more gorgeous premises, putting his brother Salvatore—who, poor fellow, has since died—in charge of the bar which he established in his old quarters. I cannot put my hand on the menu of any of the many breakfasts I have eaten at Ciro's, so I borrow a typical menu from V.B's. interesting little book Ten Days at Monte Carlo. He and three friends ate and drank this at dÉjeuner:—

Hors-d'oeuvre variÉs.
Œufs pochÉs Grand Duc.
Mostelle À l'Anglaise.
Volaille en Casserole À la FermiÈre.
PÂtisserie.
Fromage.
CafÉ.
1 Magnum Carbonnieux 1891.
Fine Champagne 1846.

This feast cost 61 francs. The Mostelle, as I have previously mentioned, is the special fish of this part of the coast. It is as delicate as a whiting, and is split open, fried, and served with bread crumbs and an over-sufficiency of melted butter.

At Monte Carlo one is given everything that can be imported and which is expensive. The salmon comes from Scotland or Sweden, and most of the other material for the feasts is sent down daily from Paris. The thrushes from Corsica, and some very good asparagus from Genoa or Rocbrune, are about the only provisions which come from the neighbourhood, except of course the fish, which is plentiful and excellent. I was last spring entrusted with the ordering of a dinner for six at the restaurant of the HÔtel de Paris, the most frequented of all the dining places at Monte Carlo, and I told Mons. Fleury, the manager, that I wanted as much local colour introduced into it as possible. He referred me to the chef, and between us we drew up this menu, which certainly has something of the sunny south about it:—

Hors-d'oeuvre et Caviar frais.
CrÈme de Langoustines.
Friture de Nonnats.
Selle d'Agneau aux Primeurs.
BÉcassines rÔties.
Salade NiÇoise.
Asperges de GÊnes.
Sauce Mousseline.
Dessert.
Vins.
1 bottle Barsac.
3 bottles Pommery Vin Nature 1892.To crown this feast we had some of the very old brandy, a treasure of the house, which added 60 francs to the bill. The total was 363 francs 10 centimes.

In this dinner the CrÈme de Langoustines was excellent, a most delightful bisque. The nonnats are the small fry of the bay, smaller far than whitebait, and are delicious to eat. They are perhaps more suitable for breakfast than for a dinner of ceremony, and had I not yearned for local colour I should have ordered the Filets de Sole Egyptiennes in little paper coffins which look like mummy cases, a dish which is one of the specialities of the house.

Dining at the HÔtel de Paris one pays in comfort for its popularity, for on a crowded night the tables in the big dining-room are put so close together that there is hardly room for the waiters to move between them, and the noise of the conversation rises to a roar through which the violins of the band outside the door can barely be heard. Bachelier, the maÎtre-d'hÔtel at the FranÇais, a disciple of FranÇois, is quite one of the foremost men of his calling.

The restaurant of the Grand Hotel, where MM. Noel and Pattard themselves see to the comfort of their guests, is also a fashionable dining place. I first tasted the Sole Waleska, with its delicate flavouring of Parmesan, at the Grand Hotel many years ago, and it has always been one of the special dishes of the house. Poularde À la Santos Dumont is another speciality. This is a menu of a dinner for six given at the Grand, as a return for the one quoted above as a product of the HÔtel de Paris:—

CrÈme Livonienne.
Filets de Sole Waleska.
Baron de Pauillac À la Broche.
PurÉe de Champignons.
Petits Pois Nouveaux.
Merles de Corse.
Salade.
Asperges. Sauce Mousseline.
SoufflÉ du Parmesan.
Friandises.

The Hermitage, in which MM. Benoit and Fourault are interested, shares the rush of fashionable diners with Ciro and the Paris and Grand, but I cannot speak by personal knowledge of its dinners.

There are other restaurants not so expensive as the ones I have written of, and further up the hill, which can give one a most admirable dinner. The Helder is one of the restaurants where the men who have to live all their life at Monte Carlo often breakfast and dine, and Aubanel's Restaurant, the Princess', which one of the great stars of the Opera has very regularly patronised, deserves a special good word. The Restaurant RÉ, which was originally a fish and oyster shop, but which is now a restaurant with fish as its speciality, is also an excellent place for men of moderate means. Madame RÉ learned the art of the kitchen at the Reserve at Marseilles, and she knows as much about the cooking of fish as any woman in the world. When it came to my turn in the interchange of dinners for six to provide a feast, I went to Madame RÉ and asked her to give me a fish dinner, and to keep it as distinctive as possible of the principality, and she at once saw what I wanted and entered into the spirit of it. She met me on the evening of the feast with a sorrowful expression on her handsome face, for she had sent a fisherman out very early in the morning into the bay to catch some of the little sea hedgehogs which were to form one course, but he had come back empty-handed. The menu stood as under, and we none of us missed the hedgehogs:—

CanapÉ de Nonnats.
Soupe de poisson MonÉgasque.
Supions en Buisson.
Dorade Bonne Femme.
Volaille RÔtie.
Langouste Parisienne.
Asperges Vinaigrette.
Dessert.

The Soupe MonÉgasque had a reminiscence in it of Bouillabaisse, but it was not too insistent; the supions were octopi, but delicate little gelatinous fellows, not leathery, as the Italian ones sometimes are; the dorade was a splendid fish, and though I fancy the langouste had come from northern waters and not from the bay, it was beautifully fresh and a monster of its kind.

The Riviera Palace has a restaurant to which many people come to breakfast, high above Monte Carlo and its heat, and the cook is a very good one.

Any mad Englishman who like myself takes long walks in the morning, will find the restaurant at the La Turbie terminus of the mountain railway a pleasant place at which to eat early breakfast; and the view from the terrace, where one munches one's petit pain and drinks one's coffee and milk, with an orange tree on either side of the table, is a superb one.

After the tables are closed the big room at the CafÉ de Paris in Monte Carlo fills up with those who require supper or a "night cap" before going home; and though a sprinkling of ladies may be seen there, the half-world much preponderates. The night-birds finish the evening at the Festa, some distance up the hill, where two bands play, and there is some dancing, and where the lights are not put out until the small hours are growing into big ones.

Mentone

Mentone has a splendid tea-shop at Rumpelmayer's, and a pleasant restaurant at which to lunch is that of the Winter Palace. Many people drive from Monte Carlo to lunch or take tea at the Cap Martin HÔtel, and it is a pleasant place with a splendid view from the great terrace, though sometimes people not staying in the hotel complain of the slowness of the attendance there.

The Pyrenees

As a gastronomic guide to the Pyrenees I cannot do better than introduce to you my very good friend C.P., who knows that part of the world as well as any native, and whose taste is unimpeachable. I therefore stand down and let him speak for himself:—

Throughout the Pyrenees, in nine hotels out of ten, you can obtain a decently cooked luncheon or dinner—neither above nor below the average.

But in order to depart from the beaten track of the ordinary menu, abandon all hypocrisy, oh, intelligent traveller! and do not pretend that you can turn a fastidious nose away from the seductions of the burnt onion and the garlic clove, the foundations upon which rests the whole edifice of Pyrenean cooking. Pharisaical density would be only wasting time, for these two vegetables will be your constant companions so soon as you decide to sample the cuisine bourgeoise of the country. You should on no account fail to venture on this voyage of exploration, as some of the dishes are excellent, all of them interesting, and, once tasted, never to be forgotten.

To attempt to enumerate them all, to describe them minutely, or to give any account of their preparation, hardly comes within the scope of these notes. Suffice it to give the names of two or three.

First comes the Garbure, a kind of thick vegetable soup containing Heaven knows what ingredients, but all the same sure to please you. Next comes the Confit d'Oie, a sort of goose stew, utterly unlike anything you have tasted before, but not without its merits. Next, the Cotelettes d'Izard marinÉ may interest you. The izard, or chamois of the Pyrenees, has been marinÉ or soaked for some time in wine, vinegar, bay leaves, and other herbs. It thus acquires a distinctive and novel flavour. Don't forget the Ragout and the Poulet, either chasseur or else paysanne; nor yet the Pie de Mars if in season. By way of fish you will always find the trout delicious, either fried or else À la meuniÈre. (Don't miss the alose if you are at Pau.) Lastly, the Pyrenean pÂtÉs, Gibier and Foie de Canard, are justly celebrated, and can more than hold their own in friendly and patriotic rivalry with any of those purporting to come from Strasbourg or Nancy.

At first acquaintance you will not care much for pic-À-pou or the wine of the country, but with patience you may possibly learn to appreciate the Vin de JuranÇon. Tradition has it that Henri Quatre's nurses preferred to give this form of nourishment rather than the Mellin's Food of the time. Perhaps babies were differently constituted in those days.

In any case you will always be able to get a good bottle of claret, bearing the name of some first-class Bordeaux firm, such as Johnson, Barton Guestier, or Luze, etc. If you are lucky enough to obtain a glass of genuine old Armagnac, you will probably rank it, as a liqueur, very nearly as high as any cognac you have ever tasted.

A word of warning! Don't be too eager to order whisky and soda. The "Scotch" is not of uniform quality.

So much for eatables and drinkables. A few hints now as to where you might care to lunch or dine.

Pau

To begin with Pau. There is really a great artist there—a man whose sole hobby is his kitchen, and who, if he chooses, can send you up a dinner second to none. His name is Guichard. Go and have a talk with him. Hear what he has to say on the fond-de-cuisine theory. Let him arrange your menu and await the result with confidence. That confidence will not be misplaced.

For purely local dishes of the cuisine-bourgeoise type, you might try a meal at the HÔtel de la Poste. But for general comfort the English Club stands easily first. The coffee-room is run admirably, and as for wine and cigars, they are as good as money can buy. A strong remark, eh? But true, nevertheless. For a supper after the play you might give a trial to the restaurant at the new Palais d'Hiver. Other restaurants are at the HÔtel de France and the HÔtel Gassion.

For confectionery, cakes, candied fruits, etc., Luc or Seghin will be found quite A1. Whilst for five o'clock tea, Madame Bouzoum has deservedly gained a reputation as great as that of Rumpelmayer on the Riviera. But again a word of warning! Be discreet as to repeating any local tittle-tattle you may possibly overhear. So much for Pau.

Throughout the mountain resorts of the Pyrenees, such as Luchon—BagnÈres de Bigorre, Gavarnie, St-Sauveur; Cauterets—Eaux Bonnes, Eaux Chaudes, Oloron, etc., you can always, as was stated previously, rely upon getting an averagely well-served luncheon or dinner, and nothing more—trout and chicken, although excellent, being inevitable. But there is one splendid and notable exception, viz., the HÔtel de France at ArgelÈs-Gazost, kept by Joseph Peyrafitte, known to his intimates as "Papa." In his way he is as great an artist as the aforementioned Guichard; the main difference between the methods of the two professors being that the latter's art is influenced by the traditions of the Parisian school, while the former is more of an impressionist, and does not hesitate to introduce local colour with broad effects,—merely a question of taste after all. For this reason you should not fail to pay a visit to ArgelÈs to make the acquaintance of Monsieur Peyrafitte. Ask him to give you a luncheon such as he supplies to the golf club of which Lord Kilmaine is president, and for dinner (being always mindful of the value of local colour) consult him, over a glass of Quinquina and vermouth, as to some of the dishes mentioned earlier in this article. You won't regret your visit.

In conclusion, should you find yourself anywhere near Lourdes at the time of the PÈlerinage National, go and dine at one of the principal hotels there—say the HÔtel de la Grotte. You will not dine either well or comfortably, the pandemonium being indescribable. But you will have gained an experience which you will not readily forget. Adishat!

Provence

Any one who is making a leisurely journey from Marseilles to the Roman cities of Provence, and who halts by the way at Martigues, the "Venice of Provence" should breakfast at the HÔtel Chabas; and if M. Paul Chabas is still in the land of the living, as I trust he is, and you can persuade him—telling him that he is the best cook in Provence, which he is—to make you some of the ProvenÇal dishes, the Bouillabaisse, or that excellent vol-au-vent which they call a Tourte in the land of Tartaria, or the Sou Fassu, which is a cabbage stuffed with a most savoury mixture of vegetable and meat, you will be fortunate. At Arles the HÔtel Forum has a cook who is a credit to his native province; but if you stay in the house, make sure that you have a room to the front, otherwise you may only look into the well-like covered court of the house. At Tarascon, if you feel inclined to hunt for the imaginary home of the imaginary hero, a great man whom the town repudiates as having been invented in order that the world should be amused at its expense, take your meal at the HÔtel des Empereurs and ask for M. Andrieu. At Avignon the HÔtel de l'Europe is a very old-fashioned house with old furniture in the rooms, old latches to the doors. The servants seem to have caught the spirit of the place, and there is one old servitor, still, I trust, alive, who might have been the model for all the faithful old servants in the plays of the ComÉdie FranÇaise. The house is kept by an old lady; the cook is a man. Several people of my acquaintance choose Avignon as their halting-place on their way to the Riviera because of the quaintness of the old hotel and of the excellence of its cuisine. A breakfast on the Isle de Barthelasse, when the mistral is not blowing, is one of the holiday treats of the inhabitants of the town. At Remoulins the old Ledenon wine at the one hotel in the place is worth a note. At St-Remy, M. Teston, who keeps the hotel named after him, is an excellent cook. At NÎmes, at the HÔtel du Cheval Blanc, there used to be some excellent old Armagnac brandy, and probably some of it still remains.

"Cure" Places

Most of the French cure places are for invalids and invalids only, and the gourmet who goes to them has to lay aside his critical faculties and to be content with the simplest fare, well or indifferently cooked, according to his choice of an hotel.

Aix-les-Bains

The big Savoy town of baths is the principal exception to the rule, for the baccarat in the two Casinos draws all the big gamblers in Europe to the place, and one half of Aix-les-Bains goes to bed about the time that the other half is being carried in rough sedan chairs to be parboiled and massaged.

In the late spring there is an exodus from the Riviera to Aix-les-Bains; doctors, maÎtres d'hÔtel musicians, lawyers, fly-men, waiters move into summer quarters; and any one who has time to spare, and enjoys a three-day drive through beautiful scenery, might well do worse than make a bargain with a fly-man for the trip from the coast to the town on the banks of the lake. When a fly-man does not secure a "monsieur" as a passenger, he as often as not drives a brace of friendly waiters over just for company sake. Thus any gourmet who knows his Riviera finds himself surrounded by friendly faces at Aix-les-Bains. There are excellent restaurants in some of the larger hotels, and you can dine in a garden, under lanterns lit by electric light, or on a glassed-in terrace whence a glimpse of the lake of Le Bourget under the moon may be obtained; and there are at the big Casino, the Cercle as it is called, and at the smaller one, the Ville des Fleurs, quite excellent restaurants. These two restaurants are managed by first-class men from the Riviera—the proprietors of the London House at Nice and of the Reserve at Beaulieu, were, I believe, last year the men in command—and the King of Greece, who is a gourmet of the first water, sets a praiseworthy example when he is at Aix of dining one day at the Cercle and the next at the Villa. The prices are Riviera prices and the cooking Riviera cooking.

The Anglo-American bar, nearly opposite the principal entrance to the Cercle, a bar where a whisky and soda costs two francs, always has its tiny dining-room crowded. Durret's, also opposite the Cercle, a small restaurant, is good and cheap. There are half-a-dozen little restaurants in the street running down to the station, but the sampling of the most likely looking one did not encourage me to try any further experiments.

To keep up the illusion that Aix-les-Bains is a part of the Riviera, there is a Rumpelmayer cake-shop within two minutes' walk of the Villa des Fleurs.

Many of the excursions from Aix have a little restaurant as the point to be reached. At Grand Port, the fishing village on the borders of the lake of Le Bourget, there is a pleasant house to breakfast at, the Beaurivage, with a garden from which an excellent view of the lake and the little bathing place can be obtained. They make a Bouillabaisse of fresh-water fish at this restaurant which is well worth eating and which is generally the Friday fare there. At Chambotte, where there is a fine view of the lake, Lansard has a hotel and restaurant. At Marlioz, near the race-course and an inhalation and bathing establishment, the pretty ladies of Aix often call a halt to breakfast, Ecrevisses Bordelaises being a speciality. At one of the little mountain inns, I fancy that of La Chambotte, the proprietor has married a Scotch wife, and her excellent cakes, made after the manner of her fatherland, come as a surprise to the French tourists. The chÂlets at the summit of the Grand Revard belong, I believe, to Mme. Ritz, wife of the Emperor of Hotels, and the feeding there naturally is excellent.

Most people who go a trip to the Lac d'Annecy breakfast on the boat, though I believe there is a fair breakfast to be obtained at the Angleterre. On the boat a very ample meal is provided—the trout generally being excellent—which occupies the attention of the intelligent voyager during the whole of the time that he is supposed to be looking at waterfalls, castles, peaks, and picturesque villages.

Vichy

Outside the hotels, the restaurants attached to which give in most cases a good table-d'hÔte dinner for six francs and a dÉjeuner for four, there are but few restaurants, for most people who come to Vichy live en pension, making a bargain with their hotel for their food for so much a day, a bargain which does not encourage them to go outside and take their meals. The Restauration, in the park close to the Casino, is a restaurant as well as a cafÉ, and is amusing in the evening. There are several small restaurants in the environs of Vichy. In the valleys of the Sichon and the Jolan, two streams which join near the village of Cusset and then flow into the Allier, are two little restaurants, each to be reached by a carriage road. Both the Restaurant les Malavaux near the ruins, and the Restaurant de l'ArdoisiÈre near the Cascade of Gourre-Saillant, have their dishes, each of them making a speciality of trout and crayfish from the little river that flows hard by. At the Montagne Verte, whence a fine view of the valley of the Allier is obtainable, and at one or two other of the places to which walks and drives are taken, there are cafÉs and inns where decent food is obtainable.

Various

Men who know shake their heads when you ask them whether there is good food obtainable outside the hotels at Royat and La Bourboule, but I have a pleasant memory of an excellent dinner with good bourgeois cookery at Hugon's in the Rue Royale of the neighbouring town of Clermont-Ferrand. At Contrexeville I am told that the wise man finding his food good in his hotel, returns thanks and does not go prospecting elsewhere.

N.N.-D.