Telephone: 0033 5 5354 2809
Address: Place de l'Église, 24110 Manzac sur Vern, Périgord
Why had it taken us so long to find, I thought, as Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Peter, and their respective mothers, settled down in the shade on the patio of the Lion d'Or. I am not sure whether to be dismayed or cheered by the fact that decent eating in provincial France seems as hard to come by as it is in Britain, whatever anyone says. I spent hours in scholarly study of all the available texts and spared no expense in field research in our particular stretch of countryside around Périgueux, and found nothing but disappointment. Restaurants that were routinely given stars, value for money signs and middle-ranking marks out of 20 just as routinely delivered tired, uninspired, incompetently fancy dishes with a notional gesture and cheerful hospitality, all vaguely reminiscent of the grand country-house hotel in its glory days.
And then we found the Lion d'Or. It, too, had the prix/qualité mark in the Michelin, a 14 out of 20 in Gault et Millau and two toques in the Logis de France. More convincing than any of this, it had a menu - actually, it had several menus; how varied and intelligent the French are when it comes to the pricing of menus - packed with goodies that fair hummed of the surrounding countryside and of sound cooking. There were seven of them in all, ranging from Fr55 (three courses for children, about a fiver, give or take) to Fr250 (seven courses for grown-ups, around £25). There were such joys as a marachère de coeurs de canard po lés au vinaigre de noix (fried duck hearts in walnut vinegar, to you and me); terrine de carpe aux herbes fines (terrine of carp and herbs); râble de lapin farci aux pruneaux (saddle of rabbit stuffed with prunes); mise en bouche des escargots de Manzac (snails in a bouillon); assiette de trois foie gras et sa gelée de coings (a plate of three kinds of foie gras with quince jelly); croustillant de canard au jus de noix vertes (crisp duck breast in a sauce of green walnuts) and something called flaugnarde aux abricots, to mention just a few of the dishes on offer, and also to allow the romance of the French menu to play around your chops.
Compared with other menu poesy, these seemed handsomely plain-spoken, and so they turned out to be. The tone was set by the children's menu, which provided a very proper salad, properly dressed, with a slice or two of proper ham; the breast of a proper chicken, properly roasted, surrounded by proper vegetables; and then some proper ice cream to finish. When I think of the money I have spent feeding my own and various other children on ersatz rubbish in hamburger havens, pizza pleasure domes and pasta palaces (oh, yes, the intentions may be pure, but the realities of ordeal by persistent moaning induce habitual spavined surrender), and how Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail set about these three courses, I could weep.
Peter was made of more adventuresome mettle and decided on the salade de pétoncles et queues d'écrevisses, vinaigrette de crustacés (salad of queen scallops and crayfish tails), éventail de magret aux fruits rouges (fan of duck magret with red fruits) and nougat glacés au miel des Olivoux et à la lavande (nougat ice cream with honey and lavender). From the Fr250 menu, I had the snails in a fabulously meaty bouillon; the three kinds of foie gras (hot, mi-cuit and raw carpaccio, in case you're interested); sea bass in a truffle sauce; lamb sweetbreads crusted with powdered cepes and Montbazillac sauce; cheeses; and a great plate of different puddings. And so on, and so on. I could just go on listing dishes and fall into a genial reverie.
The point about all this was not its copiousness, although you couldn't fault it on the point of generosity. It was that the principal ingredients were local and the cooking rooted in an understanding of their particular qualities. Duck, walnuts, snails, freshwater fish and shellfish, truffles, mushrooms and apricots all flourish in Périgord. The dishes may not have the riches of, say, Burgundy or Alsace, but these raw materials don't require anything more than respect and sound handling to allow them to unfold their qualities. They benefit from not being mucked about with unduly, from simplicity of treatment, from the absence of sophistication - and that's exactly what they got here.
The bill was Fr1,246, around £120 for seven people, of whom four were children. This included Fr356 on drink, of which one-and-a-half bottles of splendid Bergerac, and grenadines for F, M, C et P, constituted the greatest element. I know the exchange rate works in our favour at the moment, but this still is pretty good value for money. Actually, it's very good value for money, dammit. More than that, the Lion d'Or was a delicious, modest, well-run delight, the kind of place that reaffirmed my belief in the essence of French cooking and the charm of French hospitality.
· Open Lunch, Tues-Sun, 12 noon - 2.30pm; dinner, Tues-Sat, 7-10pm. Menus: Fr55, Fr80, Fr110, Fr145, Fr185, Fr195 and Fr250. Cards Diners Club, American Express, Mastercard. Wheelchair access and WC.
