The French Connection

Andrew Lopez-Calvete finds that “Modern British Cuisine” has grown up to be “Old French”, and he’s found the perfect restaurant to experience a bit of old school.

I recently attended a social event, only to have a reader berate last month’s diatribe, in which I said that the period between the Romans leaving Britain and 1980was a culinary wasteland of overcooked meat, fried fish and soft vegetables. He insisted that I was completely wrong and recounted happy memories of delightful French restaurants he patronised from as early as the mid 1950s.

Well that, pretty much, is my point, back then if you wanted decent food that meant French or Italian. It had very little to do with what was available, but more about English middle-class sensibilities during the post war era. The nation remembered rationing and was sadly used to a limited palate of flavours. Add to that the death of fresh food thanks to the chest freezer, and suddenly you realise why so many people took hallucinogens during the sixties and seventies.

Today pick any high street in Surrey and the chances are you can choose anything from pub grub, to Pacific Rim; Neapolitan to Nepalese, often in the same establishment. In fact, it’s getting very hard to find somewhere serving something resembling old-fashioned French cuisine that isn’t Café Rouge.

However, on a recent business trip to Juan Les pins on the Côte d’Azur I discovered something very interesting, all my favourite restaurants from many years ago were still there and still churning out the same sort of dishes. Without fail, everywhere we dined was serving “Modern British”; we’d been duped, “Modern British” was in fact just “Old French” but served on large glass plates. Not only that, but there was not a hint of lemon grass or kumquats; everything was still based around fresh local ingredients cooked with flair and devoid of gimmicky. This is English food forgot.

Which, in my usual roundabout way, brings us to La barbe, on Bell street in Reigate town centre, the self-proclaimed home of “Cuisine de France”.

Well it certainly looks the part, a combination of rustic café and old school metropolitan eatery. Low walls and screens criss-cross the venue, creating booths and alcoves ideal for plots and trysts. We were ushered to our table, which we were informed was “no smoking”, another tragedy of the modern world and one we will soon have to deal with in every establishment that serve food. I know that a large proportion of you like the idea of smokers being forced to remain at home and commit suicide in order to fund the government’s nest drinks party, but no meals doesn’t seem complete without a Cohiba and a glass of port.

The menu was pleasingly traditional; only well established foreign interlopers made their presence felt, such as turkey, curry and pesto, all suitably “tout le monde”. For an opening gambit the Dinner Date went for the very traditional snails in garlic butter: cooked and served in suitably authentic partitioned dish. They were herby and unctuous , rather than the more usual over-flavoured and rubbery. I chose the pheasant terrine which was presented on a bed of finely chopped vegetables, an armagnac and prune salsa if you will, which cut through the rich game perfectly and added some much needed variety of texture.
For the main course I passed over the poached ox tongue, as the Dinner Date is notoriously squeamish around dishes containing that and sweetbreads (which also made an appearance as a starter). Instead I plumped for the cod fillet topped with a pesto crust and served with garlic mash. The crust looked a little over-grilled but was just crisp enough and didn’t taste burnt. The fish was moist and flaky and the mash smooth and laced with nutty roasted garlic.

Desserts have always been a French speciality, and the Dinner Date’s very English-sounding apple and calvados crumble was an absolute corker. Naturally sweet apples set in light custard and topped with a nutty crumble topping made the perfect conclusion, whilst my banoffee pie (another English invention) had been liberated and presented with Gallic flair with a light banoffee mousse topping bananas and a biscuit base. Both dishes were presented with exotic fruits and pools of marbled sauce. Since the Dinner Date has been off Atkins the cheese course has taken a back seat, but the range of display was tempting and will be put through its paces next time.

Altogether, with an ordinary, but good value 2003 Moulines Merlot at £16, and a glass of very impressive 2002 Muscat de Rivesaltes at £6, our bill came around £90 with service (which impeccable throughout). That’s for a meal that is easily the match of anything we experienced in either Cannes or Juan Les pins, and at a cost that would have barely covered the cab fare to and from Nice airport. So if you are in the mood for some “Modern British” food, I can heartily recommend the “Cuisine de France” at La Barbe.