The Potless Budget Restaurant Review #8: Chez Mounier, Lyon, France

Being Potless isn't all about cooking at home - it's about having a fabulous value-for-money eating experience, wherever you are.

So, I present to you my series entitled: 'The Potless Budget Restaurant Reviews'!

Having trawled the globe looking for the best of the cheapest eating out establishments, I can now share my findings. 

'Cheap' is, of course, subjective. But what makes a restaurant qualify for this list is a sense of extremely good value. A greasy spoon cafe might be cheap (and delicious too, come to that) but it won't make it onto the list, unless the eating experience it provides is of the very highest quality in proportion to the price it charges.

This is, without a doubt, my favourite review to date.

Mrs Ribeye and I had spent a fabulous week in Nice, sunning ourselves on the French Cote d'Azur, and we were on our slow meander homewards. We decided to stop off at Lyon in order to see whether its grand culinary reputation had any foundation, and sample a meal from one of its famous bouchons.

The word 'bouchon' has a double meaning: It's either a reference to a cork - the counting of which, by the inn's owner, would calculate a patron's bill after a heavy night of wine consumption; or it's from the verb 'bouchonner', meaning to rub-down - as in a place where the tired traveller can eat and drink while his horse is massaged back to sprightliness. Either way, it's the name for traditional inns in the old part of Lyon, which are famous for serving offal.

Eek! Offal! I love trying new things, and I love French food, but I've never eaten the more questionable parts of the butcher's repertoire. I adore liver and kidneys, and I've sampled sweetbreads - but these are really prime cuts compared to our Lyonnaise experience on that warm summer's evening in early July.

So, after booking into our guesthouse, we set-off to find as authentic a bouchon as Lyon had to offer - and the Rue de Marroniers in the heart of the old town it had to be. The cobbled street is heaving with 200 year old inns and taverns, all offering traditional prix fixe delights at very reasonable prices. We settled on Chez Meunier because it was the least showy looking place (no Coke fridges/uniformed waiting staff etc) on the street and had an air of olde worlde charm. The chef (as you can see from the picture: smiling, ruddy-cheeked lady/standing at the door/arms folded/blue apron) spotted us hanging around waiting for a terrace table, and asked us to wait a couple of minutes while another couple paid their bill; and then we sat down in eager anticipation of adding a serious foodie experience notch to our belts.

Chez Mounier
3 Rue des Marroniers
69002
Lyon 
France

Tel: 04 78 37 79 26

Restaurant:

Filled with locals inside and out, it was obvious that this place had a great reputation. We took our seats at a table on the front terrace and were presented with a menu and a basket of bread. A quick trip to the restrooms allowed me a glimpse of the inner spaces of the bouchon. Tobacco-stained walls were covered in mirrored adverts for pastis, and other French liqueurs, together with a few paintings of Lyonnaise street scenes and surrounding countryside. The furniture was the standard bistro-looking small wooden tables and chairs, with a bar running down the long side of the space. Everything looked unpretentious and not at all 'put-on'. Fab.

Menu:

As you may know, I'm not a fan of the standard four-course French set meal. They are normally a bit heavy and bland, with a big emphasis on meat and dairy. Instead, I normally adopt my patented '3-2-1' ordering method (3 entrees, shared between 2, served all at 1 time). However, to fully inveigle ourselves in some traditional authentic bouchon culture, we ordered the menu du chef and awaited our fate.

First up: salade de chevre chaude and a plate of crudites. No problem. No offal. I love goats cheese salad and make it regularly at home. Both plates were polished-off with a bottle of the delicious house rose. C'mon! Let's go!

Oh dear. a few minutes after our plates were cleared, I could sense that the next course was on its way. Sense it? Of course I could - my nose was sensing it, as was the nose of Mrs Ribeye and the noses of probably half of Lyon. We were presented with a plate of tripe in a tomato sauce with mashed potato, and a huge andouillette sausage in a mustardy glaze with some boiled potatoes.

Andouillette sausage is a bunch of small intestines, encased in a large intestine. The tripe is also part of the digestive system, in that it is the stomach lining of a cow - cooked until it is a gelatinous bunch of scraps. The problem for me with both of these dishes, however, was not the texture, or even the taste - but the smell. The andouillette and the tripe stunk of... arse.

The sausage was a little bit better than the tripe, in that there were some spices added to the recipe to counteract the smell of crap, but the tomato sauce that the tripe came in did nothing to disguise any of it. It was as if we had been presented with two plates of shit.

To avoid accusations of being English (or in my wife's case, Russian) scaredy cats, I ate the lot. Mrs Ribeye tried a small piece of tripe and a forkful of sausage, but mainly ate potatoes. I scoffed both of the stinking dishes in double-quick time so that I could attempt to bypass my olfactory senses and consign the repulsive stuff to my inner recesses. The plan sort of worked (helped along with a second basket of bread), until I realised that my nose has a memory, and that although the food had been eaten, my nose wasn't going to let me forget it as quickly as I would have liked. There's nothing for it - I'm going to have to order the next course to blot out this one.

We were presented with the smelliest cheese I have ever eaten. The waiter called it fromage sec, and it really was as dry as the name suggests. A lump of athlete's foot. Disgusting. I normally love smelly cheese, like Munster or Chaumes - but after eating tripe? No thanks.

Next up was a huge portion of creme caramel. It was basically a sweet creamy omelette. After everything else that I had already eaten? Double disgusting.

So, let's analyse this meal: 

1. Salad with cheese
2. Cow guts
3. Stinky cheese
4. Omelette

After all of this offal and dairy, I was ready to chuck-up the entire meal all over the terrace. Thankfully I didn't, and Mrs Ribeye and I paid our bill with a grimace-y smile and hobbled back to our hotel.

Bill:

Does it matter? If I had paid 1 Euro each, it would have been too expensive. For the sake of completeness, however, I will inform you that the bill came to a very reasonable(!) 17 Euros per head, for four courses including wine - about £12-13 each.

Experience:

Here's the thing: After I got over the shock of eating such extreme dishes, I started getting a few weird feelings. First of all, my memory banks started telling me that the experience was not too bad. Then I started to think that maybe I had been too harsh in my assessment of the experience. Then, I started CRAVING some more of this food.

What the hell is going on? Am I a secret masochist? Did the chef put psychotropic drugs in my food? Or, much more dreadfully, am I starting to acquire a taste for this repugnant fare? God, I hope not. But the fact remains: I certainly am looking forward to going back to Lyon and sampling some more of their weird grub. My andouillette and tripe days are not over, by a long way.

I'm not eating that effing cheese again, though. Or will I.....?

The Potless Budget Restaurant Review #7: Quick Hamburgers, Various Locations, France

Being Potless isn't all about cooking at home - it's about having a fabulous value-for-money eating experience, wherever you are.

So, I present to you my series entitled: 'The Potless Budget Restaurant Reviews'!

Having trawled the globe looking for the best of the cheapest eating out establishments, I can now share my findings. 

'Cheap' is, of course, subjective. But what makes a restaurant qualify for this list is a sense of extremely good value. A greasy spoon cafe might be cheap (and delicious too, come to that) but it won't make it onto the list, unless the eating experience it provides is of the very highest quality in proportion to the price it charges.

So, we made it to Aix-en-Provence, after a stop-off at the Relais Routiers south of Lyon and just before that, a wonderful night in the beautiful Alpine town of Annecy. Aix is a university town in the Provence region at the bottom of the Massif Central region of France and a bit north of the Cote d'Azur and our ultimate destination, Nice. It is architecturally beautiful. It is generally warm and temperate. It is famous for its many creative residents - writers, painters, sculptors, chefs - past and present. Oh, and did I say? Aix is AMAZING!!!


The old town is a maze of winding streets and cobbled squares all shrouded by the most wonderful interlinking tree-lined avenues of ancient plane/sycamore trees (pictured below). The whole place is a vibrant mix of students, elegant young professionals and weirdos. Mrs Ribeye and I got roaringly drunk at a fabulous  terrace bar in the main square while the (highly unconvincing, I must say) transvestite bar owner, carrying a jailer's bunch of keys, walked mysteriously in and out of the back bar area. Very cool.

The maaaaaaaasive lunch at the Relais earlier in the day had hurt us bad, and we really didn't fancy eating much when we staggered out of the bar on Place Richelme into the night. Quite frankly, I had had enough of the nutritious (but heavy and a bit same-y if the truth be told) French food for a bit, and really fancied eating some junk. Cheap wine will do that to you, you know.

Now, anyone who reads this blog will know, that I am a bit of a hamburger junkie. I can kick it with the sushi-eaters, I don't mind hanging with the bistro crowd, and I love an occasional vegan-esque meal, but my one true culinary love is the old ground-beef-in-a-bun extravaganza. And I'm very particular.

I don't mind a McDonald's if I'm desperate (I lie. I eat McD's much more than that). But I didn't want to wander into a proper Provencal restaurant and order le steak hache, or even le hamburger. It would probably have come dripping in foie gras or goats cheese and accompanied by snail-encrusted frites. So, 'Quick', a Belgian hamburger chain on the main road through Aix (and on a million other main roads dotted around France - and Belgium too I presume), it had to be.

Quick Restaurants
www.quick-restaurants.com


Restaurant:


The Aix town centre branch that we visited had a huge al fresco eating area at the front, marred by a pile of discarded meal boxes and cartons around (but not in) the bins. What a repulsive first impression. We entered the restaurant to be greeted by large colourful photographs of the food on offer. The vibe was generally similar to any other fast food chain, but in our drunken state we didn't pay much attention to the subtle styling touches and lurched towards the smiling counter staff, grateful that the big photos aided me in my ordering (since any attempt at speaking French had been usurped in favour of grunting and pointing).

After ordering, we took a table outside, as far away from the bins as we could find. What a view! Sitting under the enveloping plane trees at night, with their spotlighting creating mysterious and beautiful shadows among the spindly branches, we felt that we were on a Tim Burton film set. Thankful that the burgers were rapidly sobering me up to fully appreciate my surroundings, I resolved to make it back to Aix on future trips.


Menu:


The Happy Meal concept has made it to the Continent. All of the burgers can be ordered as a 'Menu' with drinks and French fries attached.

Firstly, the burgers/sandwiches: I ordered the Big Mac equivalent: 'Giant Max'. It was a double burger with a special sauce, but without the third middle bun. Utterly sublime. The sauce was a bit smoother than McD's own version, and the omission of the bun was very welcome - more protein and less carbs. The beef was juicy and delicious, and the whole package felt substantial and 'proper food'-like. I was, however, appalled to discover on the box information that the calories are 50% more than a Big Mac's. Ouch.

The wife had a chicken and bacon toasted pannini, which I tasted, and we both decided was awesome (I don't use this word lightly). Very gooey and tasty with crunchy good quality bread. In fact 'gooey' is a word I normally associate with Burger King rather than McDonald's, but it equally applies to this chain. I mean this in a very positive way.

Secondly, the accompaniments: You have a choice of normal fries or 'pommes rustique' - a version of our familiar potato wedges. I got fries and Mrs Ribeye went for the wedges. The fries were really well cooked, golden and crunchy. No ketchup for me though - mayonnaise is the order of the day in Belgian restaurants of course, and in Quick this is no exception. Delish.

The missus' wedges were incredible. Ridged thick slices of potato with a spicy coating. But to cap it, was the sauce they came with: Sun-dried tomato pesto! What an idea! The smooth, slightly cheesey/tomatoey/herby pesto ramped up the flavours of the potatoes to a whole new level. You gotta hand it to the Belgians. Why serve ketchup when you can have mayo? But then why serve mayo when you can have pesto? I'm definitely going to be serving chips with pesto when I get home.

Drinks were the ubiquitous Coke Zero. Why drink Diet Coke any more?


Bill:


A little bit pricier than the other chains; our combined meals came to 17 Euros (about £7 per head in English). Good value.


Experience:


If the truth be told, our dinner at the Quick in Aix was not the last time we visited the chain on our trip through France. Having spent a week in Nice, with home-cooked fare being the staple diet throughout our entire stay, we succumbed on our last night in France to the Quick in Amiens, the day before we drove to Calais on our ferry ride back home. It wasn't quite as good, but I attribute that to the lack of a spectacular al fresco dining area in a beautiful town like Aix, rather than anything to do with the food. Plus, at Amiens, we were sat right next to a 6th birthday party in the next booth. Utter hell.

Is Quick better than the other chains? I would say that it is as good, but not better. It's definitely more tasty and exotic than the bigger burger companies' fare, but then the calorie intake is that much more. I'm sure Burger King could serve twice the amount of sauce with everything too if they wanted. But then their customers would probably suffer 25% more heart attacks.

As the French say: 'Everything in moderation - even moderation'. The Belgians probably say it too.

The Potless Budget Restaurant Review #6: Les Relais Routiers, Various Locations, France

Being Potless isn't all about cooking at home - it's about having a fabulous value-for-money eating experience, wherever you are.

So, I present to you my series entitled: 'The Potless Budget Restaurant Reviews'!

Having trawled the globe looking for the best of the cheapest eating out establishments, I can now share my findings. 

'Cheap' is, of course, subjective. But what makes a restaurant qualify for this list is a sense of extremely good value. A greasy spoon cafe might be cheap (and delicious too, come to that) but it won't make it onto the list, unless the eating experience it provides is of the very highest quality in proportion to the price it charges.

Having escaped from Kaysersberg with my car intact, but unfortunately with my Hassenforder guest house room key still in my pocket (ready to return by recorded delivery from the post office in the beautiful Alpine town of Annecy, at our next stop), we were on our way south towards Provence, toward our ultimate destination in Nice on the Cote d'Azur.

Annecy was absolutely terrific, with a free upgrade to a double-balconied room with a canalside view, in our hotel Alexandra (#1 hotel in Annecy on Tripadvisor), and we had sampled a lovely ratatouille pizza in a friendly pizzeria - recipe to hopefully be recreated in my own kitchen soon, and posted on Potless afterwards, naturally.

While driving through France, we had resolved to only use the D roads, rather than the 'peage' A roads to get around France, for various reasons:

1. The D roads take you around the towns, through the fields and grapevines and along scenic Alpine routes, and are usually very well-surfaced for easy, picturesque touring - the main reason we drove, rather than flew, to Nice in the first place. A roads are built, for reduction of noise pollution purposes, far away from anything remotely interesting.

2. The toll roads are crazy expensive. A couple of hours on an A road will cost about 12-15 Euros. D roads are free.

3. You can get a proper lunch on a D road at the hundreds of restaurants dotted along their lengths. You will only get a burger in a service station on the motorways.

4. Petrol consumption on the D roads is a third better than on the A roads; a saving of about £80 on our entire trip.

5. French drivers on A roads are mental. The unlikelier the car, the faster it will go: A thirty-year-old Citroen Visa will drive up your arse and then roar past you at 140 kph, while a brand new Audi R8 will probably sit back and take it easy at a steady 100. Twenty minutes of this will leave you a trembling wreck.

Since we had resolved to generally eat lightly during our trip, rather than succumbing to the seeming French obsession with eating a four course prix fixe meal at every opportunity, we had decided that, for once, we might go for the big one and eat at a Relais Routier for lunch. I had regaled Mrs Ribeye with tales of these unassuming truckers stops, littering up the highways and byways with their family-run oases (as in plural of 'oasis' - although the spelling looks a bit wrong) offering cheap, plentiful traditional French meals to the big-rig drivers on their way between the big towns and cities. In England we simply do not have a comparable. Even the once mighty 'Little Chef' group of restaurants were only a place for a fry-up and cup of tea. Not the same.

Les Relais Routiers Online:
www.relais-routiers.com

Restaurant:


With the swirly blue/red circular logo telling us that the bland-looking restaurant at the side of the D1532 between Lyon and the south of France was a proper 'Relais Routier' - belonging to a guide, established in the 1930's, containing good value eateries to keep the truckers from starving or resorting to unhealthy fast food - we headed eagerly inside in anticipation of a good home-cooked lunch.


The adjoining parking area was filled with 18-wheelers. A good sign. We entered the lobby area containing a buffet of chilled hors d'oevres, a covered cheese platter, a huge stainless steel dispenser with three taps offering red, white or rose wine next to a tray of empty carafes, a wheel for making fresh crepes (together with a ginormous jar of Nutella), and a freezer full of ice cream. The dining room was filled with small two or four-seater tables, with double doors onto a terrace where a scary-looking Mrs Lovett type (of Sweeney Todd fame) was behind a huge BBQ, wielding her tongs with intent.


The restaurant walls were filled with large amateur drawings and paintings of celebrities, all with fairly hefty price tags of 30-40 Euros each. I cannot imagine who on earth would buy them.


Menu:


We were instructed by the owner of the place that the price was 13 Euros per head, up front, for four courses. We didn't have to eat all four courses, but we would have to pay 13 Euros regardless. Oh and wine was included. We could eat whatever we wanted, and could visit Mrs Lovett and her barbie as many times as we liked.

We headed straight for the buffet. We carefully selected from the many cold cuts and salads on offer, but were mindful of the fact that there would be many delights offered later, and that we mustn't commit too hugely to the platters of pate en croute, jambon sec, cooked ham, salamis, egg salad, salad of green beans, pickled cauliflower, noodle salad, marinated mushrooms or cornichons.

We filled a half-litre carafe from the rose wine tap and took a table, already adorned with a jug of chilled water and a basket of fresh bread. The starters were fresh and delicious. We headed off the see Mrs Lovett. She was utterly adorable, and I felt a bit guilty about secretly comparing her to a murderous Victorian pie-maker. Who cared if she wore a shower cap and boots with her voluminous dress? Who cared if she strode around the restaurant with a foot-long carving knife, blade-up? She warmly told us to take what we liked and that we could come back for more. We chose murguez (the delicious north African spicy lamb sausages), chicken, traditional sausages and a big plate of frites to share. We stayed away from the big hunk of pork loin. It looked a bit... human. Eek!

After the main course, we took a slab of white-rinded gooey cheese (Brie, perhaps?)  from the covered platter in the lobby, to share. No way could we manage dessert, despite Mrs Ribeye's disappointment that she hadn't left enough room to cajole the owner into his rightful place behind his crepe wheel.


Bill:


As the owner said: 13 Euros (just over a tenner a head in English money) each. Up front. Regardless of what you eat. Wine included.


Experience:


Don't do this often, but do do this. The restaurant was heaving with truckers gorging themselves on all four courses, not a wimpish three, like us. Oh and they were all tucking greedily into the wine. No wonder the French government have just passed a law that all drivers must carry a breathalyser in their vehicle with them.

The food is not haute cuisine, but it's delicious, additive-free and great value for money. The husband and wife team were charming (I later found out that Mrs Lovett is not the owners wife. She must have been the nice, non-Victorian-murderous-pie maker-looking lady clearing the tables and preparing the hors d'oevres).

Not just for truckers; the Relais Routier is a big part of both the French culinary and touring traditions and I hope it lasts for at least another 70 years. But of course it will. We're off to Aix-en-Provence next. I will not eat ever again.

The Potless Budget Restaurant Review #5: A la Porte Haute Brasserie, Kaysersberg, Alsace Region, France

Being Potless isn't all about cooking at home - it's about having a fabulous value-for-money eating experience, wherever you are.

So, I present to you my series entitled: 'The Potless Budget Restaurant Reviews'!

Having trawled the globe looking for the best of the cheapest eating out establishments, I can now share my findings. 

'Cheap' is, of course, subjective. But what makes a restaurant qualify for this list is a sense of extremely good value. A greasy spoon cafe might be cheap (and delicious too, come to that) but it won't make it onto the list, unless the eating experience it provides is of the very highest quality in proportion to the price it charges.

Fresh from our lunch in Langres, Mrs Ribeye and I hotfooted it over to Alsace, close to the German border, for a scenic trip along the Route des Vins and a night's stay in Kaysersberg.

Despite being a confirmed Francophile, I had never been to Alsace before, and it certainly didn't disappoint. The countryside, with its regimented (a bit of the Germanic influence, perhaps? - Alsace suffers the notoriety of having housed the only Nazi concentration camp on French soil) Reisling and Gewurtztraminer vines readying themselves for the harvest in a couple of months time. The villages in this region, including the nearby larger town of Colmar, are all absolutely picturesque, with fairytale architecture dotted among the rolling hills and valleys. The weather was a bit damp and overcast, but that didn't stop us craning our heads out of the car windows to take photographs of the Brothers Grimm-esque views. Simply stunning.

I parked the car in Kaysersberg's municipal square and we walked a few yards down the winding street to our timber-beamed, rickety looking bed and breakfast, Hassenforder. After being shown to our room to dump our PJ's and toothbrushes, we headed off for a quick circuit of the village and scouted for a likely place for dinner.

This town takes 'twee' to a whole new level. Every shuttered house seemed to belong to an artisan. Honey, candles, books, paintings, sculptures, pottery and other objets d'art were being flogged by the local residents from their ground floor windows. Miniature rivers and springs with little waterwheels and other functional waterway devices coursed underneath between and around the narrow residential streets. Flowers and hanging baskets were dotted haphazardly everywhere. There was a husband and wife team of accordion players regaling the town's various restaurant's al fresco diners with oompah tunes. We loved it, but as a hard-nosed cynical Londoner, I realised that after a couple of nights of this kind of saccharine-laced treatment I was likely to go effing nuts. It's a bit like 'Alsace-World' at a Disney theme park. One night's stay would certainly suffice.

On the food front; A la Porte Haute, a pretty brasserie specialising in home-cooked local fare, seemed like a safe choice and was actually located right across the road from our lodgings. Perfect. We sat on the front terrace of our B & B and ordered our usual pitcher of rose, and spent a couple of happy hours unwinding from the roadtrip and wiling away the afternoon in preparation for our evening dinner.

After dinner we popped in to the local pub, L'Arbre Vert, to drink pastis and watch Italy beat England on penalties in the quarter-finals of the Euro 2012 championships - how very predictable. The barman was charming and the bar was full of local patrons, who in the main actually seemed to support the crappy English team over the dominant Azzuri of Italy. How very lovely for us. Didn't make much difference to the scoreline though...

The next morning, we ate a delicious breakfast of croissants with homemade jam. After an enquiry to the manageress, I was told that the incredible amber jam was made of local quinces, and I was presented with a large jar to take home. I was absolutely touched at her generosity. While Mrs Ribeye wandered off to take some last photographs of the village in the bright morning sunshine, I made my way back to the town square to get the car. To my horror, the municipal square was now the site of the village market, and my car was parked in the middle of it, surrounded by stalls! From a distance, it looked as if my only means of transport was about to become the star prize in the local raffle.

I feverishly ran over to the market and scanned the layout. I reckoned that with some effort and a bit of re-arranging of a few displays, I might be able to make it out of the maze after all. I got into the car, did a 27-point turn to extricate myself from the parking space, and then slowly drove through the gaps between the 25-30 stalls to make it out to the nearest exit. The stall owners, in full knowledge that the English imbecile would likely attempt this, did not bat an eyelid. Rails of dresses and counters of cheese and ham were shoved here and there to allow me to pass safely by. No doubt that if this was an English market, we would have definitely have been forced to have stayed another night in town.


As if the drama wasn't enough, I found our room key in my pocket when we got to our next destination at Annecy in the French Alps. It cost me 8 Euros to send it back to Kaysersberg by recorded delivery. I don't know what the rules on Karma are, but does this qualify?

A la Porte Haute Brasserie
118 Rue General de Gaulle
Kaysersberg
68240
France


Tel: 03 89 78 21 49


Restaurant:


A pretty window-shuttered brasserie with a pleasant al fresco-fronted dining area, and a menu filled with regional specialities. Out of the 6-7 restaurants in the locality, this was easily the busiest. Always a good sign. However, getting a table was fairly easy, and space was found for us between a mature couple who seemed like they had eaten here every week for the past 60 years, and a younger couple, who like us were delighted to have stumbled upon such gems as Kaysersberg and the A la Porte Haute brasserie.


Menu:


As with almost all brasseries and restaurants in France, the prix fixe reigns supreme. Since neither of us fancied a huge four-course dinner, we decided to order three entrees and share them all 'a la meme temps, s'il vous plait' (gotta make an effort with the lingo, you know). We ordered from across the menu; a plate of crudites, a cheese platter, and the local speciality mysteriously called Assiette d'Alsacienne. The latter was a plate of porky delights accompanied by choucroute - or the French version of the German sauerkraut.


The crudites were a lovely combination of dressed salads, while the speciality platter was a huge plate of different sausages (including the celebrated local Morteau), hams and salamis with a pile of spiced cabbage. Delightful. The cheese platter contained among its 4-5 varieties, a fresh white goats cheese crotin, and the smelliest cheese in the world: Munster, from the eponymously-named town a few kilometres away. What a whiffy treat. I don't know why, but the smellier the cheese, the mellower and more delicious it seems to taste. This applies to the stinky Perigord cheese Chaumes too, another personal favourite.


Together with a basket of delicious bread and a pitcher of gewurtztraminer, our meal was incredible and looked amazing. Our fellow diners exclaimed loudly when our dishes were presented to us and covered our table, that perhaps their own choices of chicken leg in a cream sauce with pasta was perhaps not as inviting to the eye as our avant garde selections. Perhaps our '3-entrees-for-2-people-delivered-in-1-go' ordering system might catch on in France one day, and finally lay to rest the current French fad of ordering huge lumps of meat in sauce as part of a heavy four course set meal. Who knows?


Bill:


The whole lot came to 34 Euros (about £14 per head in English money) for the two of us. Had we ordered the suggested 17 Euro prix fixe, we couldn't have eaten better, and it would have been dearer once the wine was factored in. Long live the '3-2-1' ordering system!


Experience:


Kaysersberg will definitely feature in my future. I loved it there and Mrs Ribeye and I decided that out of all the villages we stayed in or visited, this one was the prettiest. Was it the BEST though? Not sure. There are still plenty of towns on our tour left to consider. I'll keep you updated with my views on Annecy, Aix, Nice, Lyon, Auxerre, Amiens...


On our inevitable return, we definitely would stay at the guest house again. As for the restaurant; we would certainly eat there again. The service was smooth and friendly. The wine was excellent, and the cuisine gave us a wonderful introduction to the delights of the region. Plus, it's only a short stagger back to the lodgings. Hopefully next time I won't forget to hand our room key back at reception.

The Potless Budget Restaurant Review #4: Brasserie le Foy, Langres, Champagne-Ardenne Region, France

Being Potless isn't all about cooking at home - it's about having a fabulous value-for-money eating experience, wherever you are.

So, I present to you my series entitled: 'The Potless Budget Restaurant Reviews'!

Having trawled the globe looking for the best of the cheapest eating out establishments, I can now share my findings. 

'Cheap' is, of course, subjective. But what makes a restaurant qualify for this list is a sense of extremely good value. A greasy spoon cafe might be cheap (and delicious too, come to that) but it won't make it onto the list, unless the eating experience it provides is of the very highest quality in proportion to the price it charges.

Mrs Ribeye and I have just arrived back from our summer hols to France, and boy-oh-boy, do I have a lot to report! Not only do I have plenty of restaurant reviews to post over the coming weeks from various wonderful locations and eateries on our travels to and from the south of France, but I also have a couple of delicious recipes (which I cooked in the kitchen of our beautiful rented flat in Nice on the sunny Cote d'Azur), which I cannot wait to share with you.

Today's review comes from our stop-off in the Champagne-Ardenne region, after a lovely first night in Troyes (the capital of the Champagne region itself - simply gorgeous. You MUST visit it), and on our way eastwards to Kaysersberg in Alsace, near the German border.

Langres is one of those lovely little finds which seem to be dotted all over France, but which are sadly few and far between in England - a small, pretty, medieval walled town, with a nice little central square and one of every business (pharmacy, shoe shop, hairdresser etc) radiating out to some winding little residential streets before taking you to the gap in the town's battlemented wall, onto the main road, and connecting you to the nearest autoroute. The 12th century cathedral at the very top of the town is spectacular.

Brasserie Le Foy
7 Place Diderot
Langres
52200
France


Tel: 03 25 87 09 86

Restaurant:

It was Sunday lunchtime - a notoriously difficult time to find anything much open on France's favourite day and time of the week. I had some experience of the French love of the Sabbath day-off, so was surprised and delighted to find this charming little brasserie not only open, but fairly busy with the local townsfolk in their Sunday best, drinking pitchers of chilled pink wine outside on the front terrace.

Mrs Ribeye and I spotted a vacant two-seater table and darted for it, with a quick glance at the waitress to see whether she had any objections. She obviously didn't, because menus and a basket of good fresh bread were on its way over within a flash, together with a question of 'boisson?' to be swiftly answered with 'I'll be having what they're having' in my pidgin French. The pichet de vin rose arrived and was quickly ingested before we gave the menu a run-down, and we decided to stay away from the suggested heavy Sunday-fare plat du jour of a hearty beef stew. It's a warm day in the last weekend of June, for God's sake!

Menu: 

As with most brasseries and restaurants in France, a number of  prix fixe (or 'formule') menus are offered, which encourage you to eat  a number of courses for a fixed price - normally reasonably priced depending on how many courses you have chosen - but which are pretty heavy-going and massively calorific. On a later occasion, at a Relais Routier (review to follow Click on the link!), we did actually pig-out, but on this occasion, sanity prevailed and we ordered lightly. A peasant-y salad with chicken livers for me, a croque monsieur for her and a plate of frites to share.

Now, I had no pre-planned desire before we got to this place to review it - we hadn't ordered anything particularly awe-inspiring or even noteworthy. The restaurant was the usual small-town gaff with some irritatingly loud, pastis-drinking, old local farts annoying the long-suffering but convivial barmaid inside the dark recesses of the restaurant; but our meal was so surprisingly delicious and satisfying that as an afterthought I whipped-out the camera to take a picture of the front of the place (no chance of taking a picture of the food, because we had scoffed it), after we had eaten our meal, and resolved to report back my findings, more as reminder to myself to use Langres as a regular pitstop in future, rather than as a review of part of any culinary excursion that I had intended to take.

Firstly, the portions were enormous. The salad and frites would have quite happily done for the both of us, without the additional (although no less welcome) toasted sandwich that was plonked in front of Mrs Ribeye. There must have been at least a pound of freshly pan-fried livers scattered over my satellite dish-sized plate. The plate of chips (supposedly for one) was enough for four. In fairness, the sandwich looked, at first glance, of normal proportions, until I noticed the height of it. It must have been smothered in a vat of rich bechamel sauce and gruyere, before being browned under a hot grill.

Secondly, the flavours were incredible. I'm not sure if the livers were marinated in milk first, because they were creamy, not at all bitter, and seemed to have a sort of sticky glaze on the outsides. The salad dressing was a creamy homemade vinaigrette, and the salad vegetables were plentiful and fresh. The sandwich was a huge delicious messy delight of ham, cheese, sauce and toast. The frites were at least twice, if not thrice-cooked. A crispy golden plate of heaven.

Desserts/cheese were offered and politely declined.

The couple at the table next to us had ordered the daube de boeuf dish-of-the-day and were labouring under its sheer volume and richness, while me and the missus hobbled off to our waiting car, and onto the rolling Alsacian hills. We were full up, but not as full up as them.

Bill:


24 Euros was the bill for the both of us. That's about a tenner a head, including wine. Tip included.

Experience:


Do I need to add more? I loved it at Langres, not just for lunch, but also for the nice walk afterwards around the circumference of the town, into the cool interior of the cathedral and off to search for the car in the rabbit warren of the quiet residential streets. If Langres was in the UK, it would be famous, because we wouldn't stop banging on about it. But it's France, which means that it's just another fabulous little-known friendly place, filled with locals secretly delighted that unless a tourist stumbles upon it, they have the place pretty much to themselves. Next stop, Kaysersberg. 

The Potless Budget Restaurant Review #3: Makan Cafe, Portobello Road, London, W10

Being Potless isn't all about cooking at home - it's about having a fabulous value-for-money eating experience, wherever you are.

So, I present to you my series entitled: 'The Potless Budget Restaurant Reviews'!

Having trawled the globe looking for the best of the cheapest eating out establishments, I can now share my findings. 

'Cheap' is, of course, subjective. But what makes a restaurant qualify for this list is a sense of extremely good value. A greasy spoon cafe might be cheap (and delicious too, come to that) but it won't make it onto the list, unless the eating experience it provides is of the very highest quality in proportion to the price it charges.

Mrs Ribeye and I had a wonderful time at Portobello Road market on Saturday morning, although the polarisation of the cheaper shops, frequented by the locals towards the lower end near Golborne Road, compared with the over-priced tourist traps at the upper end near Notting Hill Gate, has never been more apparent. Portobello Road market, made famous in the Hugh Grant/Julia Roberts movie 'Notting Hill', is still as vibrant and busy as ever - the only negative is the miserable-looking, and sounding, buskers every 100 yards, drimbling their crappy music to the punters as they shuffle quickly past (an occasional upbeat tune or a smile would be nice, guys).

It is toward the lower end at Portobello Green, that this review comes to you. Mrs Ribeye, fresh from her purchase of an immaculate genuine vintage Burberry trench coat for an amazing £45 (most probably nearer £100 at the upper end of the road), and I, fancied lunch. Under the A40 overpass lurks Makan, along with a few other cafes and luncheries. The Thai restaurant, 'Garden & Grill', with the roof terrace overlooking the very middle of Portobello Road market would have been a great choice - had we been in the area on a weekday instead - but this being a weekend, the prices in that establishment triple on peak days, meaning that the only people they were entertaining were not exactly the local cognoscenti. So Makan it was, an authentic Malaysian cafe filled with 'Lahndahners' who know better.

Makan Cafe
270 Portobello Road
London 
W10 5TY
Tel: 020 8560 5169

The Restaurant:

The place has a real street food cafe feel to it. The furniture is a selection of oddments, ranging from the regular formica topped tables, to wooden garden furniture, to some bar stools at a bar at the front of the cafe near the front door. Every seat was taken when we arrived, but the high turnover rate means that the most you would wait would be five minutes - enough time to place your order and be given a number to wait for your food to be delivered to you, before hurriedly scooting to the nearest available vacant seats.

There is a glass-fronted counter (pictured) with a large selection of Malaysian treats waiting to be microwaved and served to you, and a sign telling you to pick your choice of dishes with one, two or three combinations, in an ascending (but still very reasonable even at the most expensive) order of prices. The chefs at the back kitchen are hard at work preparing food to order if you don't fancy the zapped cabinet fare. Mrs Ribeye and I chose instead to order a couple of dishes from the large photographs suspended above the waiting staff - all coming in a choice of veg/chicken/seafood - and which are also very reasonably priced.

The Menu:

In the chiller cabinet are trays of varying lamb, veg, and fish dishes, from aubergine stews to chickpea curries, a spinach-y looking side dish, chicken noodle dishes, a variety of meat curries, rice and other sundries, including fried seafood-y stuff and dumplings. In fairness, the food doesn't look its best when sitting in its cold stainless steel receptacle, which is the reason why Mrs Ribeye and I opted for the 'made to order' selection instead, but this may have been a mistake, as the guy in the seat next to me
was delivered a most sumptuous selection of 'cabinet stuff' which looked incredible after its careful arrangement on a plate and being subjected to some warming gamma rays.

Never mind, ours was on its way and we ended up delighted with our choices. Mrs Ribeye chose a fried noodle dish with chicken, and I chose a large bowl of Singaporean (I know, not exactly Malaysian) laksa with seafood, and we decided to split everything down the middle to be able to sample a bit of each.

The last time I ate laksa was actually in Singapore, when my friend's mother (who was generous enough to let me stay with them for a week), made us her own home-made version. Makan's was almost as good - trust me,  this is an enormous compliment.

The dishes, when they arrived, were huge and brightly garnished with fresh salad vegetables. The noodle dish was a fried vermicelli-based creation with a generous portion of stir fried chicken and vegetables. The laksa was the star of the show though. A spicy coconut soup filled with noodles, fried tofu cakes, vegetables, and large coral-coloured king prawns. The accompanying chilli oil ramped up the spice quotient for me (a MASSIVE chilli addict), but Mrs Ribeye was happy to leave the heat levels where they were.

Together, the two dishes complimented each other perfectly, and the generous serving sizes meant that there was no need for any starters or side dishes to gild the lily.

The Bill:

With every dish here priced at under £7 - and most are way under - you would be hard pressed to pay more than about a tenner a head, whatever you order. Mrs Ribeye and I came away with a bill of £15 for the two of us, including a drink each, and I reckon that this is the cheapest lunch at a sit-down place in Portobello Road on a weekend market day. If you're around on a non-market weekday, you will love the aforementioned Garden & Grill with the far-ranging views from the first floor terrace, but on a weekend, Makan is the place to be for a delicious, well-priced, Far Eastern dining experience, after a hard morning's vintage clothing shopping.

The Experience:

While not exactly the Ritz, this cafe is a brilliant find for somewhere tasty, authentic and cheap after spending the morning trawling for bargains in London's most famous antique, vintage clothing and food market. I first came here a decade ago and loved the ambience, and as with the best places to eat in London, the ones that survive and prosper seem to always be upping their game. Makan is no exception - it is better than ever and offers one of the only good value eating experiences in Portobello Road on a Saturday lunchtime.

The Potless Budget Restaurant Review #2: Sakonis, Wembley, Middlesex

Being Potless isn't all about cooking at home - it's about having a fabulous value-for-money eating experience, wherever you are.

So, I present to you my series entitled: 'The Potless Budget Restaurant Reviews'!

Having trawled the globe looking for the best of the cheapest eating out establishments, I can now share my findings. 

'Cheap' is, of course, subjective. But what makes a restaurant qualify for this list is a sense of extremely good value. A greasy spoon cafe might be cheap (and delicious too, come to that) but it won't make it onto the list, unless the eating experience it provides is of the very highest quality in proportion to the price it charges.

My last review was Wong Kei in London's bustling Chinatown, and today's entry is similar, in a sort of authentic-ethnic-high-turnover-legendary-landmark-dining-institution kind of way, but not remotely alike in its location, culinary influence or atmosphere. Part of a two restaurant chain (the sister restaurant is located in Harrow, a few miles away), Sakonis is an Indian vegetarian diner set in a busy road close to Wembley triangle, home of the national sports stadium, and a hive of activity for our north London Asian community. I have been eating here for years and feel that now is the time to blab to the world what a uniquely special and delicious experience it is.

Sakonis
127-129 Ealing Road
Wembley
Middlesex
HA0 4BP
Tel: 020 8903 1058


The Restaurant:

Located on the busy Ealing Road, lined with jewellers, exotic fruit and veg emporia and sari shops, lies this alfresco patio-fronted diner, established many many years ago to cater for the ever-expanding local Asian community. The parking is a nightmare (especially on bank holidays, the day we decided to go), but there is little other alternative to driving to Sakonis, unless you fancy taking the bus, which I don't.

Once parked; as you walk through the gazebo-ed terrace to the front door, past the front takeaway counter filled with brightly covered sweets and savouries, and through to the dining area, you notice an overwhelming abundance of... white formica. Everything seems to be covered in it, from the floor to the walls to the tables to the chairs and even the crockery. I may be wrong - and in fact the walls and floor may be ceramic tiled instead - but it's the impression or feeling of formica which stays in the memory long after you have left the restaurant, and is in fact probably the reason why I have referred to this place as a diner, rather than a restaurant, so far in this review.

As you are led to your (probably formica-topped) table, you are presented with a large jug of water and plastic cups. Trust me, you will need them later to help put out the chilli fire in your mouth. After a quick glance at the menu, together with the inevitable brief ponder as to whether you might order a la carte this time, instead of greedily plumping for the buffet (pictured),

you smile sweetly at the waiter and tell him that actually you will be plumping for the buffet. Why not? Most of what is offered on the regular menu is to be found under the row of stainless steel sun-lamped and chiller cabinets anyway. Talking of greediness: Just in case your eyes outsize your stomach, a 'polite notice' on laminated card on each table reminds you (politely) not to take more of the buffet than you can eat, and that (politely) any wasted food will be (politely) charged extra for. And (politely) no sharing the buffet with a la carte orderers. Ok ok.


The Menu:

Is there any point discussing anything except for the buffet? Well yes, actually. In fact, looking around the place, I would say that the split between buffet and non-buffet clientele is about 50/50, so noticing around me that most of the knowledgeable-looking patrons act like they eat here every week of their lives, obviously there is a lot to be said for asking for a menu.

The menu is split into five sections: 'Eats', 'Bites' 'Indian-style Chinese cuisine', 'Sweets' and 'Drinks':

'Eats':

As far as 'Eats' is concerned, the crispy potato bhajias are the shining star. These are slices of potato coated in a crispy herby batter, which although not sounding too exotic or adventurous, are utterly sublime. I have never eaten a potato dish, in any culinary style, that I have enjoyed as much as this. Almost as good is the mixed chat, which is a dish of savoury spicy treats smothered in a refreshing yoghurt-based sauce.

A mention must of course go to the masala dosa. A south Indian speciality, comprising a large wafery pancake, filled with a most rich and delicious potato curry. Although not on the menu, the last time we had the buffet, one of the dishes offered was the most incredible Masala Chips (click the link for my own recipe). Message to the Sakonis management: Put them on the regular menu NOW!

'Bites':

'Bites' offers the usual small-dish fare of samosas and kachori etc, which range from a very reasonable £2 to £5.

'Chinese Cuisine':

I have long stopped asking myself why an Indian restaurant is offering Chinese food, and just eat it instead - I suggest you do the same. Try the paneer chilli and the Shanghai potatoes, but don't expect anything in this part of the menu to taste particularly Chinese-y. It's basically Indian food with noodles.

'Drinks' and 'Sweets':

Drinks and sweets are the usual gulab jamun, rasmalai (balls of very sweet whey dough, fried or poached and served either in a sugar syrup or a condensed milk sauce) and ice creams. As with the masala chips, the buffet offered jelabi (fried webs of dough, with a sugar syrup glaze) which was not on the regular menu. I have been assured by Mrs Ribeye that the mango lassi is 'the best ever' High praise indeed. (I wouldn't know. I think drinking yoghurt with a meal is a repulsive notion.)


The Bill:

The buffet is £8.99 for lunch, or £11.99 in the evening. The thing is, you would be hard pressed to spend an awful lot more if you order a la carte, but with the buffet you get about 30 dishes to go at, rather than being restricted to the 3-4 that you would otherwise contend with. On the a la carte menu, there is not a single dish over £7, and most of them are nearer £5. Excellent value.

The Experience:

In fairness, you don't go to Sakonis for the atmosphere or the decor. It is ALL about the food. Not only is Sakonis a brilliant restaurant, it is by far the best vegetarian restaurant of any type of cuisine that I have ever eaten in. Also, I would rather eat lunch at Sakonis than dinner - the atmosphere and decor are not conducive to a lingered-over evening meal.

Like all of my favourite restaurants, Sakonis offers excellent value for money, is completely unique in terms of the food offered, and makes any other 'equivalent' (an oxymoron in the strictest sense of the word, if you consider Sakonis as unique, of course) restaurant seem as if they are not quite trying hard enough. 

The Potless Budget Restaurant Review #1: Wong Kei, London, W1

Being Potless isn't all about cooking at home - it's about having a fabulous value-for-money eating experience, wherever you are.

So, I present to you my series entitled: 'The Potless Budget Restaurant Reviews'!

Having trawled the globe looking for the best of the cheapest eating out establishments, I can now share my findings. 

'Cheap' is, of course, subjective. But what makes a restaurant qualify for this list is a sense of extremely good value. A greasy spoon cafe might be cheap (and delicious too, come to that) but it won't make it onto the list, unless the eating experience it provides is of the very highest quality in proportion to the price it charges.

Today's entry is a favourite of mine and my family's since the early 1970's, and, as such, is a perfect place to occupy my first ever review. For nearly forty years, I have been a regular at the 'rudest restaurant in London's Chinatown' and the food is as good, if not better, than ever.

Wong Kei 

41-43 Wardour Street

London

W1D 6PY

Tel: 020 7437 8408 

The Restaurant:

This four -floored establishment is situated at the 'T' junction of Wardour Street and Gerrard Street in London's busy Chinatown. As soon as you walk through the front doors, a waiter will demand of you how many people are in your party, and any answer apart from 'one, please' will have the words 'Upstairs!' or 'Downstairs!' being screamed at you across the ground floor of the restaurant - the only floor which allows lone diners. In a feeble stab at self-aware humour, the waiters in recent years wear T shirts emblazoned with the 'Upstairs/Downstairs' motto on the back. Hilarious? Er, not.

If you happen not to be alone and are feeling bold, you fancy a quick meal and can't be bothered to walk up the cold staircase at the back or down to the basement replete with fake waterfall, then you may confidently stride toward the ground floor back seating area, where a dozen or so tables allow up to four guests - but be confident, don't make eye contact with any staff member and leap for a table while taking off your coat. As you sit down, ask for a menu - still looking down at your feet.

If you do make it upstairs, the first floor is the busiest and the second floor is the prettiest - with lower ceilings, nice carpets and a more intimate atmosphere. On the contrary, the basement is dank and unappealing, with tiled floors and that crappy waterfall thingy. The ground floor is made up of long and short tables with lone diners sitting zig-zagged down their lengths, to provide themselves with a little more elbow room.

One of the dubious pleasures of Wong Kei is the expectation of sharing a table with strangers. About 75% of the restaurant's dining areas are made up of large round tables of six or eight - which means that a couple or a foursome are more likely than not going to be eating with other couples or foursomes. This is fine, if you are fun and the other people are likewise, otherwise your dinner will be a muted affair with you and your table rivals closely guarding your respective territories with strategically placed chopsticks and napkins. Either way, the sharing space creates a sort of quasi-wedding atmosphere, with just a hint of disappointment when no-one gets up after dinner to make a drunken speech. Unless it's a Friday night, when the late night diners are mainly office workers after a quick post piss-up meal.

The Menu:

First of all, as you sit down, you will be presented with a battered stainless steel pot of delicious fragrant (and free) Chinese tea, small cups and bowls and pairs of possibly Ming-era discoloured, but presumably clean, chopsticks. If you leave your teapot lid open at any point during your meal, a waiter will provide you with endless free refills.

The menu ('Cash Only') is filled with one sentence descriptions with the usual sweet and sour suspects in attendance, but with the odd surprise thrown in here and there to keep you on your toes. A jelly fish salad offers a pleasant alternative to the been-there-done-that crispy duck starter, but the crispy belly pork is the best way to start your meal. Served cold, it is succulent in all the right places, and crispy in all the right places and smothered in a delicious sauce.

Won ton noodle soup (pictured) is a fantastic lunch all on its own, or great for two to share as part of a larger meal. It's by far the best Chinese soup, of any variety, that I have ever eaten, and is pretty legendary - I don't know anyone who has gone to Wong Kei and not raved about the won ton soup. The portion is enormous and Mrs Ribeye and I normally order a soup each, plus some of the most incredible fried chicken wings EVER, for a perfect simple mid-week evening meal.

If you feel like getting messy, the baked crab in ginger and spring onion is a huge portion of the king of crustacea and delicious. Mrs Ribeye can't stand all the messing about with nutcrackers, but I think it adds to the fun - as long as you don't mind covering yourself in sauce. There's no way around it.

If there is anything negative to say about the food, I would reserve it for the typical provincial take-away fare of chicken and cashew nuts or beef in black bean sauce etc. It's not that the food is poor, it's just that it's a bit bland and boring - I would stick to the things which a large restaurant like this can do easily and cheaply, due to the high turnover, which the small restaurants cannot do for the same price and at the same quality - like barbecue meats and seafood. Try the crispy prawns in their shells. Where else can you get such a huge portion in central London for under £7?

Having said that, the only 'regular' menu item which I would order again and again is the Hong Kong style sweet and sour chicken. It is sublime.

Wong Kei is not a dessert-y kinda place. I would nip into Gerrard Street to a Chinese bakery for a cake to nibble as you wander through Chinatown on your way home, but in no way will you need it.

Drinks are mainly Chinese beer (delicious and slightly sweet tasting) and bad wine. I normally drink beer or stick to the free tea.

The Bill:

'Cash Only!' screams the menu on every page - so go to the cashpoint on Shaftesbury Avenue before entering the restaurant. Expect a bill of between £8-15 per head, depending on what you order and whether you have drinks or not. If you go with friends, you will be best to buy a few dishes and share - this keeps the cost even lower (nearer £10 per head, with a beer) and makes the experience more 'Wong Kei-esque'.

The Experience:

Not for the faint-hearted, and don't expect a silver-service dinner, but do expect cheap, well-cooked, delicious food in an unparalleled location. The waiting staff are no longer overtly rude, but they are not exactly full of smiles either. I absolutely love the place and expect to be taking my own children and grandchildren there in forty years time. By 2052, the waiters may even say 'hello' as I enter the restaurant.