My favourite foreign restaurant
Harold Acton: Cecco's at Pescia, between Florence and Lucca, is my favourite res- taurant not too far from my home. Tuscan white beans, followed by grilled chicken flattened between bricks (al mattone) and Potarga, dried smoked roe of mullet or tunny, are what I usually order after visiting tne neighbouring garden of Villa Garzoni at Collodi, which is also the original abode of Pinocchio, the marionette-hero of the famous children's book whose author, Carlo Lorenzini, chose 'Collodi' as a pseudonym. The de- lectable white wine of Monte Carlo from the adjacent hills is an excellent appetiser. Harold Acton: Cecco's at Pescia, between Florence and Lucca, is my favourite res- taurant not too far from my home. Tuscan white beans, followed by grilled chicken flattened between bricks (al mattone) and Potarga, dried smoked roe of mullet or tunny, are what I usually order after visiting tne neighbouring garden of Villa Garzoni at Collodi, which is also the original abode of Pinocchio, the marionette-hero of the famous children's book whose author, Carlo Lorenzini, chose 'Collodi' as a pseudonym. The de- lectable white wine of Monte Carlo from the adjacent hills is an excellent appetiser. Anita Brookner: I dislike important res- taurants and do not really appreciate ambi- tious cooking. My choice of a place for lunch would be Queenie's Bar in Nice. It is an ail-purpose cafe-restaurant which seems to be open whenever you want it to be. If Your nerves are good you sit outside and Watch the traffic on the Promenade des Anglais. If not, the interior is darkish and cool: there is of course, no music. The chef shops daily in the market and the fish is good, infinitely better than anything one co. 'old get in London (except at Graham's, .Brewer Street). The menu is sparse, which means that the dish of the day is reliable. The tarte tatin is superb. Barbara Cartland: In France the master chefs have an almost star status. None is more deserved than Louis Outhier of L Oasis Restaurant at La Napoule in the South of France. Here in a beautiful shaded courtyard just away from the sea everything is perfection. This is a family business and Louis Outhier's attractive daughter Francoise acts as a charming tess. The service is superb, the food is breathtaking in its originality and lightness and the atmosphere is totally romantic.
Stan Gebler Davies: I do not as a rule recommend any place I patronise myself, unless the owner is a friend of mine and desperate for custom. However, I do not mind recommending Costellos (44th Street, Manhattan, New York) since any fastidious person who goes there will be put off by the presence of large numbers of journalists and, should they stay long enough, by the cuisine. The waiters are extremely rude, though not as rude as the journalists, but it is as good a place to get drunk in as any in New York City and conveniently close to Grand Central Sta- tion, via which one may escape Manhattan and every vile thing in it.
William Deedes: This sort of feature ren- ders it imperative to name a place too far away for other people to reach easily. So I nominate the garden restaurant of the Manila Hotel in the Philippines, which is expensive to reach — unless the company is paying the fare. It has other claims to merit. The British detest serving in res- taurants; Filipinos excel at it. The cuisine of the Manila Hotel is among the best in the world. From your table you can glance across Manila harbour and think romanti- cally about General MacArthur who said, `I will return,' and did, and took a suite in the hotel.
Deborah Devonshire: I seldom go to Lon- don, so the idea of restaurant food is exciting but the reality is nearly always a bitter disappointment. An exception is Thai food. The place to find this delicious stuff of new tastes, new colours and new shapes is in the one-way maze of the village bit of W8. It is • in a dark cellar, lit by candles at lunch time. It is the plumb opposite of the dining room at the Ritz; no view, no swank and polite service. I wish I could remember the name and address.
Graham Greene: Felix au Port, Antibes I don't have to think twice before naming my favourite restaurant to which I have been a regular visitor for more than 26 years. Antibes has 68 restaurants, but to my mind Felix comes first for the freshness and variety of his fish, the quality of the meat and the excellence of his dry martinis. The quiet ambience with a view of the port through an archway is to me an added charm.
Nicholas Henderson: Brasserie Lipp, Boulevard St Germain, directly across the road from Café Flore, is reputed to be the only resaurant in Paris where you feel you have been invited even though you get a bill. Allurements: the atmosphere of art nouveau tiles, the mirrors and mahogany; the presence, not of le tout Paris, but of those Parisians whom the proprietor wel- comes; and the very non-nouvelle cuisine, which includes blanquette de veau, cas- soulet and choucroute. One of France's Grandes Ecoles must surely be reponsible for turning out those self-assured waiters in their long white aprons.
AND WINE SPECIAL
FOOD Barry Humphries: In Brussels a private room upstairs at Pierre Wynant's Comme Chet Soi; intimate, warm, scrumptious, where, if I forget to mention my own name, I must wait at least four weeks for a reservation. Or a delicious lunch on the terrace at Schloss Fushl near Saltzburg, Ribbentrop's old country cottage over- looking the Badedas-green lake in whose Watery grots must surely lurk damp Cra- nachs and rusty eisenkreuze. Or, when in Portugal, a farce of pork and eels in a converted boat-house beside the brackish and melancholy lagoons of Aveiro, where the marsh mists sometimes infiltrate the restaurant and envelop fellow diners. Or, a spiced hen at the crumbling Bellvue at Macau. But best and most foreign of all La Strada, King's Cross, Sydney — the world's finest Steak Diane and pasta alla boscaiola.
Frank Longford: The Gay Hussar stands alone in my experience because of the welcome extended by the proprietor, the famous Victor. He prowls up and down throughout lunch showing an enormous interest in his customers, old and new, grand or humble, whom he has a unique capacity for making welcome. I am not much of a gourmet, or gourmand either, but those who understand food tell me that there is no better cuisine in London. Whatever the food and wine I would go to the Gay Hussar for the friendly atmos- phere and the gossip provided.
Zenga Longmore: Foreign shmoreign, there's only one place to eat, and that's Grits Take Away in Brixton. On those crisp, cold days, the curry goat with rice and peas is taken home and eaten in cosy comfort, and, of course, hot days are spent lounging around outside, eating ackee and salt-fish while gazing with lazy eyelids at Brixton market. The sturdy helpings stick to the ribs, and there's no need to bother with the fuss of waitresses, tips or table manners. Many a satisfied guest has left my table, never to know that the poisson a la grittes was really fried fish with dumpling, bought, cheap at half the price, from the ever dependable Grits.
David Profumo: Loathers of Filofax cuisine and minceur nonsense will find the Col- ombe d'Or at Saint-Paul-de-Vence the most soigné of restaurants at which to eat luncheon. The hors-d'oeuvre is more than a meal in itself, with exquisite rillettes, sardines, crudités, and pâté of thrush, while the poussin and steak (both offerings appallingly spoiled in many restaurants) are presented to perfection. The service is nicely impertinent, but after a kir royale under the Calder mobiles and a perusal of the fabulous paintings by artists for whom the old Madame Roux used to be a model, it all seems worth- while. Le tout Paris; occasional American megabucks; Eurotrash discouraged.
Taki: Xenou is the best taverna of Athens. It is located in Plaka, the old, unspoiled part of the ugliest city in Europe, and SUMMER FOOD AND WINE offers the kind of good-humoured and efficient service Greeks used to be known for. Mr Xenos, the proprietor, knows everyone, as his father did before him, and IS probably the only Greek who treats the mightiest politician and the ever-so- humble newspaper vendor as equals. There is a jasmine-scented garden, and a three-piece strolling guitar group that plays only Pre-World War II melodies. The food is what Greeks call etimo, i.e. ready to serve as soon as one sits at table. It is typically Greek: lamb, suvlaki, feta and taramasalata, fresh salads, and very good retsina from the barrel. The crowd is mostly Greek politicians, hacks, and, when lin in town, karate practitioners. The American tourists don't like Xenou be- cause Mr Xenos refuses to serve hambur- gers and hot dogs in buns.
Previous page
