Le Gourmet de France

published 18 July 2012

One man's culinary journey at Le Tour.

How the categories work Hors categorie – outstanding, perhaps not quite Michelin star standard but as good as you'll get on the Tour 1st category – a very good meal, enough to let out a deeply satisfied 'aaaah' 2nd category – good stuff 3rd category – filled a gap adequately enough but lacking that je ne sais quoi 4th category – better than missing a meal, but not by much Intermediate sprint – Er, let's hope it doesn't cause an intermediate sprint to the toilet in the night

Our penultimate hotel of the Tour was an Ibis. To be fair, we did well to get through the whole thing with only one Campanile and one Ibis. Chain hotels really do take their toll. One year I spent a week travelling from Ibis to Ibis and by the end of it, I had memorised the play list that pipes out into reception and I was more familiar than is healthy with the array of things they provide for breakfast.

At last, Cassoulet Night. It was a fraught drive through the one-way system in Toulouse, and a late dinner (past 10pm, which is pushing it if you want to avoid cassoulet-related sleep issues) but Restaurant Emile served us a fine example of the region's speciality, washed down with a hearty red. It's amazing that a deep, rich red wine can feel almost refreshing when paired with the salty combination of Toulouse sausage, pork, duck and beans in garlicky sauce.

We feared the worst, partly because the Royal Hotel did not have a website. What we got was one of the most pleasing hotels of the Tour and, almost certainly, the best value place. The Royal Hotel was quite old-fashioned – like places in English seaside towns that have seen better days but have at least held on to their dignity and pride. The couple running it were quite elderly but we have not encountered nicer people all Tour. They were incredibly friendly.

We were having a beer with Eurosport's commentary team Dave Harmon and Sean Kelly when Phil Griffiths bowled over and invited everyone within earshot to dinner. Griffiths was one of the ANC-Halfords team managers when they rode the Tour in 1987. These days he imports Pinarello bikes (which probably accounts for the permanent smile). He also owns an appartment in Luchon, overlooking the lovely town square and the thermal spa, flanked by stunning mountains. We were very grateful for his invitation and had a fine evening. Among the other diners were Malcolm Elliott, Adrian Timmis and Graham Jones, with the BBC Five Live commentary team.

After all that meat, I had a taste for something sweet. Egged on by the waiter, Ed and I ordered the choux XXL, which turned out to be a lump of rich vanilla ice cream the size of Samuel Dumoulin's head, topped with a choux pastry bun, a rich chocolate sauce and almonds. We were told only four people have ever finished two of them. I failed to complete even one, although Ed was successful. Whether he enjoyed the twisty drive to the hotel after dinner is up for debate.

Time was ticking on, we knew we weren't going to reach our hotel in time for dinner, so we stopped on route. Remind me not to go to Bourg-les-Valence again. It wasn't as bad as Lure where we stayed a week ago – that really did resemble an economic downturn theme park – but it wasn't much better. However, we were grateful to find a restaurant open at such a late hour. Madame was very friendly although she steered us into having a chicken and mushroom stewy-type-thing with rice and ratatouille rather than allowing us to pick from the menu. Far enough, it was late. The downside was that there was a very large gentleman sitting at the bar who was showing enough bum crack for an entire building site. It wasn't pleasant.

The Friday night before Bastille Day and half of France is driving south. We left Annonay after the stage finish and got stuck in a big traffic jam, then another big traffic jam. All three lanes of the autoroute were clogged at 10.45pm. We arrived at our hotel in the charming village of Puygiron, not far from Montelimar (nougat country, for those who like nougat) at 11.30pm. We had to get up before 7am the next morning to get on the road because the Tour organisers recommended all Tour traffic drive on the route, ahead of the publicity caravan, to avoid more jams on the motorways.

If you ignore the fact that our hotel was on a busy main road between Chambéry and Challes-les-Eaux it was a very decent base for a couple of nights. The mountainous backdrop made up for the fact the car park was a building site and the road was noisy. The people who ran it was so friendly, which goes a long way to make up for any down sides. Three of us had to share one large room, so I made sure I bagged the top bunk and put my ear plugs in. I won't say which one of them was snoring.

Our second night at the auberge meant I had to go for the coq au vin. The other options didn't excite me. Andouillette of any description gives me the shivvers. It's basically a pungent sausage with the texture of rubber bands packed tightly inside a verruca sock, not that I've eaten rubber bands in a verruca sock. The fish stew was made with river fish, which I don't particularly like. Fortunately, in this region they just love cooking their meats in wine. So I went for the chicken in wine. The picture doesn't do it justice. The sauce was delicious, although they looked at me strangely when I asked if they served it in pints.

First the positives. The hotel was in Lure, a very short drive from the press room. There's not a glut of rooms in the area so Ed did well to find anywhere. I drew the shortest straw because I had a smoking room. The giveaways were the fact the window was wide open, the curtains were a yellowish brown. Oh, and the smell. It was like walking into a working men's club in 1984. As I've said before, the definition of a non-smoking room in France is that there's not someone smoking in there at the moment.It was not pretty. There were cigarette burns in the sink. I slept with the window wide open, which meant I was woken at 5.30 when heavy rain blew in and gave me a little shower. Still, on the upside, everyone else's rooms were fine so, as Dave Brailsford would say, it's only one night, we take the positives and we move on. To give you an indication of the decor, here's what's on the wall in the breakfast room. I had to stifle a scream.

I'm still not sure what possessed me to go for the choucroute maison, other than that it's one of eastern France's regional dishes – and the fact that Ed had ordered it. The sauerkraut was very vinegary and the meat was dense. There was also a lot of it and I barely dented it. There must've been enough salt on that plate for a week. Rating: 3rd category. Not a bad restaurant, just poor selection.

The main course was billed as filet mignon de porc but it had a very strange texture, almost like a firm paté, which was disconcerting. Ed went for salmon with pasta. The white tubes were pale and without any sauce. They looked as if they'd been cooked in lukewarm washing up water. They also lost marks for trying to convince Ed that the most expensive red wine on the menu would definitely go with his fish.

What has happened to France? We ordered the cheese course and were presented with three chunks of cold cheese straight from the fridge. Ten years ago, this would have been grounds to close down the hotel chain and sack everyone who so much as attempted to defend the serving of cold cheese. Even unremarkable cheese can be improved if it is served at room temperature, so it can come to life a bit. Rating: 4th category. It wasn't inedible it was just joyless. Bean counters at the head office of Campanile's holding company seem to have decided that this is the most convenient and profitable way to feed their guests.

Anything would be a comedown after the sumptuous Château de Hodbomont, where the Prosecco was on ice and the owners' dogs ran carefree through the grounds. Our second hotel of the Tour brought us crashing down to earth. It's a Campanile on a trading estate on the outskirts of Douai. Our neighbours are an Aldi supermarket and a roundabout. It's more of an American-style motel, with the rooms opening directly onto an outdoor gangway or, if you're unlucky, onto the hard shoulder of the dual carriageway.

It was gone eight by the time we got on the road to search for a restaurant. We dithered about a bit before heading to Tilff, which boasted a bustling square flanked by bars and restaurants. Unfortunately, they were all full. After a couple of laps of the square, we were almost resigned to eating in the café at a bowling alley (which might have been fun). We tried our luck at a Moroccan restaurant and were told there was a table inside. Time was rattling on, so we skipped starters. After a long wait – almost 40 minutes – our meals arrived, earning monsieur the lanterne rouge for slowest service.

The Van der Valk's kitchen seemed to be turning out an impressive array of plates, so we opted to stay for dinner. I chose the lamb fillet, which was soft and cooked perfectly. The Dauphinoise potato was rich and buttery and the vegetables still had some bite. I'd question the decision to put a clump of cress in the gravy but seeing as it has vitamins and minerals in it, I shan't complain. Rating: 2nd category, upgraded retrospectively to 1st – the best meal of the Tour so far.

We had lunch at the Hotel Van der Valk in Verviers, which is the very pleasant base for Team Sky during the opening weekend. The campagnarde salad was off the menu, presumably because they were out of campagnarde, so I opted for the Salad Brest, which made Richard snigger. [For the record, Richard says he sniggered at something else]. Bread-crumbed chicken and a very fresh, crunchy salad arrived. Every year I make a mental note to eat green things as often as possible because at some point we'll hit the Alps (fondue and tartiflette) and the Pyrenees (cassoulet).

Richard Moore, who is writing for Cycle Sport this year, has arrived and after the team presentation we went for dinner with the Cycling Weekly team. As you do when you're in Belgium, we headed to the finest, perhaps the only, Greek restaurant in Liège. The owner was a flamboyant fellow called Dimitri, a sort of Greek-Belgian version of Gok Wan with a Russian name. He insisted we sat outside, chortled at our colleague Simon Richardson's request to have tomatoes with his feta cheese starter, then wished us a happy and successful Tour. He also predicted rain for the prologue.

Chain hotels are winning the battle when it comes to the great issue of how breakfast should be served. Watered down orange juice in thimbles, brown sludge dispensed from a machine and labelled 'coffee' and a hot plate with eggs scrambled until they congeal into a sixth element is becoming the norm. The Château de Hodbomont's spread was the polar opposite. It was superb – an hors categorie breakfast. Freshly-squeezed OJ, a plate of fresh fruit (out of shot), an espresso cup of strawberry yoghurt, meats and cheeses, and jams in Champagne glasses.

Our hotel for the opening weekend is the charming Château de Hodbomont, tucked away in the woods near Theux, around 25 kilometres from Liège. For the price of a city centre chain hotel, such as the dreaded Ibis, we've got a place with bags of character and very friendly owners. The welcome was exquisite. When I opened the door to my room, soothing classical music was playing on a little CD player.

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Edward Pickering is a writer and journalist, editor of Pro Cycling and previous deputy editor of Cycle Sport. As well as contributing to Cycling Weekly, he has also written for the likes of the New York Times. His book, The Race Against Time, saw him shortlisted for Best New Writer at the British Sports Book Awards. A self-confessed 'fair weather cyclist', Pickering also enjoys running.

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