France Today

Paul Flynn finally makes it to Bordeaux's famed la Tupina, but finds there are more questions than answers after a meal in this legendary bistro.

We were recently on holidays in Bordeaux and the highlight of our trip was dinner in a restaurant called La Tupina. Having negotiated some Dublinesque rush hour traffic in Bordeaux, we arrived at the restaurant I have been raving on about for some time now. Jonathan Meades, the English Times erstwhile food critic gave La Tupina an unheard of 11 out of 10 in his last review upon his retirement last year. The International Herald and Tribune named it the second best bistro in the world. (By the way, I am still trying to find out which is the best!) The New York Times devoted a full page to the restaurant last year, and I have been gumming to eat there since.

Having accolades and being lauded to the heavens is definitely a double-edged sword. Cooking is subjective and one man's heaven can be another's hell. There is no doubt Monsieur Xirakadis runs the most original restaurant I have ever been in. On entering you see chicken and ducks spit-roasting over an open fire. Chips bubbling away in duck fat. Saucissons and hams draped from the ancient beams in the ceiling. The simple restaurant is made up of different rooms, corners and intriguing nooks full of pictures and walls lined with precious bottles of wine. On certain chairs, discreetly etched were the names of the famous that have eaten in this temple of gastronomy. I apparently sat on Jacque Chirac's chair.

This is indeed a hallowed place. Monsieur Xiradakis was a charming and accommodating host and after a brief tour we were offered a table in his wine cellar. It may sound a bit dubious but, let me tell you, this was the place to be. Discreetly lit and away from the hub-bub from the main restaurant, we could be as raucous as we pleased and we were. I was like a child about to meet Santa for the first time, excited and giddy and everyone was indulging me. I couldn't have been happier.

The appetisers came in rustic little dishes piled in the centre of the table, full of pork crackling, cauliflower florets, fresh crisp radishes and sizzling pieces of Ventreche ham, shiny and succulent and swathed in duck fat. The excellent sourdough bread mopped up the juices and pretty soon I was contentedly glugging our wine. The whole evening was getting off to a tremendously convivial start.

The menu was brimming with foie gras, ceps, duck, and offal of all kinds. A vegetarians nightmare! Bordeaux is at the northern extremity of La Lande, the home of foie gras so five out of six of us indulged in it as a starter. Maire had the best terrine of foie gras I have ever tasted, described as mi-cuit (half cooked), she loved it so much the rest of us were lucky to get a taste. Mary and I had eggs en cocotte with foie gras and two of the others had sauté of foie gras with ceps. Declan - being Declan for all of you who know him - had scallops, quelle surprise!!

The mains are where, deep down, I had a problem. To be fair to Monsieur Xiradakis, the menu is very reasonably priced for such quality ingredients and everyone praised the cooking to the sky, myself included. I am forever spouting on about simplicity being the key but maybe I am kidding myself sometimes. Let me explain..

Marc and Kevin ate the most fabulous cote de bouef. Tender as butter, with crispy skin and beautifully marbled with yellow fat, cooked to perfection. It was roughly sliced with some sel de mer and pepper sprinkled over it. That was it, no sauce, no garnish, no veg. A plate of perfect chips cooked in duck fat were left on the table for all of us to share. These were the most delicious, mind-blowingly caolorific tubers I have ever tasted. I was in heaven. Mary had poulet a l'oignon which was just that. A huge portion of corn-fed chicken cooked in an enamel pot with onions and vinegar. She adored it. Declan ate confit of duck with sauté potatoes and ceps. He, who has eaten duck confit all over the place, said it was the best ever. Maire ate magret de canard with more ceps in a cep sauce. She's a ceppy kind of girl so it suited it her down to the ground.

And then it came to me.

It took me a long time to choose but finally cassoulet got my vote. It's one of my most favourite things in the world but Maire isn't too fond of me eating it because of the bean content you understand. The ramifications can be quite serious and very scary.

I was disppointed. So what's my problem? The answer is .. I don't know. Was it the fact that I was disappointed with my own main course? No it wasn't that. Upon reflection, my expectations were too high. The sheer simplicity of the food baffled me but that's my problem. Any restaurant - and I include my own - can disappoint on occasions. The cooks are human, cooking is not a precise science and errors or misjudgements can be made, despite the best will in the world.

Monsieur Xiradakis runs a superb show and he has done for the past 30 years. He has never claimed to be the flash new kid on the block. He just wants to preserve the food of his fathers and its only right he is appreciated for his efforts.

I suppose it's that 11 out of 10 that's bothering me. Is it the pronouncement of a retiring food critic with a jaded palate that just can't bear the thought of another cappuccino of peas with truffle oil? I suspect so.

On the other hand, is it so ingrained into me to be a meat and two veg man, that bane of Irish cooking? Or am I an arty farty chef with my main focus on making pretty but irrelevant pictures on the plate?

Again I can't answer, but I do know that that dinner was the most thought provoking of my life. I think the most important lesson for me to take away from La Tupina is to follow your heart. Be individualistic and true to yourself. Buy the best produce you can afford and cook it simply. Taste is everything.

Monsieur Xiradakis ambition is to buy as much property as he can in his little street and turn each little building into a bastion of French cooking. No doubt, when everyone gets fed up with fusion cooking they know this little street is a mecca for the best of French regional cuisine. After all Monsieur Xiradakis has never deviated from his course when others, including myself, are trying to find theirs.

Paul Flynn