Around the World in 80 Dinners - Bill Jamison [115]
“The addition of those suites,” Jean-Pierre tells us one day, “made a big difference here, but the really decisive changes came in 2000. We closed for much of that year to build a new residence for my parents on the property and to convert their former house into four additional guest rooms.”
“Christine showed us the rooms once,” Bill says, remembering them as comfortable, spacious quarters in the style of a Provençal mas (farmhouse).
“More important,” Jean-Pierre continues, “we reorganized the business completely so that Christine, Philippe, and I could do everything ourselves without other employees except a maid and a gardener. Previously, with the kind of broad à la carte menu you need for a Michelin star, we had to maintain a full kitchen staff year-round despite big fluctuations in reservation levels between high and low seasons. That didn’t make financial sense for us, and created labor headaches, too. So we rebuilt my kitchen for the needs of a single chef, changed to a table d’hô te menu with limited choices, and gave up our star without any fanfare.”
“That’s really the key to La Riboto’s personality, isn’t it?” Cheryl says. “The family takes full responsibility for every little detail. It’s like a good mom-and-pop operation with two talented pops. What a team you make!” Though Jean-Pierre just grins without comment, Bill knows she’s right. Christine and Philippe take care of guests personally in the front of the house with utmost professionalism and charm, and Jean-Pierre cooks for them personally with the consummate skills of a great French chef.
Life on the road—even in the grandest of hotels or at anyone else’s home—just doesn’t get much better.
So we’re returning to La Riboto again, simply because it doesn’t seem right to go around the world without visiting our favorite inn in the world. Apart from that, a stop in France doesn’t make much sense on our itinerary. It pulls us away from the warmth of the Southern Hemisphere, where all of our other destinations dwell, and takes us to the cusp of winter in a region north of some parts of Canada. New experiences lure us on our journey, a chance to see places we’ve never been, a longing to broaden our cultural and culinary horizons. France is familiar turf for us, a country we know reasonably well. It must appear we’re abandoning fresh paths to indulge a passion and sacrificing adventure to have a fling. Yep, low temptation thresholds.
Our flight from Cape Town arrives in Nice shortly before midnight and we depart again the next morning in a rental car bound for Les Baux-de-Provence. Since we’re coming back to the Mediterranean city in a few days, we don’t pause for anything now other than sleep and a satisfying French breakfast of strong coffee, fresh juices, crusty baguettes, fluffy croissants, and hard-boiled eggs so fresh that the mother hen might still recognize them.
As we pull out of Nice onto the autoroute heading west, our first planned stop is the town of Les Arcs, to have lunch with Kristin Espinasse, her husband, Jean-Marc, and their two children. Cheryl became e-mail pen pals with Kristin several years ago when we stumbled across her delightful Web site, French-Word-A-Day. Originally from Arizona, she came to France during college and stayed to marry Jean-Marc, who exports wine to the United States, including his family’s Domaine du Banneret Châteauneuf-du-Pape. In her Web site and now in a new book, Words in a French Life, Kristin chronicles her wrestling match with the French language, smartly using stories about everyday experiences in Provence to amplify her points.
While all of us snack on briny home-cured cracked