The Sunday Times Magazine - UK (2022-02-13)

The Sunday Times Magazine • 47

are excellent. Sure, scoff away.
But a hand-cut, freshly fried chip
defies its apparent simplicity to
become a treat right up there
with the rarefied likes of pommes
soufflées. I had toyed with the
titular dish (“I wouldn’t,” says
the pal), or lapin à la moutarde or
sole de Douvres. But if there’s a
restaurant in which steak frites is a
must-order, it’s this one. The steak
is medium rare in the French way
— so, nearly raw. (Rare: totally raw;
bleu: still mooing.) And it’s a tooth-
challenging, mineral slab that
speaks of grass-feeding, the sort
of cut that frightens Americans.
Its sauce au poivre is rich with
brandy and cream, and comes in
a jug. Proust me up, baybee.
But wait: has La Poule au Pot
now heard of the 21st century?
Among the specials rattled off
by the staff, there’s now — shock!
— a meat-free choice, cassoulet
made with vegan sausages. The
laconic maître d’ does his best to
describe the dish, but has to pull
down his mask so his face can
fully express his considered
opinion. I’m reading “ludicrous
infamy”. The pal, who styles
himself something of a cassoulet
expert (“Toulouse, Castelnaudary
and Carcassonne”), is less critical
about our distinctly non-vegan
version in its earthenware pot
than I’d have expected. He prods
at a brownish item among slabs
of fatty sausages and severely
collapsed beans, and pronounces,
after some thought, “Duck”; and
“Where’s the breadcrumbed
crust?” No, it’s not the greatest
I’ve tried — I’m a Toulouse gal all
the way — but it’s polished off.
At La Poule au Pot candles are
always lit, even if the sun streams
through the windows. (Never
quite far enough to illuminate its
dustiest recesses, though, or the
many baskets laden with dried

lavender that drip from its ceiling.)

There’s the most pleasing sense of

achievement if you manage to get

the maître d’ to smile, and even

more so when he delivers a glass

of sauternes on the house. I don’t

know who owns the place, nor

who’s in the kitchen. Sure, I could

find out — but I realise I don’t

want to know. It simply is, outliving

masters, functionaries and diners,

set in aspic. But I will namecheck

that maître d’, Lionel Banda,

because he’s too perfect.

At this restaurant, nobody has

heard of dry January or restraint

of any kind, basically. Here, the

tatin may not be the sticky,

caramelised tarte of your dreams,

the apples glued to the pastry by

their own toffee, but it does come

with enough crème Chantilly in a

separate bowl to top a family-sized

trifle. House wines are served in

magnums, to be charged per

quantity consumed. A conceit,

since most people seem to be

necking the lot. We’re more

restrained, ordering only by the

half-bottle. OK, three half-bottles,

all classics: Crozes-Hermitage,

Pouilly-Fuissé, Monbazillac.

When in, er, Rome ... There are

no young people around us, but

its patrons seem to have found the

secret to rude late-middle-aged

health: red wine and animal fats.

When we leave, late in the

afternoon, the restaurant is

getting its drag on for dinner, its

glamour intensifying as the sun

goes down. We’re by no means

the last lunchers (it stays open

all day), another blast from a less

puritanical past. “It used to be the

most authentic French restaurant

in the UK,” the pal says. “Now

it’s the most authentic French

restaurant in 1965.” All that’s

missing are the crêpes suzette n

Twitter: @marinaoloughlin

Instagram: @marinagpoloughlin

From far left: soupe à

l’oignon; steak frites;

the cheese plate. Top:

tarte tatin — with no

skimping on the cream

FROM THE MENU

£36 per person for

three courses

STARTERS

Soupe à l’oignon

Pâté de foie de volaille

MAINS

Cassoulet

Steak frites

DESSERTS

Tarte tatin

Mousse au chocolat

Les fromages £9.50

DRINKS

Half-bottle of Crozes-

Hermitage £27.50

Half-bottle of

Pouilly-Fuissé £34

Half-bottle of

Monbazillac £30

TOTAL

For two, including 12.5%

service charge £195

Plate of the nation

Aldi’s SlimWell

Oven Chips prove

a little heavy going

Non-fattening chips, you say?

Has the universe finally decided

that, yes, there is a God? These

numbers from Aldi’s SlimWell

range tell us they are “Satisfyingly

crispy skin-on chips”.

But let’s unpick this a little.

These weigh in at 124 calories

per 100g, which amounts to the

rather sad ten chips pictured

here (with a fine farm egg fried

in butter, obviously). Other

frozen chips from market leader

McCain add up as follows (again

per 100g): Crispy French Fries,

231; Triple Cooked Gastro Chips,

281 (in beef dripping!); Home

Chips, 208. Sure, this is higher

than the Aldi ones, but they all

feature one or more fats —

unlike SlimWell, which lists its

ingredients as “Potatoes, salt”.

So they’re a little odd, an uneasy

hybrid of chip and jacket with a

spongey, almost fried-gnocchi

texture: not unpleasant but not

particularly chippy. You know

where I’m going next? A regular

potato, via general consensus, is

around the 95-calorie mark. So

you’d be as well simply cutting up a

spud and bunging it in the oven for

an even less calorific result. MO’L

SlimWell Oven Chips, £1.69;

aldi.co.uk