La Distillerie repeats magic to remain pick as ultimate restaurant

There's always an element of risk when you try to repeat a magical experience. Without the sparkling novelty of discovery, can a second time ever live up to the first?

Thus I approached dinner last Saturday at La Distillerie in Luxembourg's Bourglinster Castle with a bit of trepidation. This place amazed and delighted me on a magical afternoon 18 months ago (see my original review here) and has reigned as the supreme restaurant in my memory ever since. Would it be as good as I remembered?

Better.

Foodies of the world, listen up. Your correspondent has reviewed a healthy number of Michelin stared establishments in these posts. La Distillerie is better. I've been to the three-starred Fat Duck, which appears in most rankings as one of the top three restaurants in the world, and I promise you that chef René Mathieu will give you an equally extraordinary meal, with even better tastes, for £100 less. In a charming, small dining room that accommodates just eight or ten tables of unpretentious diners, in medieval architecture with lovely views of unspoiled countryside. Come hungry, and do the works. The "Poesie Culinaire" features 11 amazing courses, with a matching wine flight of seven well coordinated, interesting glasses. And, obviously, come here with people you like. Because you're going to be sharing this remarkable experience for at least four hours.

Chef Mathieu comes to Luxembourg via Belgium, and spent three years cooking for the grand duke before moving to this small castle half an hour outside of Luxembourg city. He combines an ardent passion for "terroir" and local, seasonal food with an artistry once deployed to delight diplomats and crowned heads of Europe. He changes his menu with the seasons; our winter meal was entirely different from our last visit in July, and featured lots of root vegetables, fish and meat. (This variety is what I wanted upon my return visit to the Fat Duck, instead getting 50 per cent of the menu repeated. When you're dining at this level, and paying these prices, you want to repeat the quality, but not the exact food.)

We started with Mathieu's trademark "apericubes", little bite sized morsels atop skewers arranged in a mix of colours and shapes that made the dish as much modern art as appetiser. Some were more delicious than others, particularly the foie gras dipped in chocolate. (The only repeat from the last meal, but even this was done a bit differently.) A strange but glorious combination. The next amuse bouche was less successful if, like me, you're not a fan of poached eggs. The egg sat delicately in a small wine glass, surrounded by a light cauliflower sauce. Though I couldn't quite like the egg, I have to admit that the sauce completely transformed my opinion of a vegetable I thought I hated. The maximum amount of flavour had been extracted, convincing me that if every floret tasted like this, I'd be a fan.

Then it was time to get down to serious business, with a progression of four fish dishes. Each was remarkably different from the other, giving you a great appreciation for just how wide the possibilities are when dealing with seafood. Each plate was exquisite, particularly the crab claw that had been arranged on a painting of cucumber sauce that turned the plate into a piece of Italian marbled paper. Another course had a rich, buttery piece of langoustine tucked into a hollow in a hot stone, covered with a pile of delicate froth (rather than sauce) that melted in your mouth. But my favourite dish in this range was the scallop with carrots. Sounds fairly prosaic, eh? The single scallop at the centre of the long, rectangular plate was succulent and perfectly done. On either side, two quenelles of carrot puree. These showed off the range of colour and taste, running from white, to yellow, to the familiar orange, to black. Like the cauliflower, each taste was a concentrated burst of the essence of the vegetable, and the difference between flavours in each variety was wonderfully surprising.

Having done justice to the seas, it was time to move inland and start working towards a flavour climax. Bring on the foie gras. In this case, grilled in Lagavulin whisky, and the universally acknowledged favourite dish of the night. The main essence here was smoke: the plates came out under glass domes, whisked away simultaneously so we could each breathe deeply of aromas of charcoal, peat, smoke and meat. One whiff was the condensation of every chilly but delightful winter bonfire you've ever attended. The whisky was a surprisingly fine match to the foie gras, complemented by the sweet flavours of dried fruits and Jerusalem artichoke.

La Distillerie features a charming maitre d' with a remarkable memory; he clearly recalled our visit in the summer of 2008. He took us through our matching wines, up to this point introducing us to four different whites. In fact, the range of the wine selections was pleasingly broad, escaping the usual parade of French classics to include the USA, Italy, Chile and even Luxembourg. My favourite amongst the whites was the Wente "Morning Fog" Chardonnay '06 that was matched with the foie gras; delightful to see a Californian option showing off for European gourmets. The rest of the table leaned towards the Ciprea Pecorino, matched with a white fish slow cooked with truffles. No, not pecorino cheese, but a little known Italian grape variety from the Abruzzi and Marche regions. The wine was complex in flavor, deep golden in colour and almost musky in scent, reminding me of some of the best chablis we tried on our Burgundy trip. While my taste buds went for the simpler American notes, the Pecorino was definitely the discovery of the night.

In fact, red wine lovers would have been disappointed, as there was only one offering with the main courses. This was a classic Burgundy from Sauvigny les Beaune, which had a pleasing combination of fruit and sharpness well suited to cut the rich, fatty luxury of the veal that came next. The meat here was a bit of a let down after the perfection of the foie gras, but I was deeply impressed by the side dish, a bar of parsnip and cabbage mash dressed with boiled whole grains and topped with liquorice (not the candy, the actual root).

We'd peaked. It was clearly time to transition to the sweets. Cheese, please. And out came one of the most unusual cheese boards I've ever sampled, with four bite-sized morsels each composed to pack a flavourful punch while pushing you to consider interesting combinations. My pick: goat's cheese wrapped around a grape, topped by a beetroot puree. The soft cheese with banana and rum has to be mentioned for the sheer bravado of the pairing, though I wouldn't do it at home. Brie with truffles and celery milk, however? Happy to eat that again, though I couldn't possibly figure out how to produce it in my own kitchen. We were sipping the first of two dessert wines here, a chardonnay/sauvignon blanc mix that reminded me how good sweet whites are with cheese, and how limited we can be in England always pairing with the port.

By this time our taste buds were overwhelmed with musky, strong notes and a palate freshener was in order. And out came ... perfume. The chef presented us with a culinary interpretation of Yves Saint Laurent's Parisienne, the scent sprayed on a card next to a dessert of dark berries, cream, flower petals and white chocolate that somehow managed to exactly mimic the perfume, while tasting like a dream. And finally to dessert, an artistic compilation of four sweets arranged, as per those long-ago apericubes, as much as modern art as food. While each taste was delightful, the cube of dark chocolate fondant dipped in white chocolate and then coated in gold leaf was the one we all went home remembering. This was a chocolate bar for the very rich, and very picky. Paired with this was a sparkling red wine called Desiderio from Italy's Piedmont region, another much discussed discovery. Of course, there was another artistic platter of sweets to accompany the coffee. A chocolate morsel here, some glazed fruit there ... after the 10 preceding courses and eight glasses of wine, I can't remember all the details of this, other than recalling that it was all so good, I wished I had room to try everything. But alas, even my avaricious taste buds had given up in sheer, happy exhaustion.

The cost for a night of decadent indulgence? At current exchange rates, £150 including service, coffee and an additional champagne before we got started. As mentioned at the start, this is a full £100 less than the chef's menu with wine flight at the Fat Duck. Of course, you have to get to Luxembourg. But if you're looking to say "carpe diem" in a big way, this is the place. Get there now, before René Mathieu is discovered by Michelin, American food writers and the rest of the arbiters of foodie heaven. He's already been named chef of the year in Luxembourg and been awarded 18 out of 20 on the Gault Millau scale. International acclaim is bound to follow the local fame, and he'll soon have prices and waiting lists like his more famous colleagues. I'm going to be very happy to say "I knew him when..."