Loire Valley restaurant roundup: The French hit parade at every price point

The Loire Valley lacks the distinctive regional cuisine that drew us to Gascony for cooking school. But make no mistake: you will eat very well here. The food reflects the circumstances of the area: roughly in the centre of the country, rich land for wine and farming, connected to the sea (and its produce) by an easily navigable river, and long a place of retreat for royals and the aristocracy.

From simple bistro to fine dining, the food we encountered here tended to be the "greatest hits" of classical French cooking.

It's also faithfully seasonal. This is the first place that, when confronted with my husband's tomato allergy, the waiter looked at us like we were rather thick children and patiently explained that tomatoes would not be ripe for another two months, so bien sur they were not in the food. (Skeptical, I would have bet my meal that I'd find tomato paste in the kitchen as a sauce thickener ... but I held my tongue.)

We tried to restrict our dining out to every other day, either lunch or dinner (but not both). Though Fondettes lacks the charming local markets I was hoping for, even the modern grocery superstore offered a quality range of meat, cheese and produce to make cooking a delight. When it comes to dining out, these were our experiences worthy of note.

Near our gite in Fondettes

L'Auberge de Port Vallieres offers elegant yet casual fine dining and validated my guess that Fondettes was an affluent commuter suburb of Tours. We ate here on both of our Saturday evenings, and both times every table was filled with prosperous locals looking like they were relaxing after busy weeks in big offices. The building may once have been a farm house or barn; these days it's two large, unpretentious rooms decorated with a pleasing array of modern art and sculpture. Between the atmosphere and the welcoming staff, it feels more like a dining club in someone's house than a restaurant.

It also holds an Assiette Michelin, a new rating the guide introduced last year to denote "good food served simply" ... but L'Auberge's flavours and presentation were far beyond simple. The food is resolutely classic: foie gras, delicate fish courses, rich meats, sauces as deep as a black hole, extensive cheese cart, artful pastries. We tried the chef's menu on the first visit and were shocked to be served full-sized portions rather than the expected small plates of many-course meals. At the end of five, plus amuse bouche and typically moreish French breads, we were uncomfortably full. On the next visit we dropped to three courses with complete satisfaction, including a memorable fillet of Chinon beef (Chinon being about 20 miles down the road) that I'd wager could successfully go head-to-head with the most pampered Japanese Wagyu.

The Auberge also, happily, disproved an impression we'd developed that the French didn't really do complementary wine flights, defaulting to house standards rather than thinking carefully about matches. (Read about the meals that solidified that idea here.) The flight here presented carefully-selected glasses to enhance each course. None of the quirky surprises English sommeliers like to pull, doubtless because it was all French ... though some came from beyond the Loire. The main course on our first visit proved the point of matching: the veal and its sauce was so excessively rich, with a slight mineral undertone, that is absolutely needed the sharp bite of the pinot noir to complete it. It was only after we got home, and back to WiFi, that I could look up the translation of "ris de veau" and realised I'd just eaten sweetbreads. That's the beauty of a tasting menu in a foreign language.

Would never have ordered it on my own. Probably wouldn't order it again. But on that night, with that wine, it was delicious.

Le Douze (Le XII) in Luynes holds a Michelin Bib Gourmand, which in theory gives it a higher rank than L'Auberge, though I'd put it one step below. The food was  just a notch less sophisticated (and slightly less expensive), while the atmosphere in this quiet village is more charming. We also ate here twice, both times delighted by our choices off a limited three-course menu of the day. The chef here has a particularly sure hand with sauces, and presentation is fine dining without being pretentious. Our waiter (the same both visits) knew the wine list well and suggested excellent choices. Some fine seafood here, though my husband's favourite dish was probably some perfectly-pink duck, while I was beguiled by their cafe gourmand. (This is one of my favourite things about dining in France. The cafe gourmand is essentially a dessert sampler platter, offering bite-sized portions of variety so the sweet toothed don't have to choose just one.)

Le Douze is also a hotel, so it's advisable to book in advance ... especially on weekends, Mondays and holidays, when other places may be full or closed and guests are more likely to be dining in.

In Tours
Guidebooks led me to expect a beguiling capital of gastronomy. Instead, we found Tours to be a bustling, undistinguished town with a disturbing proportion of brutalist 20th century architecture (thank you, WWII) and a huge university population that has clearly driven the restaurant scene towards pizzerias, cheap and cheerful ethnic dining and quirky theme bars.

La Souris Gourmande was a welcome relief from the curry houses and kebab shops filling the main street linking the medieval town centre to the cathedral. It's a small place with a modern, carefully-conceived interior that plays on the theme of the gourmet mouse. We loved the light covers that looked like nibbled bits of cheese, the mouse-in-chef's-hat pepper mills and the bill served up in a mouse trap. This visual whimsy covers a menu of mostly-traditional French bistro classics at very reasonable prices, served with some modern twists.

My husband and I both opted for the steak tartare, Not the prettiest plate we'd seen on our journey, but the spicing was perfect and the accompanying salad and potatoes delicious. Exactly the kind of light yet filling lunch you want to fuel an afternoon's sightseeing. A chocolate tart with a side of obviously home-made ice cream was delicious, while the carpaccio of pineapple with mango sorbet and a grind of pepper demonstrated how a restaurant dessert can be both innovative and Weight Watchers friendly. Excellent value for money, and we would have happily returned to try a three course dinner there had Tours offered more of interest to lure us into town.

Instead, our only evening in the city found us taking a quick stroll around the historic Place Plumereau ... some nice half-timbered architecture, but smaller than expected ... before we headed up a side street to BarJu. This is another Assiette Michelin holder, and clearly a local favourite. I think we may have been the only foreigners there, despite its position on the flight path to the city's tourism hub.

We learned about it from Tania Careme, whose excellent Vouvrays (story here) join other jewels on a fascinating wine list of regional treasures.  Barju is the very intimate creation of a married couple (the name is the conjunction of the owners' first names) and has an extremely personal feel with the day's menu on the chalk board, seats for just 25 people ... be sure to book ... and the owners running proceedings.

BarJu is known for its seafood, and a pistachio-crusted dorade (aka mahi mahi) validated the reputation. A parmentier (a local specialty of pork and potatoes in a rich cheese sauce) was both succulent and creatively presented beneath a tent of bric pastry, but couldn't match the fish. The meal ended with one of my most elegantly presented cafe gourmandes. If you're in the Place Plumereau area, make an effort to avoid the tourist pitches and join the locals here.

Fontevraud, a quiet backwater distinguished by its historic abbey, is full of restaurants for tourists. Le Comptoir des Vins only makes it to No. 7 on Trip Advisor's list, but I'd make a drive here just to have their quiche Lorraine again. Somehow they managed to inject this humble dish with an extraordinary magic. Crispy, buttery pastry cradled a towering, fluffy slice of the richest egg generously studded with sweet yet salty ham. Quite extraordinary. As you'd guess from the name, this is primarily a wine bar and they know their stuff, recommending all sorts of quirky local providers. The dry, sparkling red Saumur we had here was a revelation.

Like our Fontevraud find, Le Marignan in Blois contradicts the received wisdom that you should never eat within easy sight of a major tourist attraction, because you're bound to be ripped off. By the time we stumbled, exhausted, from the enormous Chateau of Blois, we didn't really care. We just needed someplace to recover and get a bit of sustenance. We were pleasantly surprised.

I suppose anyone can open the right jars to throw together a Salade Perigourdine. The combination of foie gras, slices of rare duck and confit duck gizzards topping greens is a gourmet delight ... even if it does make a mockery of the fresh and healthy concept of "salad". I had another excellent cafe gourmand here but this time my husband won the dessert stakes, with a rich chocolate fondant sitting on a pool of custard.

In fine weather, Le Marignan has a large outdoor seating area a stone's throw from the chateau's main entrance, with striking views over the town's ramparts to the countryside beyond. On the opposite side of the square is the Maison de la Magie, which offers a free show several times an hour as mechanical dragons poke their heads out the windows to snort, steam and roar. Unexpected and rather wonderful.

Check out my earlier article for details of our find in Cour Cheverny, Le Restaurant St. Hubert. This is an ideal lunch spot before or after exploring the Chateau de Cheverny, with food and service far better than the frumpy 1980s decor would suggest.

Finally, I'm not sure we found the best restaurant in Chenonceaux, but I did like Au Gateau Breton's humble, family-run feel. The name goes back to a wartime refugee who was a baker from Brittany. At the end of the war he stayed, kept baking, and his shop evolved into a restaurant. It has a cobbled-together look, with the main dining room down a little alley and resembling a DIY conservatory put to long term use. On the weekday in April we visited, only one other table in the place was occupied. But the choices on the set menu looked good and the price was below other options in town, so we opted in.

All the dishes were tasty, nicely presented (although a few felt like they were trying too hard) and served promptly by a waiter who seemed to be the only front-of-house staff. He might have been the chef as well. My impression is that they do a lot of things they can prepare in advance and assemble on order depending on demand: starters of smoked salmon or foie gras with toast; fillets of meat or fish that can be cooked quickly and augmented with a ladle from a simmering pot of sauce; desserts of custards or pastries that can be grabbed out of the fridge.

That's not a criticism, rather praise for clever management that lets them serve a proper three-course meal quickly, with minimal staff. British pubs and MasterChef contestants, take note.