This is a small place inside the Roman Wall, but still off the tourist path. It is a typical French spot full of typical French folks hoisting full forks of reasonably priced French fare. (26.50 Euros for a set menu).
There is small room as you enter with tables almost touching. Very touching, and also another small dining area down a few steps and around a corner.
Both rooms are completely enclosed in wood panels so that it feels cozy as if your're eating in a ship's galley. The decor has a nautical theme with no blue pigs snorting truffles to be seen, despite the name. Okay, there are a few ceramic pigs in the porthole between both rooms but that is the only porcine reference as the menu is mostly seafood forward. In fact there is no pork entree on offer and the entree choices are as limited as the size of the place itself.
The one waiter seats you and hands over a plate of over salted peanuts, (no big deal), and a little cup of Fish Pate with Melba rounds. (Big deal.) The spread had no taste. There is a sweet spot between a briny fresh fish and the lining of an old boxing glove. Alas, the kitchen couldn't find it. Order a beer and forget the bar nibbles or remain optimistic as I did and have a Kir Royale Framboise and cross your fingers that it gets better. Of course it's difficult to handle your cutlery with your fingers crossed.
Water arrived with a cracked glass which I traded for one with a dried Spinach leaf that had escaped from someone else's dental crevice and ended up clinging to my glass. I lifted one from the next table, and voila, all set now for the set menu to come.
I ordered the Gratin de Raviolis Du Dauphine Aux Cepes, Au Salade Parmesan (now there's a mouth full) as a starter mainly because I was tired of Escargot. (How very Marie Antoinette that sounds). I was simply just full of Escargot which replaced what I'm normally full of. (I was thinking cheese, what were you thinking of?)
The Ravioli, both Spinach (sans one leaf) and plain, came in a screaming hot casserole and were so small they must have been made by Santa's elves, a Leprechaun, or someone's diminutive ancient crone of a Corsican grandmere. These micro-pillows were stuffed with a nano-bite of cheese and actually were quite nice. They were as soft and comforting as your sainted Mum's bosom. And very cheesy they were too. (Not your Mum's bosom, the Ravioli). The Cream Sauce which filled in the blanks had tiny flecks of Mushrooms and the whole construction was as uncomplicated and pleasant as Melania.
The Gratin D'Andouillette (AOC'd in the bargain), was simply coins of Tripe Sausage. (Apparently, either the local favorite, or there was a bumper crop of tripe to get rid of). The one link was buried under the same Cream Sauce as the Ravioli. Well, one size or sauce fits all, no? Don't forget to remove the casing as you tuck into this offal or you'll still be chewing it on the flight home.
The Salad and Roasted Potatoes that comes with the dish would have been great without the sausage that needed salt, pepper, garlic, mustard...something. There were some decent caramelized Onions with Poppy Seeds under the whole mess that were interesting and then there was a crumb topping to add some character and finish the dish. But you'll be hard pressed to finish this dish.
It was as rich as Carlos Slim although nothing about this plate had anything to do with a slim anything.
The Quenelle en Brochet avec Sauce Ecrevisses (Crayfish) was basically a Pike Dumpling casserole buried under, you guessed it, you smart whip, a Cream Sauce albeit this time with a hint of Tomato. It was a small blimp channeling Gefilte Fish, and it was simply bland no matter what the lineage.
Finally, course three arrived. A feather light Baba au Rhum with Rum Raisin Ice Cream. Thankfully, the baseball sized glop of Whipped Cream was served on the side. I was able to keep it from making a home on this homme. It also came with a heart stopping shooter of Calvados suitable for clearing your sinuses or hotel shower drain.
I think Le Cochon Bleu and I could be threw. read more