Our stay here was to be the highlight of a rare weekend road trip with our classic car, far away from child and pets for my wife and I. The hotel was full whilst we were planning and we were excited to have secured a late cancellation.
The location is high above the village but whilst there is plenty of parking, the walk back up if you venture out on foot is not to be taken lightly. However with a reservation in the hotel restaurant this did not worry us.
The room was up a steep flight of twisting stairs, but this and the elegant decor rich in velvet and dark colours appealed to me. Ours was the Proust room, which was of a good size and esoterically decorated. The bathroom was plain and functional with a spa bath which took some effort to get working - there are instructions but they defeated our level of French. However the big deal was that being above the kitchens and close to the extractor fans - even with the windows closed the noise was obtrusive. On enquiring at reception we were told that the fans would turn off when the kitchen closed, but to be frank when you are paying 220€ a night you expect better than this. We stayed in February, but in the summer when you would want the small windows open it would be even worse.
I am not a fussy eater and we have dined in style all over the world, but the meal served here was the most pretentious nonsense I have ever experienced. There was no a la carte available, just a Gourmet menu with no choices - my wife does not eat fish so I had to negotiate with the waiter who 'allowed' us to swop out the fish starter. I won't go into the entire menu, but having a few twigs lit under a lone raw scallop at the table does not impart anything but bonfire soot into the shellfish, rocket sorbet is one of the most pointless accompaniments I have ever experienced, and a heavy dose of bergamot made the sweet taste like TCP. If the village had been easier to reach we'd have bailed out and gone down there to dine. Oh and for the coffees to be charged as an extra 5€ on an expensive menu like this was the final straw. I appreciate French cuisine done well. This was an extreme form of culinary art that was memorable for all the wrong reasons.
