Dinner at La Guinguette

 Dinner at La Guinguette

Technical difficulties. Photos posted later. 

After our morning in Brantôme, we returned to town later for a delightful dinner at La Guinguette. The restaurant is tucked against the old stone architecture of the town, and we settled around a large table in its open-air dining area. It had exactly the atmosphere I wanted for the evening. Stone walls, warm light, people talking over dinner, servers moving back and forth, and that wonderfully relaxed feeling of eating outside in France.

The menu describes La Guinguette as serving “le véritable fait maison à la Brantômaise,” essentially genuine Brantôme-style homemade cooking. There was plenty to choose from, including duck, steak, pork, tuna, octopus, omelets and several substantial salads.

One of the starters at our table was a beautiful Andalusian gazpacho. It was far more elaborate than a simple bowl of cold tomato soup. The deep coral-colored gazpacho was finished with herbs, croutons, roasted cherry tomatoes and a drizzle of oil. A long slice of toasted bread rested across the bowl, topped with additional savory garnishes. It was almost too pretty to disturb.

And then there was the bread. Baskets and little metal containers were filled with baguettes and crusty pieces of French bread, ready to make their way to the tables. There is something about seeing baskets overflowing with fresh bread in a stone-walled French restaurant that makes the entire scene feel unmistakably French.

For my dinner, I chose the hamburger. But this was not exactly a basic American hamburger. According to the menu, their hamburger is made with beef, onions, raclette cheese, bacon and barbecue sauce. It arrived on a glossy brioche-style bun with a little basket overflowing with thin, rustic French fries and a generous pile of dressed leafy greens. After a day of exploring, it was exactly what I wanted.

The salads ordered by some of the people around me were another story entirely.

They were huge.

These were definitely not side salads. They arrived in enormous bowls filled almost to the rim, and watching the diners next to me tackle them gave some perspective to just how substantial they were. The menu offered a Caesar salad, a burrata salad and a Salade Périgourdine, the regional version loaded with ingredients such as foie gras, duck gizzards, smoked duck breast, cherry tomatoes, sun-dried tomatoes, hard-boiled eggs, walnuts and vinaigrette. In the Périgord, apparently, ordering a salad does not necessarily mean ordering lightly.

Another plate at the table showed just how varied the menu was, with a beautifully cooked piece of meat still rosy in the center, accompanied by greens and a small bowl of purée.

Wine glasses, tall water bottles, bread baskets and dinner plates gradually filled the table. Beyond us, the open kitchen was busy, its row of black heat lamps illuminating plates waiting to be carried out.

It wasn’t a formal dinner, and that was part of what made it so enjoyable. We were gathered around a table on a pleasant evening in Brantôme, talking, eating, sampling different dishes and watching dinner unfold around us.

Sometimes the most memorable meals while traveling aren’t the grand ones. They’re the evenings when you return to a town you already enjoyed earlier in the day, find a table outside, order exactly what sounds good, pour a glass of wine and realize there really isn’t anywhere else you need to be.

And on this particular evening, a hamburger, a salad and a patio in Brantôme were just about perfect.