One week in Mauritius, for the ninth Festival Bernard Loiseau, and many memories that prolong, once back in Italy, the pleasure experienced on the Indian Ocean island. I found ten memories, knowing very well that there would be very many more because the place is beautiful, the food is good and the company pleasant.
Dress code: it ranged from casual, when we had lunch outdoors, surrounded by nature, to elegant for the gala dinner at Prince Maurice, a 5 star luxury hotel. The recommended style was a flexible casual chic. Luckily ties were forbidden and basically even jackets were, as well as flip flops. Of course there were those who used them nonetheless.
Fruit and vegetables: on an island that has a population 10 times that of Valle d’Aosta (one million and 300,000 versus 128,000) but is only slightly more than twice as large, the cuisine is a mix of African, Indian and Asian echoes. The Central Market in the capital, Port Louis, is a must, even thought I enjoyed the more secluded one, namely Flacq, more. Vanilla is a compulsory buy.
Dominique Loiseau: widow to the great Bernard, moved with the aplomb of a queen on an official visit. She has the great merit of having kept everything shiny after the suicide of her husband in 2003. Of Italy she recalls Nadia Santini with great pleasure but remains rooted to the French grandeur.
Rage: this is what I felt when seeing how finely kept, clean and monitored where the beaches in Mauritius. Beware though: I mean the public ones because of course those in the resorts are perfect. Why are those in Italy a constant trash? I think of the pine-forest in Viareggio or the coast of Salento. What a waste, though we also live out of tourism.
Spiaggia: this is the name they have given to the restaurant offering Mediterranean cuisine at Belle Mare Plage, the resort in which the event was held. Mediterranean, yet not Italian. Our dishes are served for the evening buffet. It’s good, as long as you overlook the cooking of the pasta.
A good dessert: is the one prepared on Tuesday April 1st by Nicolas Durosseau, pastry chef at Blue Penny (this is the name of a restaurant, inspired by an island stamp, so rare it is worth millions of dollars), a chocolate and vanilla meringue chaud-froid with a surprise: salt. Madame Loiseau said: “It’s good and it’s different”. It was unsettlingly delicious.
A superb starter: the one by Michael Scioli, chef at Prince Maurice, on day 3, an Indian Ocean prawn quenelle with a coconut emulsion and curry sauce. At gala dinners you have to attend on business, there are dishes you eat because you must, others because you are nonetheless hungry and you have to eat something. Sometimes, however, you enjoy some that are truly excellent and this is what happened with Scioli’s prawn. Dishes were polished, a medal of honour for someone working in the kitchen.
Contest n.1: the starter I preferred, out of the six competing, divided the jury because some found it too spicy. Indeed, Dinushan Patabadage, of Constance Moofushi in the Maldives, offered a cold cream of chilli peppers and pineapple which, though the fruit played with the heat, was and remained hot. However, if one was to praise the person who best interpreted the island’s culture, this what Mauritius is. For asbestos palates.
Contest n.2: the true divergence emerged with the main dish, which had a set theme: duck breast, a very French choice. Basically one was served perfectly, the other were quite distant. Dammika Sarath, of Constance Halaveli in the Maldives, won the final trophy for having obtained exactly the required cooking, that very pink that is always a challenge. Out of fear of going too far, one often ends up with a half raw and bloody breast.
Jacob Holmstrom’s Oyster, of restaurant Gastrologik in Stockholm, proposed on Friday April 11th at Constance Deer Hunter in Mauritius: superb
this is what the one served by Swedish
Jacob Holmstrom, of
Gastrologik in Stockholm, turned out to be. Raw oysters are so good, I always distrust those who want to cook them or even season them. They usually spoil everything.
Jacob, instead, served a small masterpiece, with her royal highness placed on a thick bed of cream, seasoned with pine needle oil an covered in a snow of apples, thin strips of apple and young pine needles. One could eat ten and still want more.
5. The end (the previous episodes here and here, and again here and here).
