Hostellerie des Ducs

Duras has but one hotel. I stayed there for a night last June--the night before I signed the papers and bought the Clocktower Cottage. In the morning, they served an extensive and elegant breakfast so I had some idea of the attention to detail.

Tonight, Joe and I had a reservation to try the highly-regarded restaurant at night. It's really the sort of place where you need to dress up a bit, make a reservation and expect dinner to last 2.5-3 hours. 

Even though we typically enjoy a more relaxed atmosphere, the Hostellerie is a lovely place for a special occasion or romantic evening as part of a vacation to this region. You must, however, bring an empty stomach and a full wallet.

The pre-fixe menu began with an amuse bouche of avocado sorbet in a shot glass and a tiny pot of pumpkin bisque. It was followed by a terrine of wild boar surrounding a core of foie gras, which was accompanied by raisin toasts spread with butter, apple and onion confit, and red onion jam. There was also a "chocolate tomato," which was a hollow sphere of dark chocolate filled with a rich tomato jam, then there were a few slices of cured sausage.

Between courses, a tiny ball of rosemary sorbet was served floating in a shot of citrus vodka. It was a bracing palate cleanser.

Next was the main course. For Joe it was a succulent shoulder of lamb served with risotto and white bean puree. For me it was seared scallops with slices of chorizo atop a bed of carrot puree, with a small pot of prawn risotto on the side.

We are not done yet.

The "cheese trolley" was wheeled to our table next. About 20 different fresh, local wheels of cheese arrived under a glass dome, which was raised when it came to the table. I noticed a rather funky smell when the trolley was several tables away, but having all those cheeses so close was rather like having an unwashed homeless guy sitting at the table with you. For a moment I thought I might faint. But I pulled it together and selected my three choices of stinky cheeses. Joe chose three different ones so we could compare them. Of the six options, there were two that could be considered outstanding--one of them a creamy fresh roquefort--much softer and more spreadable than I'd ever had.

Finally it was time for dessert. Joe chose a chocolate lava cake with chocolate sorbet. I had an espresso with an assortment of diminutive desserts including pineapple sorbet, a tiny madeleine, a cannelle, a meringue, and a pot of fresh whipped cream to dip everything in.

We toddled home and may not need to eat again for awhile--maybe ever.