Food and History in France (long post)

Cathy2 has actually been asking me for a while to post a write-up about the tour I went on in December 2004. It was to celebrate the 200th anniversary of the coronation of Napoleon Bonaparte as emperor of France. While the focus was largely on history, the director of the Napoleonic Alliance, Todd Fisher, trained as a chef, so for all the tours he leads, good food is a major aspect of the trip. While the Napoleonic Alliance offers at least one tour every year, the coronation bicentennial wa couple of special extras that one wouldn't find in a regular trip. However, if you are interested in the history of the late 1700s and early 1800s, and you also like to eat splendidly, this is the group for you.

A friend and I arrived a few days before the tour began, to take in a few Paris sights and to dine in a few top Paris restaurants -- Les Ambassadeurs, Jules Verne, Le Grand Véfour -- before the tour started. But then the others arrived, and the adventure began.

The tour officially began at 2 p.m. on Tuesday December 1. We gathered at the Duminy-Vendôme Hotel, where we met our traveling companions before setting off on a walking tour, with running commentary supplied by Todd about the political intrigue, revolutions, and robberies that had taken place along our route. We strolled down the rue de Rivoli and rue Royal, past Odiot (delicious jewels and silver) and the Madeleine, and around to the elegant Place Vendôme.
Our first substantial opportunity to get acquainted with our comrades was while we stood in line at Chaumet, waiting to see their rarely exhibited collection of imperial jewels. My favorite pieces were those that seemed more personal, particularly a necklace of lapis lazuli inlaid with other stones to create pictures of seashells and bracelets where the first letter of each stone’s name spelled out Napoléon, Marie-Louise, and other names and messages (N-nephrite, A-amethyst, P-peridot, etc.).


The evening started with a visit to the Petit Hôtel Bourienne, home of the Baron de Bourienne, Napoléon’s secretary, and his descendants. Though this venue is not open to the public, there was one room that is normally closed off even to those permitted in the building—a bedroom that is the only room in Paris where all the decorations are original and classic Directoire period. After being shown this rarely viewed room, we repaired to the elegant grand salon, where we were regaled with champagne, cheese, and duck rillette. Then off to Le Procope for dinner. This venerable restaurant—opened in 1686, it is said to be the oldest restaurant in the world—is across the street from the original Comédie Française and not far from the offices of the eponymous Dr. Guillotine.

Le Procope is renowned for more than its age; it has most famously been linked with eighteenth-century revolutionary ideas and thinkers. Here, Benjamin Franklin discussed liberty and worked on the U.S. Constitution. The restaurant hosted Marat, Danton, and Robespierre, and a young lieutenant Bonaparte once left his hat here as a pledge. But everyone has eaten here. Rousseau, Voltaire, La Fontaine, Hugo, Balzac, and an almost endless list of other literary and political luminaries have been habitués of this handsome venue. We were shown to a beautiful upper room decorated in lush reds and golds. The meal was excellent, but the standouts were the crêpes flambées au Grand Marnier, while the most interesting dish was the acidulé de cabillaud aux oranges, a sort of French seviche.

The next morning was cool and fresh, and we were off early on another adventure. The Musée Jacquemart-André was opening early for us, so we could enjoy the Trésors de la Fondation Napoléon. Jewels, gold cups, porcelain, statues, boxes for every imaginable tool or toiletry article, paintings, and regalia met us in every room. There was an impressive red robe (originally worn by the wife of Napoléon’s secretary of state) that has not seen light of day since the coronation. Though many things dazzled me, the thing that touched me most was an English lesson in Napoléon’s own handwriting, from when he was on St. Helena.

We headed next for Rueil, while Todd detailed what was happening this day 200 years ago (because this was THE day, the day of the coronation). At the Église de St. Pierre et St. Paul, we stopped to view the tombs of Josephine and Queen Hortense. From there, it was a short distance to Malmaison. A hike through the Bois Préau, the park and gardens surrounding Malmaison, underscored that Josephine wasn’t kidding when she said she loved gardening. We then toured the splendid country home, where I was delighted to see the famous David painting of Napoléon crossing the Alps (and yes, I know he wasn’t really riding a horse, but it’s still a fabulous painting). On the upper floors there was a spectacular exhibition of the Jewels of Two Empires.

A short walk through the grounds, past romantic little pavilions that feature in at least one painting of Napoléon and Josephine, brought us to Petite Malmaison, which, though it is privately owned, was opened to us for the afternoon. We were greeted by the owner and white-jacketed servers who offered us Kir as we entered. A bit of history was related, then we were shown into a large room where dinner was served. The dishes served were prepared in the manner of the early 1800s, Todd told us. Good food, an incredible cheese course, and good wine made for a pleasant afternoon. Then it was time to head for the hotel to change into formal attire for the evening’s grand event.

This was to be one of the trip’s highlights—a concert of music from the Emperor’s coronation performed at the Madeleine. We were joined by a number of people who were not part of the tour but are friends of Todd and the Alliance, including Davout d’Auerstadt, a descendant of one of Napoléon’s marshals. Our bus waded through the crowds, traffic, and police to a spot right in front of the classically columned, Roman-inspired church, originally built by Napoléon as a temple to honor the Grande Armée. It was the perfect location for the celebration.

TV cameras were rolling as the glittering guests arrived, thousands of them, and drummers of the Grenadiers of the Imperial Guard rendered honors as we mounted the stairs. News photographers hung from balconies or crowded the front, where Todd Fisher and Princess Napoleon were being interviewed prior to the entrance of the choir, orchestra, and soloists. As we took our seats and began to read our programs, we were gratified to see that Todd and the Alliance were thanked for their participation in bringing about the event. Then the Académie symphonic de Paris took the stage, and the concert began. The music ranged from regal to rousing, with the Vivat all but bringing us to our feet. Every detail was so perfectly arranged that even the conductor, Peter Hicks, is a Napoleonic scholar, as well as a musician. Between numbers, there was a running commentary on the progress of the coronation, and while the music played, a spotlight focused on a painting of Napoléon in his coronation robes on the dome over the alter.

When we first arrived, we had heard murmuring as we walked to our exceptionally good seats. Apparently, we were something of a surprise to some of those in attendance. During the entracte, a Frenchman crossed the aisle to ask me if Americans were in fact quite so interested in French history as to be here—and to qualify for such good seats. He then proceeded to point out a few of the several marshals in attendance, almost none of whom had seats better than ours!

Though the event lasted nearly three hours, I don’t believe anyone, at least in our group, was in a hurry to see it end. However, the huge crowd made it easy to linger, as we divided our admiration between the church’s beauty and the wonderful Imperial Guards who lined the path to the exit. When eventually we emerged into the cool evening air, we headed for a nearby bistro for a light, late dinner, and then back to the hotel.

On day three, we were up early and off to the Palais des Congrès for the Salon du Premier Empire. It was a glorious morning—the first day of the empire, a few members of the group noted. The sun glinted off the dome of Église St. Louis des Invalides as we passed it en route, heading up the Champs Elysées and around the Arc de Triomphe. The Salon brought together purveyors of all sorts of delights related to the First Empire, from antiquities (letters, medals, swords, uniforms, and more) to current reproductions or tributes (Limoges porcelain decorated with laurel-wreathed N and golden bees, copies of period furniture, paintings, statues, miniatures). Most of us found some little souvenir or other, then we chatted with other Napoléon-philes until it was time to meet our bus.
As soon as we were aboard the bus, exquisite picnic lunches from Fauchon were handed out: wild mushroom salad, skinny green beans, rare roast beef with sauce verte, small soft cheeses, and chocolate macaroons. As the afternoon wore on, Todd played recordings of period music. The sun was shining, and the countryside through which we passed was lovely. As we neared Chateauroux, several group members broke into a joyous rendition of La Marseillaise. It would be impossible not to love this group.
Because we had gotten a late start, we had to rush to change for dinner, but we were all glittering and downstairs by 7:30 and off for Valençay. This would be the other supreme jewel of this tour, along with the concert. We were still some distance from Valançay when we got our first glimpse of the impressive, white chateau, which was brightly lighted for our benefit. (It is normally closed this time of year.) When we reached the front gate, some distance from the palace, there were antique horse-drawn carriages awaiting us. Torches lined the path to the inside gate, and the carriages carried us through this, under an arch, and into the Cour d’Honneur, before depositing us at the entrance. What a splendid arrival!

We started our visit with an hour-long tour of Talleyrand’s splendid home, which is a blend of Renaissance and neo-classical styles. Audio wands in hand, we moved from room to sumptuous room, learning of the history of Talleyrand and the palace. Talleyrand, one of the premier diplomats of his age, bought the chateau in 1803, with Napoléon’s encouragement and financial assistance. The purpose of the palace was to impress—which it still does. Here, Talleyrand entertained the Empire’s most illustrious guests. Here, too, the King of Spain and his family were imprisoned (though comfortably housed and exquisitely entertained) in 1808, when Spain proved to be a difficult nut for the emperor to crack.

Our tour done, we headed for the reception room, where liveried servers presented us with champagne, Kir, and gorgeous hors d’oeuvres. (And the care for detail was again evident in the fact that, not only were the servers in livery appropriate to the period, but also in the colors appropriate for Talleyrand’s household!) Two men in Guard Grenadiers period military dress played wonderful drum pieces, including a delightful, rhythmic mock sword fight with drum sticks. Then dancers, also in period dress, performed several dances popular during the Napoleonic era.

Finally, performing a Polonaise, the dancers led us into the grand dining room. Once we were seated, an unparalleled meal (the preparation of which started two days prior to our arrival) got under way. The first course was a cream of truffle soup with lobster. The chef, who was attired in a chef’s uniform of the early 1800s (and indeed who was reproducing fairly faithfully recipes of that era—a feast in the manner of Carême) came in with each course to announce, in verse, what we were being served. The truffle soup was followed by a foie gras terrine with fig conserve. Next was poached fish served on a bed of sautéed cabbage surrounded by a pale cream sauce with pink peppercorns. The main course was venison in red wine sauce accompanied by a baked apple filled with red currants and a pastry “sunflower” filled with seasoned carrot purée. A salad was served with three cheeses: ripe, goat, and bleu. A parade of chefs, assistants, and servers were preceded by the drummers for the presentation of the dessert, individual crowns of lady fingers filled with custard cream, chantilly cream, marrons glacés, and glacéed fruits, and topped with ripe gooseberry and currants. The wine, which had already changed from white to red during the meal, now became champagne. The chef, assistants, and servers came out, champagne glasses in hand, and sang a toast to our group. François Geneve, who had put considerable effort into making this evening a reality, proposed a toast and offered gratitude on behalf of the entire group. What an incredible night!

It was after 2:00 a.m. when we finished our last course and began to retrieve our coats, and the torches were burning low along the drive. The air was cold and crisp. While we all needed sleep, I don’t think anyone really wanted the night to end.

Next morning, not everyone opted for the 9 a.m. walk to the home of Comte Bertrand, but those of us who went were glad we did. We enjoyed delightful views of the older part of the medieval town, as well as the excellent collection of Napoleonic relics and statues from the Romantic period that reflected on Napoléon.

On the bus again, we continued south. Castles and old farms dotted the lovely, hilly countryside. A rest stop was made memorable by the shop at the gas station, where shelves were lined with foie gras, moutardes, duck confit, and conserves. I must get back here.

We continued on through the Dordogne, into Perigord. Here we pulled into the courtyard of the Musée Napoleon de la Pommerie, which houses the Bonaparte family’s private collection of treasures from their family’s history. We were greeted cordially by the Comte and Comtesse de Witt. The Comte is a direct descendant of Napoléon’s brother, Jerome. I was surprised to learn that the exile of Napoléon’s family only ended in 1950. It was ended by Charles de Gaulle, because the Comte de Witt’s father fought in the resistance during WWII. The Comte was born in Tunisia, while his mother was born in Belgium.

The Comte de Witt related that Napoléon was a PR genius as he showed us rooms filled with useful things created to keep his face before the populace—water jugs, glasses, tools, perfume bottles, money boxes, and more. There were also pieces created after images of Napoléon were outlawed—chess men or images secreted in cane handles, as well as symbolic representations, primarily the Arc de Triomphe. We then split into two groups, the Comte taking one through the main house while the Comtesse served coffee to the others. In the main house, we saw swords, uniforms, furniture, dishes, souvenirs, sculptures, and paintings (the collection contains more than 500 objects from the imperial family). The thing that most captured my fancy was a small, heart-shaped silver box that a young Napoléon had sent to the widowed Josephine to show his love.

Onward to Bordeaux. We stayed in the lovely Chateau Cordeillan-Bages, an elegant and well-appointed hotel. After changing for dinner, we walked through the vineyards to the winery of Chateau Lynch-Bages. Excellent wine was abundant, of course. This was a lighter meal, but still elegant. Highlights were the seared foie gras (the best of the whole trip, I think), the 1975 Chateau Lynch-Bages (a big red), and the nut bread with Saint-Nectaire cheese drizzled with honey.

The next morning, we were greeted by a splendid breakfast, then we were on the road again. We passed vineyards and chateaux, Renaissance churches and medieval town squares. We crossed the Gironde River by ferry and headed for the ferry to Île d’Aix. This wonderful little island is the last place Napoléon stood on French soil. We were all charmed by the tiny, tidy village on the island. We strolled to the Hôtel Napoléon at Austerlitz Place, where we were greeted by the town mayor (descendant of the mayor who saw Napoléon off when the British came to take him away) and the curator of the island’s Napoléon Museum.

Perhaps it was the simplicity of the town that made the splendor of the meal such a surprise, but at the hotel, we were regaled with mussel soup with cream and vegetables, a beautiful grilled quail salad with foie gras shavings and truffle oil (one of my five favorite dishes of the trip), ballottine of salmon and sole with spinach and herbs, and oeufs à la neige, served with a nice Pouilly Fumé.

As we finished dessert, M. L’Audette, the museum curator, began to tell us about the museum, which was commissioned by Napoléon III. The house in which Napoléon spent his last three days was purchased by descendants of Baron Gourgaud, Napoléon’s aide de camp, who went with his emperor into exile, and generations of the Gourgaud family have collected fascinating souvenirs for the museum. The museum’s ten rooms are organized by periods in Napoléon’s life: marriages, Italian campaign, last days on the Île d’Aix, etc. We then headed for the museum, which was a gem. We even saw the room, bed, chairs, and other furnishings used by Napoléon during his few days here. Everyone left feeling that the museum deserved more time, and I wouldn’t be surprised if a few return visits were planned. But there was a ferry to catch.

It was another afternoon of driving, but wine, champagne, lively conversation, and music from the coronation kept everyone cheerful. Our destination for the night was the spectacular Chateau d’Esclimont. This fabulous moated chateau was built for the Archibishop of Tours in 1543 and was long the home of the La Rochefoucauld family. The chateau—now a seriously deluxe hotel—was breathtaking. High ceilings, splendid rooms, fireplaces everywhere (including our bedrooms), lavish decorating, and excellent service impressed us all. The room in which we had dinner had heavy wooden roof beams, wood paneling half way up the walls and tooled Spanish leather the rest of the way, a massive fireplace, great chandelier, marble busts, and gorgeous table settings. It was another night of excellent food and wine in exceptional company, which was followed by about an hour of wandering around, inside and outside the chateau, to fully appreciate its splendor.

An excellent breakfast was served in the same handsome private dining room where we’d had dinner. (If you’re ever there, try the local/terroir sausage—fabulous.) We had time to further explore and admire the chateau, then, alas, it was time to hit the road again, this time headed for Versailles.

The sprawling, opulent palace at Versailles is stunningly impressive. We stopped at a Louis XIV pavilion, where we were ushered into the Salle des Gardes Françaises by the curator of the chateau de Versailles. We were also joined by a representative from La Fondation Patrimoine and the French branch of the Sons of the American Revolution. In a brief, informal ceremony, John Welsh presented the curator with a book he had found in a New Orleans antique shop—a red leather-bound volume gilt-stamped with the arms of Marie-Antoinette. The curator related that the contents of the palace’s library were sold after the French Revolution, and there was only one volume from the entire collection currently at Versailles. He was obviously moved by the gesture, saying that it clearly demonstrated “la générosité traditionelle des amis americaines.”

We walked past the palace and through the gardens to the Grand Trianon, where we enjoyed a picnic lunch before meeting the curator of the Grand Trianon for a tour. The splendid little palace was used by Napoléon and Josephine and then Napoléon and Marie-Louise, and there were myriad furnishings, decorations, gifts, and necessities that revealed much about life at the palace during the First Empire.

The group was going to be split for dinner, as no restaurant sufficiently magnificent for a farewell feast was able to quite manage our 34 group members, so as we headed back toward Paris, we began saying good-bye to those who would be dining in the other group. The choices were Grand Véfour and Taillevent—both listed among Les Grandes Tables du Monde, so I doubt that anyone felt short changed.

I was in the Taillevent group (which Todd had told me ahead of time, so I could get to Le Grand Véfour before the tour), where we were accommodated in a private dining room. A velouté of cep mushrooms was trule memorable, as was the crayfish ravioli with crustacean broth. But everything was superb—poached cod, roasted duck, fig conserve with sheep's-milk sorbet, and an intense little amer chocolate cake/souffle. After the dinner at Taillevent, taxis were called, and we drove back to the hotel down the sparkling Champs Elysées. Small lights glittered in the trees lining the grand route, and with spotlights on the Arc de Triomphe and the lights on the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the near distance, Paris was living up to its name of City of Lights. It was a fittingly brilliant denouement to an astonishing “tour of a lifetime.”