Local is as local does. This might explain why Florent Pietravalle, the 34 year old chef, wears his star lightly and seems perhaps even more proud of his having been one of only a handful of chefs in France to have received Michelin’s Green star. This recent award is a celebration of chefs who are truly dedicated to taking their commitment to working with regional producers to the next level and to promoting sustainability in all of its forms. The kitchen of La Mirande goes far beyond the now cliché idea of having an on site garden towards creating obviously but not obvious opportunities such as growing their own mushrooms in the wine cellars, which can then be distributed (and sold) to the surrounding cooking community at large.
It is exactly through this tightly bound network that I had the great pleasure to first meet Florent. The French BBQ pitmaster (and character extraordinaire) Carlos Bear suggested that I taste the delicious slices from Roman piazzolo Sandro of Côme à Roma, who quickly became a dear friend. When I found Sandro and Florent in conversation over a crumb-lined table there one winter afternoon, I shyly introduced myself and took my leave. When I questioned Sandro later, he gave an Italian shrug and suggested the possibility that they might collaborate together one day.
Enter COVID and the French government lockdowns. While it was too expensive for many restaurants to open for take-out given their large staffs, Florent forged ahead with an idea still quite new in France and certainly for a Michelin-starred chef. Over a series of twelve weeks, he would invite a series of uber-creative chefs to reinvent or elevate an example of the comfort that we all longed for. Street Food. Perhaps because I knew so many of the other chefs, I felt completely at home in the underground kitchen. Each week, I would stride in (masked of course) and watch the team work, joking with Florent all the while. Somehow, I was welcomed as if I had always been there. Honestly, that once a week visit and accompanying bites of deliciousness (a “hot dog” made from locally-sourced trout and topped with crackling roe is just one example) really helped me to get through an otherwise lonely and challenging time.
It left me with the hope to “one day” try his “real cooking” in the formal dining room upstairs although I very well knew that it was beyond my near minimum wage means. Happily, I received an unexpected windfall and even better, my Mom was able to travel again. To top it off, our meal would be celebrate her 75th birthday. I called or texted absolutely everyone I have ever known even vaguely linked to La Mirande to ask for a reservation. Although clearly already booked, they made room for two American redheads. It was set.
While both my Mom and I have eaten at such establishments in the past, on the day, we made a pact that this go around, our only objective was to be completely ourselves and simply enjoy. And so I sported a massive smile as I strode through the silently opened front doors, so delighted to see all of the server’s, barman and sommelier who I had come to know in their street clothes during the Street Food series entirely metamorphosed and ready for the service to begin. We were seated at the table closest to the kitchen. I ordered the menu in six services, as well as wine accompaniments for me. As the first of several surprises, two coupes of one of my favourite champagnes, Billecart-Salmon rosé, were offered as we were considered friends of “la maison.“
And then we were off, somehow both whisked away into Florent’s imaginary world and yet entirely rooted in the Provence so perfectly represented on each plate. I will let the photos speak for themselves. Ingenuity, curiosity, virtuosity in technique, these are all qualities that Florent possesses in his cooking and we are all the luckier for it. Long after the actual dégustation, I can summon the taste and the feeling of being present on that glorious afternoon. The flavours and textures were somehow both subtle and yet bright, as if drawn with a Fifth Dimensional pen.
There is a story in my family that I love. My Dad did his best to take my Mom to Paris when funds afforded. And this was quite a trip in the 70s. From Michigan to the City of Light. Now, as the tale goes, we used to think this happened at La Tour d’Argent but my Mom now wonders if it was at Lucas-Carton. Regardless, both were institutions of la gastronomie française at the time. Staid business men surrounded them during their lunch, chewing silently in between deals. And yet, when the serveur brought my Mom her main dish, she clapped her hands with glee at the beauty on her plate, a bright green of spring that she had never seen before. It must be said that serveur slid into a smile at the sight. However sly it was.
My Mom and I had several such moments during our meal. For isn’t that what is to be hoped for? To not only be delighted but to feel wonder too? We stayed very late and laughed and laughed. Yoann Dell, Florent’s second in command, was kind enough to take us down to the cellar to see the afore-mentioned freaky mushrooms and other curiosities. We rose back into the light of day, eyes blinking and lips still smiling wide.
At the end of it all, once your bill has been paid (which might make you give a short cough on first view), you are presented with a treasure map. One to take you back to the beginning. It represents our unique corner of Provence and on it are dotted the farms and places that raised or caught the elements that are orchestrated at the Michelin-starred restaurant of the La Mirande Hotel in the shadow of the Palais des Papes.
Thank you, dear Florent and all of your team. You have given my Mom and I a moment that we will never forget. But even better, a friendship between us. I believe in you. Keep going. This is your calling, your destiny and how beautiful it is to be in the midst of constant creation?
And artist is as an artist does…
*****
So…sometimes we make mistakes. I don’t know why I couldn’t find the courage to publish this a year ago…why “perfectionism” has held such a shadow and depression too, but today…starting to come out of the darkness also means really appreciating all of the Beauty that I have lived and do. So here we go, Florent. I really wanted to write an article about you for the American press. Maybe I still will someday. “Stars” do not define us. I know that all too well from when I was an actress. And my beautiful Mom is 76. She teaches me well. May we all take inspiration in, wherever we may find it.
