Lu and M.
Google
Return to Mastan — Intermezzo: The December Prelude
Our first visit to Mastan felt like an introduction to a language we somehow already knew — precise, discreet, and quietly luminous.
Tonight we returned for the second chapter, not to repeat the experience but to understand it more deeply.
And with December already marked for the Bouillabaisse, a third act is waiting — the kind of finale that requires both time and intention.
This evening unfolded with quiet precision, each plate revealing a different facet of the kitchen’s intelligence.
---
Charcuterie — Salt and Time
We began with the Basque charcuterie from Éric Ospital — Ham “Les Trois Fermes” and Coppa.
Delicate slices, almost ethereal in their thinness.
The ham offered a quiet salinity; the Coppa, a soft depth shaped by careful curing.
A modest beginning, carried by purity and calm precision.
---
The Cromesquis — A Pleasure Cylinder Crossing the Plate
Then came the Cromesquis of pig’s trotters and snails —
a golden pleasure cylinder, almost a croqueta crossing the plate, deliberate in its length and intention.
Inside, a startling harmony: the jellied murmur of trotter cartilage meeting the fragile, slightly rubbery insistence of the snail.
It was a dissociated integration — two beings retaining their natures while surrendering to a shared purpose.
You felt the sweet earth beneath the pork’s foot-born richness; you sensed the slow, determined movement of the snail, their histories sliding side by side inside this crisp, assertive form.
Encased in a perfectly fried shell — phallic in presence, moist, molten, tenderly chewy — the cromesqui balanced solidity and liquid promise.
A warm brown-butter, garlic, and parsley sauce suspended everything in a precise halo.
---
The Hake — A Study in Clarity
The Hake fillet with green Le Puy lentils, bacon bits, and beef marrow jus arrived as a quiet masterclass in equilibrium.
The fish, cooked to soft nacré — superlative — felt like a clean sentence: no excess words, no decorative flourishes.
The lentils offered delicate structure; the bacon a subtle fumée spark; the marrow jus a depth that whispered rather than insisted.
A dish walking the line between earth and sea with almost architectural calm — the serenity of a fish resting in shallow waters.
---
The Duck — A Reasoned Fire, an Allegory
The Honey roasted duck breast followed, its cuisson precise, the skin rendered into a quiet marbled gloss.
Celeriac grounded the plate; roasted Conference pears and grape capsules brought flickers of sweetness.
The duck remained the center of gravity — mature, composed, constrained yet blood-warm, clear in its intention.
Each cut revealed layers built by heat under the hand of a maestro.
A dish rooted in tradition yet executed with modern sensitive precision.
---
Wine — A Brief Benediction
A young Château Peyrat Graves 2024 with quiet confidence and clarity.
The oily austerity of Sémillon meets the bright acidity of Sauvignon Blanc in perfect balance.
Not a complex wine — and for that reason, an ideal companion to food.
Near the end, the Saint Cosme Côte du Rhône arrived with a peasant’s confidence — rustic, warm, perfectly timed.
A simple, earthy benediction to close the night.
---
Service & Atmosphere — A Quiet Precision
The service at Mastan remains impeccable — elegant, discreet, confidently soft-spoken.
Warm baguette arrived exactly when needed, and I slipped a few slices away for breakfast, helped by that vivid green olive oil from the south of France.
Around us, the room carried an unforced happiness — a shy, dignified rhythm that suits the place.
And beside — and above — me, Luciana’s unmistakable sigh and light, certain touch completed the evening: the final stroke in our circle of taste, affection, and calm pleasure.
---
Closing
Nothing here relies on spectacle.
Everything rests on precision, timing, and a quiet respect for craft.
Mastan doesn’t chase superlatives — it manufactures them.
And so the Bouillabaisse waits for December.
As it should.
