French Revolution

The lights may be dim, but the flicker of candles, the bright white tablecloths, and the warm glow of
The lights may be dim, but the flicker of candles, the bright white tablecloths, and the warm glow of the fireplace brighten the old converted farmhouse. From the open kitchen come the sounds of the sizzling of melted butter and the clinking of whisk against pan. The soft conversation of couples and groups, each digging into escargot or chicken liver pâté or salad dressed with tangy tarragon vinaigrette, creates a gentle buzz of anticipation for the two additional courses still to come.

Meanwhile, in a tiny café-cum-bistro, where a collection of decorative glass balls in the windows throws swirling kaleidoscopes of light against the walls and pop music sings over the stereo, a family shares a laugh over a simple dinner: steak frites for the mother, duck breast for the father, croque-monsieur for the teenage son, and a sweet, strawberry-jam-fi lled crepe for the young daughter. These are scenes from the Mill on the Floss in New Ashford, Massachusetts, and Baroods (which reopens in May after being closed for the winter) in Lenox, Massachusetts, on opposite ends of the French dining spectrum in the Berkshires. Although in France there are venues to cater to a variety of dining styles, from the simple, pub-like brasserie to the rustic auberge (inn) to the haute-cuisine restaurant (serving the most sophisticated version of classical French food with theatrical service), the Berkshires boast two main representatives of the cuisine—fine dining and bistro—embodied in four very different venues. On Route 7 in sleepy New Ashford lies a modernized version of classical French cuisine, or cuisine bourgeoise: the Mill on the Floss, an eighteenth-century farmhouse bought thirty-six years ago by Montréal transplant and chef, the late Maurice MILL ON THE FLOSS Champagne, and his wife, Jane, co-owner, business manager, and pastry chef. Daughter Suzanne Champagne Ivy grew up in the Mill’s kitchen, learning on the job, and when her father passed away seven years ago, she took the reins of one of the area’s oldest and most beloved restaurants. Physically, the Mill on the Floss has changed little during its three decades, and its rustic character—wide-plank wood fl oors, massive exposed beams, brick fi replaces, hutches filled with Quimper pottery and crystal, and a tiny, open kitchen bedecked with Mediterranean tile and hanging copper pots—is part of its appeal. It’s a homey, inviting space, and the personable staff makes even the more formal table service, with selections rolled out on stainless steel trolleys, seem like a meal served at a friend’s home. “I think people believe the style is pretentious, or that it’s overpriced or ‘fancy.’ But we’re not,” Champagne Ivy contends. “I have customers who come in [wearing] jeans and a flannel shirt and drink a beer at the bar. Other customers like to dress up and make a night of it. Everybody’s welcome.” While Champagne Ivy adheres to many traditional cooking techniques and classical sauces, she admits that diners’ desire for healthier, lighter meals often prompts her to substitute olive oil for butter and halfand- half for cream. When asked how she makes French food vegetarian-friendly, the affable Champagne Ivy, with a long blond braid twisting over the shoulder of her thick fisherman-knit sweater, lets loose a cackle and says, “You don’t! The dishes I cook for vegans and vegetarians aren’t French in the classical sense, but I try to stick to certain French combinations or presentation.” She might stuff a squash with sautéed mixed vegetables, then cut it into French-style medallions. Or she’ll create a pasta sauce with garlic, basil, oregano, and tomatoes—a combination that recalls both Provençal and Northern Italian fl avors. Over a pre-meal starter plate of crackers with mild country cheese, diners may peruse the wine list, which has a surprisingly international focus, both value and highend selections, and excellent tasting notes that make pairing a cinch. On the menu, usual suspects such as French onion soup, poached salmon Hollandaise, and coq au vin take center stage, but Champagne Ivy adds more contemporary supporting characters, like crab cakes Dijonnaise and filet of sole, tangy with sea salt and drizzled with a light lemon and leek sauce. The tournedos, a melt-in-the-mouth round cut of beef topped with blue cheese and fried onions and served with a red wine reduction, is a standout. But a dedicated group of customers keeps coming back for the sweetbreads—served, depending on the season, with a lemon-buttercaper or a béarnaise sauce (clarifi ed butter, egg yolks, tarragon, shallots, and chervil simmered in vinegar). The organ meats have even inspired their own poetic ode, which now graces the back of the printed menu: sweetbreads/dark, glistening, silky/have no compare/anywhere. The Tuesday through Friday three course prix-fixe menu is immensely popular and a great value at $30. For à la carte