We’ve just come from Deauville, the resort on La Manche (what the Brits call the English Channel), where the city was lined with American flags anticipating the Deauville American Film Festival’s 50th anniversary this week. Ten years ago, on our first trip there, we adored its restaurants, where one was forced to choose between plateaux of local shellfish, delectable Sole Normande (what the Brits call Dover Sole), or the perfectly seared beef and veal preferred by the macho horsemen who compete at Deauville’s famous hippodrome.
Things have changed.
A first disappointment was learning that Jacques Aviègne, owner of Chez Mioque in downtown Deauville, who long ago ran Le Relais on Madison Avenue alongside Le Bilboquet’s Philippe Delgrange, had died. Though Chez Mioque is still around, it appears to have suffered in his absence. It was empty when we walked past at Sunday lunch, while next door, a newer place called Drakkar was bursting at the seams.
That night, we took the short drive across the Touques river to neighboring Trouville-sur-mer, where we’d booked dinner at another institution, Les Vapeurs, which sits side by side on the water with Le Central. The two brasseries are institutions with similar menus of the simplest, freshest food, but different ownership. Hervé Van Colen ran the latter until 2020, when he retired and sold it, Drakkar, and a few more Deauville/Trouville favorites to a sprawling restaurant group that also owns Sénéquier on the port in St. Tropez and numerous Parisian spots. Les Vapeurs is a standalone owned by Jérôme Meslin for almost forty years. On a visit to Sénéquier last year, we discovered that what had once been a relaxed cafe for people watching had become an uptight über-expensive velvet rope restaurant. So in Trouville we chose Vapeurs, where the sole was impeccable and the weekend voyeurism endlessly amusing.
The next night, we tried Marion, owned by Van Colen’s daughter of the same name, where my wife’s sole was even better, and my bouillabaisse similarly delicious. A bright clean space with lots of sidewalk seating, it was quiet on a Sunday. But that let us chat with our waiter and learn the local restaurant gossip. It turns out Van Colen also has a son, Arthur, who also has a restaurant of his own, Cyrano, that we didn’t have time to try. And Chez Hervé, another local favored by the equestrian set, has evolved into Fanfaron, a leather and wood bistro that boasts of its old soul, but was closed that week.
Next, Augusto Chez Laurent, another Deauville stalwart. It has served its specialty, blue Breton lobsters—flambéed, fricassied, and baked—since the 1950s, and is now on its third owner, Laurent Garcès, who once ran the renowned Maison Blanche in Paris. He serves diners himself in a maritime themed establishment with infectious grace and low-key charm.
For our last night, we booked Drakkar, a link in that golden restaurant chain from Paris. It was, as before, crowded, and noisy, and as it was chilly, we asked to be seated in the dining room, which resembles New York’s Polo Bar with green walls, much leather and wood and lots of horsey prints on the walls.
But when the imperious host, who was literally stuffed into a too-tight shirt, returned from a long stroll around the room and led us to a tiny table near the kitchen, we gave in, sat on the covered terrace, and ordered a Sancerre and our last two soles Normande. They arrived sloppily filleted and overcooked, followed by a bill a third higher than at any of our previous feasts at owner-operated, stand-alone spots. It was a taxing end to what had been, until then, a delightful few days in Deauville. Golden chains may be profitable, but they also take a toll.
The Deauville American Film Festival is on now through September 15, 2024.