Mirazur (*) – Menton, France

I have just returned from a trip to the Côte d'Azur in France, where I dined at Mirazur in Menton and Le Louis XV in Monaco.

Mirazur was the first of the two restaurants that I visited, and the one that I was most looking forward to. Mauro Colagreco's restaurant comes highly acclaimed, with 3 Michelin stars (Colagreco was the first chef born outside of France to be awarded 3 stars in the French edition of the guide), as well as having taken the grand prize for the 2019 iteration of San Pellegrino's 50 Best list. The restaurant is situated in Menton, which is about a 5 minute walk to the Italian border. Sandwiched between mountains and the Mediterranean, Menton has a slightly subtropical microclimate, which has allowed Colagreco to build four gardens around the restaurant that incorporate various fruits, roots, leaves and flowers, and that account for around 90% of the vegetation found on the dishes offered at Mirazur.

These four classifications – fruits, roots, leaves, and flowers – are also the four different menus that are offered at Mirazur, where the menus rotate in accordance with the lunar calendar. These 'Universe' menus are nominally composed of nine courses, though this does not include the appetizers or bread courses, with some courses being trios. As such, even if you can put it away like I can, it's likely you'll be leaving rather inflated.

The menu that I ate from was the 'Flower Universe'. Visually, Mirazur's plating for this menu is some of the finest I've seen. But for a few dishes – where, by virtue of being what they are (like ice cream), it is somewhat unnecessary to dress them up – every dish shows a meticulous care in the arrangement of the components. The aesthetics are a knockout to my eye, but I can not say the same across the board for taste, where the highs are not all that high, and are readily balanced by the lows (which, with fairness, are not that low either). There were definite winners, including pretty much every one of the appetizers (the smoked herring and the capers in particular), the Artichoke Tart (masterful), the Madeleines (caremelized ends, fluffy middle; exquisite. I boxed those I couldn't eat at the table), the main cauliflower dish (which was blended into a purée and sat atop some Oscietra caviar), and the squids stuffed with saffron and carrots. The rest, putting aside aesthetics, were not as memorable, and indeed lacked in the flavour department (the vanilla and lobster is a good example – it was the chef's intention that the vanilla overpower the lobster and be the star of the show. The end product did not fulfill the objective, as the vanilla was decidedly subdued).

More so though than any one particular dish being a let down, was that the menu just seemed to be pretty monotone in the flavour department; there was no cadence – the menu starts at one level and stays at that level throughout. As such, rather than wonder with anticipation at what delight could be around the corner, I found myself asking 'is this it?', hoping that the next dish might up the ante. Sadly, it didn't (unless you count the madeleines, but by this point it's too little too late). While I enjoyed the experience and the artistry at Mirazur, I don't see how this can be considered world-beating.

Courses:

1. Appetizers (Smoked Herring, Marigold, Cauliflower, Parmesan, Capers)
2. Bread and Rosat Geranium Olive Oil
3. Borage, Razor Clam
4. Garden Flowers, Crab
5. Cauliflower Trilogy
6. Saffron, Squid from Villefranche
7. Nasturtium, Sea Stew
8. Vanilla, Lobster
9. Artichoke Tart
10. Orange Blossom
11. Hibiscus, Beetroot
12. Madeleines

Side note: I was unexpectedly teleported back a couple of decades during my visit to Mirazur. Twice during the evening service, protracted yelling came from the kitchen; the chef was absolutely livid. Mirazur is split into two levels, with the ground floor being the reception and the kitchen (which has glass partitions allowing patrons to see in), and the first floor being the restaurant. As the pictures show, I was sat at the window looking out to Sea, which is as far from the stairs as you can get. That the chef's voice reached me from the kitchen means they were really going at it. The second time, I'm fairly sure I heard a pot being flung (or at least something inanimate being beaten). When arriving at the restaurant, I was promised a walk around the kitchen after my meal. I was not at all surprised when this didn't transpire, given the yelling that occurred intermittently throughout the service. I mention this as it seems out of place with how most kitchens of this calibre are run these days. I hope this was an anomaly, not to be repeated. This all said, I don't think this dissonance was reflected in the cooking the night that I dined.