Sue Style, Food, Wine and Travel Writer

Jacques and Laurent Pourcel, together with their business partner Olivier Chateau, have probably never heard of Walpole’s Three Princes of Serendip – ‘always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things they were not in quest of’. But serendipity is definitely something they know about. At the tender age of 13 (when their mother fell suddenly ill) the twin brothers discovered that they could cook, and that cooking was fun. Wisely, they decided to study at Montpellier’s hotel school, and then to take themselves off on the rounds of the top chefs of the day (Michel Bras at Laguiole, Michel Trama at Puymirol and Pierre Gagnaire in his St Etienne heyday, to name but three).

Then there was the chance meeting of Jacques with Olivier Chateau at Michel Trama’s, where Jacques was in the kitchen and Olivier in the dining room. Together they hatched a wild scheme to open their own restaurant. Back in Montpellier they unearthed an unlovely and unloved house in a dingy street, hitherto inhabited by squatters, and plans began to take shape. Funds were short, so the twins decamped to Courchevel for a winter season to bump up the bank balance, leaving Olivier to get the ball rolling; in addition they raised a loan with a local businessman (the banks weren’t interested). The Pourcels were 24 years old, Olivier 21. The restaurant opened in 1988 and within 2 months it was full house.

Their timing was impeccable. Montpellier, famous since medieval times for its medical and law schools, was enjoying a boom in the late Eighties. In addition the wines of the area were suddenly attracting attention, as a new generation of wine-growers began to root out old grape varieties in favour of serious stuff like Syrah. Serendipitous, or what? After only 2 years they gained their first star, and in two more their second. The third followed in 1998 and since then they’ve served between 80 and 90 lunches and dinners daily, five days a week.

Jacques Pourcel (at least he claimed to be Jacques – the twins are identical, so who knows...) describes the food as ‘southern’. The bedrock is Languedoc, with oysters and mussels from neighbouring Bouzigues, squid from Sète, and a good three-quarters of the fish (sea bass, red mullet, monkfish, fresh anchovies) from Mediterranean waters. Fruit and vegetables, fresh almonds and pistachios come from specialist growers nearby; lamb, beef and game as well as truffles, chestnuts and ceps come from the arrière-pays.

Languedoc looks to Spain as Provence to Italy and the Pourcels admit to being influenced by the ‘frankness and simplicity’ of Catalan and Spanish cooking, hence the many dishes a la plancha, and creative revisitings of gazpacho. There are also echoes of Morocco (bstillas, preserved lemons) and of Italy (risotto, carpaccios et al). There’s a good deal of interplay between contrasting tastes (salty and sweet, sweet-sour, warm and cold) and textures (moist and crispy-dry, smooth and crunchy).

The ultra-modern, minimalist dining room (designed by Bruno Borrione, Philippe Starck’s righthand man) is stacked up on three levels like a theatre. It has been described as ‘particulièrement animé, macho et sonore’ (lively, macho and noisy). On an early summer’s evening there was an animated buzz of anticipation and enjoyment. At several tables small children were seen to be enjoying themselves hugely. There were few ties, some sneakers and lots of lovely backless dresses. There were also plenty of smokers. (You can object philosophically on the grounds that those puffing away in the Jardin des Sens are probably missing out on all kinds of sweeter smells and savours, but not on the grounds of the tobacco smells they are making: the ventilation system more than holds its own.)

Seventy percent of the wines on the list come from Languedoc-Roussillon – ‘it’s an area that’s really on the move,’ confirms Pourcel, who owns a vineyard near Montpellier where he grows the deliciously fruity Picpoul de Pinet, and meaty reds made from a judicious blend of Syrah, Grenache and Carignan. ‘Besides, the wines work well with our food, especially in the summer’. In the winter months, more Burgundy and Rhone is sold. The prices of both food and wine are not over the top: few three-star restaurants offer a lunch menu at €46 (£28) and the average tab is between €90 and €120 (£60-£75).

‘Our background’s nothing special’, admits Pourcel, ‘we never wanted to play the luxury card’. He admits to getting a great kick from guests who arrive and confess that they’ve been saving up for months to come for a meal. And if these prices are still out of reach, there’s always the Compagnie des Comptoirs just across the road, a brasserie-type venture set in a beautifully restored 1920’s town house, with alfresco dining in a huge Moroccan tent with bamboo furniture and live music, and where a taboulé with smoked salmon will set you back about €12 and a duck tajine €15.

Other baby Comptoirs are planned, in Avignon, Bordeaux, Paris and London. In four or five years’ time the Pourcels plan to bow out of three-stardom (‘it’s hard work – we don’t want to end up like some three-star chefs, still on the treadmill after thirty years…’) and retire to their vineyard. ‘You have to keep things simple in this life’, concludes Jacques, ‘plus on complique, moins on arrive à être sincère’ (the more you complicate things, the less you manage to be true to yourself) .