FRENCH CHEF AMONG THE BEST--AND LEAST KNOWN

The 1985 edition of the popular and influential Guide Gault-Millau names two French chefs as “ cuisiniers de l’annee “--the year’s best. One of them is the well-known Joel Robuchon, who tends the ovens at the three-star Jamin in Paris. The other is Jean Bardet, of the restaurant of the same name, in Chateauroux.

What? Who? Where?

That’s what I went to find out not long ago. To begin with, Chateauroux turns out to be a rather dull-looking provincial city near the River Loire, in the region of Berry, southwest of Paris and northeast of Lyon (and, incidentally, a good 90 minutes from the nearest autoroute exit). Bardet, who hails from the Charente, came to town in 1972 to cook at a modest local bistro across the street from his present establishment. Earlier, he had worked at the Savoy Hotel in London and at “steak-frites” restaurants in two other Loire-area cities--hardly a promising background. But Bardet was ambitious and, apparently, naturally talented--and, to quote Gault-Millau, “little by little, he penetrated into the enchanted world of taste and of flavors.”

Bardet had obviously become a full-fledged citizen of that world by the time he opened his own place in 1979, because both Gault-Millau and the Guide Michelin found him almost immediately. (The latter today awards him two stars.) His steak-frites reputation died hard, though: Bardet tells the story on himself that one day an old friend came in, dined well, and then asked that his compliments be conveyed to the chef.

“But I’m the chef,” Bardet replied.

“What?” the friend exclaimed. “You’re telling me that you can make food like this ?”

But indeed he can--and, best of all, it’s food that is very much his own. Because he has no background with the Guerards and Bocuses and such, Bardet has been able to (or perhaps been forced to) develop a true personal cooking style--something that is more of a rarity than it ought to be, incidentally, in France today.

Sometimes, it must be admitted, that style is just to do things very simply, to let the ingredients speak for themselves--as when he offers a complimentary hors d’oeuvre composed of a single Marennes oyster, superbly fresh, in a pastry shell with shreds of leeks; or when he serves his own excellent duck foie gras with no more garnish than a small salad of wild greens.

But a tasting menu that began with these two dishes recently went on to demonstrate how deliciously elaborate Bardet’s ideas can also be. The next course was more oysters (I would have quibbled about the repetition had they not been so very good), this time in an exquisite watercress sauce spiked with Muscadet--a masterful counterpoint of the wine’s sharpness, the watercress’s peppery bite, and the sea-fresh salinity of the oysters. A filet of bar (sea bass) followed, enhanced by a wonderful assortment of wild mushrooms and, more important, by a reduction of butter and mushroom juices that had somehow become one of the best single sauces I’ve ever encountered--sweet, woody, complex, unforgettable.

The main dish was a round, lightly crisp, delicious piece of sweetbread--the kind called pomme , or apple, in French--in a subtly sweet demi-glaze--back toward simplicity, but absolutely right.

A good choice of cheeses came next, including cantal, fourme d’Ambert, and three or four local chevres, and then there were consecutive tastes of three truly fine desserts--an ethereal chestnut mousse with a fresh pear coulis (two flavors contrasting superbly, by the way); a Grand Marnier souffle, out of its dish, that seemed more air than egg; and a wedge of melt-in-the-mouth apple tart. The price for all this? About $35, not including wine or service.

But speaking of wine and service: First of all, the wine list here is very good, and is particularly strong in hard-to-find red and white (and sweet white) wines from the Loire: 15- or 20-year-old Chinons, for instance, which are fascinating and elusive creatures, alternately suggesting Bordeaux, Burgundy, and--to me, at any rate--Rioja. The restaurant will also provide a kind of “wine-list degustation ,” serving a different glass of appropriate wine with each course (a semi-sec Vouvray with the foie gras , for instance, and a Meursault with the sweetbreads).

The service was superlative--full of good advice offered almost conspiratorially (“the raisin-nut toast will go well with the blue cheese but not so well with the cantal”), flawlessly attentive without being overbearing, friendly without being familiar, and absolutely without pretension--something quite remarkable for a restaurant of this class.

I doubt that there was one member of the serving staff older than 30, incidentally--and if this is what the younger generation is capable of, I’d say there might be hope for the future of French restaurants yet.

Bardet plans to move to the outskirts of Tours in 1987, and he already has started work on the new place. There will be a small hotel attached (there’s one at the present site, but under separate ownership), and access from the autoroute will be considerably easier.

Jean Bardet, 1 rue J.-J. Rousseau, 36000 Chateauroux, telephone 54.34.82.69.