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I live in a quirky little village called Bungendore on the outskirts of the National Capital and at times I feel like I’ve been transported onto the set of one of those bucolic BBC comedy/dramas.

The arrival of a genuine French chef in this little town has set the scene nicely. Christophe Gregoire and his lovely Australian-Italian wife called - wait for it – Josephine, have fled Canberra’s fine dining district and settled in ‘Bungers’ (as we locals like to refer to the town). Their new venture, ‘Le Tres Bon’, is indeed ‘very good’. It’s also a source of enormous amusement for villagers like me seeking a spicier country life.

‘Chef Christophe’ (yes, ladies, he does have a French accent and he is a little dishy ;) was France’s 1986 apprentice chef of the year and whatever you do, don’t call him a cook! He produces the most delectable classics. One of my favourites is a melt-in-your-mouth venison casserole with porcini mushrooms in a sauce laced with dark chocolate. The aromas are like foreplay – they arrest your senses and leave you desperate for a taste. And the good news is, you won’t be disappointed by the flavour! Then there are the desserts…I’m very partial to the passionfruit crème brulee. It’s the stuff of culinary fantasies - toothsome caramelized crust, velvety smooth on inside, just the right balance between sweetness and sharpness. Tongue-tingling yumminess!!!

Christophe was inspired to make food his profession by his grandmother - a traditional cook from Lorraine who did everything the long, hard way. He and his partner are members of the Slow Food Movement – the worldwide collective pushing for a return to traditional methods of growing and preparing food with dividends in flavour and nutritional value. This passion manifests in Christophe’s cuisine and the way he and his partner talk about food. I had a wonderful discussion with Josephine recently about films that celebrate food as the stuff of life…we talked wistfully about Babette’s Feast and Like Water for Chocolate during the first of their new cooking school classes, while Christophe mesmerized his students with his recipes for Quiche Provencal and Tarte au Fraises. (Strawberry tart for those of you without Alexander Downer's mastery of the French language).

This class was a great experience, I refined my tart-baking technique while commentating on the process and quaffing French champagne – I was like a pig in mud! When it was time to cook, Chef Christophe donned his enormous white hat, with ceremony, and I shocked him by asking "Is it true - the bigger the hat, the better the chef?" But I was serious – I read that somewhere – French chefs have a hat hierarchy!

When we'd finished baking, we ate together as a class and Christophe took the floor. He's been trying to grow his own vegetables but the possums, cockatoos and other wildlife are frustrating his efforts: "Zey joost mow my vegies down!" And his attempt to use eggs hand-collected from his chickens have also been thwarted – by a 2m long King Brown snake (Australia's deadliest and a local nasty we have to contend with) which took up residence in his chook shed. He described killing it like this: "Zis snek was sooo big and eet ad my schicken in eez belly and I joost tuk my shuvel and swung like zis and zat and zis (he was gesticulating wildly) and cut im in 'alf but ee was still moving…I only killed 'alf of eem ".

The fun continued this week when I went to a French wine appreciation class hosted at Le Tres Bon. I really didn’t need a class to learn to appreciate the fruits of the appellations but I learnt a lot of interesting stuff about French agrarian politics and got to sample close to a dozen spectacular examples, drinking my way from the Loire to Bergerac, accompanied by Christophe’s fine food - which came out in dish after dish as fresh wine was poured. And Christophe wasn’t the only Frenchman in the room…it turns out there’s another French resident of Bungendore – a scientist called Xavier who’s almost as passionate about food and wine as Christophe. Xavier had me in stitches as he ranted about an article in one of the local newspapers (yes, we have two rags in a town of 5000!) which he believed to be an assault on French culture equivalent to English occupation. The offending article contained a recipe from another local ‘chef’ “ee is not a chef…ee is joost a cook!!!”. But the real travesty was the recipe itself, according to Xavier. Purporting to be for crème brulee, the method required only that whipped cream be baked in the oven before being topped with sugar and grilled. Apparently this is actually a recipe for mortification. Xavier’s voice became shrill, he shook his head, pointed his finger and let out exasperated French-accented yelps. All I could do was laugh despite the fact he was righteously angry – a brulee is an egg-based dish that in no way resembles the ‘dessert’ featured in the article. Look out for the Letter to the Editor in the Bungendore Mirror he’s threatening to pen – it will likely leave you with a taste for authentic brulee!

But Bungendore’s French connections don’t end there. One of the reasons I moved here from inner Canberra eight years ago was the allure of a little French Bistro which previously occupied the site of Le Tres Bon. Run by a woman known to her customers only as ‘Madame’ and her husband. 'Madame' informed us she was once a "famous Parisienne ‘airdresser" and she had the certificate on the wall to prove it. Her husband was equally engaging. One night she flitted about the restaurant (which back then sported the requisite red and white checked tablecloths and wine-bottle candles) wearing her ubiquitous hairnet, exclaiming “it’s a busy service and my ‘usband ‘as only one arm!!”. My partner and I looked at each other in disbelief: “Did she say her husband has only one arm?” I asked him. Moments later, Madame’s husband emerged from the kitchen with my partner’s Steak au Poivre in pan – and sure enough, he was missing an arm! Yes, here was a one-armed chef about to flambé a steak. He pulled it off with panache and I wondered whether this could be a new Paralympic sport – ‘one-armed chefing’.

So, don’t let anyone tell you Australian country towns lack amusement and sophistication – Bungendore alone has enough laughs and culture to keep me engaged for decades to come!    [read more]