Restaurants: French connection

Ben Rogers discovers hidden haut cuisine at the English end of the Chunnel; You know that if Gicqueau was stranded on a desert island, he would change his uniform from chef de brigade to patissier in order to smash a coconut

This time last year, I was instructed to drive to France for lunch. I had always declined to do this BC (before the Chunnel), but with the hi-tech link, I was assured, it would be easy. Not so. There were long queues at the English terminal, France was colder and wetter than the country we had left behind, and the restaurant we had picked proved instantly forgettable. I cursed my editor and determined not to repeat the experiment again. It is good to be able to report, then, that I won't ever have to: France has come to us. A young(ish) chef from the Loire, Samuel Gicqueau, and his wife, Zara Jackson, have opened up a little piece of terroir in Sandgate, a unprepossessing seaside town between Hythe and Folkestone, just five minutes' drive from the Chunnel entrance.

The Sandgate Hotel stands in the middle of a frayed terrace of hotels and guest houses facing the open sea. In its previous incarnation it was a B&B. It is easy to imagine the type: Teflon carpet, combustible sheets and a landlady who refuses to serve breakfast a moment after 9.30am. But, oh, how things have changed! English sitcom has given way to Gallic pastoral, to pinks and yellows, to oils of the Loire, to smooth Francophone service and the pursuit of culinary perfection, viniculture, connoisseurship. We are in the world of the professional French chef, complete with a marvellous wine list (especially strong in white wines of the Loire Valley, as well as Bordeaux and Burgundy), and the maxims of Brillat Savarin - these latter being printed on the menu.

It was, in fact, more or less chance that led Gicqueau to set up so close to the Chunnel: his wife's family live nearby. But he is rightly making the best of his situation. His fish is drawn from the salty expanse you see from the dining-room window, but almost everything else is brought in under the Channel: foie gras comes from a farm next to his parents near Nantes; truffles, cheeses, cream and butter are driven over weekly from Boulogne. Gicqueau makes a point of stocking his cellar from small family wine makers, many of them known to him personally. "Locals," he says, "can't understand why our food is so expensive; Londoners can't figure out why it's so cheap."

The Sandgate is the sort of place that is very hard to read if you are English - and not just because the menu is in French. Italian, Chinese, or Indian restaurants are accessible enough - they are large dining-rooms gone public - but here are M and Mme Gicqueau, who clearly have a very small budget, no room for more than seven tables and 15 bedrooms, serving up an extraordinarily refined, luxurious and artful menu. They could earn more and work less if they cut corners and compromised, but they don't. You know that if Gicqueau was stranded on a desert island, he would change his uniform from chef de brigade to patissier in order to smash a coconut. The great chef in the sky might be watching.

One of the most fundamental commandments of the French religion of haute cuisine states that "Thou shalt not cook with any but the most luxurious ingredients". First courses run the whole gamut (as Dorothy Parker would have said) from A to B; A, in this case, representing shellfish and B, foie gras. My pan-fried langoustines were perhaps the high point of our Sunday lunch; they came on some wonderfully buttery braised cabbage, with a light, barely noticeable seafood jus; both cabbage and crustacea melted in the mouth. A dish of scallops and black truffles was less successful; the truffles were almost tasteless and the bed of mashed potatoes on which they came lacked

bounce. Our main courses showed that with his exact attention to timing and light touch with sauces and other extras, Gicqueau knows how to get the best out of both fish and meat. Canon de Agneau de "Romney Marsh" roti (a roasted noisette of lamb, with rosemary and provencale vegetables) was wonderfully rich and delicate in taste. The roasted turbot was slightly overpowered by the girolle mushrooms that came with it, but was beautifully cooked and flavoured.

Desserts are of the representational school. Pistachio and hazelnut parfaits come in the shape of toadstools; passion-fruit souffle ice-cream comes in a pastry parcel complete with red ribbon and bow. We, though, had a fine bottle of Burgundy to finish (Domaine Maillard, Corton-Renard, 1991) and went for cheese that came straight from Maitre Philippe Olivier in Boulogne. I admit that when I saw the house speciality - what looked like a bar of warm Valrhona covered in a bitter almond cream - I half- rued my decision. Still, this was all I had to regret; I was doing a lot better than I was last year.

Sandgate Hotel and Restaurant, The Esplanade, Sandgate, Folkestone, Kent (01303 220444). Restaurant is closed Sunday night and Monday. All major cards. Double rooms pounds 49-pounds 67. Weekend set menu, pounds 28.50, excluding VAT, wine and service. Our a la carte lunch came to about pounds 60 per person all included.

Out-of-London eateries

Hotel du Vin et Bistrot, Crescent Road, Tunbridge Wells (01892 526455) This newly opened spin-off of the Hotel du Vin et Bistrot in Winchester adopts the latter's successful formula: historic building, artfully renovated, in a pretty town centre; simple brasserie food; informal atmosphere; and an exceptional cellar created by co-owner Gerard Basset. The hotel runs weekend wine courses. Three-course set meal with wine at around pounds 35 per head.

Roser's, 64 Eversfield Place, St Leonard's on Sea, Hastings (01424 712218) This small, seafront restaurant has recently moved sites within Hastings, but in every other way remains unchanged. The food is reliably good, in an old-fashioned English way - home-cured fish, pork and coriander sausages with red cabbage, lime mousse with bitter orange sauce - and the wine list is long, expert, mainly French, and unusually good-value, especially in its upper reaches. Three-course set meal with wine around pounds 30 per head.