The French seem to have the market cornered when it comes to things that go in and out of the mouth; they have given us language, a patented display of affection, and cuisine. I must admit that I am not familiar with all three cultural exports (sly grin); I am the least familiar with French cuisine, outside of occasional crepes- which are really pancakes- croissants, French wine and the odd experiment in French Class, I haven’t really been exposed to the French Palate.
It was with this in mind that I made my march on Chez Victor, the quintessential French restaurant in our nation’s capital, Chez Victor or Victors House is located in the Maitaima District of Abuja, the Maitaima district of course been the haven of the nouveau- riche and others with ill-gotten wealth- yes if it is Nigerian Wealth it is more times than none stolen, and No my Fada doesn’t have a house in Maitaima.
The general architecture of Maitaima whispers, almost as though it doesn’t want to reveal the insane, almost grotesque amount of money it takes to build and live in such abscess luxury, the place hides itself behind hills and trees, and Chez Victor is no different, it is very easy to drive past it. It is unassuming, almost as if the owners didn’t care if you drove by, it stays there unnoticed, shy-if not for the solitary sign indicating that you were indeed at Victors House.
It is in a walled compound with a rather bland gate, that doesn’t grant you view to see if Victor has opened his doors or not, I had to knock on the gate to make sure they were open. Just before I stepped in a Jeep pulled up to the gate, it was the United Nations variety, white, sturdy and ordinary looking. The window wound down and Mr.UN asked me if “we” were open for the night, we? Oui? We, the Federal Republic of Nigeria? We, Joint Chiefs of a can of whoopass?
It took me a second to gather if he automatically assumed I was a member of staff because I was “indigenous” looking, or because I was standing at gate and resembled the gateman, or maybe because my wardrobe looked like the waiter attire-to him- my taste in fashion is unimpeachable, my wallet is another thing. I decided it was a harmless question and spared him my Amistad rhetoric, and told him “it” was open. Discarding Mr UN, I walked into Victors house for what would turn out to be a consummate experience.
At the entrance, Victor had put a waiter to welcome you with a smile and open the door, walking in you notice that the restaurant is actually a house that has been decompartmentalized and the expanse used very well to accommodate a busy hall, the dining hall has been maximised to contain a healthy crowd.
I noticed a bi-racial family tucking away into their food, I could only imagine that Victor had stunned their mouths into silence. I was right. I asked the waiter to show me a quiet table, and he translated this to mean I was embarrassed at eating alone and gave me a table away from plain sight behind a wall. This in the end worked for me, as I was waiting to see if they would forget me behind there.
They didn’t, they were swift in bringing the menu and lighting the candle on my table, as though I told Mr. Waiterman I wanted to fall in love with myself, but it was standard operating procedure I suppose. The menu had a good range of meets, seafood and sweets to choose from, from continental French Africa to France itself. I was looking forward to the wine list and didn’t find it, I assumed it wasn’t available and settled for a coke on the rocks, with lime. (Cokes on the rocks sounds so classy), I should do a Bond Impersonation one day and ask the bartender for Bournvita shaken not stirred.
Anyway, back to Victor, I later found out that the wine menu was separate and in retrospect my wallet was better for it, I ordered for my starter the Bisque de Langoustes- which was Lobster Soup with crab, carrot, fresh tarragon & cream served with Parmesean Crustini and garnished with Prawns. So somehow it was the equivalent of a Lobster eating a crab, then chewing on a carrot while swimming in cream and then being eaten by a prawn. It was heavenly and I am still not convinced that Victor didn’t spike it with syrup, ‘cos i checked the constitution nothing is allowed to be that sweet, hell just thinking about it is likely to induce diabetes. It was like an aquarium of dead (RIP) crustaceans, and they were everywhere. In fact the more I think about it, Victor spiked the meal, at one point I attempted to lick the bowl and remembered I was in civilized company. Although it arrived later the soup was served with freshly baked bread rolls that released their centre in one glorious surrender of steam, everything that touched them melted, including my palate. Resistance was futile.
The main meal, Langoustes braisee a l’ail pommes sautees persillees – which was Barbecued Lobster served with sautéed potatoes with garlic and parsley.
As you can probably tell by now, Victor’s menu is deliberately declarative and so is the cooking. The main course arrived shortly after the starter, and Mon Dieu, from the presentation to the finished article, Victor couldn’t have done it any better. The lobster had been split into two equal parts, and barbecued till the white meat was hard but soft enough to be swallowed, like a sponge, it cut away with the littlest difficult and my brain had trouble computing what to put in first, the golden potatoes or the lobster meat- in the end I took them on in equal measure which is how I Imagine civilised people eat.
I suppose a Chef hasn’t done his/her job till you are confused as to how to divide your attention on a plate, I have heard Victor makes the round in the dining hall, he didn’t that night and it was safer for him, ‘cos at that moment I wasn’t above blindfolding him with a table napkin and kidnapping him to a life of servitude in my kitchen.
Somewhere in the background there were hearty attempts at some birthday song, I could care less I was only grateful Victor had been born. I paid my bill and walked out, N8100 shorter. As I walked out I wondered why the French hadn’t colonised the land mass north of Cameroon.
Chez Victor is located on 7 Ganges Street, Ministers Hills, Maitama, Abuja, they Can be reached on +234 805 746 7032 or on +234 803 591 1997. The email address is chezvictorabuja@aol.com
Brilliant!! Just brilliant!!
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