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The Auberge Of The Flowering Hearth
In the high Alpine valley of La Grande Chartreuse, Roy Andries de Groot discovered by accident a charming and unpretentious little inn, L’Auberge de L’Atre Fleuri. Impressed by the devotion of its owners — les Mesdemoiselles Artraud and Girard — to perpetuating the tradition of supreme country dining, Mr. de Groot returned to the inn to record their recipes for natural country soups, heavy winter stews, roasted meats, pâtes, terrines, and fruity and spirituous desserts — the best of French cooking.
Superb food, fine wine, and the perfect blending of both into a series of menus for memorable lunches and dinners, together with the unique French Alpine recipes that build each meal — these are the ingredients of this remarkable book, now considered a classic.
Superb food, fine wine, and the perfect blending of both into a series of menus for memorable lunches and dinners, together with the unique French Alpine recipes that build each meal — these are the ingredients of this remarkable book, now considered a classic.
464 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1973
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Displaying 1 - 24 of 24 reviews
September 2, 2013
I wish we still had Roy Andries De Groot with us. Such wonderful writing, storytelling, imparting of feast in every way on the page in this wonderful book. You cannot think of it as cookbook, though it is that--endorsed, beloved, and well worn in the libraries of M.K. Fisher and Julia Child. More, it is the mystery unraveled of La Grande Chartreuse, and the way of life in the village below the monastery marked by heart, simplicity, and humility in the most base daily endeavors.
I love how a dinner party and reading of labels on the Green Chartreuse liqueur that De Groot drank every evening as an after-dinner appertif, led to the journey captured in this book. One taste of Chartreuse, very cold, chilled and on ice, does make one want to know its origins. A small sip goes down powerfully, sweet but not too, with kick and warmth, smoothness. You immediately think *mountains* for there is the hint of the Alpine meadows, all that's green and fresh. Is it pine? Anise? It is difficult to describe and as intriguing to hear its history, why only two monks in any given lifetime since 1764 know the recipe. Why so secret? Why made only this one place in the world? Why almost lost when the Nazis invaded France during World War 2.
De Groot unearthed the story (originally as an assignment for *Gourmet* magazine, where he was a columnist) and fell in love with the Chartreuse valley and wrestled with whether to expose it: "Should I try to protect the isolation of the Valley by keeping its location a secret?" Thank goodness he "decided not to change or hide anything. This involves an obvious danger ... if [it] were to be invaded by tourists almost everything I write about would cease to be true."
Most delicious in the tale De Groot does unveil is the *how* of the story. How the Chartreuse Valley gets its charm and resilience (a refuge for those contesting the Romans), how the people eat and live with what the seasons serve, how it is that few tourists have wandered into this Alpine haven. Along the way, De Groot creates an experience in every line, which is amazing because he was blinded from injuries in World War 2. Sentences like this (from the very first line of the preface) sweep you into his journey, this amazing place, and another time: "It is now fifteen years since I first approached the forbidding granite wall of rock, found the jagged cleft cut by the rushing torrent of the river, negotiated the narrow road on the ledge above the ravine, swung around the hairpin bends and plunged through one rock tunnel after another, until I found myself in the sun-splashed forest, surrounded, it seemed, by an orchestra of a thousand birds singing in harmony a hundred songs. The trees parted, as if they were a stage curtain, to bring me, for the first time, into the extraordinary valley of La Grande Chartreuse."
The tale of the Auberge itself ("a farmhouse, not dolled up") is just four short chapters in Part One of the book. And yet the history and life at the inn are woven through the menus and recipes that follow, even to how the ingredients are gathered and what is served: the miniature pale mauve aubergines, truffles dug at night (under the Nazi occupation when foodstuffs were scarce), the mountain raspberries picked and whortleberries (who knew there were whortleberries outside a Seuss book?), cheeses made, custards stirred, souffles baked, soups simmered in bubbling cauldrons over open-hearth fires.
Truly, *The Auberge of the Flowering Hearth* is a great read by a man known as the father of gourmet cooking--as well as being a charming guidebook for kitchen and gathering table and creating a life that is a feast.
I love how a dinner party and reading of labels on the Green Chartreuse liqueur that De Groot drank every evening as an after-dinner appertif, led to the journey captured in this book. One taste of Chartreuse, very cold, chilled and on ice, does make one want to know its origins. A small sip goes down powerfully, sweet but not too, with kick and warmth, smoothness. You immediately think *mountains* for there is the hint of the Alpine meadows, all that's green and fresh. Is it pine? Anise? It is difficult to describe and as intriguing to hear its history, why only two monks in any given lifetime since 1764 know the recipe. Why so secret? Why made only this one place in the world? Why almost lost when the Nazis invaded France during World War 2.
De Groot unearthed the story (originally as an assignment for *Gourmet* magazine, where he was a columnist) and fell in love with the Chartreuse valley and wrestled with whether to expose it: "Should I try to protect the isolation of the Valley by keeping its location a secret?" Thank goodness he "decided not to change or hide anything. This involves an obvious danger ... if [it] were to be invaded by tourists almost everything I write about would cease to be true."
Most delicious in the tale De Groot does unveil is the *how* of the story. How the Chartreuse Valley gets its charm and resilience (a refuge for those contesting the Romans), how the people eat and live with what the seasons serve, how it is that few tourists have wandered into this Alpine haven. Along the way, De Groot creates an experience in every line, which is amazing because he was blinded from injuries in World War 2. Sentences like this (from the very first line of the preface) sweep you into his journey, this amazing place, and another time: "It is now fifteen years since I first approached the forbidding granite wall of rock, found the jagged cleft cut by the rushing torrent of the river, negotiated the narrow road on the ledge above the ravine, swung around the hairpin bends and plunged through one rock tunnel after another, until I found myself in the sun-splashed forest, surrounded, it seemed, by an orchestra of a thousand birds singing in harmony a hundred songs. The trees parted, as if they were a stage curtain, to bring me, for the first time, into the extraordinary valley of La Grande Chartreuse."
The tale of the Auberge itself ("a farmhouse, not dolled up") is just four short chapters in Part One of the book. And yet the history and life at the inn are woven through the menus and recipes that follow, even to how the ingredients are gathered and what is served: the miniature pale mauve aubergines, truffles dug at night (under the Nazi occupation when foodstuffs were scarce), the mountain raspberries picked and whortleberries (who knew there were whortleberries outside a Seuss book?), cheeses made, custards stirred, souffles baked, soups simmered in bubbling cauldrons over open-hearth fires.
Truly, *The Auberge of the Flowering Hearth* is a great read by a man known as the father of gourmet cooking--as well as being a charming guidebook for kitchen and gathering table and creating a life that is a feast.
Read
January 5, 2020This book had been on my "to read" list forever. My mother had had a copy, shelved with her travel books. And while it is a "travel" book - in that it etches a tale of a visited place, it's also a cookbook and a book about food and terroir. And, it's written with astonishing vision - careful descriptions of meals and locations - by a visually impaired author. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roy_And...)
Local food in season is at the core of the book:
"The cuisine of this Auberge is built on the foundation of the local products from the surrounding countryside. The meats are from animals which roam on these slopes and birds which fly among these trees. The fish are from these mountain lakes. The fruits and vegetables, from these farms... This is the source of the sense of unity one feels flowing through each mean - and from one meal to the next.
There is one other Golden Rule in Mademoiselle Ray's kitchen. She follows (and does not try to overthrow) Nature's natural and perfect feeding cycle. She accepts the fundamental law that the right food always comes at the right time. By submitting to this natural cycle of the seasons, she revels in a cornucopia of delicacy and variety. She joyously prepares the first wild mushrooms after the snows. The first spring lamb, the first bright-green asparagus...She happily revels in the flood of summer fruits ... each month has its special meaning in her kitchen. June brings the crayfish from the rivers in the high valleys. October, the game birds and venison. December, the geese. The cycle of the year is a feast for every season."
I have not actually cooked anything - but perhaps this will be the year.
Local food in season is at the core of the book:
"The cuisine of this Auberge is built on the foundation of the local products from the surrounding countryside. The meats are from animals which roam on these slopes and birds which fly among these trees. The fish are from these mountain lakes. The fruits and vegetables, from these farms... This is the source of the sense of unity one feels flowing through each mean - and from one meal to the next.
There is one other Golden Rule in Mademoiselle Ray's kitchen. She follows (and does not try to overthrow) Nature's natural and perfect feeding cycle. She accepts the fundamental law that the right food always comes at the right time. By submitting to this natural cycle of the seasons, she revels in a cornucopia of delicacy and variety. She joyously prepares the first wild mushrooms after the snows. The first spring lamb, the first bright-green asparagus...She happily revels in the flood of summer fruits ... each month has its special meaning in her kitchen. June brings the crayfish from the rivers in the high valleys. October, the game birds and venison. December, the geese. The cycle of the year is a feast for every season."
I have not actually cooked anything - but perhaps this will be the year.
April 13, 2013
I read this a hundred years ago and then a few years back. It's a lovely story of food, wine, and the love of cooking and eating.
April 30, 2014
By the standards of the 1970s (when this book was published) as well as today, the author was exceedingly pretentious. That being said, I loved that the author went to France to research the history of the liqueur Chartreuse in the Alpine valley of La Grande Chartreuse and fortuitously stayed at an inn where he experienced some of the best French cooking and dining of his life. It was so memorable that he would return again and again in different seasons to learn and experience all that the inn and the area offered.
What follows is a lovingly and beautifully written description of the food and the two women proprietors of the Auberge de l'Atre Fleuri. Added to that are the descriptions of the geography and valley that belie that they were written by a blind man.
The recipes are recreated for the American kitchen and the descriptions of the wine and cheese pairings are beyond compare although I doubt that they can quite be replicated today.
In retrospect, I find the relationship of the two women, Mesdemoiselles Artaud and Girard to be fascinating and wish I knew more about them. I'm sure there is more to their story of their lives together.
This is a fascinating historical read about French Alpine country cooking that reminds one that the current trend toward locavore cuisine is really a return to our roots.
What follows is a lovingly and beautifully written description of the food and the two women proprietors of the Auberge de l'Atre Fleuri. Added to that are the descriptions of the geography and valley that belie that they were written by a blind man.
The recipes are recreated for the American kitchen and the descriptions of the wine and cheese pairings are beyond compare although I doubt that they can quite be replicated today.
In retrospect, I find the relationship of the two women, Mesdemoiselles Artaud and Girard to be fascinating and wish I knew more about them. I'm sure there is more to their story of their lives together.
This is a fascinating historical read about French Alpine country cooking that reminds one that the current trend toward locavore cuisine is really a return to our roots.
February 24, 2011
A true classic in food writing. De Groot travelled to France to research the history and making of chartreuse. He stayed nearby at the Auberge of the Flowering Hearth and became became enamored of the two women proprietors and cooks and the area. A third of the book is his description of the area and the meals he's served. The rest is a the recipes for the dishes he enjoyed. The writing is excellent, even the recipes are worth reading. What makes it all especially interesting is that De Groot was blind by the time of his travels.
This particular edition cannot be recommended. There are numerous instances where page number references are either "pxxx" (without a number) or showing a number that is incorrect. Also there are bizarre (lack of) editing errors where text appears to be missing.
This particular edition cannot be recommended. There are numerous instances where page number references are either "pxxx" (without a number) or showing a number that is incorrect. Also there are bizarre (lack of) editing errors where text appears to be missing.
August 14, 2012
A classic.
Somehow this book came into my hands when I was still in my 20's. It was, to me, a glimpse into a Shangri-La, and I ate up and feasted on every nuance of a self-contained and beautiful life in this high French valley under Le Grande Som.
I went to France in the 1980's to find the Auberge. Sadly, it had closed. But I kept the story in my heart, and now The Herbfarm is the Auberge of the Flowering Hearth reborn in another time and place.
I own many copies, including First Editions and even a pre-publication release with a hand-typed letter from the press agent. One of my guests, as a young woman living in the East Village, was hired by Mr.de Groot to type his manuscripts from tape recordings. He was blind. Yet, as you will see, his vision was beautiful!
This book has become my life. How strange are simple quirks of fate.
Somehow this book came into my hands when I was still in my 20's. It was, to me, a glimpse into a Shangri-La, and I ate up and feasted on every nuance of a self-contained and beautiful life in this high French valley under Le Grande Som.
I went to France in the 1980's to find the Auberge. Sadly, it had closed. But I kept the story in my heart, and now The Herbfarm is the Auberge of the Flowering Hearth reborn in another time and place.
I own many copies, including First Editions and even a pre-publication release with a hand-typed letter from the press agent. One of my guests, as a young woman living in the East Village, was hired by Mr.de Groot to type his manuscripts from tape recordings. He was blind. Yet, as you will see, his vision was beautiful!
This book has become my life. How strange are simple quirks of fate.
April 8, 2023
“What sort of experiences have led to your love of food and wine? And your flair for presenting them at the table? How does one master this art?”
“I come from Provence...” (p. 29)
This is a wonderful book to savor a bit at a time! It’s about an American journalist sent to the mountain village of Saint-Pierre-de-Chartreuse, not far from Grenoble, to investigate the mysteries of the green liqueur first made here by Carthusian monks in 1737 from an old traditional recipe.
On arrival he finds he’s staying in a small but cozy village inn, Auberge de L’Atre Fleurs (the Inn of the Flowering Hearth), run by Mademoiselles Ray and Vivette. The inn’s name came from the fact that, in the off-season, the women hang pots in their cooking hearth and fill them with flowering plants.
De Groot is blown away by the high quality, style, and presentation of the French country cooking done by the women who run the auberge, and he almost immediately decides that his real mission is to write about the valley, the inn, the women, and their cooking.
Part I of the book called The High and Lovely Place is a nicely written diary-like set of short chapters that introduce you to things like local history, wildlife, and farming, as well as the histories of the women and their work at the inn. In each short chapter, there is a menu for one or more of the meals of that day, including the accompanying wines, with detailed reviews of each.
There are instructive comments on the art of menu planning. In parentheses, he gives you page references to Part II of the book, which is called The Recipes. There is a chapter on building a good wine cellar on a budget. It’s good but the book is old enough that I suggest going to Karen MacNeil’s (2022) The Wine Bible for this information.
The recipes are more than a list of ingredients and steps for preparation. They are also full of tips and lore, suggestions for serving and presentation, and advice on how to find effective American substitutes for hard-to-find local ingredients. Part II also includes a variety of general techniques, such as the ‘Basic Rule for Steaming Mussels and Other Shellfish’.
I drooled my way through The Auberge; this is now one of my favorite books on food and wine. In honesty, though, most of the meals are so much work that I doubt I will try to make them. One of the terrines takes three days to prepare. This really is part of the original Slow Food tradition. But the writing is enchanting, the book is educational (I have many cheese and wine ideas to try out), and I want someone else to cook these meals for me! 😊
Google both the town and the Inn for photos; it’s all still there and it’s all lovely.
“I come from Provence...” (p. 29)
This is a wonderful book to savor a bit at a time! It’s about an American journalist sent to the mountain village of Saint-Pierre-de-Chartreuse, not far from Grenoble, to investigate the mysteries of the green liqueur first made here by Carthusian monks in 1737 from an old traditional recipe.
On arrival he finds he’s staying in a small but cozy village inn, Auberge de L’Atre Fleurs (the Inn of the Flowering Hearth), run by Mademoiselles Ray and Vivette. The inn’s name came from the fact that, in the off-season, the women hang pots in their cooking hearth and fill them with flowering plants.
De Groot is blown away by the high quality, style, and presentation of the French country cooking done by the women who run the auberge, and he almost immediately decides that his real mission is to write about the valley, the inn, the women, and their cooking.
Part I of the book called The High and Lovely Place is a nicely written diary-like set of short chapters that introduce you to things like local history, wildlife, and farming, as well as the histories of the women and their work at the inn. In each short chapter, there is a menu for one or more of the meals of that day, including the accompanying wines, with detailed reviews of each.
There are instructive comments on the art of menu planning. In parentheses, he gives you page references to Part II of the book, which is called The Recipes. There is a chapter on building a good wine cellar on a budget. It’s good but the book is old enough that I suggest going to Karen MacNeil’s (2022) The Wine Bible for this information.
The recipes are more than a list of ingredients and steps for preparation. They are also full of tips and lore, suggestions for serving and presentation, and advice on how to find effective American substitutes for hard-to-find local ingredients. Part II also includes a variety of general techniques, such as the ‘Basic Rule for Steaming Mussels and Other Shellfish’.
I drooled my way through The Auberge; this is now one of my favorite books on food and wine. In honesty, though, most of the meals are so much work that I doubt I will try to make them. One of the terrines takes three days to prepare. This really is part of the original Slow Food tradition. But the writing is enchanting, the book is educational (I have many cheese and wine ideas to try out), and I want someone else to cook these meals for me! 😊
Google both the town and the Inn for photos; it’s all still there and it’s all lovely.
February 10, 2018
Wonderful, for both the travel and food writing. A portrait of a blissfully secluded and traditional French Alpine village, and an inn that is long gone in this form, but at the time of the author's visits had proprietors who were spit roasting game and hiking up mountainsides to collect summer cheese from cows pastured in the high meadows. I haven't started trying the recipes themselves, but have high hopes reading through them. I don't know if I'll be up for the full menus, outside of selecting some pairing suggestions. The Auberge exists in a cook's fantasy world of perfect fresh local ingredients, some of them unattainable for me -- the cheeses, and all the game, including a saddle of Alpine chamois, which is never going to happen. I don't think I'll be making the terrine of duck and veal and pork and several alcohols for 25 either. But I have access to my own fresh local idiosyncratic ingredients, and I'm looking forward to some new experiments. Maybe even spit-roasting!
September 9, 2021
Not so much a cookbook, but a love story that you can pick up at any point in the tale and enjoy.
Transports you to a place and time ... just magical. I bought two good Wustof Trident knives, a couple of inexpensive pots, and three cookbooks when I found I couldn't pay for the meal plan.
The knives and this book are the only thing that has survived the 45 years with me.
Transports you to a place and time ... just magical. I bought two good Wustof Trident knives, a couple of inexpensive pots, and three cookbooks when I found I couldn't pay for the meal plan.
The knives and this book are the only thing that has survived the 45 years with me.
October 12, 2025
I love a vintage cookbook, and this one is even better because of all the descriptive chapters and the menus! It felt so peaceful and lovely to read. Why three stars then? Well, the recipes feel completely absurd or inaccessible, and they aren’t written in a way that’s easy to understand. I’m not sure if it’s the 1970s of it all - I’d be curious about a modern adaptation.
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February 5, 2026Not only full of interesting and no doubt delicious French recipes, but also a delightful, if possibly fanciful tale of a man’s discovery of an Auberge in the valley of the monks who produce Chartreuse.
Interesting article about the book from July 2025 in the New Yorker - https://www.newyorker.com/books/secon...
Interesting article about the book from July 2025 in the New Yorker - https://www.newyorker.com/books/secon...
December 6, 2018
Interesting stories and good descriptive writing. A tad flowery for my taste. Especially liked the story of the Carthusian monks' quest for solitude and survival and the creation of Chartreuse.
November 11, 2020
Pure escapism.
July 27, 2025
This book is part journal, travel log, history book, wine journal, cookbook and memoir. I loved every page.
October 16, 2020
An utterly transcendent book that also happens to be a cookbook! I’ve been to La vallée de la Chartreuse and it absolutely was one of the most beautiful, peaceful places I’ve ever been in my life. I had the best meals of my life there and agree that the simple, homemade cheese and white wine from the Alpine valleys leave a grand memory. The recipes may be a bit old fashioned and complex, but the story of the two women who run the auberge is so moving and the author’s writing is so very evocative of this somewhat magical region of Eastern France. The book is a delight!
May 27, 2020
The writing is stuffy, and overly dramatic, but de Groot was a food writer from the 1960s and 1970s, and this is a classic of food and travel writing. It provides a great foundation in food and travel writing- this guy really went to town on it, and you can see bits of him in all subsequent works on the subject. That’s because it is a great book, and opens the cuisine of a tiny area, that had a huge food culture. He wove a story around all the meals he ate at the Auberge of the Flowering Hearth, and it got to be a bit monotonous at times, and somewhat repetitive. The food and drink were decadent, earthy and honest. I’ve already made a few of the recipes and they are well written. His writing made the place sound magical and ethereal, and it probably was.
Want to read
October 7, 2007According to Wikipedia, this book is about "how de Groot went to France to seek out the history of the liqueur Chartreuse. In doing so, he discovered the world of two women who cooked with the seasons, which became the focus of the book."
Um, ok, that doesn't sound so interesting. Here is a better description.
Um, ok, that doesn't sound so interesting. Here is a better description.
September 16, 2013
This is a lovely 1973 meander through the cooking at an inn in a small valley in the French Alps. The author lists the menus, which are sybaritic and made me wish I had been there with him. He included as well the history of the valley and descriptions of several walks and trips in the environs. As an interesting note, he was blind, which I only found out while reading about his life. Recipes are included.
July 24, 2008
A wonderful, hypnotic book about a man's journey in search of the liqueur Chartreuse...through the French Alps and further. He stays at the Auberge of the Flowering Hearth where the proprietors educate him about French food, wine and cheese. Great recipes are included.
October 31, 2012
A lovely evocation of a certain place and time, but with a few inaccuracies (chicken liver in soupe au pistou?!)
June 18, 2012
One of the greatest books about food, cooking and travel I've read
considering
June 20, 2012via http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2012/06/...
also spotted in the window in St-Jean-Pied-de-Port...
also spotted in the window in St-Jean-Pied-de-Port...
February 22, 2013
By no means use this as a cooking manual (unless purely for inspiration). Nonetheless it is a warm and delightful book
March 22, 2015
Want to be there. Great recipes to boot. Loved it!
Displaying 1 - 24 of 24 reviews