Yes, there is curlicued wrought iron and wicker basketry and charming red-bereted waitresses a-plenty. But it's not mere window dressing - non, non, non - Maison de Provence is all about beautiful food, and a beautiful ambience in which to savour it: a très, très elegant universe amidst a down-to-earth hinterland town.
I love the rustic goodness of my country life, I do. I love the sounds and smells (really) of farmyards, mud-hopping in gumboots at the Yandina markets, and vistas of tin sheds. But sometimes, just sometimes, a gal needs to sit under a chandelier.
Back in Pomona days, I was touting Eric's mille feuille as 'best ever'. My award stands. Eric aspires to - and achieves - petit-four perfection. Gazing through the window to his patisserie engine room, gateaux voyeurs can witness his laser-like focus at work: each perfectly cut strawberry, each fragile sliver of chocolate placed just so - voilà.
Like that other lair of pastry wonderment - Fiona's Fancies - Maison de Provence is rather tucked away; a place to stumble upon after a wrong turn. But if you can find the IGA (on right), and take the first turn to the left, you're there: 9/13 Garnet Street. That's it, the place with all those merry, relaxed people spilling out over the deck.
(If there's a vanload of you, it might be best to book: 5472 077.)
For those wanting luncheon, there's a daily blackboard menu. Just a wee bit peckish? You can't go past the croque monsieur. Fresh baguette, salty ham, flavoursome gruyere cheese, grilled to just the right degree of melt and crispiness. Only the French can take a toasted sandwich to this level.
Maison de Provence is always humming along, but I do recommend the buzz of Saturday mornings. It's perhaps as close to cosmopolitan as you can get in a leafy back lane of an Australian country town. And besides, on Saturdays, Eric bakes brioche ...
