The dense fog didn't hold us back from attacking black runs with abandon, but not being able to see is a bit tricky when you're skiing somewhere new. Luckily for Monsieur Gourmand and me, it was clearer lower down, clear enough to spot from the chairlift Les Vieilles Luges tucked away amid the trees.
After negotiating the narrow access path from the piste we didn't have much hope of a table, judging by the amount of skis leaning against the outside wall of the charming wooden shack. But the manager squeezed us in amid the antlers, antique kitchenware and toboggans (to which the restaurant's name refers).
We were unlucky to be seated next to a pompous Englishman who was flashing his i-phone about while waiting for his (very late) date to turn up. When his ladyfriend arrived, he proceeded to drone on about how clever and successful he was (despite losing most of his business recently, which had been a "total nightmare") and she turned down the offer of some wine "because she was skiing".
Since when did that stop anyone?
The menu is written rustic-style on a blackboard and stays true to local tradition with an emphasis on hearty pies and casseroles. My reblochon and leek crumble was not as heavy as I feared and I now have a renewed liking for leeks, a vegetable which I had rather forgotten about. Monsieur Gourmand had two fat and flavoursome sausages, accompanied by a slice of the restaurant's speciality, farçon, a flower-pot shaped, solidified chunk of cheese, potatoes, prunes and lardons.
He was quite stuffed after that, allowing me the lion's share of our tarte aux myrtilles, which was full of fruit and not too pastry-heavy.
We beat a hasty retreat to the still foggy slopes as Ms Sensible on the next table looked increasingly bored by Mr Ego's neverending monologue. Surely getting tipsy and skiing off a cliff after a glass or two of wine would have been a risk worth taking?
Les Vieilles Luges, above Maison Neuve piste, Les Houches, France
+33 (0)684 423700; http://www.lesvieillesluges.com
We were unlucky to be seated next to a pompous Englishman who was flashing his i-phone about while waiting for his (very late) date to turn up. When his ladyfriend arrived, he proceeded to drone on about how clever and successful he was (despite losing most of his business recently, which had been a "total nightmare") and she turned down the offer of some wine "because she was skiing".
Since when did that stop anyone?
The menu is written rustic-style on a blackboard and stays true to local tradition with an emphasis on hearty pies and casseroles. My reblochon and leek crumble was not as heavy as I feared and I now have a renewed liking for leeks, a vegetable which I had rather forgotten about. Monsieur Gourmand had two fat and flavoursome sausages, accompanied by a slice of the restaurant's speciality, farçon, a flower-pot shaped, solidified chunk of cheese, potatoes, prunes and lardons.
He was quite stuffed after that, allowing me the lion's share of our tarte aux myrtilles, which was full of fruit and not too pastry-heavy.
We beat a hasty retreat to the still foggy slopes as Ms Sensible on the next table looked increasingly bored by Mr Ego's neverending monologue. Surely getting tipsy and skiing off a cliff after a glass or two of wine would have been a risk worth taking?
Les Vieilles Luges, above Maison Neuve piste, Les Houches, France
+33 (0)684 423700; http://www.lesvieillesluges.com
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