Le Mas les Eydins

Great chefs rarely let anyone see them off duty. The restaurant gets the brigade and the ceremony, while the place in the hills stays private. Le Mas les Eydins feels like that place, the secret retreat of a French chef where a guest has somehow been handed a key. In a sense, it is. Christophe Bacquié gave up a large hotel kitchen near the coast to open it with his wife Alexandra. It lies below Bonnieux, in the golden triangle of the Luberon. Here he cooks for a handful of guests rather than a full dining room.

The mas dates from the nineteenth century and sits at the foot of the Petit Luberon, restored by the couple with patience and a sure eye. Lavender and olives grow right up to its walls, and the vineyards beyond seem planted for a postcard. Five rooms share the main building and its outbuildings, with a separate suite and a cottage besides, and that is all. Alexandra looks after the guests with a warmth that makes the key feel less borrowed by the hour.

So few rooms produce a strange and pleasant effect. The place can be full and still seem empty, as if the other guests had agreed to be invisible. Nobody is heard and hardly anyone is seen. The pool, sheltered from the wind, often belongs to one person and a long nap. Those who want more can ask Alexandra for electric bikes, and Bonnieux is a short but steep ride up the hill. Most guests, though, stay put.

The evening begins in the cellar, with an aperitif to follow in the garden as the heat goes out of the day. The restaurant is called La Table des Amis, and the name is meant literally. Guests sit at a communal table or privately on the terrace. Only four people cook, and everyone on the staff helps to serve. Bacquié often brings the plates out himself and explains what is on them. For a chef supposedly off duty, he works remarkably hard.

There is a single menu in six stages, meant for sharing. It follows the local market gardens through the seasons, from cherries in early summer to game in autumn. Pigeon might arrive baked in a salt crust and scented with myrtle from around the mas. One dish has followed Bacquié from the coast, an aïoli with octopus that has become his signature. One evening at the table deserves a day by the pool to recover. Breakfast, laid out with local produce, bridges the two.

Dinner comes on top of the room, and it is a serious occasion. With no choice of dishes, allergies need mentioning when booking, though the kitchen adapts readily. Some evenings bring outside diners to the long table. Beyond Bonnieux everything means driving, and midsummer fills the five rooms early. Children are allowed, though the evenings are clearly pitched at adults.

Guests hand back the key when they leave. Most of them would rather have it copied.