The chef here doesn't hesitate in brandishing his medals on the chimney breast, or should I say: advertising in the regional newspaper. He isn't a "maître restaurateur varois" (restaurant master from the Var) but you never know, it might be about to happen. I quote the ad in the paper: "Academy of the table arts diploma". Until the customer has his word to say, the auto-congratulated can just get on quietly whilst admiring themselves in the mirror. But when the customer gives his opinion, other medals are handed out by him, this darn customer who opens his mouth when he's not pleased! For example: medal for the most liquid and blasé welcome. Madame doesn't even bother to raise her head from the table in front of the bar where she is sitting. So a young man does instead. A hedgehog haircut, untidy shirt, jeans with the zip nearly at his knees, and the knees by his ankles. It wouldn't really matter if he didn't give me the feeling I was bothering him. Menu hastily given to me, the order is laboriously taken. Choice. Lyon specialities... Seeing the context and the feel of ease, I'm not going to take any inconsiderate risks, offal and co. No 14 € menu on the horizon, although promised in the paper. 19 € menu it will be then, as a starter "mousseline de dorade sauce safranée" (daurade mousse with saffron sauce). Aren't mousses light? Well not this one. It is more like reconstituted bread with a vague fishy taste, made with white bread or toast, who knows. The sauce as a 70's style sauce... sorry... saves this dish from disaster. 10/20. What follows could resume the way high placed tenants take the Mickey in the beautiful Var. "Filet de poisson aux poireaux" (fillet of fish with leeks). I ask the waiter what kind of fish. From my table he calls out to the far away chef: "what's the fish?" he answers "daurade fillet". If this is daurade, then they are going to have to stop giving growth hormones in fish farms. A sweaty, body-built daurade straight from the gym, as it has been poached in hot water. A wet, un-salted, mediocre white sauce is added. The curly chicory is having a swim too. The same goes for the rice, and provençal tomato. 7/20. I was expecting the worst with the dessert, a home-made "tarte aux pommes" (apple tart) with a nice smell of rum, with lots of (too much) custard and even more custard, whenever will over used custard stop bringing our spirits down? 13/20. In between times Madame has received a couple of very noisy friends, and there, she smiles. A business affair, an affair facing the sea, an affair that made me suffer.