France's ugly-ducking ski resort, finally comes of age

Sometimes, it can take just a random comment or a chance conversation to change your opinion. In my case, the process begins with Jean-Luc Legion. We are out on the pistes, somewhere around mid-morning, and this affable ski instructor and mountain guide is waxing lyrical about the resort. In particular, he is talking effusively about the secret areas of the slopes where he finds the delicate flowers from which his farming family make their own supply of delectable genepi liqueur. It sounds a pretty, pastoral idea – a little piece of snow-coated Alpine heaven. But can this be Les Menuires, the French ski resort about which it was once almost compulsory to be as shockingly rude as possible? No matter that is part of the fabulous Trois Vallees – that elegant tranche of the Gallic world that stretches from the premier ski enclave of Courchevel to Val Thorens via Meribel – Les Menuires has long been viewed as an ugly high-rising duckling in a place of pretty swans. Jean-Luc is still enthusing – and I find myself wondering whether things can have changed so dramatically. Can once-reviled Les Menuires really now claim a place at the top table of French ski resorts? Or is it simply that perceptions have changed? As I discover over a long weekend, the answer is probably ‘a bit of both’. I am staying in St Marcel, just above St Martin de Belleville - well away from the main centre of Les Menuires. It is still hard to love the older concrete canyon areas of this purpose-built ski station – and more difficult still to feel comfortable in the grim subterranean shopping malls, where raclette restaurants rub shoulders with mini-markets and sports bars. But these brutal buildings are now listed and protected, presumably in ironic acknowledgement of their ugliness. Squint, and they may even have reached that point of iconic awfulness where there is a kind of perverse attraction. Thankfully, the newer parts of Les Menuires are far better looking. The apartment buildings boast forests of timber, not just concrete, and the roofs are pitched. There is even a four-star hotel, the Kaya. Les Menuires is certainly still the place to stay for bargain-basement prices in the Three Valleys - but it no longer necessarily has a bargain-basement atmosphere. And the newer parts of Reberty are undeniably attractive. But the resort’s sweeping slopes have always been its main attraction. And these are as good as ever. With Jean-Luc leading the way, we follow the sun all day. Intimate knowledge will out and he somehow manages to find the best sun-dappled runs when much of the mountain is cloaked in cloud. Les Menuires probably has the best position, as far as skiing is concerned, in the whole of the Three Valleys, with direct links to the higher Val Thorens (which is in the same valley), and to Meribel. The rolling, dipping Jerusalem red run is one of the best in the region, and Les Menuires’ high point of La Masse is lofty enough, at 2,805metres, to ensure great snow through a long season. With a last taste of genepi from his hip flask and some pin-point off-piste guiding on the way back into St Marcel, Jean-Luc deposits me at La Bouitte restaurant. The name translates from the local Savoy dialect as ‘little house’ – but there is nothing unsophisticated about this gourmet eatery. At least, not anymore. It opened in 1976 when Maxime’s father Rene, 26 at the time, acquired a potato field and built a small restaurant, serving simple Savoyard fare. Cuisine gradually became more upmarket – and when Maxime joined as co-chef 16 years ago, La Bouitte really began its climb. The two, father and son, still work in partnership today as they forever refine and improve this gastronomic gem. The first Michelin star arrived in 2003, the second in 2008 – and they have a third firmly in their sights. This is no run-of-the-mill mountain restaurant. But there is no time to pull up a comfy chair or admire the heavily timbered dining room. It is straight to the kitchen – for I am here to learn from the master, not to order lunch. Maxime is going to give me a cookery lesson. To be precise, I am going to learn how to prepare Moelleux Caramel. ‘Dans une casserole, on doit cuire ensemble l’eau et le sucre jusqu’a obtention d’un caramel brun,’ says Maxime. Ah, a French lesson as well as a cookery one. But all is well. ‘Moelleux’ means ‘soft, moist and sweet – and that’s just how these delicious dessert creations turn out. In fact, the whole weekend turns out well. I find myself staying at the Chalet Cocoon – where six luxury chalets are nestled together in what is effectively a charming tucked-away hamlet. A jacuzzi bubbles on the snow-bound terrace outside. Again, I ask myself: ‘Is this Les Menuires?’ I wake up to find that no, it isn’t a dream. And this ugly duckling can be showered with lots more stars as far as I’m concerned. I’ll never be rude about it again, I promise.