L’Aigle d’Or
10 Ave Adélaide Riché, 37190 Azay-le-Rideau
Tel: +33 (0) 2 47 45 24 58
Internet: laigle-dor.com
GPS: 47.262031, 0.462877
The Menu:
Préambule salé
Charentais melon, tarragon, ginger
Rope-grown Vendée mussels, saffron, courgette
Fillet of duck Maison Burgaud, corn, blackcurrant
Peach verveine, kataifi pastry
Epilogue sucré
The Wine:
Château de l’Aulée Crémant de Loire Brut Zéro NV
Domaine des Hauts Baigneux Touraine Blanc Pièces des Moulins 2023
Domaine de la Grange Patrimoine Blanc (Vin de France) 2023
Domaine Bellivier Chinon L’i Noune Bliable 2020
Balzac’s novel Le Lys dans la Vallée is known for its meticulous exploration of the on-off affair between the youthful Felix de Vandenesse and the rather more mature and aristocratic Madame de Mortsauf. And yet, nearly two centuries since its publication in 1835, it is best remembered for just one line, in which Balzac describes the 16th-century Château Azay-le-Rideau;
“…le château d’Azay, diamant taillé à facettes, serti par l’Indre…”
“…the Château d’Azay, a faceted diamond, set by the Indre…”
– Le Lys dans la Vallée (1835), Honoré Balzac
Once you have set eyes on the château in question its quality, reflected in the still waters of the Indre upon which it seems to float, is undeniable. It draws visitors from across the globe, and regularly crops up in ‘top five’ lists of Loire châteaux.
In August earlier this year I found myself in Azay-le-Rideau once again, not to visit the château (which I have entered several times before) but to take a table at one of the town’s restaurants. These are numerous, no doubt supported by the annual influx of tourists coming to catch sight of Balzac’s faceted diamond, and so I was spoilt for choice.
After a minute or two of deliberation, I settled on L’Aigle d’Or.
This is not a restaurant you will chance upon, as it sits outside the nucleus of the town, a couple of minutes walk away on the rather non-descript Avenue Adélaide Riché. Visiting on one baking August day (let’s face it, every August day was baking in 2025) I took a seat in the garden at the rear, and was immediately grateful for the shade cast by a particularly broad tree.
The patrons of L’Aigle d’Or are chefs Simon Desiles and Eleanor Thomas, who took over the running of the kitchen from prior owners Ghislaine and Jean-Luc Fèvre in 2019. Simon hails from the Sarthe, on the north side of the Loire, and started his career with Régis and Jacques Marcon at their eponymous restaurant sandwiched between the foothills of the Massif Central and the Rhône. From there he moved to the three-star Les Prés d’Eugenie, working with Michel Guéraud, which he left to work with a colleague in Val d’Isère. It was there he and Eleanor, a pastry chef, met. After some time working as private chefs to build up some capital, they signed a deal on L’Aigle d’Or.
Their menu is built around classical gastronomic themes, but with a presentation that speaks of innovation, finesse and flair. After an array of amuses bouches (cubes of lamb and olive, delicious mini-tarts of smoked fish and lemon, and a lurid green but tasty vegetable velouté) under the guise of préambule salé, hurried along with a glass of Marielle Henrion’s Brut Zéro from Château de l’Aulée (I am surprised to see more than a few years have past since I last reported on Marielle’s wines) I kicked off with a platter of Charentais melon.
The Charentais melon, originally from Charentes (of course), is mostly grown in Provence these days; think Cantaloupe, but with heirloom status. In this simple dish it takes centre stage, served three ways, the preparation adding distinct nuances; some is cubed and dressed with tarragon leaves and tiny nuggets of ginger, while some slices are delicately charred. I thought the melon foam was the most intensely flavoured of the three, and helped to lift the dish to a fresh level.
Having said that, in truth this was a simple dish, but I admire the novel concept and execution. It is rather a difficult match for any wine, although the softly composed 2023 Pièces des Moulins from Domaine des Hauts Baigneux did what it could.
Next up was a dish of rope-grown mussels from the Atlantic coast, served with a saffron-infuse sauce, and crunchy nuances of courgette, radish and herbs.
What a superb dish this was; the mussels were of a generous size and deliciously meaty, a world away from most mussels – no, make that every mussel – I have eaten over the past five decades. And this comes from someone who takes advantage of the Scotland’s abundantly stocked larder. Their quality was testament to the value of sourcing and working with well-chosen ingredients.
Meanwhile, everything else on the plate worked to lift and amplify their character, from the scented fragrance of the saffron, to the contrasting textures and flavours found within the crescent of leaves and crudités. A quite wonderful dish which somewhat overwhelmed the slightly oak-tinged 2023 Patrimoine Blanc from Bruno Curassier.
Mussels magically made to disappear, I moved on to the next dish, which in the set menu offered by Simon and Eleanor is the only course which offers a choice. I passed over the Angevin beef and poisson du mareyage to arrive at a fillet of duck, from Maison Burgaud, a well-regarded producer of the Challendais duck from the Vendée.
This materialised as two nicely presented and correctly cooked ingots of duck, perfectly matched with a classic fruit-based sauce, in this case blackcurrant. It worked well with the wine offered, which was the 2020 Chinon L’i Noune Bliable, poured from magnum, from Domaine de Bellivier. I am not sure my photograph above is the best, with all that sunny glare in the bottom right-hand corner, but it does remind me just how pervasive the sun was that day, and how glad I was for the shade of that aforementioned tree.
We finished with a peach verveine, a delicious combination of peach and verbena, again with welcome contrasts in texture and flavour. It was also amusing to meet kataifi pastry again so soon; I last encountered it just a few weeks earlier, enveloping the largest piece of langoustine I have ever encountered, at Lyla in Edinburgh, so it was intriguing to see it here in a sweeter, perhaps more conventional setting.
We concluded with coffee and a little epilogue sucré, essentially a selection of petits fours. And by paying the bill, of course.
L’Aigle d’Or is a worthwhile destination. I urge visitors to the region, no doubt here to tour the vineyards of the Touraine Azay-le-Rideau appellation (you are, aren’t you?) as much as see the famous château, to resist the temptations of the many bistros which hover with seductive intent on the streets close to the town centre. Of course they serve a purpose, and their offerings are largely passable (although I have had my fair share of dodgy burgers and boot-leather brochette de boeuf here as well), but you will be doing your palate a favour if you turn around and strike out along the Avenue Adélaide Riché instead. Continue on until you reach the blue door of L’Aigle d’Or.
Or, if you really must have something more casual, maybe consider heading down to the riverside, and take a table at Le Poulet d’Ô. This little bistro (open May to September) is situated in the old watermill at the bottom of the town, right on the Indre, and it too has been taken over by Simon and Eleanor. It has the most stunning location of any restaurant in the town, and offers good bistro dishes at pocket-friendly prices.
Whichever door – Poulet or Aigle – you decide to knock on, I hope that as you set down your cutlery, and dispatch that final petit four, you will agree with my conclusion; Balzac was right to describe this town’s château as a faceted jewel. But there are other gems waiting to be discovered here too.
Please log in to read the tasting notes associated with this dining report: