Gourmet table d'hôte.
Still Life, Le Corbusier (Charles-Édouard Jeanneret), 1925 — private collection
The gourmet table of Maison Bo Terra opens its doors from November 2026…
420 € for two
An evening at the table, a night in a room, breakfast on waking.
See the roomsHere, you come to live an experience.
For Mano, music is an emotional thread inseparable from cooking. The two carry us, answer one another and play off each other : a dish calls for a piece of music, a piece of music inspires a dish. And suddenly, the dance begins.
I work by synaesthesia : a piece of music can give me the taste of a dish, a dish can make me hear a chord before I've even chosen it. It isn't a figure of speech — it's genuinely how I think about cooking. And it's this way of feeling that I want to share at the table.
The menu is unique : it follows the thread of the seasons and what the land gives us. I don't compose it in advance, I let it come. The table is unique too — a bubble where, for the length of a meal, strangers truly meet.
Thierry Fass's garden
Thierry is, above all, a passionate gardener. He tends the garden of Le Clos, in Brézins.
There's one thing he loves above all in his garden : bumblebees and beneficial insects. He talks about them with his eyes lit up — his best allies, he says, almost his friends.
What I take from him is this complete devotion, and the respect he shows every plant : he gives it the time and space it needs, without ever forcing it. That's where the flavour of his vegetables comes from — from all the time he gives them.
Rooted in the land
Beef
Craft beers
Trout
The meal begins in the lounge, ends at the table
Ten courses. Wine pairing.
"One must always be drunk. That is all that matters ; that is our one imperative need. So as not to feel Time's horrible burden, one that breaks your shoulders and bends you to the earth, you must be ceaselessly drunk.
But on what ? On wine, on poetry, or on virtue, as you please. But be drunk.
And if, at times, on the steps of a palace, on the green grass of a ditch, in the dreary solitude of your room, you wake and find the drunkenness has faded or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that flees, everything that groans, everything that rolls, everything that sings, everything that speaks, ask what hour it is; and the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock will answer you : "It is the hour to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of Time, be drunk, be ceaselessly drunk! On wine, on poetry, on virtue, as you please." Charles Baudelaire, Paris Spleen
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