On the MS Paul Gauguin cruise, guests can savour exotic dishes like escargot and foie gras, offering a taste of French Polynesian cuisine. Photo / Ponant
When it comes to food they say there’s no pleasing some –except that all changes when you board a Paul Gauguin cruise, writes Kendall Hill.
An American guest I meet at the Intercontinental Tahiti Resort has strong opinions about her latest Paul Gauguin cruise. She’s a Gauguin veteran and just off the boat, which plies the islands of French Polynesia and the South Pacific. It’s my first time and I’m about to go on. I find her in the resort’s gardens and within minutes she’s oohing and aahing about the snails.
“I tell you, the escargots!” she gushes. “I had them three times. Oh god! All three times.
And the foie gras was … oh! You can’t go wrong!”
Her husband pipes up to confirm, “The food’s great.”
They weren’t so sure about a perceived change in service standards since the French luxury cruise company Ponant took over the American ship in 2019. “A bit stuffy,” she confides, as one Anglo to another.
But it takes me no time aboard the 330-passenger ship to realise it’s not stuffy at all. The staff are mostly Filipino (with the odd Croatian, Romanian and Mexican). They are warm, funny, generous hosts. Stuffy is not in their vocabulary.
I suspect the woman’s concern was about hearing French – which, admittedly, is quite a stuffy language – being spoken on board. All announcements and even entertainments are now bilingual, which I find a bit exotic but others might find intimidating. C’est la vie.
Or perhaps it was the dress code, which is hardly strict. By day passengers can be as relaxed as they wish but at night they need to make a bit of effort. “Please note that jeans, shorts and T-shirts are never appropriate for evening wear onboard,” Ponant’s website advises. This seems reasonable unless you’re a (North American) passenger who thinks baggy shorts and tees are suitable evening wear.
These minor culture clashes fascinate me during MS Paul Gauguin’s 10-day navigation of the Society Islands, visiting the pin-up islands of Moorea and Bora Bora, and the more remote Tuamotus, home to the stunning Fakarava Lagoon, a Unesco Biosphere Reserve. Every day is an aquatic adventure involving marine mammals and fish and excursions to ever-more breathtaking islands.
The one constant of our lives at sea is the catering, which is abundant and often exceptional. But getting the mix right across the ship’s three restaurants – and satisfying the different tastes of American and French guests – can be a challenge.
“It’s important to have a balance between the two styles,” explains executive chef Xavier Etchebes, who alternates kitchen duties with American executive chef Paul Ellis. Between them, they strive to please everyone, all of the time. Hence their menus are broader and more elaborate than on any other Ponant vessel.
Americans, says Etchebes, prefer room service (available 24/7 on board) and, “They want a lot of choice, quantity and fast service.” French passengers are more refined and soigné, he says. Australians and New Zealanders, who make up a small but growing contingent, are “more demanding about quality and the taste”.
The upside of these dietary differences is that buffet offerings at open-air Le Grill on deck eight offer a lunch selection where New Orleans jambalaya and mac-and-cheese meet vichyssoise, quiche Lorraine, and local delicacies such as shrimp brochette with Tahitian vanilla sauce and poisson cru, French Polynesia’s version of ceviche.
It’s also possible to dine under the stars at Le Grill but bookings are tough to come by – there was a two-night waiting list during my trip. Bookings can also be tricky at La Veranda, the more formal of the two main dining rooms and a favourite of European cruisers. (The other, L’Étoile, serves some great dishes – spice-crusted yellowfin tuna, linguine with clams – alongside wines from Bordeaux and Chablis.)
La Veranda dinners are sophisticated set menus of, say, iodine-funky Kaipara oysters with caviar-topped potato salad, seared foie gras with gingerbread croutons or those excellent escargots, prepared in a classic garlic and parsley butter. The menu, which offers choices for each course, is one of the few I’ve ever looked at and thought, ‘Just give me everything.’
The wines, chosen by sommelier Eduardo Rosales from a 200-label cellar, are an interesting mix of old-world French and new-world varietals like Argentinian Torrontes. Rosales also hosts “wine appreciation” sessions that are so popular he had to double the class size. I meet one couple the day after the class who rave about the generous pours of French and American wines. They also rave about the food, and the service. And they are Canadian, the closest thing on board to an independent arbiter, so their assessment surely counts.
Every cruise includes a beach party at Paul Gauguin’s own Motu Mahana, a palm-fringed, white-sand postcard of an island off the coast of Taha’a. Guests arrive by tender to find a floating bar in the shallows, another on land, and a large pavilion with sizzling barbecue grills, salads and all-you-can-eat everything.
We dine at umbrella-shaded tables with strangers and everyone I speak to – Argentinians, Canadians, Californians, Mexicans, Britons – is having a ball. The vibe is so friendly and happy; any cultural differences dissolve in the clear blue seas.
Despite her minor misgivings, and despite the fact she thought this would be her last cruise with Paul Gauguin, my American friend confesses, “We can’t stay away. We think we’ll be back in two or three years. Maybe next year.”
Checklist
Paul Gauguin operates seven-night cruises around the Society Islands and 10-night itineraries that also take in the Tuamotus, among other Pacific adventures. Full details and current pricing at ponant.com/paul-gauguin or call 0800 854 777.