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There’s something about a cafe named after a chasm that may fill prospective customers with dread (but only if their French is up to scratch) because far from being a ‘chasm’, this quaint establishment is nestled in one of Guernsey’s best little valleys on the south coa
Le Gouffre is the kind of location where you just want to stop and spend the afternoon.
It’s a welcome sight heading down the winding hill lanes to see a modern building among the sweeping forestry and shrubbery, with nothing but an ocean vista carved as a V by the cliffs for a view.
Pictured: The food was "fresh, fresh, fresh".
The natural theme carries on inside, with plenty of light pouring in from the large south facing windows, and hues of forest greens and browns permeating the decor. We sat in our seats with anticipation in our hearts and wellbeing in our minds.
Then came the food. Fresh, fresh, fresh - that's all you need to know across the board. It makes such a difference whatever meal you have, wherever you have it. The beef fajitas were certainly understated but I didn't mind that. Something light for lunch is never a negative.
The Waldorf salad was equally fresh and filling. A fruity, crunchy, nutty blend was expected and delivered, but with the added tang of crumbly blue cheese. Sadly the apple didn’t make an appearance. A shame. The creamy hummus and toasted pitta side distracted this critic from the apple shaped hole in his heart, though.
The preparation of a crab sandwich can quickly divide opinion in Guernsey.
I put Le Gouffre to the test with the avocado and crustacean ciabatta. Hearty bread carried the meaty smooth filling, pleasantly furthered by the avocado, but it lacked salt and the accompanying sauce was served on the side in a pot.
Pictured: The crab sandwich came with a pot of mayo - while other dishes were served with ample garnish too.
I’m told there’s something of a great debate between whether the lemony mayo goes on the bread or on the side when enjoying crab. I don’t buy it. Sauce in the sarnie for me. A generous side of fries did help to mop the pot clean anyways.
A caesar salad is always a gamble. A 50/50 if you will. It's either fantastic, drenched in just the right amount of dressing, topped with tender strips of chicken and mixed with croutons that are neither too soggy nor teeth-shatteringly hard.
In a good salad the lettuce leaves are crisp, shredded, and mixed properly. The best have a recently halved boiled egg, the centre a rich orange, yolk mingling with the salad to create the perfect mouthful. The alternative is the salad that is forgotten about. Dropped to the bottom of the menu, rarely ordered, and pulled together for no other reason than it has to be made. This was the latter.
I've always loved the location and I'm glad the new owners are continuing the good work of their predecessors.
Pictured: The food was as good as the view.
It can be a pain to get to, but sometimes it’s worth paying for the view. It definitely is worth it for the view in Le Gouffre’s case.
Overall, a tasty meal, despite some minor culinary misgivings, I could’ve easily stayed there longer with a coffee or something stronger post-lunch. Such is the pull of the chasm.
Pictured above: All images by Milly Mallender.
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