Swimming in the crystalline and tourquoise sea of a desert island, forged by an Ishikawa craftman. Plunge in its depths, to forage an oyster to bring back to the shore, where the foam of the sea caresses your feet and the sand sticks to your skin.
Open and eat it, in its nudity and innocence. Maybe just pair them with a cucumber to bite into, to exalt the iodine and to break the sea sapidity. Left alone, in the blinding desert of that beach, while your hand moves, winding into the sand to feel its warmth.
Get away from the shore, with the feet still wet, to take a walk in a forest, alone. Searching for soemthing, maybe someone. Moving the feet rapidly on the slate peebles and on the dried leaves. Forage everything we find on our path to smell it, taste it and be delighted. A panic moment, rain in the pinewood in full summer. Finding someone in the middle of the walk, crossing her sight. Recognize one another and continue the afternoon together, holding each others hand, trying not to lose yourself.
All of this just being seated at your table, with the sight on the Menton Bay. Travelling without moving. This is Mirazur.
Mauro Colagreco is a faun with the affectous smile. He plays and shapes nature, makes it play following his arrangements, with pleasing notes that enter the ears (and in the palate) on tiptoes. He dazes and cofuses you. You follow him in his labyrinth, moving between the Mediterranean scrub and the French Riviera, passing by faraway and imaginary places such as the floathing island of Laputa. The simple sound of his flute is enought to change the dimension of the produces he touches. Delicacy in the gesture and elegant finish. You could maybe get angry because his restaurant is not in your city, but just take a train and get to Menton. Because a restaurant such as Mirazur, could have only opened there.