How Did This Tiny French Lake End Up with 15 Michelin Stars?
When the mountains are cute but the food is the real plot twist
(p.s. threw in a few travel tips at the end—
just in case Annecy ends up on your list)
I didn’t expect Annecy
to take my breath away.
Just 40 minutes from Geneva—
but it felt like slipping into a dream.
A different rhythm. A softer light.
A quieter kind of magic.
The lake was crystal clear.
The town, full of life—
families, runners, bikers, hydrofoilers.
Everyone was moving, breathing.
I felt alive.
My husband, Jonah, came for the sky.
It was his birthday.
He spent hours paragliding,
chasing wind, chasing freedom.
I stayed grounded,
chasing a different kind of thrill—
flavor, story, exploring Annecy,
one bite at a time.
That Sunday morning, we stumbled into the farmers market,
right in the middle of old town.
Strawberries as sweet as sunlight,
apricots dripping juice,
white asparagus and leeks showing off their size,
sausages that tasted better than they looked,
reblochon cheese so creamy it made time stop.
I imagined chefs weaving these flavors into their menus,
and felt like I was tasting the landscape itself.
Annecy’s Quiet Culinary Constellation
In the soft light around Lake Annecy,
fifteen Michelin stars scatter across nine kitchens—
yet only one holds the sacred third.
At Le Clos des Sens,
where we anchored for the week,
Chef Laurent Petit’s brilliance revealed itself in quiet ways.
In 2022, after three decades of redefining what fine dining could be,
he passed the torch to Chef Franck Derouet
and Chef sommelier Thomas Lorival.
My full review of Le Clos des Sens here.
I brought my mother-in-law to share the experience.
My husband—always in motion—smiled and nudged,
“Find your crew. Find people who love this as much as you do.”
Confession:
It’s lonely at first—
searching for those who feel alive in the details,
who crave not just flavor,
but the story behind it.
The quiet brilliance.
The genius chefs behind the magic.
The bites that connect us.
But I’m being intentional.
I know you’re out there—
the foodies who live for this,
who savor not just the food,
but the craft, the connection, the spark of shared passion.
My husband sees my struggles.
He just isn’t a foodie,
but he nudged me anyway—
to find you.
So here it is—
my crew invitation.
At Le Cortil,
a summer pop-up at Le Clos des Sens,
we dined under trees in a garden of over 200 plant species.
The fire crackled nearby,
marking the official start of grilling season.
Chef Tristan shared stories from Daniel Boulud’s kitchen,
and we laughed about how expensive artichokes are in New York.
His artichoke tart wasn’t just a dish; it was unforgettable.
Even my husband, who can’t sit still, lingered at the table.
Dining outdoors—a hack in our unique relationship.
At L’Auberge de Montmin,
I dined alone while Jonah paraglided.
Col de la Forclaz cows grazed nearby.
Sandrine, the chef-owner’s wife—graceful, grounded—
welcomed me like I belonged.
She told me stories of love, of starting over,
of building something that felt like them.
Lovage cream with strawberries that sang of spring.
Lamb, three ways.
Sevrier beetroot smoked with juniper, French-style peas.
Cheese made from the milk of the cows by my table.
Grilled trout with sorrel jus.
Whole garlic confit—soft as butter, bold as memory.
It felt like eating someone’s life’s work.
And I was.
The humility of the husband and wife duo Sandrine and Chef Florian—
who converted a pizzeria in a mountain village,
into a 2-Michelin star haven is inspiring.
Florian, an Annecy native, saw his career taking him from Le Clos des Sens
to Paris, California, Singapore, and back to his roots.
Read my full review of L’Auberge de Montmin here.
Jonah returned after 4 hours of flying,
as I was finishing my lunch,
and we shared stories: his from the sky, mine from the table.
At Café Brunet,
I tried the pâté en croûte maison—not my thing.
But the lamb shank with rosemary and white wine melted in my mouth.
The rhubarb tart and white asparagus with hollandaise were light and fresh.
Slake Annecy, a hidden café in old town,
where you can actually find oat milk lattes—
amid cobblestone streets,
was our go-to after breakfast.
By the end of the week,
I was craving Asian flavors—desperately.
I found a French-Vietnamese spot,
ordered too many small bites, sold by kilos,
and turned it into an impromptu lakeside picnic.
Annecy is one of those hidden gems—
that feels like it belongs only to you.
Just an hour drive from Chamonix,
40 minutes from Geneva,
and under two hours from Lyon,
the gastronomical capital of France.
Or you can take the train.
A place so close, yet it feels like a world away.
🌿 Annecy Travel Tips
Getting there:
→ Just 40 mins by car from Geneva
→ About 1 hour from Chamonix
→ Under 2 hours from Lyon
→ Or take the scenic train—slower, but peaceful and gorgeous
Where to stay:
→ Old Town for charm, cobblestones, and walkability
→ Le Clos des Sens if you want the full Michelin-starred, food-lover’s escape. Most Michelin-starred restaurants there are nestled in a hotel as well.
Getting around:
→ E-bikes are a game-changer—we circled the lake in 3.5 hours, soaking in the views
→ Walk the Old Town for slow mornings and market strolls
→ Hike nearby trails with panoramic views over Lake Annecy
When to go:
→ Late spring to early fall is ideal—long days, soft light, warm-ish nights
→ If you love nature, markets, and alfresco dining, this is your window
Dining tips:
→ Book ahead—especially for Michelin spots
→ Dining solo? Call directly—many booking sites don’t allow reservations for one
→ You can snag last-minute tables—I booked most a day before
Don’t miss:
→ Sunday farmers market (also runs Tuesday + Thursday)
→ Slake Annecy for the perfect oat milk latte
→ Cheese shops everywhere—just walk and follow your nose
→ Château de Menthon-Saint-Bernard—locals say it inspired Sleeping Beauty, with paragliders floating overhead
→ Col de la Forclaz—Short hike, watch paragliders take off—or do a tandem flight
Fun fact:
→ Paul Bocuse’s mother was from Annecy. He named Brasserie Irma-Bocuse after her
🍴 Best Bites & Hidden Gems
What I still dream about:
⭐️ Michelin-ish & Memorable
→ Mushroom salad at Le Clos des Sens – earthy, delicate, haunting
→ Artichoke tart + fish sausage at Le Cortil – grilled in the garden, summer 2025 pop-up
→ Suckling Lamb + Garlic Confit at L’Auberge de Montmin – subtle, soulful, stunning
→ Lamb shank with rosemary at Café Brunet – rustic, rich, fall-off-the-bone good
→ Strawberries + apricots from the farmers market – like eating sunshine
☕️ Casual + Comfort
→ Oat milk latte at Slake Annecy – a soft break from butter and cream
→ Tuna egg baguette + croissants from Campagne Boulangerie (multiple locations)
→ Acai bowl + avocado toast at Le Bar Roux d’Heure – light and satisfying
→ Savoyard fondue + raclette at Le Chalet – classic, cozy, Alpine nostalgia
→ Café des Arts – come for the wine, stay for the people-watching
Still on my list:
→ Racines, Le Confidentiel, Nuance, Mazette, Cozna
→ Full list of Michelin-starred restaurants here
🧠 What Annecy Taught Me
Love isn’t about walking in lockstep.
It’s about honoring the differences—
his sky, my table.
His mountains, my menus.
Two people chasing wonder,
then returning to share what they found.
Earlier in our relationship,
I thought dining alone meant something was wrong with me.
Like... if he didn’t want to come with me, maybe he didn’t care.
Looking back now, that was just a f*cked up limited belief.
But over time—and with a lot of work—
I’ve realized: love isn’t about sameness.
It’s about mutual respect.
Room to grow.
And someone to come home to after you’ve tasted the world.
So now, I eat solo. I savor. I write.
And I bring those stories back to the table—
where my husband’s waiting with his own.
This is the kind of love I always hoped for:
Messy. Real. Supportive.
Rooted in freedom,
but still returning—always—with stories to share.
🥂 An Invitation
Plot twist: I don’t actually love dining alone.
Not because I mind the quiet—
but because most restaurants have a minimum of two.
And honestly? I want to try everything on the menu.
Eating solo isn’t the same.
Back home in Southeast Asia,
we were always calling to squeeze in one more
at a table meant for six.
Food wasn’t meant to be eaten in isolation.
It was shared—messy, loud, joyful, communal.
So now, in New York,
I want to recreate that.
A crew of solid food lovers.
People who know how to taste,
how to listen,
how to name what a dish makes them feel—
and share that, unapologetically.
Let’s find hidden gems.
Let’s celebrate chefs who deserve the spotlight.
Let’s build something that feels like coming home—
plate by plate, person by person.
Because in the end,
we’re all hungry for the same thing:
a place to feel seen,
a meal that tastes like belonging,
and a love—or a crew—that lets us soar,
while always saving us a seat.
📬 Join the crew
I’m building this slowly. With intention.
The seat next to me is open.
Come eat or say hi!
till the next bite,
Hungryhelen