Having already tucked into his steak, mousse and pre-match merguez, Le Rugby's food & drink correspondent Pat du Jour goes back to starters...

The sharper eyed gastronauts (RIP Keith Floyd) amongst you may have noticed that I got ahead of himself with my recent article on steak-frites. Tut tut. I should have started with the starters, so to speak.

Ignoring such mundane offerings as soup, salad and paté, there are three starters that will probably tickle your taste buds on your French rugby trip. Foie gras is synonymous with French cuisine. It’s not to everyone’s liking, as much for the method of production as anything else, being the liver of a duck or goose that’s been force-fed before its slaughter. The result is a rich, succulent, fatty slab of paté. Fish lovers can hang their hat on good old coquilles Saint-Jacques, a luxurious scallop gratin in a rich and creamy sauce – look out too for the unusual puff pastry parcel variation in Dax.

But my personal favourite is salade de gésiers. Gésiers are gizzards, part of the neck of a goose, duck or chicken. Pre-cooked in duck fat, they’re fried off in a pan and served in a cradle of crisp lettuce, doused in oil and mustard and accompanied by boiled eggs, new potatoes, tomato wedges and green beans. You shouldn’t be served a swerve-ball in any French restaurant worth its salt, but here’s my guide to the varying offerings that are dished up...

This should be your yardstick for your salade de gesiers expectations. The gizzards themselves have a beautifully rich, crimson look to them. Yes, they’re from a goose’s neck and are full of fat, but who cares?  They taste bloody nice and look ready to be chewed. The chef certainly knows his shallots, enticing the eater in with boiled eggs the colour of sunlight, bacon, herb-crusted boiled potatoes and over-sized croutons. An added bonus is the lack of green, with only the minimum amount of lettuce and diced cucumber action. Tres bon!

There can be no complaint here about the star of the show, with plenty of succulent gizzards just waiting to be eaten. The cured ham is a very nice touch – it’s quite unusual, but most welcome, to see such an addition to what is a traditional dish. The big, juicy tomatoes are meaty and appealing, as is the lack of green salad. If fault is to be found, look no further than the crushed walnuts, or the lack of both potatoes and eggs. Still, there’s no need to split hairs when you’ve been served such an impressive plate of meat.

The first thing that strikes you about this dish is the chef’s generosity in the gizzard stakes – this is one of the biggest servings I’ve had the pleasure of clogging my arteries with. The eater is blown away by a gizzard blizzard. Marvellous. Credit should be given for the eggs, although these are not quite as eye-catching as those above. There’s also a nice bit of tomato action, but the less said about the pointless sprinkling of pine nuts and the vast bed of lettuce, the better. The gizzard imbalance pretty much compensates for the flaws on this plate, including a shocking lack of potatoes. In general, this would be a more than decent start to your main course and beyond.

Now then, this is something a bit different. It’s not often you get a healthy helping of asparagus wrapped in ham with a salade de gesiers. Although not a great helping of gizzards admittedly, there’s enough to be getting on with and they do look quite chunky. The tomatoes look succulent and enticing. Again, potatoes and eggs are conspicuous by their absence. Incredibly, there’s just one thin slice of onion sat atop the obligatory bed of lettuce.

Fancy camerawork doesn’t necessarily improve the chances of this dish. It’s ok and does the job, but doesn’t placez votre pantalon sur le feu. The raw onion and red pepper are a nice touch, but fail to mask the lack of potatoes, eggs and tomatoes. There’s also too much lettuce on show, with some feral herb growing in the North West tip of the bowl. You can’t complain about the gizzard count, but they’re thin and emaciated and look more like burnt bacon.

This is a fancy offering that just fails to hit the mark. There are only three pieces of gizzard, although on closer inspection you’ll find some smaller pieces in amongst the undergrowth-like lettuce. Although a nice angle, the ham is at best a partial peace offering from the chef, so too are the appetising enough looking cherry tomatoes. There are yet more pine nuts on show and in a hint of desperation, some cheese has been added. Again, there are no eggs or potatoes in what is a cumbersome, messy dish.

Imagine your disappointment having arrived in town for the beginning of a rugby weekend in l’ovalie, only to be served this dish that would douse any French rugby fan’s fire. The chef obviously couldn’t be arsed with this order, serving up a salade de gesiers that looks more like mutant rabbit droppings. The token helping of diced onion doesn’t hide the mass of lettuce. It also doesn’t hide the lack of potatoes, eggs and tomatoes. This dish is devoid of colour, imagination and gizzards that don’t look like pieces of casseroled beef.

The last two offerings have been disappointing, so here’s one that rounds off proceedings on a positive note. This chef is refreshingly down-to-terre. No fancy garnishes, no ham, no asparagus and no dressing. He’s not even shy when it comes to omitting eggs and potatoes. It’s a brave man that does, but he gets away with it, thanks to a colon-busting helping of sumptuous, pinky-red gizzards. There’s no need to add much to these babies, so the chunk of bread and token clump of lettuce do the job.