Walking around the city of Toulouse today, you have no sense of its former grandeur. In the 13th century, la ville rose was the third largest city in Christendom, its counts administering an area of such cultural, not to mention vinous, importance that the monarchs of France and England would often consider them to be their equals if not superiors.
From this wealth and prestige came an empire which once stretched all the way to Tripoli but, unlike Europe's other great medieval cities, little of this grandeur remains today. Abandoned by the brutish northerly force of the Industrial Revolution, Toulouse stagnated in the 18th and 19th centuries and what remains of their Romanesque glory days, in the Église Saint-Suplice and further north at the Saint-Sernin, seems meek and callow.
Salvation came in an aeroplane. Or, more specifically, in the business of making aeroplanes as Toulouse established itself as the centre of the European aviation industry in the 1960s and wealth flooded back to the city – a fact attested to by the numerous (though not unpleasant) modern buildings which confront you whenever you drift away from the central Place du Capitole.
On our visit yesterday, Toulouse was buzzing – workers working, waiters serving, lunchers lunching, all with an alacrity that didn't chime with the idealised view of the French summer. It was as if M. Sarkozy's dream of a France that didn't go to sleep for August had already come true.
This ethic was no more apparent that at the bustling Brasserie de l'Opéra in the south-east corner of the town's main square. It's the second restaurant of the town's opulent Hôtel de l'Opéra but it is by no means a cheap and cheerful alternative to the more nuanced cuisine of the Michelin-starrred Jardins de l'Opéra which sits beside it.
Chef Bruno Gallou has tried to create the ambiance and cooking of the bistrots nouveaux that have found such success in Paris but have yet to travel throughout the country. Here classic bistro cooking is delivered with all the flavour and speed expected but with a keen interest in the more elaborate ways of presenting and preparing ingredients. A tarte fine of Provençal tomatoes and featherlight chèvre was simply executed but the pastry that lay underneath it had an intensity of flavour that went beyond the prosaic cooking often associated with the word 'brasserie'.
Applying novel techniques and textures to standard bistro fare is a theme of Gallou's cooking. Steak tartare came with its three accompaniments placed in three separate ceramic dishes on a rectangular plate – each tasting better than the next. A plat du jour of filet de porc à la façon grandmère showed a more traditional touch but no less exciting flavours. The entrées are an even clearer demonstration of Gallou's catholic interest in modern cooking techniques, meaning you may be (un)lucky enough to find your salade accompanied by an Adria-esque foam in a Blumenthalian clear shot glass. These may be becoming infra dig in London and New York but certainly seemed to have Toulouse's gourmets cooing. The only louder coo comes when a lucky diner sinks into Gallou's velvety moelleux au chocolat.
If what is on the plate at the Brasserie de l'Opéra goes beyond what you would expect of a traditional French brasserie, the surroundings in which you eat it fall somewhat short. The black clad waiters and the antique drinks trolley that welcomes you on entry evoke the hushed opulence that they are trying to create. But the room is slightly too new and narrow to carry this off. On a hot summer's day, however, it provided a cool and calm escape from the bustle of the Place du Capitole.
So Toulouse is most definitely on the move – perhaps not to its medieval heights but the aviation industry has certainly given it a boost that this once great city deserves. Sadly and perversely, the same effect has not been felt at the city's airport, where I am sitting now and where I have just discovered that my flight is delayed by at least one hour.
La Brasserie de l'Opéra, 1 place Capitole, Toulouse 05 61 21 37 03 Closed Sundays