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There on the quayside, drawn up like grenadiers in gleaming royal-blue livery, stand the 17 cars of the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits et des Grands Express Europeens. Waxed mirrorbright, they make up the longest (400 meters) passenger train in all Europe. Its eleven wagons-lits, three restaurant cars and bar car, all first class, can accommodate 194 passengers; there are two cars for the crew of 30. It may be the greatest display of grandeur the Boulonnais have seen since Napoleon and his army gathered there in 1805 for an invasion of England that never took place.
With a silken rustle, like a grande dame rising from table, the V.S.O.E. slips away at precisely 5:44 p.m. All the food loaded on at Boulogne is French, save for the croissants, which are delivered hot at dawn in Lausanne, Switzerland, and are sadly soggy. The chef on board is Michel Ranvier, a graduate of the renowned Paris restaurant Jamin; he was approved by Sherwood, who is the author of an excellent gourmet guide to London. The train's general manager is Claude Ginella, formerly with the Savoy in Rome and the Meurice in Paris.
As the train rushes through steepled villages and storied forests, past vineyards, lakes and battlefields, young multilingual porters, mostly hotel trained, stow the guests' bags, bring drinks and tend the little coal stoves that provide hot water. Attendants also take care of all passport formalities. The bubbly flows. People meet and chat easily. The meals, whipped up in a space hardly bigger than most apartment kitchens, include dinner and a next-day brunch. They would probably earn the rolling restaurant one toque in the Gault-Millau Guide. After dinner, Chef Ranvier gives one impressed guest his recipe for le foie gras de canard cuit naturellement. At brunch, rocketing through the broad plains of northern Italy, there is an exceptional dish of small chickens with Albufera sauce. The wine cellar on wheels is more than adequate. The train pulls into Venice at 12:52 p.m.
Since the inaugural run, which was sped on its way by a 25-man band of the Coldstream Guards, the passenger list has included English lords and ladies, showbiz aristocrats and crowned heads of industry. One passenger this summer was Actor Sidney Poitier, with his 30 pieces of luggage. On a trip from Venice to Paris, a group of 14 Arabs celebrated the birthday of a Saudi princess; the Dom Perignon gushed like crude.
But the cars are the stars. Built mostly in the late 1920s, they are jewels of art deco crystal and cabinetwork. Some were discovered, rotted and unrecognizable, on remote railroad sidings. One had been used as a brothel in Limoges during World War II; another had been tenderly maintained by a schoolmaster at Eton. Each car had to be equipped with modern wiring, insulation, safety glass, fireproofing and brakes. Much of the marquetry and upholstery had to be remade, some of it to the original specifications, discovered, miraculously, at a cabinetmaker's in Chelmsford, England. Some 250 Orient Express artifacts, from bud vases to rose silk-shaded lamps, were recreated.