Roy de Groot's Shangri-la is a tiny, isolated Alpine valley in the South of France where the auberge is run by two legendary mademoiselles who believe that ""a menu is the script of a dramatic performance."" They grace their fastidious guest's table -- and Mr. de Groot is very fastidious -- with a remarkable provincial cuisine based on the local game, herb, wild mushrooms, berries, Alpine cheeses and wines. The effects are symphonic and de Groot admires the good ladies' orchestration of their masterpiece menus effusively -- terrine of hare with cognac; pike from a clear mountain lake larded with pork and baked in champagne; a spring kid flavored with local black mushrooms, a raspberry souffle. Culinary ravishments all, but tough to duplicate in grubby New York City where the produce is mostly frowzy lettuce and just try to find a wild mountain blackberry. Food fit for the gods; mere mortals may find the author and ali that mountain air just a bit rarefied.