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We first came across pistou in Marseille as a no-cook basil and garlic sauce stirred into a hearty bean soup.

Their mushroom and green sauce pie hit all the notes, with a lemon cream playing off a garlicky parsley-basil pistou, creminis roasted for added forest flavor, a little spiciness, three cheeses chiming in — this was a pizza of complexity and beauty, one that could vie for a spot at the table at a very fine restaurant.

In his Times review, Mr. Miller waxed rhapsodic about chef Antoine Bouterin, “a largely unsung master of classical and Provençal cooking,” and wrote that his pistou, a summer vegetable soup, was “as heady as a stroll through a Provençal garden.”

The curry mussels were finished with cilantro and a lime wedge, while the cioppino was topped with a spoonful of pistou.

But the soupe au pistou was just the best thing I’ve eaten for so long.