The Start of the End, Friday, October 26th

We can feel it, our trip is winding down.  And after nearly 6 hours in the car yesterday, we decide to take it easy.  We spent the morning doing errands.  In to the Gaillac open air market to pick up some things -- it's much smaller than it was three weeks ago.  Leclerc for diesel and other groceries.  The ATM.  And now home for the day. 

With rain expected mid- afternoon, we have lunch from our market purchases then an hour long walk through the vines.  It was interesting to see the changes in the fields since we’ve been here.  The grapes are all harvested and many of the vines have been pruned back.  The sunflowers have been chopped down and plowed under (although Maxine did find some 2nd growth sunflowers in a field the other day and they look nice on our outdoor table). Tom took a nap, and is now catching up on blogs.  Our evening?  Reading and movies…like home, the building below:

Rocamadour, Saint Cirque, and Pech Merle – Thur, Oct 25th

We set the alarm to get up early, 7:00 -- I know to most people, this doesn’t sound that early but it is pitch black -- the sun doesn’t come up until after 8 am.  We want to be on the road and at Rocamadour by 9 am.  We are, however, thwarted when we get to a bridge about 20 minutes outside of Sarlat and see that the workmen have just closed it for the next 2 days.  Turns out it’s the only bridge for quite a distance and we have to make a small revision to our plans, cutting out a trip to an underground lake. And no, I’m not kidding about this – the wonders of rural France!

We make it Rocamadour, which really is a sight.  We do wimp out and pay for the elevator to take us to the top.  But, we do walk back down…

 

 

From Rocamadour, since we’re no longer going to the lake, we head towards our very viable plan B, lunch.  We’ve largely become French, or at least the version of it we’ve learned from books and from Bill, we plan around our meals.  And we go back to Saint-Cirq-Lapopie, where we went earlier in the trip and where I had the best foie gras of the trip.  It’s called Le Gourmet Quercynois.  I tell our waiter of our loyalty and he smiles.  But, he doesn’t bring me any extra foie gras.

Maxine has an omelet populated with bits of local truffle, the other regional delicacy.  Truffle omlets aren't what they're cracked up to be, but it's qualitatively different than the cepes omlet the dsy before.  (Leaving Sarlat we considered visiting a truffle farm and going “in search of”, but during the off season that was only scheduled for afternoons, so reluctantly we passed).  Here the omelet is earthy and fluffy and tastes of truffles.  Since we have the foie gras as a quality baseline for the level of this restaurant, we eat the omelet in the belief that this is how it’s supposed to be!

After lunch we retrace our steps by 20 minutes drive and get to Pech Merle.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pech_Merle   It’s a cave painting location.  For some reason, France is one of the places that people settled a really long time ago.  And places like this limit themselves to some finite number of guests per day, in this case, 700 people in total. 

We’d been to Les Eyzies over 15 years ago and seen cave paintings done 15,000 years ago.  Pech Merle wasn’t, to us anyway, as well known.  But, it’s better!  They’ve dated the paintings as 25,000 years old.  And they’re more extensive.  The guide tries to explain how the various ‘brush stokes’ represent deer, bison, bear, etc.  It works, sort of.  But, to me the simple fact that people were down here 25,000 years ago and left their mark is sufficient.  I don’t care if it’s art.  I don’t care if they painted fish or what they had for dinner last night, or if it was in some way acknowledgement of their gods.  I am curious what would have motivated people to go to all this trouble.  But, mostly I am appreciative of the fact that they’ve done it.  And I’ve seen it!

It’s now 5 PM and we head home.  Our drive takes us 2 hours and through another major wine city, Cahor.  But we’re too spent to take the time to stop.  We've become suspect of our GPS's analytic skills since it assumes we can actually go the posted speed limits on narrow mountain roads -- often we can't come close.  We get home and have a light dinner (after truffles and foie gras for lunch – of course!).

Onward to Sarlat, Oct 24th

 

 

Our only other, and thus final, overnight excursion from the Gaillac area begins today.  We’ve got our eyes on a loop that begins about two hours from our house.  Three sites that the Michelin Guide gives 3 stars, the old town of Sarlat (technically called Sarlat-la-Caneda), the old hill town of Rocamadour, and the prehistoric caves at Pech Merle.  We’d made reservations to overnight in Sarlat so we pack and head on the road.

We’re less than an hour outside of Gaillac, on the highway, and we see a road sign with distances to other French cities.  Paris is less than 4 hours away.  Both Maxine and I contemplate.  We love Paris, yet haven’t been there since 2006 despite three trips to Europe in the intervening years…

We head onwards, reminding ourselves that this trip is about southern France.

Personally, I’m a bit apprehensive as we pull into town.  I’d been here in 2000 with Bill, but had only arrived in time for dinner and didn’t remember much.  But, what I remembered was favorable and we had the Michelin recommendation.  The outskirts aren’t charming, big box retail, car dealerships, etc.  And further into town, the roads are all torn up.  Our hotel, the Sarlat Ibis is cheap but extremely stripped down (the beds are the narrowest I’ve ever seen).  Across from the hotel is a florist specializing in funerals.  And it’s a 10 minute walk to the old town.  So, I’m worried…

But, when we get to the old town, it does live up to its very favorable press.  Charming. curious old streets.  We head for our lunch, a place specializing in foie gras, but get there to find out that their kitchen isn’t working and we move on.  We find another restaurant, have a decent meal in a pretty courtyard, then set out to explore the city.

 

 

If you get the chance, do it, Sarlat is worth an afternoon.  But of course, it is well known and we see a number of tour busses parked in the area.  In St. Emilion two out of three shops specialized in wine.  Here that same proportion specializes in foie gras and related products including containers of duck fat (seriously).  Mid afternoon, we’re lagging and stop for a coffee.  And a second coffee.  Then we wrap up with a search for souvenirs.  We pick up a small, black truffle (a specialty of this Perigord region) which we plan to use in an omelet which we intend to eat after our return to LA, and with it to toast a month in the south of France.

 

 

Then I set myself onto the most unrealistic souvenir possible.  A Laguoile knife.  It’s irrational because I have no need of a pocket knife.  None at all.  But, it’s certainly a French souvenir.  I’ve seen a number of shops on our various excursions displaying them.  And this shop in Sarlat has the largest collection of them all.  I tell myself that if I am going to buy one, here’s the place.  And, I do. 

The sales guy speaks no English.  And the descriptions that I need are all about technical words.  Most of the knives (there are several thousand) are in a display case in the front window and he has to push other cases, the size of small bookshelves, out of the way to get to them.  But, eventually, I find a knife I want, with a cork handle, and we conclude.  He gives me a stamped certificate of authenticity (unlike with the word champagne, which the French have managed to restrict, they have not succeeded with laguoile) and carefully wraps my purchase in an intricate paper bag with ribbon.

 

You’re free to wonder why you’d want to carefully wrap a very sharp knife with a 3 inch blade in a ribboned bag, but eh….

Dinner is my choice.  And, I’ve wanted to, just once, go to McDonalds on this trip.  So, we do.

Albi Again – Tuesday, Oct 23rd

The best city in the area, the one that gets our vote anyway, is Albi.  It’s big enough to have interesting retail.  Also big in the sense of having a good number of touristic sites.  Cute winding little roads (or streets) through the old part of town.  And, enough of a population density to have good restaurants.  It’s less than 30 minutes from our house in Gaillac, which is another benefit. 

So, we decide to head back over, to try out our second Michelin starred restaurant experience of the trip.  We’ve chosen to go to l'Esprit du Vin.  I call to ask for a reservation, they propose 1pm, but I counter at 12.  We want to do some walking around before lunch, and enough places close at noon that otherwise we’ll just be looking through windows.

We time our arrival in the city to around 11 and take our walk.  From there, we end up at the restaurant where we are the second couple to be seated (by the end of the meal there are perhaps 20 people having lunch, probably because it’s a weekday and off season).  Our first choice is the menu.  Like everywhere else, there is a menu of the day.  It’s less expensive, but it also restricts our choices.  And here we’re willing to place ourselves in the chef’s hands.  This restaurant especially invites that with a "menu" that proposes you tell your waiter what you don’t like and the chef will create dishes especially for you.  Nothing to choose.  No specifics, only your preferences (you pick which 'menu' you want simply by the price you want to pay).  Intriguing, so, we do it.  And as I discuss my list of dislikes with the waiter, which I think of as simple (nothing that lived in the water), provokes a laugh from the couple at the other table.

After ordering, I go to the rest room.  Just outside, our waiter introduces me to the chef.  I’m not sure what to do, to shake hands or to apologize for being a picky eater.  So I say hello, thanks, and then move on.

The meal is great.  Without doubt, the best of our trip.  Maxine will describe our meal but will tell you in advance that she can’t do justice to the accompanying sauces, not sure how to describe them!:

• 3 amuse bouche – parmesan-crusted fried olives, guacamole with salmon caviar, goat cheese dusted with chocolate.  Note:  everyone received these.
• Additional amuse bouche -- Poached quail egg on bed of watercress sauce (our table only)
• Cream of cepe soup with walnut foam.  MP note – I don’t even like mushroom soup and this was amazing!  Maybe the key is find really good mushrooms/cepes.
• Foie gras with grilled mushrooms (2 different kinds) and artichoke hearts.  Very earthy and fall-like.
• Grilled beef with accompanying vegetables – baby zucchini, carrots, mushrooms, snow peas, fennel, edible flowers – and apple compote with floregano (a green flower that tastes like herb/oregano).  The beef and veggies were delicious but the apple was a strange taste with it.  I guess we’re more accustomed to apple with pork rather than beef.
• Chocolate mousse on a stick with chocolate coating and pear sauce,  also walnut cake with chocolate sauce
• Pear ice cream on a bed of Armagnac granite (Maxine’s favorite and something she plans to try to recreate at home)
• Coffee with assorted homemade chocolates

We stop one last time at the Gaillac wine producers place, the Maison des Vins.  This is our 4th visit, and second visit to the woman who's now working the counter.  In all that time, there've only been 2 other people who stop in.  We get the sense that she isn't getting many customers and especially not many enthusiastic, repeat, Californians.  She speaks very very little English but is actively interested in being helpful, looking words up in her dictionary at one point to explain something to us.  We taste the last of our wines, and after buying a bottle of wine, she presents us with a souvenir corkscrew.  I'd seen them in their case for 5E.  We're touched at the gesture and once more grateful for the small experiences.

Later on Tuesday, we have drinks with our landlord on her terrace.  She made a lovely selection of hors d’oeuvres and we shared a bottle of wine together.  We’ve been here for three weeks but haven’t had a chance to really visit together since the night we arrived (and we don’t remember much about that night given our jet-lagged state).  It was very nice to get to know each other better.  She is British and has lived here full-time for three years now.  Her house was originally a farm building.  She showed us pictures of its original condition – what a renovation.  We’re impressed that she could visualize the potential in the house.

Our day ends quietly.  A light meal, some reading, then sleep in this old stone building that we’ve been calling home for over three weeks now.

 

Some pictures from Albi:

 

Back in Broze/Gaillac We Find A New Bakery – Mon, Oct 22

Monday is a day for errands -- a French approximation of normal life.

It may not seem like finding a bakery should be a big deal, but trust me, it is.  Mostly we’d been going to a more corporate/chain bakery in Gaillac on the road to the grocery store, Leclerc.  But, today we were in search of a regional products store whose ad I’d found in a local magazine last week.  After we find it, Maxine notices the bakery a block away.  It’s fantastic.  The couple who own it are working the store.  Damian is putting loaves of bread onto the big spatula so he can put them in the oven and he looks up when his two American customers come in.  We suspect that they don’t get too many customers in that they don’t recognize at all, and we’re it.  His wife suffers through our French sentence fragments.  And we buy the best bread products we’ve had since we got to Gaillac nearly 3 weeks ago.

Breakfast on the terrace of our house, courtesy of our new bakery:

 

Maxine promises to go back tomorrow morning to buy us more…

Lunch at home then a 2 hour walk on a country road, through the vines.  The weather is great and it’s very pleasant.

When we get home it’s nearly 5pm, cocktail hour.  But, of course we’re drinking wine.  So we open the bottle of sweet Gaillac wine we’d purchased a couple weeks ago and enjoy the sun setting, and the vines changing colors as the light fades.

That’s our day.  Dinner at home and we recreate an Aveyron-ish dinner of lentils and mashed potatoes.  We’d had a similar, and more authentic version of this on a rainy night in Paris six years earlier.  We’ve gotten this version from Leclerc, but it works to complete the evening.  That and some red wine from last week’s visit to Gaillac’s Maison des Vin.

Sunday We Drink Sauternes in Sauternes, Oct 21

Breakfast is again a long affair.  We toy with the idea of heading a half hour further west (and away from both ours and Bill’s homes) to the actual city of Bordeaux.  But, we decide that stores are probably closed on Sunday, so we’re back to Bill’s original plan.  We’ll drive south an hour to Sauternes, which has the benefit of roughly taking us back towards home.  Once more breakfast ends with us planning lunch. 

Maxine’s also done research on which Sauternes wineries are likely to be open on Sunday so that we can get in a tasting before we head home.

We’re not confident that they are open so Isabelle calls.  She’s French.  She’s a native French speaker.  But, even she has problems understanding the accent of the guy who answers at the first winery.  But yes, he is open and happy to invite us to taste.

Maxine reminded me earlier that this weekend away wasn’t really about wine tasting, but more about enjoying a trip away with Bill and Isabelle and their family.  So, when Bill mentions a restaurant that they’d previously been to and enjoyed, we all agree that should be our first stop when we get to Sauternes.  Here are some sauterne grapes -- notice the mold...

 

Lunch – we drink Sauternes in Sauternes.  Three different ones.  With foie gras. The flavors burst in my mouth.  Delicious.   I’m delighted…  Lunch, the food, was good too…  We’re there from 1pm till 3:30 (normal timing for Bill, but somewhat extraordinary for Maxine and me).  And here we are with Bill's family at one of the many meals we had together.

 

 

We show up at the winery and an older man, hunched over, greets us outside the building.  Maxine and I get to him well before our language crutches Bill & Isabelle show up.  I’m not feeling competent in my French (plus, I knew my language crutches were going to come round the corner of the building in a minute), so all I say to M’sieur is “bonjour”.  This is their entrance:

When Bill arrives, he explains that he and Isabelle live in Toulouse, but that we were visiting from America.  Seems to work.  The old man begins his explanation of the vineyard and one of the first things he does is to point out towards the vines.  Here, as well as everywhere in Bordeaux, the landscape is more groomed than Gaillac.  Our host outlines with his arm the extent of his vines and points out the house beyond, on the hill.  It’s Chateau d’Yquem, the most famous Sauternes.  He is adjacent to them, which can’t help but be a good thing.  This picture is looking towards their field and the chateau.

 

 

Six cars of Chinese tourists, who all seem to speak good French, arrive a few minutes after he starts.  They join in with us and our host proceeds to give us a 1 ½ hour talk and tour of the property.  About the only thing we don’t see is the cave.  It’s a great experience, and we head back to our temporary home in Broze knowing a lot more about how to taste Sauternes than we’d ever expected. 

Saint Emilion Bordeaux Tasting – Sat Oct 20

Breakfast goes on for an hour and a half.  We catch up with Bill and his family.  We plan the day.  We get on the road for the 12 minute drive from the Chateau/hotel back in to Saint Emilion. When we get there, Bill wants to plan what we’re going to do for lunch.  OK, he does have little kids with him.  But, I don’t even usually eat breakfast, so planning out lunch almost immediately after finishing breakfast just wasn’t on my radar.  But, we find a simple place to eat.

We walk through Saint Emilion, again.  Maxine buys the macarons, which Isabelle had told us were a specialty.  We discover that a)they're just the shells, no filling, b)they're in a row on waxed paper, and c) their half's.  They taste fine, but I guess some specialties aren't worth pursuing.

At lunch Bill’s 15 year old flirts with our 20 year old waitress.  She’s very good and Bill offers her a job as a nanny after she tells him that her contract is over at the end of the month.  We’ll see where this goes…

Our first tasting is a disappointment.  Chateau Ferrand.  Bill and Isabelle are customers.  They’ve been there before.  And bought wine.  We do find out that 2005 and 2009 were good years, and that you shouldn't buy wine from a "7" year.  OK, but we’re given a very short talk by the sommelier, who pours us two wines than ushers us out the door.  He does explain something that we'd been curious about for the last month.  Some farmers have been busily picking grapes and their vines were bare.  Other fields, possibly belonging to other farmers, had remained unpicked.  And we got the idea that leaving the grapes on the vines lets them mature further and pick up more sugars and more flavors.  But, what had the last couple days rain done to that strategy.  Our guide tells us that the farmers who've waited have pretty much screwed themselves.  Their grapes will have picked up water, so the wine will be less impressive.

As to Chateau Ferrand, because of the limited visit, we'd have to say NOT RECOMMENDED!  But, a very nice tasting room...  And tastefully illuminated barrel room...

 

 

We do luck out with our second tasting.  Bill’s 15 year old is named Robin, and we pass a sign for a wine maker, Chateau Robin.  (If I understood properly at the tourist office, there are 200 wineries in the immediate area).  It looks like someone’s house, not a Chateau.  And a regular house, not a grand one.  But, we stop so we can get some pictures of Robin in front of the sign.  Isabelle looks up the phone number for Chateau Robin and calls while we all sit in the car.  Someone answers and says “come on in”.  A sixty year old man ushers us into his kitchen…  This is feeling just a bit weird to me.  There are three other people at the table and for a while I assume that they’re friends of his over for a visit and that we’ve interrupted.  But, it becomes clear that they’re just other tourists.  I mention all of this to Bill and his reply is that of course the guy would welcome us in, it’s a Saturday afternoon and it’s his business.  Good point!

Midway through the tasting our host’s wife as well as his mother come in.  The mother takes over our tasting as the other guests head outside to the ‘cave’ with the man who’d let us in.  It actually works to have mom there.  She’s focused on us, which makes it easier to understand.  And when Robin comes in and she’s told the story that we’d wound up here because of his name, she pulls out a special wine glass and offers him a taste!  This is NOT the sort of experience Maxine and I would have had on our own.  And, once more we’re grateful that we can share France with Bill and Isabelle to help us.

We go back to the hotel and have a pre-dinner glass of Chateau Robin wine in Bill’s room.  Then a great dinner!  The hotel actually surprised us in this regard.  It’s off season and there aren’t all that many people visiting the area, perhaps 9 of the hotel rooms are occupied.  So, we didn’t expect much from the restaurant.  But, it was great.  Good food, a nice time visiting with our friends and a bottle of the Bordeaux wine produced on the grounds of the hotel.

Friday, Oct 19th – The Long Road to Bordeaux

Actually, not THAT long a road.  We feel like we’re in a good area with Broze – under 3 hours to Saint Emilion, one of the pretty towns in the Bordeaux region.  We’re meeting Bill and his family for the week-end.

But, before that…  Very windy over night.  Our landlord took in tables and chairs and plants.  Howling noises.  Glad the walls of our house are nearly two feet thick.  Never felt like it was going to blow away.  But, the lights did flicker dozens of times during the prior evening.

Stopped for lunch at a highway rest stop.  Had very good sandwiches for around 5E each.   Got to Saint E around 2:30, and it was raining…  And, it continued to rain till Sunday morning…

We arrive.  This is our second visit to Bordeaux and that feels nice to contemplate.  Most of the time, our first stop in any town is the tourist office.  They’ve always got free maps, sometimes walking tours, they know where the bathrooms are, and they’re typically centrally located to the touristic sights.  And they speak better English than our French most of the time.

We walk the town for an hour.  Maxine had researched restaurants for dinner and we check out the menus at the top three.  It’s a purpose to our walk.  We see also that two out of every three storefronts are selling Bordeaux wines.  Also beautiful glass decanters.  We’ve decanted maybe five or six wines in our house ever.  Sort of intimidating.  Besides it all feels like you really DO have to know which producers and which years are best.  And we don’t.  We do find a wine bar with a dozen reds by the glass.  In order to learn, we order one glass of cheap wine and one expensive.  There is a difference.  But, there’s also a difference between the cheaper Bordeaux and the Gaillac wines too.  The bar has only got 4 tables occupied and one is a group of six speaking English VERY loudly.  Loud enough that we move further away.  Then Maxine catches the waitress’ eye and they share an unspoken acknowledgement about the loud Americans.  French would never be like that and certainly not in a bar.

After our drink, we go back to the tourist office and sign up for their underground Saint Emilion tour.  http://www.saint-emilion-tourisme.com/uk/que-faire.html?idcat=1&idfiche=53  The highlight is the largest underground cathedral in Europe.  The size of an above ground cathedral, except carved out of the hillside.  And, to give this more perspective, they didn’t open up the hillside, they carved a hole into it and dug further in from there.  Worth the price of admission.  And, in our continuing self-amusement with speaking French, our tour is in French.  And the guide has an accent.  And, to our delight, we understand how to speak in French well enough to tell that she’s got an accent.  (If it isn’t clear how fun this was to us, sorry.  It’s just so self-satisfying).

Our hotel is sterile at best.  The online info had put it down as a 2-star, but they’ve got a 3-star placard at their front door.  It’s quiet and comfortable and dark, so it works as a place to stay.

Dinner in town.  It's more and more obvious that Bordeaux is simply better tasting wine than what we get in Gaillac -- more expensive too.  Our favorite of the dinner is Chateau Grand Corbin Manuel 2005.

As we’re getting ready for bed, I get a text message from Bill, who’s just pulled up to the hotel.  So, I go help him unload the car – with a family of five, he’s got a lot of luggage to get in.  We agree to meet for breakfast tomorrow at 9am.

Castres – Oct 18th

Last night was windy, but warm.  It howls all night.  Mistral winds from Africa?

But Castres is another “why bother” after Montauban.  It’s another one star sight in the Michelin guide book, but after today we have a new rule – one stars are not worth it as destinations, only if they’re on the way to something else.  (These views of houses on the river are "the" sight in town and the guidebooks)

 

 

The town is known for Jean Jaures, the Goya museum, and as one of about a dozen towns large enough to have morning markets.

Jaures is a famous French socialist.  Didn’t particularly care to pay to go into his museum (Tom speaking!).  The Goya museum has the largest collection of Spanish art in France (Spain is only a few hours south), but seeing Spanish art in France seems counter-intuitive.  And the market is suffering from the bad weather (truly amazing strong winds) and the fact that October isn’t high season – there are only 5 vendors occupying less than 5% of the town square.  There are also pretty houses along the Agout River that runs through the middle of town.

So, we take on that most important of French customs (at least as far as we can understand French customs) and go in search of a good lunch.  We find a place on the river, Le Medieval, that got good reviews in TripAdvisor.  Run by 2 older ladies with one cooking and the other fulfilling front of house functions, they welcome us.

Just about every restaurant has 2 ways of ordering.  There are a couple, or as many as four or five, menus of the day.  Usually a subset of their overall menu, they’re typically much cheaper than ordering by the item.  The other way you can order is just that, by the item.  Here though, the woman hands us the “carte” (the item menu) but makes it clear that we will be picking between her 2 menus of the day.  No problem.  The server was also a nice grandmother-type.  I did my usual spiel in French about understanding but not speaking well and she replied, in French, that she would speak slowly in that case.  Lunch was OK but not a place we’d try again so not worth going into detail.

On the road back, we stopped in the village of Lautrec.  It’s another of the “prettiest villages in France” (the official list, you know).  Yet another pretty village…  There’s a windmill.  And the wind was really picking up as we walked up the hill at the top of the town to get to it.  We got pictures though…

Evening was at home.  We filled the gas (diesel) tank and picked up cash at the Credit Agricole ATM so we’d be ready for tomorrow’s excursion.  Went to sleep to the sound of howling winds!

The Distillery – Wednesday Oct 17th

The area where we’re staying, variously called the Midi Pyrenees, the Haut Garonne, the Albigeois, the Vignoble de Gaillac region, also likes to emphasize that it’s an area of craftsmen.  Yesterday’s expedition to look at potteryin Maitres Toulosane was one example.  Today, we go in search of distilleries.  There are two within 20 minutes of our house.

There is one odd factor at play here.  Lots of places, for reasons that escape us, do not have addresses. Even the Leclerc grocery store, which is in its own little mall, only lists the street that it’s on.  We don’t understand because the French are somewhat officious and rules/orderliness oriented.  So, not assigning numbers to locations on streets makes for a challenge. 

So, today we take a 1 ½ hour walk through the neighborhood vineyards.  Then we leave for the local distilleries.   Maxine puts into the GPS what she can, which is only the road that they’re on.

We head out and have passed the first one before I can easily stop the car.  And since we previously decided that we should drive by both and decide which seemed more amenable to visitors, we head on to the second, Castan.  There’s one other car in the parking lot when we arrive, which we take to be a good sign, so we decide this will be our stop and head up to the tasting room.  Unfortunately, it looks closed, so we peer in windows instead.  Then a woman comes from the back and opens up, with her daughter alongside her.  We’ve got our little patter down (in French) about how we speak just a little French, but understand more.  That usually works and the other person admits to the same language skills – they typically later prove to be MUCH more proficient in English than we are in French.

We ask to taste her various products, tentatively, because while we’ve been to plenty of wine tastings in our life, tasting distilled spirits and liqueurs seems a bit more out there…  She says, “but of course” and asks what we want to try (mind you, all of our conversations at Castan are in French – she’s more than willing to help us, to speak slowly, to put up with our garbled grammar).  We work our way through their product line, in the end deciding that the 80 proof spirits are the best, we end up buying 375ml bottles of the eau de vie de Poire William (pear), and the eau de vie de Vieille Prune d’Agen (plum eau de vie aged in acacia wood) . 

 

Our conversation with her goes well enough that we talk about the founding of their small business.  It was started by her husband’s grandfather in 1946.  She doesn’t say, but it seems obvious that that’s what he did to make a living when World War II ended.  We wonder what he, or his family, had done before.  We also talk about yeast fermentation, distillation, and how the liqueurs are made.  She shows us a promotional video they’ve made for the business and we get to see pictures of her husband as well as brother-in-law and sister-in-law.  It all serves to help us better appreciate the artisan quality of what we’re buying.

We walk away happy.  And, since we’re taking the bottles back to LA with us, you will to if you stop by and try some!

Another Day in Toulouse, Plus a Search for Pottery – October 16th

It’s cleaning lady day, so we’re intending to get out so she can spend her 2 hours on the place.  We’re out in time to get to Toulouse by 11:45, find a parking place, and head over to today’s restaurant, Le Genty Magre.  We’re early and not as hungry as we’d like, so we poke our heads in and ask about coming back at 12:30.  Without missing a beat she says, "but of course" in French.  We wonder if people are nice here, nice to tourists, nice to people who speak French to them, or however else we can interpret this.  Either way, we head out to a store we’d been to in 2005 that had regional food souvenirs.  It’s where we got some violet liquor, which we still haven’t finished drinking 7 years later…

The store isn’t as interesting as either of us remembered -- more of a concentration on wine and less on regional products.  We do see a possible interesting purchase, Armagnac.  It’s the same (yeah sure!) as Cognac, but from the adjacent region in France.  One of the differences though is that Armagnac typically has a vintage date on the bottle.  So, we think about buying one to commemorate our wedding anniversary.  But, it’s so long ago that bottles of *that* age cost over $125…

Toulouse isn’t a very big city so we easily make our way back to Le Genty Magre in time for lunch.  Maxine found the restaurant through Tripadvisor and a NY Times article.  The chef worked at Daniel Boulud’s restaurants and in Japan so the food sounded innovative and interesting.  Again, we planned lunch since Le Genty Magre (like most others) has a reasonably priced lunch menu. 

We started with sausages and potatoes in a mustard sauce (more German than Japanese or French) which was delicious and could have been our entire lunch at home.  Tom had pork cutlets in a mustard sauce with polenta gnocchi (delicious!) and Maxine had duck with a berry sauce (also delicious).  Duck is really the traditional protein here in SW France and Maxine has eaten it at least four times since we arrived.  The other thing we both remember about the restaurant was the hearty, crusty brown bread.  And, yes, we did have dessert and coffee too.  We didn’t have wine with lunch since we had a lot of driving to do this afternoon.  But, the three businessmen sitting next to us finished two bottles over their lunches.  Our friend Bill says that the French adopt American attitudes 20 years late.  Does this mean that the wine consumption at lunch is analogous to the 3-martini lunch and will fade over time?

Afterwards, we decide to take another stroll through the city, to the retail streets north of Place Capitole this time.  The walk takes us to Eglise St. Sernin, which is a cathedral and one of the ‘sights’ of Toulouse.  It is very grand inside.  I’d never been despite having passed it dozens of times when I’d been here in 2000.  We pay 4E to see the crypt which contains relics, including a piece (small) from the True Cross.  (Albi  has a piece as well).  No, I don’t think it was really from the True Cross – I’ve read about the mid centuries having had a market in religious souvenirs like that…

After our walk we make our way out of town to one about 1/2 hour further west (away from Broze).  It’s called Martres Tolosane and is an ancient center for painted pottery called faience.  Before we left LA, we had the idea that we would go there and buy replacement dishes for our house.  But, the prices are huge and make that idea unrealistic.  We leave with a lovely coffee mug as a memento.  From there, it’s a 1 ½ hour drive home to Broze for dinner and a quiet evening.

 

Why Montauban? Monday Oct 15th

It’s a 1 star sight according to the Michelin guide for the region.  But, we are coming to the conclusion that a 1 star is worth visiting but not driving out of the way to get to.  And, we’ve seen LOTS of cute villages.

We get underway, our first truly cold morning of the trip.  And foggy -- the GPS takes us on what's probably an interesting route but all we see is fog.

Before the trip my reading had made it seem like Montauban was someplace we’d possibly go more than once – a nearby city, etc.  But, having spent an hour walking around, I feel done with it.  One of the issues was that on Monday the stores are largely closed.  It's a problem throughout France in planning sightseeing.  BUT, especially here it was plain that there’s more interesting shopping in either Albi or Toulouse.  So, that’s not it.  We stop by the tourist office and they give us a map with a walking tour.  It’s boring enough that by mid point I’ve proposed that we abandon the tour and just take a walk across one bridge and back across the next so that we can see some water views and some views of the city, and then be done. 

 

 

One good/great thing came out of our abbreviated city walk.  We stroll past a restaurant called L’estanquet.  The name had struck me as vaguely familiar from my Tripadvisor restaurant research that morning.  It’s noon, and I try the door but it doesn’t open.  However, we’d seen a woman leave from it a few minutes earlier (I thought it might just have been someone who worked there) – Maxine tries to push the door, it opens, and we go in.  Great restaurant.  From a price-value standpoint, our best of the trip.  We actually wish Montauban were closer to Broze because we’d go back!  And a locals place, which is to us even more validating.  Here it is:

 

 

We leave town with a quarter tank of fuel in our car.  On the drive we pass hunters, and hunters cars & trucks, parked at various places on the roadside.  We see dogs racing across fields and at one point they even (dangerously) cross the road in front of us.  Fall hunting season.

But, we need diesel.  We try a gas station on the outskirts of Montauban, but it is an unmanned one, meaning that you have to have a European credit card (chip, rather than a magnetic stripe) to pay.  So, we can’t get fuel. 

We’re only about 50 kilometers (30 miles) from Gaillac so we feel pretty confident that we have enough fuel to get home.  But, we soon learn that we have one of those cars where the gauge drops more quickly as the tank gets lower.  Continuing onward the gauge continues to drop and then, when we’re about 20 km from Gaillac, it chimes that we’re out.  Not really, of course, but at that true danger zone.

We’re more than a little nervous, we’re a lot (!) nervous.  There are no gas stations.  We’ve seen not a single one since that unmanned one even though we’re traveling on a major road between Montauban and Gaillac.  We’ve got the cell phone.  We’re on a road without shoulders so we’re worried that when the car coughs to a stop we might stall out directly on the road…  We coast our way, limp really, all the way back to Gaillac.  Incredibly tense.  But, finally we’re at our Leclerc.   We buy our $100 worth of diesel fuel, stop at the store for some stuff, and then head home to open a bottle of wine and toast our survival from a nearly really bad day!

Really a Relaxed Sunday – Oct 14th

Resolved to take it easy today, we plan only one excursion, to Lisle Sur Tarn which is a pretty little town less than 30 minutes drive. 

As intended, we get there in time for the market.  There's a light and intermittent rain falling.  We buy two breads, from two different vendors.  Walk away from the cheese guys because at home we still have 4 or 5 cheeses in the fridge.  Buy some jam, vegetables and a sausage flavored with Roquefort.  There isn’t much to the market, but that’s OK per our plan. 

We get to the restaurant that was another focus of our visit just at noon as they open up.  Le Romuald was a recommendation from our landlord, one of just a few restaurants in Lisle, but more than worth the trip.  They seat maybe 30 people in total.  We were the only non-locals.  And we only got a table because of a cancellation and the fact that we were the first at their door when they opened (note to self:  make reservations in the future).  I had grilled steak, which they actually grilled on the fire 8 feet from us.  Maxine had leg of rabbit, also grilled.  For dessert, Maxine ordered crème brulee, which they finished off at the grill by putting a hot iron over the top of the serving container, a novel way to caramelize the sugar.   The fire served another purpose – keeping us warm on this drizzly day. 

The chef prepared one table’s main courses at a time.  We were first, but it would be easy to see how patience would be necessary here.  But, from a price-value stand point, the best meal we’ve had so far in France.

We spent the remainder of this cold, rainy day at our ‘home’ in Broze.  We try to use the huge fireplace in our living room and smoke ourselves out.  We never dare to use it again.  We read.  Watch movies on the iPad.  Simply no different than a similar day could be in Los Angeles.