Gunternation

In September we spent a week in Provence. We rented a stone house in the medieval section of Les Arcs with four stories connected by wooden, spiral steps. The top floor was a living room hung with banners and swords which opened onto a tiled balcony overlooking the town and beyond that, the forested hills of Haute-Provence. The 2nd and 3rd floors were bedrooms and the first floor (or ground floor using euro-counting) was a brick-lined kitchen with a long wooden table.

The kitchen was the best part. We filled it with pâté and fruit and cheese and baguettes. Bill made trout with beurre noisette and ratatouille which we ate in the courtyard by candlelight. We ate more ratatouille the next day with merguez sausages and salad and finished it off the next day in an omelette. We shopped in local shops and patisseries and the shiny Hyper U supermarket, a quick 15 minute drive away. The shops were charming and the Hyper U thrilling–aisle after aisle of delight. More cheese than we could try: bleus and chevres, Tomme de Savoie, Brie de Meaux, and a Provencal specialty, Banon. Banon is a soft goat milk cheese wrapped in chestnut leaves that has that shoe odor funk that somehow works for cheese. We bought tappenade and many liters of Orangina Light and many bottles of wine.

The stove was powered by a propane tank under the counter. Possibly unsafe but c’est la vie. We melted blue cheese on baguette with parma ham and fig jam. We discovered that one jar of fig jam lasts precisely a week in Provence. Oh to measure time by jars of jam. We shopped at the Thursday farmers’ market and bought a delicious spread made of, not quite sure what. Artichoke? We bought lavender honey, roast pork and a whole rabbit. We asked the lady butcher to please remove the head. Sans tête. We drew our index fingers across our necks in the international symbol for decapitation. The lady butcher returned the gesture and then whacked off the naked rabbit’s head with a cleaver. Sans tête. We bought some handmade duck ravioli at a pasta shop.

Before our trip I was talking to a French lady at work about Bill’s plans to cook in France. Oh, she said, he must cook rabbit. Nothing could be more French. With potatoes and parsley. So, Bill stewed the rabbit in wine while we listened to an Eagles Greatest Hits CD we found in the pantry. Bill served the rabbit with pearl onions and mushrooms along with potatoes and parsley. We started the dinner with the duck ravioli cooked in butter and sage, and drank one of many bottles of Provencal rosé consumed that week. It was our fifteenth wedding anniversary. I loved the rabbit. I’ve had only fried rabbit previously and the stewed rabbit was far better. (Click here to see pics of the rabbit preparation.)

We did enjoy meals at several Les Arcs restaurants during our stay and spent many happy, afternoon hours at Cafe de la Tour in the square. But we loved being able to buy any tasty thing that we saw. I want more holidays where Bill packs his knives and a meat thermometer.

Chenonceau was number one on Andrea’s list to visit because of its impressive location, spanning the River Cher. We set out for Chenonceau around 10:30 Tuesday. The morning was lovely for a drive along the Loire. The section of the Loire we saw reminded me of the Guadalupe, wide with low banks, somehow both quick moving and sleepy. I wonder if you can float trip through the French towns and countryside. Tuesday was free with its sunshine, and the light was beautiful on the river. I could see why France gives birth to so many painters.

Chenonceau is a very popular chateau, definitely the most crowded one we visited. As we parked and moved in the current of people toward the entrance, we all had a similar thought: Disney World. And I suppose it was similar, when you consider that Disney World is excellent at its particular brand of entertainment and experience, and Chenonceau fully convinces you that life can be luxurious and exquisite.

The château built near the village of Chenonceaux in the early 16th century charmed various women loved by several generations of Henri. In 1547, Henri II gave the château to his mistress, Diane de Poitiers, who oversaw construction of a bridge connecting the château to the opposite bank and planted gardens along the river. After King Henry II’s death in 1559, his widow Catherine de Medici (her portrait is pictured) forced Diane to exchange it for the Château Chaumont. As Regent of France, Catherine hosted lavish parties in the new Grand Gallery built over the bridge and in the newly expanded gardens. Upon Catherine’s death, Chenonceau went to Louise de Lorraine-Vaudémont, wife of King Henri III. After Henri died, Louise turned Chanonceau into a house of mourning. (Her bedroom is painted black.) A favorite mistress of Henri IV took possession in 1624, but Chenonceau remained in Louise’s family for the next 100 years.

In the mid-1700s, the Dupin family bought the estate. Madame Dupin entertained many leaders of the Enlightenment, and is credited with saving the château from destruction during the French revolution by highlighting the chateau’s role as a bridge. The château had minor roles in the two world wars: during WWI the gallery was used as a hospital ward; in WW2 the gallery allowed escape from the Nazi occupied zone to the free zone on the opposite bank of the River Cher.

The rooms of the château are large with ornate fireplaces, walls covered in 17th century Belgian and Flemish tapestries and carved or painted patterned ceilings . The turrets create many wonderful nooks with views onto the Cher. My favorite part of the château was the kitchen rooms located in the basement on the river level. The kitchen had its own platform to receive goods directly from boats on the river and featured a stone bread oven, a butchery room and walls covered with brass cookware. The Grand Gallery is truly huge, lined on both sides with windows looking out onto the water. I also liked that each room in Chenonceau had huge bouquets of flowers.

While Chenonceau’s gardens don’t compete with Villandry, they are lovely and provide wonderful atmosphere for the home and grounds. The two rivals for Chenonceau (and Henri II) are each remembered with a garden, Diane de Poitier and Catherine de Medici. I really liked the method of planting beds, interspersing the variety of plants, rather than grouping them into bands or rows. I don’t know if that’s a mark of French gardening, but I saw similar beds in a park in Tours. The gardens’ 130,000 bedding plants are rotated in Spring and Summer. Beyond the gardens are peaceful, sun-dappled woods. Chenonceau also has vegetable gardens and a maze that we did not even see.

Chenonceau was my favorite château. The gardens and grand home along with a gorgeous, sunny day will stay forever in my memory. We stayed at Chenonceau for several hours, eating lunch on the patio (after a long wait in a short line at the cafeteria). We left around 3:00, headed for the next château.

On the day of our arrival, we had reservations for dinner at the hotel at 7:45. The restaurant offered a la carte, degustation menu (with wine pairings), or a gourmand menu. We chose the gourmand menu which consisted of five courses: appetizer, fish, main, cheese, and dessert. The wine menu was two inches think. We didn’t even open it. We just asked our waiter to bring something that would work with fish and a variety of mains. He brought a lovely, medium Chinon red–smooth and supple with playful but not overwhelming fruit. We had to ask for a few clarifications on the French menu, but were able to order without any huge surprises.

Our meal started with a trio of tastes: a shot of gazpacho, a bite of cheese and a mini bacon tarte. The gazpacho was particularly tasty. We thought the trio was the amuse bouche, but our bouches were to be further amused by rillon (similar to bacon) and caramelized shallots. Our appetizers were generous with an entire slice of stuffed fois gras for Bill and a healthy portion of smoked salmon with salmon mousse for Andrea. I had crab and langoustine (mini lobster) and Kevin had white asparagus and ham-on-a-stick (it sounds more elegant in French).

For our fish course Bill and Kevin had pike, I had sea bass with olives and pine nuts and Andrea had turbot. I didn’t enjoy the Mediterranean preparation of my fish as much as some Asian versions I’ve had. Bill enjoyed his first pike, especially the crispy skin, although his favorite part may have been the fresh spring peas.

Our hosts did not skimp on our main portions either. Andrea and I had veal, Kevin lamb, and Bill pork. The veal was Andrea’s and my favorite course. The morel sauce was delish. I think Kevin’s lamb was also his favorite. Bill preferred his pike over the pork; he found the tenderloin a bit overcooked and the sauce a little salty.

Then came the cheese! We are huge fans of the cheese cart. (I was tempted to roll one out of the restaurant on Tuesday night.) We tried a number of cheeses and found a few new favorites. In particular, Maroilles, a buttery, rich cow cheese. The local chevre was also nice. I was intrigued by a red, cone-shaped cheese. “Ah, Madame! Very Strong!” the waiter said when I pointed to it. I was not deterred. He said he would have to throw away the knife after cutting it and expressed sorrow to my dining companions. I took his advice and tried the scary cheese last. It didn’t stink too much, but it was boldly flavored. For a second I thought it was bubbling on my tongue. It tasted like a strong blue to me. The waiter disagreed with my assessment. “Oh no, blue cheese is good. That is not even cheese!” Turns out the cone cheese, Boulette d’Avesnes, is made from the remnants of Maroilles, which are mixed with spices and typically rolled in paprika. Recent research has revealed that the cheese is known as suppositoire du diable. Yes, that’s the devil’s suppository. Nice.

As with any meal event, we were exhausted by the time dessert arrived. Andrea and I decided to trade our chocolate bombe and orange souffle (but not until I had tasted the bombe, coffee ice cream and vanilla custard–really good). The souffle was warm and airy and huge. I think it was my first souffle and I liked it. Bill also had the bombe with accompaniment. Kevin had strawberry something (details possibly lost to history).

After such a hearty meal, we were dismayed when the waiter brought four shots of passion fruit mousse with orange cookies. We surely gave it a go, and it was lovely, and then our dinner was truly complete.

Our waiter was a lot of fun. We think he was one of the owners of the lovely hotel. We were the last party to leave the dining room that evening. The gourmand menu was €49 per person. So 5+ courses for four, 200 quid with a €26 bottle of wine (not bad!). When you think that burgers and pints for four at a Dub pub can be €80, our meal was wonderfully affordable. It was a great start to our French adventure.

Our journey to France started early Sunday morning. Our fears about sleeping through alarms were for naught, as the taxi kindly started calling at 4:15AM. He was a wee bit early. Bill arranged for him to return at 5:15. The Dublin airport is madness at 6AM on Sunday morning, but most of the hubbub was for flights other than ours, and we easily checked in and passed security for our 7:05 departure. We flew to Ryanair’s Parisian outpost, Beauvais, and boarded a bus for the hour ride to Paris. After spotting the Tour Eiffel popping above the skyline, and driving along some wide, leafy streets, we were dropped off at the Metro, which we took to the train station, and waited for our TGV to Tours. We ate tasty sandwiches and some little fried mini-churro type things, and drank Orangina.

After speeding through the French countryside, we disembarked and boarded a little, creaky train into the center of Tours, the coeur de ville. We got a taxi to our hotel, the lovely Chateau de Beaulieu. We were shown to our chambres, and given keys attached to tassels that belonged on the ceremonial dressage harness of the mightiest steed in history. Large tassels, is what I’m saying. We had been traveling almost 12 hours by this time, so I opted for a three-hour nap. After I awoke Bill and I wandered the grounds for a bit. We had reservations for dinner for 7:45 at the hotel. Dinner, of course, is a story unto itself.