We find lots of saucissons, macarons, vegetables, fromage, jambons and plenty of Eau de vie. We purchase a few of my favourite things ... Tarte au Noix (walnut tart) - two different types, nougat and foie gras. It's not a cheap spend but a quality one. Interesting that this is walnut territory ... My Broux de Noix ink powder is likely made from local walnuts! But only available in a couple of Paris art shops. The various Noix tarts and gateaux and breads are yum.
We hit the road, heading west, Brett is at the wheel. We have loved our time in the Dordogne and could happily return. I will miss the buildings made of rich mustard coloured stone - it puts mustard in a whole new light. I will miss the foie gras and the Noix. I will remember the chateaux and the acres of woods from whence Petite Rouge Riding Hood may appear. I will imagine Jose and Corinne hunting for truffles and making Eau de vie in their hut in the woods. I will envy new guests as they arrive at La Cachette, not yet aware of the many delights that await them. I will be haunted by torture devices and enchanted by memories of beautiful turrets and lavish furnishings in castles throughout the area.
But, we are off to seek new discoveries ... And Connie is guiding us on our way. We have a pit stop in the rather bland town of St Foy Le Grand. The sandwich from the little cafe with checked tablecloths and home made gateaux is good and the owner is pleased to have our custom. It is akin to stopping at a Copper Kettle style tea rooms in Taumarunui back in the day, and about equally as exciting! Still it deals with the practicalities of food and water and we drive on, me at the helm this time.
As we drive along through the Gironde wine country under sunny skies, vineyards all around, we spy the village of St Emilion up on the hill. It looks extremely inviting and we make a sudden decisions that we will spend the night there.We are halfway to Biarritz, it is getting on for wine o'clock and we feel like some Grand Cru. It's a spur of the moment thing and we turn off the road. More like a lurch!
Negotiating the narrow cobbled roads through this old town of St Emilion is not so easy. I'm wishing Brett was driving, but am glad I am. After going round and round the town, with a measure of exasperation brewing, we find a hotel with parking that suits us well. It is a little apartment, wedge shaped, up a short curved staircase. Clean and tidy, with a huge bathroom and a little Juliette balcony overlooking the wine shops. Parfait, I say.
By the time we have settled in, the drizzle has returned. Actually, by the time we step out on the streets, rain is coming down all around and the wind is nasty. Bugger. Chilly and wet, we run from wine shop to wine shop, looking at various Grand Cru varieties. One indicates, on bright blue signs, that's it 'specialises in older vintages' and we run in, out of the rain, assuming it is referring to wines rather than humans. The man gives us a tasting of 2005 wines - a fine vintage - and we purchase a couple of bottles. [I am, in fact, sipping on one as I type this later in our room in sunny Biarritz!]
We leave that shop but the rain is now pelting down and it is colder and even more windy and unpleasant. Across the road is another wine shop exuding an Irish flavour. We run in and find Paddy doing a wine tasting with a couple from Cornwall. We are welcomed in to join the fun. Just what the doctor ordered!
White, red, rose ... oh this is so much better than rain, wind and cold. We sample many wines at Paddy's insistence. He is from Munster but has lived in St Emilion for 28 years. He knows his wine. And he also loves rugby - his son, aged 20, is playing for Bordeaux - or aiming for that, not quite sure as his accent of Irish French blend and swift delivery of words is a little hard to follow. We tell him our son Sam is also a talented rugby player. Talking rugby and wine on a rainy day is very palatable!
I try a red wine called Perlan. It is very earthy. I suggest it tastes like licking the old chalky stone walls inside the shop and around the village might taste like. Bravo, he said, that's exactly what a clean, organic wine like this is supposed to taste like. At first I wasn't sure I liked it all that much. But it is wine, silly me, of course I like it!! I take a few more slurps and it grows on me. I love it! We buy some. It is still pouring down when we leave an hour or so later. It's amazing how the weather has changed from the sunny skies of our arrival. But being from Auckland, we are used to that!
I try a red wine called Perlan. It is very earthy. I suggest it tastes like licking the old chalky stone walls inside the shop and around the village might taste like. Bravo, he said, that's exactly what a clean, organic wine like this is supposed to taste like. At first I wasn't sure I liked it all that much. But it is wine, silly me, of course I like it!! I take a few more slurps and it grows on me. I love it! We buy some. It is still pouring down when we leave an hour or so later. It's amazing how the weather has changed from the sunny skies of our arrival. But being from Auckland, we are used to that!
We grab a meal in a cosy restaurant near our hotel, chatting to a lovely Swedish couple as we eat. It is duck again for me. Can't get enough of the stuff! It is not something I cook at home, but I do intend to get concocting duck dishes when I get home! Meanwhile, sleep is easy surrounded by wine ... Bon nuit.
Observation of the Day: Wine is indeed an international language. Grand Cru is on everyone's lips and we all know what we are talking about! Well, somewhat at least ... it seems to be a subject that requires an encyclopaedia!
No comments:
Post a Comment