I may be one of the only people in the world who does not have a particularly high opinion of French cooking. This is born of my very limited personal experience. I have had a few good meals in Paris while on business, but when it comes to regional restaurants I have been less impressed. This experience dates back many years to the 1980s and 1990s when we travelled most years to France and often stayed in small regional hotels. The food we were usually served was well cooked but uninspired. Grilled fish, roast chicken, steak that sort of thing. The last time I ate in regional France, about 20 years ago, just before we fell out of love with France and in love with Italy, we ate in a Logis de France somewhere in the Rhone valley in a restaurant that was packed with locals. I remember it well because the main course I was served was really poor. It was a chicken based dish and the meat was terribly overcooked.
This limited experience therefore did not lead me to expect too much when I booked a table for Sarah and I in the village’s Logis de France, especially when the fixed price menu, at €25 a head, was on the low side for the local restaurants. As it turned out I need not have feared. The French culinary tradition is restored in my unimportant mind. We had a superb meal. We have been fortunate enough over the past three years to eat at a couple of Michelin star restaurants and this was right up there in terms of imagination and food quality. Best of all the dogs were perfectly behaved, sitting under the table so quietly that none of the other diners would have known they were there.
Today has not been what was promised in terms of weather. This morning we had some sort of rain. It wouldn’t really count as rain in Britain because it did not even reach the level of drizzle. More consistent odd light spots of water falling through warm air, so light that if you measured it by the marks it made on a pavement, you would not know it was raining at all. It remained t-shirt and shorts warm and the sun, from time to time, poked its head through the thin clouds. This afternoon normal service had returned and the forecast promises 28 degrees by the end of the week.
The last two days Sarah and I have been playing some casual badminton. For some reason, a few weeks ago, Sarah bought a badminton set from the centre isle at LIDLs for the extortionate price of €3.99. Our large pitch at Camping Municipal des Romains is the first proper opportunity to bash a shuttlecock. I was never a natural player of sports. I enjoy watching sport and was an enthusiastic, but hopeless, player of several different games when I was younger. What our recent badminton experience has taught me is that my skills have not improved with age.
Today I also taught Sarah how to play Cribbage, the world’s best two handed card game. I was introduced to Cribbage by Sarah’s step-father and the two of us used to spend many happy hours moving our pegs up and down the board, with Geoff usually getting the better of me. It therefore somehow seems appropriate that Sarah is, in turn, lured into the arcane principles of this great game by me.
Much of the village is closed today. Monday seems to be a popular day to close your business here, presumably because in a tourist village it enables recovery from the weekend. Luckily two of the three boulangeries are open, so we haven’t starved.
We have decided to spend three further nights on Camping Municipal des Romains. There is a big market in the village on Thursdays and we would both like to attend the market before we move on.
I have discovered today that there is a famous hilltop village about 3 miles or so from us and so we are considering taking a walk over to it tomorrow, since the weather is predicted to be sunny but not too hot.