Wilmaaaa, where are you!?

During our 1995 stay on the northern coast of Brittany - also know as 'La côte de granit rose' - we were impressed by the wild and almost pre-historic feel of the place. There were some nice sandy beaches, but the best part of the coast line was lined with gigantic boulders of dark pink granit. You almost expected to find Fred Flintstone there, working on the back of his dinosaur, shifting rocks and boulders around, before returning home yelling "Wilmaaaa, where are you?". (Wow, that brings back memories! Did you watch the Flintstones in the sixties?)

So, and because a picture can paint a thousand words, here are some photos of those very peculiar beaches. In real life the boulders actually had a pinkish glow to them, but with the time the photos have somewhat faded.

I hope you'll enjoy them anyway!

1995: the beach at Trebeurden. There's even a castle at the horizon.
I don't know its name though.

Bolders lined up by some pre-historic giant ... or FF?

Me, feeling on top of the world ...
and probably going through a second
Barbie stage, considering the pink outfit. Or maybe
it was because I wanted to blend in with the 'granit rose'?

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Prat ar Coum

Because of the foul weather we’re having lately, I spend a lot of time watching TV. There is little else to do. This is how I happened to watch a documentary on the ostreaculture (the artificial cultivation of oysters) in France. This brought back some fond memories of a holiday we spent in Brittany in 1995.

Prat ar Coum, north of Brest in Brittany

It was our very first trip to the region and I had picked up some brochures at the ‘Maison de la France’ in Brussels to prepare our holiday. We stayed at a hotel in Trebeurden north of Brest, overlooking the bay. The hotel, although four star, was a big disappointment. Maybe it was because we had booked one of the less expensive rooms, offering a sea view from a tiny side window. The bed was extremely uncomfortable and the staff was very aloof and had a tendency to look down on us.

The region was beautiful though, and therefore we toured a lot – in spite of the typical Brittany weather – visiting some very interesting places such as a crab and lobster farm near the town of Rostov.

On one of these outings we saw a sign ‘Prat ar Coum’. We had heard the name before but weren’t sure where or what it was. So we drove down he narrow road that led to the seafront. At the end of it was an oyster farm … and then we remembered where we had seen the name before. It was in a famous shellfish restaurant in Brussels called ‘Les Brasseries Georges’. The Prat ar Coum are an exquisite oyster species. They are very rare and are only cultivated in this particular region of Brittany. Prat ar Coum are flat oysters with a delicate iodine flavour and a nutty aftertaste. They are simply the best oysters I’ve ever eaten.

We were delighted to find this farm and parked the car to have a closer look. We were about to knock at the door marked ‘Réception’ when a man appeared from one of the sheds. “Bonjour, Vous voulez acheter des huitres?” (Do you want to buy some oysters?), he asked. We replied that we wanted to visit the farm and maybe taste some oysters.

1995: Our host opening the Prat ar Coum oysters for us.

And this is how we came to get a ‘crash course’ on oysters in general and the Prat ar Coum in particular. At the end of our visit, the man enquired again whether we wanted to buy some. We said we would love to, but added that we didn’t have the necessary equipment to open them. This turned out to be no problem. The man ‘fished’ six oysters out of one of the basins and opened them before our very eyes. He handed them to us one by one. They were just gorgeous. I had never eaten oysters as good and fresh as that. We paid 6 French Francs for them. Today that would be less than 1 euro!

What's your best - or worst - oyster experience?

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Narrow escape

In the early years of our travels to France, we spent a few days on the Normandy coast in the picturesque village of Honfleur. The hotel, overlooking the Seine Estuary, had once been the favourite hangout place of the French Impressionist painters.

It was late September and a sunny yet windy day. In the morning we had a lovely walk around the harbour. There was a lot of activity going on, with little fishing boats sailing in an out and people working on their private yachts that were moored at the quays. During our walk we had noticed a nice restaurant in one of the side streets and we decided to have lunch there. It was called ‘Le petit Mareyeur’ (The little fishmonger).

Le Petit Mareyeur - Honfleur*

When we arrived shortly after half past twelve, we found the place very busy, with waiters rushing around carrying large platters of sea food to the waiting patrons: lobsters, North Sea crab, shrimps, oysters, cockles, whelks, periwinkles, sea urchins … it all looked and smelled delicious.

We found ourselves a table for two in a corner and each had a dozen of langoustines with aioli (garlic mayonnaise) and baguette.

On the way back to the hotel we decided to stop by the lighthouse and take an invigorating walk along the seafront. The tide was out and a large stretch of beautiful flat dry and wet sand reached all to way to the water's edge. There was a sign ‘’Baignade interdite’ (No swimming), but we ignored it as we had no intention to take a dip. We were both wearing rather heavy coats to protect us against the cold wind and we even kept our shoes on.

The walk out to the water’s edge was uneventful. The fresh sea air made our faces tingle and the screams of the seagulls overhead added to the overall feeling of peace and tranquillity. However, the walk back to the shore was quite a different matter. The closer we got inland, the further our feet sank in the wet sand. At some point we were both down to our ankles in the murky mess, when all of a sudden I felt my right foot being sucked down.

My friend, who had managed to free his feet from the suction, grabbed my hand and tried to pull me out. By that time I was up to my right knee stuck in the sand. In spite of my his help I was unable to free my foot and fell flat on my stomach on the wet sand. I could feel how the quick sand – because that’s what it was (not an octopus or other sea monster) was pulling me further down. I started to panic, when all of a sudden the ghastly sand made a loud gurgling noise letting go of my foot and leg. I almost lost my shoe, but managed to get hold of it just before it was ready to disappear beneath the surface.

Quickly, yet carefully treading we hurried to the safety of the stretch of dry sand and looked at the damage. I was covered from head to toe in murky, smelly sand, while my friend’s shoes and pants were stained with dark mud as well. There was no one in sight, and we ran back to the hotel, avoiding the main road and taking a small path through the bushes. In the garden of the hotel I hid behind a large rhododendron while my friend went to get the key to the room, before smuggling me in through a side door. We made it to our room without running into any of the other guests or hotel staff.

By the time we were upstairs I had started to realize what a narrow escape we’d had. Seeing the state of my clothes there was only one solution: to take a shower with all my clothes on. In the meantime my friend poured us both a large glass of Calvados from the mini-bar to steady our nerves.

Well, we both came out unharmed and even my clothes were okay once they were dry. My shoes, however, were ruined. And my nerves? Well, I still get a knot in my stomach when I think of what could have happened.

I know, we shouldn’t have ignored the sign, but then it said nothing about quick sand or walking on the beach being dangerous. We thought the warning was just against swimming because of the undercurrents caused by the in- and outgoing tide.

So, if you go to Honfleur, make sure to have a meal at Le Petit Mareyeur as the restaurant still exists. But please, avoid the beach … unless you like taking showers with your clothes on!

Le Petit Mareyeur
4 Rue Haute

F-14600 Honfleur
Tel. 02 31 98 84 23

(*) Photo: www.linternaute.com/restaurant/restaurant/107/au-p-tit-mareyeur.shtml

Also check the link for reviews !

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Who was Mona Lisa?

One of the most remarkable places in the Loire Valley is the Clos Lucé in Amboise. It’s the former home of the legendary Leonardo Da Vinci. After having lived in Milan, Florence and Rome for the best part of his life, he moved to France in 1516, where he became the confident and advisor of the French King François I. He died in 1519 and was buried near the Château d’Amboise.

The Clos Lucé is a nice stately manor house situated within walking distance of the Château d’Amboise. It is said that there is an intricate system of subterranean corridors that lead from the castle to the manor, by which the King or Leonardo could go from one place to the other without being seen.

We visited the Clos Lucé on two occasions. The first time was in 1999. The month of June being the yearly school outing season in France, the place was packed with primary school pupils. They were clearly annoyed by the explanations their teachers insisted on giving them about the life of the great man. We were pushed around and hardly saw any of the items on display. So we quickly made our way to the park, where it was a lot quieter and the summer heat was less intense than it was inside.

The flying man: a spectacular life-size replica of one of Leonardo's inventions,
on display in one of the side buildings of the Clos Lucé in Amboise.

The park hosts a large collection of replica of Leonardo’s inventions. Giant reproductions of his famous pencil drawings on almost transparent cloth hang from the branches of the trees where they gently sway in the summer breeze.

In spite of a second, much quieter visit of the interior some years later, I can’t remember whether there was a reproduction of the famous Mona Lisa on display, the orginal being in the Louvre in Paris.

The reason why I’m telling you all this is because there was an interesting article in today’s edition of a major Belgian newspaper, referring to a topic in the recent Sunday Times. It read that Italian scientists have obtained the permission to dig up Leonardo’s body to make a reconstruction of his face. The rumour is that the famous Mona Lisa isn’t the portrait of Leonardo’s mother or that of Lisa Gherardini, a merchant’s wife as the general theory goes. No, these scientists believe that it is a self-portrait of Leonardo Da Vinci!

By digging up his body and reconstructing his features by using the skull, they hope to proof that Mona Lisa and Leonardo Da Vinci is the same person. The paper didn’t say when they wanted to go ahead with their plan, but there is a fair chance that Leonardo’s tomb near the Château of Amboise will be opened up this summer.

What do you think the outcome will be? Your guess is as good as mine! Will the mystery of the world famous Mona Lisa smile at last be revealed? Who was it again who sang: "Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa ... You're so like the woman with the mystic smile ... "?

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Rilettes de Tours

Read on www.tourism-touraine.com,  one of the best websites when you are preparing a holiday in the Loire Valley.

The rilettes de Tours (potted meat from Tours) have recently acquired the quality label ‘Indication Géographique Protégée’ This label which is granted by the INAO (‘Institut national de l'origine et de la qualité’, also in charge of the better known AOC label) officially certifies the quality of the product and its inseparable connexion with the Touraine region. The gustatory characteristics of the rilettes de Tours are hereby officially recognized on a national level. It also implies that the rilettes are a regional specialty. Producers who respect the original cooking techniques and ingredients will be allowed to apply the official label on the packaging.

Photo: www.tourism-touraine.com

What distinguishes the rilettes de Tours from those made and sold elsewhere?

First there is the quality of the meat. The IGP label imposes criteria regarding the age and the weight of the pigs and the general quality of the meat. It has to be cut into generous and firm pieces, which are then shortly fried to give them a golden brown colour. The quick frying is followed by a very slow cooking process that can take anything from 5.5 up to 12 hours! Wine or ‘eau de vie’ (brandy) may be added to enhance the flavour. The colour of the final product varies from golden blond to brown.

These rilettes are so good that they don’t need much more than a piece of baguette and a glass of nice Loire wine to make an excellent ‘casse-croûte’ (quick bite).

When we're in the Loire Valley, rilettes are a standard ingredient of our daily picnic. We just love them. Do do?

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Musical Cheeses - part 2

The village with the intriguing name “Chaumes-en-Brie” in the French Seine-et Marne Department is just one of those typical French villages. There’s a church, a Mairie, a little grocery shop that also sells fresh baguettes, as there is only one bakery, four restaurants that obviously take turns on opening hours, and the mandatory “bar tabac”.

‘L’Hélicon” is one of the restaurants. Luckily for us it was open on that Friday in June some years ago when we discovered the village on our annual return journey from the Loire Valley.

The interior was in complete contrast with the somewhat run down exterior. There was a high wooden beamed ceiling, a very attractive wooden bar and all the tables had nice linen table cloths and shiny cutlery. There was a piano and the walls were decorated with photos of musical instruments and the main attraction was a real life sousaphone or helicon hanging from the ceiling. Behind the bar a smiling black-haired lady was preparing aperitifs for six patrons who were sitting at one of the tables by the window. From the kitchen came the sound of someone stiring in a pot and the sizzling noise and lovely smell of meat that was being grilled.

In the back of the dining room two more tables were occupied by people who were already eating. We got a nice table for two by the window and ordered an aperitif while we were taking a closer look at the menu. We decided we’d just have a main course and maybe some cheese afterwards. I had the “confit de canard” (leg of duck) with sautéed potatoes and green garden beans, while my friend had four grilled giant wild shrimps with a delicate curry sauce and pilaf rice.

The cheese platter consisted of three local cheeses: Brie de Meaux, of course, a Fougères and a Coulommiers (from just down the road!). When the lady heard that we were from Belgium, she called her husband, the chef, who had been busy in the kitchen. Like most Frenchmen, he had some Belgian friends and was curious to know if we knew them. They were living North of Brussels and the husband of the couple was a fireman … Surely we must know them! As I personally don't know any firemen … and even if I did, the chances of us knowing the chef’s friend were non-existing. We had a nice chat though and left “L’Hélicon” satisfied and happy, with the promise that we would come back the next time we were in the area.

And that is what we did, on three or four more occasions. Each time we were greeted very warmly by the chef and his wife and each time we had an excellent lunch.

I highly recommend this restaurant whenever you are in the area. The food is excellent and the owners are very welcoming and chatty!

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Musical Cheeses – part 1

One of my very first posts when I started this blog in May last year, was dedicated to the annual Brass Band Festival in Amboise. One of the most remarkable instruments in a brass brand is undoubtedly the sousaphone or helicon. Every self-respecting brass band or village fanfare has at least one.

“L’ Hélicon”, however, is also the name of one the village restaurants we’ve discovered during our return journeys from the Loire Valley. Finding it was pure luck, as it is situated way off the main road. In fact, we were attracted by the name of the village in which it is located: Chaumes-en-Brie, Chaumes and Brie being the names of two cheeses that have strictly nothing to do with each other.

The Brie region is part of the Seine-et-Marne department, East of Paris. It has given its name to a creamy white-crusted cheese which boasts the AOC-label ‘Brie de Meaux’, Meaux being the region’s main city. The Brie cheese is almost as famous as the Camembert from Normandy. Their texture is slightly similar and they both are at their best when they are well ripened and somewhat runny.

Now as far the Chaumes cheese is concerned, that’s a completely different matter. It is made by the “Fromageries des Chaumes” which is situated on the western side of the Pyrenees mountain ridge that forms the border between France and Spain.

Chaumes is an orange-crusted cheese. During the ripening process it is regularly washed and rinsed in a mixture of brine and some controlled bacteria, giving it its typical colour and flavour. Under its orange crust it hides a creamy golden texture. The taste is soft and yet very distinctive.

So, imagine our surprise when one year when driving through the Seine-and-Marne department, we saw a signpost indicating the village of Chaumes-en-Brie some 12 kilometres off the main road to Coulommiers, where another famous French cheese by the same name is produced. Curious and hungry – it was almost one o’clock – we decided to go and take a closer look at this village with its intriguing name.

After driving up and down a winding road, we arrived at a bridge. A sign indicated that the stream beneath it was called the Yerres. On the other side of the bridge was a “Logis de France” hotel called “La Chaume’Yerres”. This is a clever play of words as the French word ‘Chaumière’, which is pronounced in exactly the same way, means ‘Tatched house’. Although it looked very inviting, it was a bit too posh to have a simple lunch.

A bit further up the road we saw another discrete neon sign, indicating the presence of another restaurant: “L’Hélicon”. Although the exterior looked a bit run down, the menu was very attractive. So we parked the car in the nearby church square and walked over to the restaurant.

(to be continued)

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Enough to become a vegetarian

Since I had internet television installed last November, I have access to over 120 channels from all over the world. A lot of them specialize in programs for kids – there even is such a thing as ‘Télé bébé’ (Baby television – can you imagine?) – and youngsters. These last channels mainly broadcast video clips and unlikely programs called ‘Sweet Sixteen’, in which super millionaires throw horrendously expensive birthday parties for their sixteen year old daughters!

However, there are some great movie channels broadcasting the old Hollywood classics and several documentary channels – National Geographic and Discovery Channel like – offering a vast selection of interesting shows regarding travel, food, culture, medicine, historic events, life style, health and beauty, etc.

Last Saturday, one of these channels showed an interesting documentary concerning the industrialized breeding of chickens. It was amazing to see how the fertilized eggs were put by thousands in trays to be hatched in large incubators. After ten days or so, the trays are examined using X-rays and the non fertilized – hollow/empty – eggs are removed from the trays. The remaining eggs are injected with a substance to protect the chick against some typical poultry diseases.

Aren't they cute ?

The thus treated eggs are then put back in the incubator till the chicks are hatched. It takes several hours for the little bird to free itself from its shell and yet another 4 hours until it is completely dry and fluffy! Up till this point I was fascinated … and then the horror began. The chicks were separated from their shell by putting them on a large shaking conveyor belt with holes in it. The holes were just large enough to let the chicks – being smaller than their shells - fall through, while the shells stayed on the belt!

Then the poor creatures were sprayed with an antibiotic to prevent them from getting … bronchitis! Next the males were separated from the females. This included another bumpy ride on a conveyor belt, being picked up by not too careful hands and people scrutinizing the length of the wing feathers. Apparently, the wing feathers of cockerels all have the same length, while the chickens have some that are shorter.

The chicks are tossed into funnels according their sex. They tumble down an intricate piping system to land on another conveyor belt at the end of which plastic crates are waiting to transport them to the large sheds were they will pass the rest of their days before being slaughtered. The cockerels have only a few weeks to live while the chickens last a few months.

If a human being were to undergo a similar human-size ride, he would certainly be covered in bumps, bruises and cuts. I bet some wouldn’t even survive such a violent experience…

At the end of the documentary the commentator summed it up nicely. Seeing this was enough to become a vegetarian or to stick to free range chickens! I think I’ll go for free range. They taste better anyway than the industrially produced birds. How do you feel about this?

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Culinary surprise

When we leave on our annual trip to the Loire Valley we set out at 5 a.m. on Sunday morning, in order the get to Paris around 8 a.m. That way we avoid the heavy traffic on the circular road around the French capital. We have breakfast at the first rest stop south of Paris and usually reach Amboise by 11 o’clock. Just in time to drink our aperitif at the ‘Château’, the little bar across the road from the castle.

The return journey is a different matter though. As we leave on Friday morning around 10 a.m. we would arrive in Paris around 1 p.m. … a hellish moment to be on the ‘périhérique’. We therefore have made it a habit of avoiding the capital by driving through Pithiviers, Milly-la-Forêt and Melun, east of Paris. This brings us to the Champagne region (Epernay – Reims) where we stay overnight till Saturday morning. This way, we have less than 300 km to cover the next day and we get home in the early afternoon.

During the first part of our return trip we usually stop at a ‘routier’ or village restaurant to have a light lunch. Over the years we’ve tried several places. Some were great, some really disappointing. Twice we stopped at a little place called ‘Auberge de Rigny’ in the village by the same name. The entrance door leads into a little bar, where the landlord is serving the customers who are sitting on high stools at the counter. Locals pop in for a beer or a glass of wine as an aperitif. It’s also a ‘point de vente’ (point of sale) for fishing permits, although I haven’t actually seen a lake or river in the area.

In the bar you can also have a sandwich, a piece of baguette with Brie cheese or rillettes. In the next room there are several tables and the blackboard on the wall announces the ‘Plat du jour’ (Today’s special). On our first visit we had the choice between a slice of pâté or mackerel in mustard sauce as a starter. The main dish was ‘Faux filet’ (steak) or ‘grilled andouillette’ (meat offal sausage). My friend had the pâté and I had the mackerel. We both chose the steak, as ‘andouillette’ is something I like to call ‘an acquired taste’.

The meal was very pleasant and I particularly enjoyed the mackerel. The filets were completely boneless and the mustard sauce creamy and tangy. As I was curious about the recipe, my friend asked the landlady if she would explain how it was made. “Oh, c’est très simple” (It’s very simple), she replied and disappeared into the kitchen.

I bought this tin last Friday at our local supermarket.
I wonder whether it will taste just as good as the
mackerel I had in Rigny all those years ago?

Two minutes later she came back carrying a tin. “Voilà”, she said handing me the tin! I didn’t recognize the brand, but it was just a tin of … ready made ‘Maquereaux à la Dijonaise’, an industrially made and common tin of canned fish in mustard sauce!

The landlady considered this as completely normal and saw no harm in showing us that all she did was opening a tin of fish. We had some trouble keeping a straight face, though.

The next year we stopped at the ‘Auberge’ again, hoping that Friday’s special hadn’t changed. Unfortunately, they had run out of tinned mackerel …

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I never promised you a rose garden …

… but I can tell you where to find one!

In April 2001 we saw on television how the north-western rampart of the Château de Saumur had collapsed due to a gigantic landslide following a heavy rainstorm. The damage was important and experts foresaw that the restoration would take several years. It also implied that part of the Château would be closed to the public while the heavy building work was being done.

Today, we know the actual rebuilding work on the ramparts only started in April 2004, as it took three years to reconstruct and stabilize the part of the bluff that had been thorn away by the landslide. In April 2008, seven years after the disastrous rainstorm, the ramparts were finally restored to their former glory.

Photo: www.maine-et-loire.equipement-agriculture.gouv.fr

In view of the 2001 events we decided to skip our visit of the Château de Saumur, and look for some other interesting sites to see in the area. This is how I came across the website of ‘Les chemins de la Rose’ in Doué-la-Fontaine in the Maine-et-Loire department, some 20 km south of Saumur.

We were staying at our usual hotel in Tours at the time, and the drive took well over an hour. In Saumur we caught a glimpse of the damage caused by the recent landslide. Seeing the size of it, it was a miracle that nobody got killed or hurt.

The nearby village of Doué-la-Fontaine has lots to offer: the above mentioned ‘Chemins de la Rose’, an animal park with the largest collection of exotic birds in Europe, numerous troglodyte dwellings and restaurants, … Having a very busy schedule – that’s what happens when you are on ‘vacation’ - we only had time to visit the rose garden.

In the vast park which covers over 4 ha, more than 13,000 rose plants are competing to catch you attention. Their colours and fragrance are overwhelming. It was a rather chilly June day and there were no other visitors. The only noise we heard was the clipping of the hedge shears of one of the gardeners. The surface of the small pond in the centre of the park was covered in white and pink water lilies.

'Les Chemins de la Rose' - Doué-la-Fontaine:
view of the pont before the heron appeared.

While we were sitting on one of the benches near the edge of the water, we noticed a slight movement between the flat leaves of the water lilies. All of a sudden, there was a little splash and a small green frog jumped out of the water, landing agilely on one of the leaves. Although we sat very still in order not to scare it, it must have noticed our presence, as it looked furtively around and leaped into the water again. Only then did we notice the grey heron that was circling over the pond. Poor little frog, no wonder it had hopped away so quickly.

In spite of our presence, the heron landed on the other side of the pond and started scrutinizing the water. Nothing stirred, however, and pretty soon it lost interest in his potential lunch and disappeared between the reeds at the edge of the pond.

By the time we had finished the tour of the garden, it had started to drizzle. We sought refuge in the souvenir shops, where we bought a bottle of lovely rose water, a small jar of rose petal jelly and some rose scented ‘falun’ or shell marl. Over the years this marl has proven to be very useful to fight the smell of cigarette smoke. It’s very easy to use. Just put a thin layer of it in an ashtray and sprinkle some water over it. The marl releases the rose scent and neutralizes the smell of the burned ashes. By the way, I don’t smoke but some of my friends do …

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Sleeping in a Fortress

During our many trips to France we’ve stayed, in hotels and ‘chambre d’hôtes’. Sometimes these ‘chambres’ are located in the strangest, yet tastefully renovated buildings. We’ve slept in an old boat house that had been turned into a spacious loft, an 11th century donjon, a troglodyte (cavern) room, an 18th century manor, an early 20th century villa, an old farmhouse, a former garden shed, …

As far the hotels are concerned, I suppose the Château Fort de Sedan was the most unusual place ever.

In September 2006, we spent our annual Lorraine-Alsace trip in a hotel near the town of Lunéville in the Meurthe & Moselle department. The Château of Lunéville, which was badly damaged by a nightly fire on January 2nd 2003, is also called ‘Little Versailles’. You just have to look at the Château to know why.

In the centre of the main courtyard stands the statue of the castle's most eminent resident, the former king of Poland Stanislas I, who in 1737 when he became the Duke of Lorraine, moved into the castle. The statue and the square courtyard are an almost exact replica of the world famous castle of Versailles and the statue of its illustrious creator, the Sun King, Louis XIV.

On the way back home we checked in at the Fortress of Sedan where we had booked a room during a previous exploratory visit. You can read all about it in yesterday’s post. The first thing we did on arriving in our room was to check out the little private terrace that came with the room. It was located on top of the ramparts and offered a magnificent view of the town and the surrounding countryside.

Can you imagine this being a former ammunition room?

Unfortunately, the hotel had only been open since a few months and there was still some unfinished building work to be done. Our little ‘terrace’ was nothing more than a square metre of pavement and some wild growing grass that led all the way up the edge of the rampart’s wall. There was no outdoor furniture and to make thinks worse, it had started to rain rather heavily. That definitely meant the end of the little evening picnic that we had planned to have on our idyllic private terrace.

The hotel’s restaurant being closed on Sunday evening, we decided to walk into town to see if we could find a nice place to have a light supper. It was still raining and we felt uncomfortably cold although it was only early September. The town proved to be a disappointment. We found one ‘brasserie’, where we had a drink before hurrying back to our warm hotel room. We decided to have our picnic after all … in our room. We had to improvise a table. This involved using one of the shelves of the wardrobe. Although it somehow spoiled our trip and certainly our last evening, the memory of that picnic still makes us laugh.

We spent the rest of the evening in one of the little cosy alcoves on the ground floor. The waiter who served our drinks was very friendly and talkative, so – in spite of our disastrous picnic adventure - we had a very pleasant evening after all.

Last week friends of ours spent New Year’s Eve at the Fortress. They had booked an ‘overnight stay + dinner package’ and were absolutely delighted. The building work is completely finished and dinner on New Year’s Eve was excellent. So maybe we should try it again … sometime … soon.

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When a Fortress becomes a hotel

In 2006 I watched a documentary on TV about the Fortress of Sedan (Champagne-Ardennes region) in France, just across the border from the Belgian town of Bouillon. The old fortress and military barracks had been abandoned for years when the government in collaboration with the association ‘Les Hotels France Patrimoine’ decided to save the site from further decay.

With its 35.000 m² and seven levels the Fortress of Sedan is the largest fortified site in Europe. It was built in the 15th century and frequently remodelled during the next 200 years. From the top of the 30 metres high ramparts you have a breathtaking view of the Meuse valley.

Today the fortress is listed as a historical monument. Within its walls, the former barracks and ammunition depot have been transformed into a comfortable 3-star hotel offering all the modern amenities.

As I had been very impressed by what I’d seen on TV, I asked my friend whether we could drive down to Sedan the next time we were in Habay-la-Neuve. As it’s only 80 km by very picturesque country roads, he agreed. And so one beautiful summer day whilst staying in Habay-la-Neuve, we drove south to take a closer look at the fortress.

We had no trouble finding it and instead of leaving the car in the car park situated outside the ramparts, we drove straight into the central courtyard. It was a bright summer’s day and the glare of the gigantic sand coloured walls and the yellow gravel of the courtyard had a blinding effect. We were stunned, not only by the light but also by the sheer size of the place, as it was huge!

On the right: the former barracks and ammunition depot.
Mind you, this represents only 1/10th of the fortress.

The main entrance of the former barracks led into a large hall, which accommodated a reception desk, a bar and a lounge. Little alcoves in the back wall – which during the fortress’ military past were used as ammunition rooms – had been turned into cosy private ‘sitting rooms’ with large leather coaches. Each alcove could easily host up to 8 people. We were immediately smitten with the place and thought it would be fun to stay overnight the next time we were in the area.

The reception clerk was very helpful when we inquired about the rates and the possibility of visiting some rooms. He immediately called his assistant who took the keys of three different types of rooms and showed us around. At the end of the tour we decided that the room we liked best was situated on the top floor, with direct access to the ramparts. Without hesitation we booked it for one night in the month of September. It would make a perfect stopover on our way back from our annual trip to the Lorraine-Alsace region.

(to be continued)

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Wine, wine and more wine

Did you know that Belgium is the world's biggest importer of claret wines from the Bordeaux region in France? Amazing, isn’t it? Médoc, Pomérol, Fronsac … are prominently present on the shelves in supermarkets and on the wine lists of restaurants all over the country. People who regard themselves as real connoisseurs will only drink Bordeaux wines and nothing else.

Personally, I’ve never liked claret, as I find the tannin content is too high, giving the wine a tangy taste which gives me goose pimples. However, taste and colour appreciation are very personal things …

Before discovering the Loire Valley wines ten years ago, I quite liked the Burgundy wines – hence our visit to Burgundy in 1998 – and some popular Italian wines such as Chianti and Bardolino. When Chinese food came into fashion in the eighties, with Chinese restaurants opening in the big cities, I took a liking to Mateus, a naturally slightly sparkling rosé wine from Portugal. It was very popular with Chinese food and pretty soon it appeared on the shelves in the better supermarkets. It also made a pleasant, refreshing drink on a hot summer day.

In 1988, when visiting the North of Portugal during a business trip, I got acquainted with the Vihno Verde, a dry yet very nice white regional wine. And only recently my friend and I discovered another Portuguese wine to which we have taken a liking.

Terra d'Alter from Central Portugal - red and white.

Last April, whilst staying at our regular hotel in Habay-la-Neuve in the Belgian Gaume region, we assisted a ‘Soirée Vigneronne’. This recurrent yearly event is organized by the hotel manager and his former wine waiter. For six consecutive weeks, the restaurant proposes a special five course gourmet menu at a democratic price. Every week a new menu is developed around a different wine region. Very often the winegrower himself is there to animate the ‘soirée’.

During dinner he walks from table to table and explains the characteristics of the wine that is served with each and every dish. This way you get to taste four or five different wines from the same winery. Last spring a winegrower from Central Portugal had been selected to present his produce. The man spoke excellent French and was very keen on telling the patrons all about his winery and wines.

This is how we came to taste five Terra d’Alter wines, two whites and three reds. They were so good, that we decided to buy several bottles from the hotel’s former wine waiter. He was elected Belgium’s Best Wine Waiter in 1997 and now owns his own wine shop. Besides running it, he travels all over the world to find the best wines to import and sell to his many customers. In collaboration with his former employer he organizes these ‘Soirées’ which have become very popular in the region as they combine good food with excellent wines.

I just had a look at the hotel-restaurant’s website and the 2010 agenda is already online. The first Soirée starts on February 24th, with a special menu dedicated to the Domaine Palacio de Bornos, Rueda Valladolid in Spain. Maybe we’ll be in for another pleasant surprise!

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VIP Welcome – part 2

The visit of the Mercier winery in Epernay in 1985 was very interesting and well commented by the guide. At some point the train pulled into a large cavern. In the middle of it, there was nicely sculptured barrel with a diameter of well over three metres. It had been manufactured in the 19th century at the occasion of some important exhibition, after which it had been dismantled in order to put it on display in the subterranean corridors of the Mercier winery.

A view of the Champagne vineyard in the summer of 2006.

We saw a lot of bottles, empty and filled, old an new, as well as the special racks in which they are stocked upside down at a special angle during the fermentation process. It was our first visit to a winery and everything was new and exciting to us.

Some 45 minutes later we were back at our starting point, where the next tour group was waiting. Our hostess was there too, as promised, and she diligently whisked us through the waiting crowd and the other tourists who were getting off the train. We rode up in the same private elevator that had taken us down.

On the ground floor, we saw how the group was directed into a side room in which long tables where set up in rows. When we wanted to follow them, the lady gently steered us away towards the door from which she had appeared earlier that morning. Behind it lay a long corridor. She opened one of the doors and showed us in. It was a 'salon' with comfortable leather chairs, bookcases and an antique coffee table on which a bottle of chilled Champagne and three glasses were waiting. On the floor was an ankle deep white carpet and the curtains were made of high quality velvet. “Please do sit down. Mr. Augustin will be with you in a minute,” she said and then she disappeared closing the door behind her.

We sat there, completely flabbergasted. “This must be a case of mistaken identity”, my friend said. “They probably think that we are some Champagne importers from Belgium and that we will buy several hundreds of bottles.” A little while later, the door opened and a smartly dressed man walked into room. “I’m Mr. Augustin. I’m Mercier’s Marketing Manager.” We stood up to shake hands and then he said “My assistant tells me that you are staying at the Royal Champagne Hotel in Bellevue. May I offer you a glass of Champagne?”

It turned out that the hotel manager, after handing us the leaflet, had called the winery – which belonged to the same commercial group, remember – asking them to give us a VIP welcome. Hence the personalized reception. While the other tourists were sipping a tiny glass of Champagne seated at one of the long rows of tables in the other room, we were having a whole bottle to ourselves. Mr. Augustin was a great host, who made us feel very welcome indeed. We chatted about everything and nothing and had a really good time.

It was almost noon when we left the winery, feeling slightly tipsy. Although it all happened 25 years ago, we’ve never forgotten this little anecdote as it remains one of the highlights of our travels to France.

Have you ever received a surprise VIP Welcome in France or elsewhere? Oh, and by the way, we didn't pay a cent!

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VIP Welcome – part 1

During our 1985 visit of the Champagne region we stayed at the ‘Royal Champagne’ hotel in the hamlet of Bellevue. The hotel is situated in the middle of the vineyards and overlooks the town of Epernay. It’s a former coach inn, and said to be one of Napoleon’s favourite stopovers. But then again, if you are to believe all the stories about the places where the man supposedly slept, you could ask yourself when he found time to do battle … as he must have slept an awful lot!

Today the hotel belongs to the prestigious Italian ‘Baglioni Hotels’ group. They have turned the inn into a rococo palace that doesn’t even remotely look like the original place. In the eighties, however, Royal Champagne was part of the French LVMH group, which owns luxury brands such as Moet & Chandon (Champagne), Hennessey (Brandy), Dior (Perfumes and cosmetics), Louis Vuitton (leather), etc. We didn’t know that at the time, and to us it was just another hotel.

View from the terrasse of our room at the hotel 'Royal Champagne',
with in the valley the town of Epernay.

You can’t stay in the Champagne region without visiting at least one of the larger wineries. Most of them are located along Epernay’s Avenue de Champagne. Not knowing which one to pick, we called in the help of the hotel manager. He recommended we’d visit the winery of Mercier. Like Ruinart, Mercier was taken over by Moët & Chandon in the seventies. He explained that the visit included a train ride through the long underground corridors of the winery, followed by a tasting session on the ground floor. He handed us a hotel leaflet on which he wrote that we were staying at the hotel and that the visit had been recommended by him personally.

So we set out to Epernay and the Mercier winery. We arrived just in time to take the ten o’clock guided tour. When we handed the leaflet to the receptionist, she picked up the phone and asked if ‘Mister Augustin or his assistant’ were available. Five minutes later a smart young woman appeared from behind one of the doors leading into the main hallway. In the meantime a coach of tourists had arrived and we assumed that we would be taking the guided tour with them.

To our surprise the young woman took us apart and led us to a private elevator, while the people in the group were queuing at the stairs led by the tour guide. At the foot of the elevator a little train was waiting. Our private guide showed us to the first carriage, immediately behind the driver. “Enjoy your visit. I’ll come back to pick you up after the tour.” She said before returning to the elevator. We sat there patiently waiting for what was going to happen next. A few minutes later the driver, the tour guide and the other visitors arrived and we were ready to go.

(to be continued)

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