La petite fille chérie de la Loire …

... or: The Loire’s River darling little girl is none other than …. the town of Amboise. It wasn’t me that came up with this wording, but it has stuck with me ever since I read it. I’ve done a post about it in my early blogger years.  However, I was curious to know where I had read or heard this expression for the first time. My good friend Mr. Google immediately directed me towards this PDF file. You’ll find the text under the header ‘Ville d’Amboise et visites contées’.

Arriving at Place Michel Debré on Sunday morning.
 In the distance, the castle's chapel where Leonardo Da Vinci is burried.

Quote from the brochure: « Amboise, c'est la petite fille chérie de la Loire,
 la plus « italienne » des cités tourangelles.
La Renaissance et ses fastes sont partout ici ! … »

Ever since I laid eyes on Amboise for the first time in June 1999 I’ve been in love with the town. Maybe it were the circumstances in which I saw the towers of the château from a distance. My friend and I had driven through a terrible thunderstorm on our way down from Brussels. Later that evening we saw some horrible images of the damage the storm had caused in Paris. Anyway, the sky had started to clear by the time we reached Blois, were we crossed the river. We followed the scenic route, spotting turrets in the distance, the indication that this really was ‘château’ country. Each time we saw what looked like a castle roof, I looked at the roadmap in my lap trying to figure out which royal dwelling it could be.

We had chosen Amboise as our destination the town being ideally located at only 30 km of Tours where we had booked a hotel room for the week. According to the tourist brochures I had picked up at La Maison de La France in Brussels (no internet at the time), Amboise had some interesting restaurants and many multiple tourist attractions. Today, I would be embarrassed to say that, but at the time we were ‘tourists’ and novices as far as the Loire Valley was concerned.

At some point while I was studying the map, my friends attracted my attention to another row of turrets among the treetops in the distance. ‘Yet another castle’, he said in a rather blasé way. I looked at the map: ‘But it’s Amboise!’ I replied indignantly. ‘We’ve arrived’.

The Loire River in Amboise.
Notice how high the water level is, after last spring's incessant rain.

Over the years, Amboise has become my ‘point de chûte’; the perfect place to arrive on a Sunday morning, when the market is in full swing and the town is really buzzing. Parking your car, can be a bit of a problem, because it looks like the entire Indre-et-Loire population, plus a great number of tourists find their way into town. If you’re lucky, you can find a nice spot in the parking lots between the main boulevard and the river bank. If not, you can try your luck at the foot of the castle, where parking is free on Sundays, but where you need to put several coins in the parking machine on week days. And there is the parking ‘le Château’: ample space but a quite a long walk from the market, which is not very practical when you do a lot of heavy shopping … like melons and potatoes for instance. Finally there is the Place Richelieu, featuring a statue of the great man himself, slightly closer to the market, but most of the time very full too.

Walking down the quay where the market is located.

This year we set out on Sunday morning, with a long to-do list: food shopping at the market for Monday’s B-BBQ*, aperitif at le café ‘Le Château’, wine tasting and buying at the Cave des Vignerons (also for Monday’s B-BBQ), hoping my long-time friend Laetitia would be there, lunch at the Lion d’Or, where I went last year with Mats and Vera – a memorable experience which I wanted to repeat and share with B. and J.L. who are really foodies too.  And we also needed some bubbles from my favourite Vouvray winegrower, Guertin for Monday’s aperitif. The afternoon was reserved for a more ‘cultural’ activity …

(*) B-BBQ = Blogger Barbecue

A rabbit’s foot ...

...that’s what I think we had in our pocket (for luck), almost a month ago when we were roaming the streets of ‘Saint-Aignan by night’ in search of a place to have dinner.

At the ‘Bigouden’ restaurant (thank you Chm for correcting my mistake on the name) we were warmly greeted by a young lady, who immediately directed us to a table close to the entrance. She handed us a menu card and asked whether we wanted an aperitif. We all decided to have the house specialty: bubbles with an extra touch, bubbles, with cider for J.L., Kirr style for B. and the traditional ‘nature’ for me. While we were studying the menu card, more people came in … and they were all turned away with a simple ‘Désolé, nous sommes complets’, despite the fact that there were still two free tables for two. But less than fifteen minutes later, these were taken too by people who had taken the trouble of booking in advance.

Saint-Aignan's one-way mainstreet on a summery Saturday night. 

It was then that we realized that we had been very lucky indeed … grabbing the last free table in town. I had never realized before that Saint-Aignan was such a lively little town. Of course, it has to be said that another popular restaurant ‘L’Embarcadère’ was closed that night. And the other ‘landmark’ – Chez Constant’ – does have the reputation of being a bit ‘unstable’, meaning the service and quality tend to vary … probably according to the ‘humeur du chef’. I have this from hear-say, so please don’t shoot me, if I’m wrong.

The post-office, across the street from the church where we heard the music.

Anyway, back to our meal – no photos, sorry. B. and J.L had a seafood salad, mainly shrimps, crayfish and tuna on a crispy bed of lettuce. we had a savoury ‘provençale’ crêpe: ham, egg, mushrooms and a spicy tomato sauce. A bit eclectic, I admit, a specialty from Brittany, with sauce from southern France and a wine from the Loire Valley in a restaurant on the Cher River. It wasn’t bad at all, but I’m not sure the combination worked, especially as the mushrooms were sliced rather roughly and there were quite a lot of them. But I was hungry and the service was very friendly, so I did enjoy my meal. And judging from my friends’ empty plates, I’m sure they did too.

I  simply loved this clever decoration/display over the window of a new fancy cheese and delicatesses shop 

in the main square.

While strolling back to the car, we were surprised to hear a classical orchestra playing in the distance. It was clearly a ‘life’ performance. Making our way up the street, we decided that it came from the church and when we looked up we could see that the church windows were brightly lit. For a second we considered venturing in, but it was already late and we were tired after what had been a long an eventful day.

Although I had some trouble falling asleep on that first night – probably due to the excitement of the trip and the expectations of what was to come and a different bed and mattress – I slept very well and woke up completely refreshed, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to tackle my first complete day in La Touraine since June 2012. And I would see the Loire Valley’s ‘darling little girl’ (not my own words) again. You know who or what I’m talking about, don’t you?

A night on the town

As we had failed to reach the Mange-Grenouille restaurant by phone, we decided to stop by on our way into Saint-Aignan and see if we could book a table for that evening. When we arrived, the restaurant was closed though, but there was a telephone number on the menu card and we jotted it down to call it later.

Our next stop was the pharmacy. Apparently some ‘drugs’ (in the medical sense of the word) are a lot cheaper in France than in Belgium. B. and J.L.’s family and friends being aware of this, had ‘placed an order’, leaving B. with an impressive list of ‘drugs’ to bring back from their holiday. As it was late Saturday afternoon, the pharmacy was closed and we decided to return during the week to do the necessary shopping.

Off we drove to the commercial zone outside of town to get some fuel – called ‘gazoile’ in France and ‘diesel’ in Belgium – for the car. With a full tank we were sure to have enough to take us through the rest of the week, despite the many excursions I had planned on my friends’ request. By then it was time to call the restaurant. Imagine our disappointment when the man on the other side of the line told me ‘Nous sommes complet ce soir’ (We are full this evening). We immediately thought of the obvious alternative ‘le Crépiot’, which had recently re-opened after a fire last September.

Self- and re-assured we set out for the next bit of shopping: some food items, napkins, plastic plates and glasses for Monday’s BBQ. I could have spent hours at ‘Facile’s’, a large department store selling kitchen, decoration and party goods! The place is huge … If you don’t find what you need here, it doesn’t exist. Especially the party section is amazing. The same stuff comes in all kinds of colours, and wandering through the aisles leaves you with the impression of being inside a rainbow. But there is no crock of gold at the end of it … just a cash register! I think I did rather well, spending only 50 Euros. The damage could have been a lot worse. One of the unusual things we bought were, what I like to refer to as, ‘scoubidoes’. Do you know what they are? To be fair, what we bought weren’t really ‘scoubidoes’, but the name fitted them beautifully. More about that in a later post.

Le Crépiot, later that same evening around 10.30 p.m. 

The queue was gone but the place was still buzzing!

We returned to the centre of the town, where we found a queue standing by the door of ‘Le Crépiot’ restaurant. We joined it to find a slate on the door reading ‘Désolé, nous sommes complets.’ (Sorry, we’re full!) Oops! What to do now? There was a pizza vendor’s van in the town square and we were seriously considering buying a pizza there and going home, to have it with a nice bottle of red wine from my friends’ cellar. Then J.L. remembered another restaurant, a place doing savoury ‘crêpes’, a specialty from Brittany, and salads. I’m not sure about the name of the restaurant ‘Le Bridouen’, or something like that (note to my local friends, please correct me if I’m wrong!). Like the other restaurants in town, the place looked really busy, but at least there was no sign on the door saying they were ‘complet’. We ventured in, keeping our fingers crossed. Would we feast on ‘crêpes’ or pizza tonight?

Settling in and a late lunch

We arrived at our destination – B. and J.L.’s holiday home – around 2.45 p.m. The house looked as good as it had done on the photos I had seen. In fact, it looked even better. No photos here though, as I want to respect my friends privacy. Moreover, my semi-local blogger friends have seen the real thing by now and know just how inviting and perfect the house is. B. opened the shutters while J.L. and I started to unload the car. Our ‘cargo’ contained a few low wooden crates supporting some twenty tomato plants, which J.L. had grown from seeds to knee-high shoots ready to be planted in the vegetable plot at the back of the garden.

Not a tomato plant,

 but a delicate pink flower from the poppy family

 (not the 70-ties French boy's choir!),

seen in the square at Amboise  the next day.

The house had been closed for several days and the cold and damp weather that has been so typical for this year’s spring, had seeped through the walls (no damp, don’t worry). In fact, it was warmer outside than it was inside. B. showed me around, ending with ‘my’ very comfortable room, with a private toilet and bathroom with a shower just across the hall. It almost felt like a B&B, with all the modern commodities close at hand.

While I unpacked, J.L. took their luggage up to their bedroom and put the tomato plants in the cool garage … on hold until they went into the ground, and B. cooked the spaghetti and warmed up the bolognaise sauce. We opened a very nice bottle of Saint Nicolas de Bourgeuil and sat down for a late, simple, yet very delicious lunch. We also discussed our plans for the evening. As there was no food in house, except the spaghetti which we finished because it was soooooo good, we decided to ‘hit’ the town of Saint Aignan to get a taste of the local night-life and a meal of garlic sautéed frog legs at the famous ‘Mange Grenouille’ restaurant.

Proudly I took out my newly acquired smart-phone in an attempt to show off its ‘smart’ features: click your location and find the address and telephone number of a nearby restaurant. It had worked beautifullyat home. However, here in the country, the phone searched, and searched and searched … in vain. So we had to come up with another solution if we wanted to book a table for 8 p.m.

When all attempts failed, we decided to give up and drive into town to find the required information and do some shopping for next Monday’s blogger BBQ. While B. and I did the washing up, J.L. started mowing the front lawn … five minutes later it started to rain (the last rain we would see that week) and he had to stop after ten minutes. The time it took to change … and we were off on our (first, there were many more to come) shopping spree …

The scenic route – the last lap

Click here for part 1 and part 2

We found a ‘watering hole’ in the next village: Chaumont-sur-Tharonne. Despite its fancy name, the village didn’t have a castle. It did have a nice church, a mini-market, a pharmacist and … a bar with a tiny sidewalk terrace. There was also a nice and shady village square, where we could park the car at only a few steps from the bar.

Across the road was what looked like a nice restaurant with ‘colombages’, a feature you would rather expect to find in Normandy. There were people having lunch on the terrace of the restaurant and the aroma’s that drifted from the open door were very tantalizing indeed. By then it was half past twelve and we hadn’t eaten anything since our brief stop at the service station north of Paris.

For a second I considered inviting my friends across the road and have lunch there and then. But then I remembered that B. had told me that she had taken the trouble of making some fresh bolognaise sauce, and we were going to have that with spaghetti when we got to their house. So we settled down for a quiet and refreshing drink. I asked for a ‘pression’, a draft lager beer, which turned out to be a Loburg. Loburg is Inbev’s (Belgian) equivalent to the Danish Carlsberg and Turborg beers. It was strange to find it in this tiny French village, because, as far as I know, you can no longer get in Belgium. Not even in Leuven, which is the hometown of Inbev!

B. and J.L. both had a chilled white wine. We were sipping our drinks, sitting in the sun and enjoying the silence of the village square. Every now and then the peace and quiet were disturbed by a passing car and at half past twelve the church bells chimed. But apart from these occasional noises, the square was a heaven of peace. And it looked so pristine; you could almost eat from the street.

On our way back to car, we noticed this artfully forged ornament on the façade of a nearby house. The name of the street was ‘rue de la forge’, something the local blacksmith or residing artist had beautifully illustrated by putting the piece of art on the wall.

We set out on the last lap of our trip to the Loire Valley ... I was impatient to get to our destination, as I was really curious about seeing B. an J.L.'s holiday home. Would it be as nice as the photos I had seen?

The scenic route – part 2

To read ‘part 1’, please click here.

We crossed the Loire River in Orléans and made our way south, following the D2020 in the direction of La Ferté-St.Aubin. Having driven through the village on several occasions, J.L. suggested making a brief stop and shooting some photos of the local Château. The village which is located in the Loiret (45) department is part of the region Centre. A small stream, the Cosson, gives the village an almost ‘Touraine’ feel. We were hoping that there would be an inviting little bar with a sunlit sidewalk terrace to sip a cool glass of Loire Valley wine.

The bridge over the Cosson at La Ferté-St. Aubin.

We parked the car near the bridge over the Cosson and thought we were in luck, because, a little further up the road, we saw a building with a nice deep red marquis over the door and lit lights along the façade (which were completely obsolete as by then the sun was shining brightly). We strolled over to the castle gate and were stopped by a sign that read that from that point forward a paying entrance ticket was required to enter to castle grounds. We were also informed that the castle hosted a large collection of children’s games. As we didn’t intend to visit the interior of the castle, nor ‘la collection de jeux’, we obediently stayed on the public side of the gate and made some photos of the castle in the distance and the nearby ducks, geese and swans that were floating on the surface of the Cosson.

 The castle seen from the gate. Unlike the Loire castles (white lime stone)
bricks were used to build it.
If you follow the link, you'll see that it's also
a B&B and gîte; something we didn't know at the time.

One particular brown goose was clearly fishing for food, hanging upside down in the water, with its tail and webbed feet sticking in the air. The scene reminded me of the bedroom curtains I had when I was a ten year old. My mother had bought some colourful fabric with a recurrent print of three cartoon-like ducklings against a clear blue background. One of them was hanging upside down too, with its bright orange feet dangling in the air. In the morning when the sun shone behind the curtains, it looked as if the scene was actually coming alive. And with a little imagination, you could hear the splashing of the water … or was it the sound of my grandfather watering his tomato plants out in the back garden?

But back to La Ferté-St.Aubain 2013: I tried to shoot a photo of the feeding goose in action, but failed to get a proper one. The bird was just too fast for me.

Geese foraging.

Despite the warm sunshine, the air was really chilly, with a stiff wind blowing for the north-east. In de shadow cast by the tall trees, temperatures couldn’t have been much higher than 12 to 14°C. We therefore briskly stepped towards what seemed the sunlit terrace of the local bar. Coming closer, though, we saw that what he had mistaken for tables and chairs from a distance, was actually a display of plants and flowers. The bar turned out to be a flower shop. Slightly disappointed and increasingly thirsty, we returned to the car and drove on, hoping there would be a ‘watering hole’ in the next village.

The scenic route – part 1

We set out on our trip to the Loire Valley on Saturday at 6.a.m. I was all ready and packed to go when B. and J.L. arrived on my doorstep. They had left their home at 5.40 a.m. and had had an easy drive, traffic being really rare at this ungodly hour of the day. Ungodly on a Saturday, that is. During the week it would have taken them over an hour to cover the same distance.

J.L. immediately ‘warned’ me that we wouldn’t be taking the same route as we did in 2010 when I introduced them to La Touraine. In the past, we always took the motorway A1 to the ‘Porte de la Chapelle’, north of Paris. We then followed the ‘Périphérique Ouest’ to the Porte d’Orléans, and the gateway to ‘L’Aquitaine’, the motorway towards Orléans, Blois, Amboise, Tours …. On a Sunday morning (we used to leave on a Sunday at 5 a.m.) this itinerary of 550 km saw us in Amboise between 10.30 and 11 a.m. … well in time to visit the Amboise market, followed by an aperitif at le Café du Château at the foot of the castle.

The A1 motorway north of Senlis.

This time, however, we were to take the scenic route. Before leaving the motorway at Senlis, way north of Paris, we stopped at a service station for a sanitary stop and a quick breakfast of croissants, pain au chocolat and coffee and orange juice. At the first exit after the service station we turned towards the east, following some meandering routes ‘nationales’ et ‘départementales, till we reached ‘La Francilienne’. South of Paris we took the route nationale towards Orléans.

My standard service station breakfast: 'pain au chocolat' and orange juice.

Just for the record, in Belgium a' pain au chocolat' is called 'une couque au chocolat'.

Leaving the motorway really slowed us down, because we passed through several villages with a speed limit of 50 km/h and sometimes even 30 km/h, an obligation that was enforced by the may ‘casses-vitesses’ and traffic lights. In Cercotte, a village north of Orléans, I shot this photo of the Mairie, while waiting for the traffic light to turn green. Apparently, the Mairie also hosted or still hosts the primary school. A common phenomenon in France where public buildings seem to have multiple functions.

The village hall and primary school in Cercotte.

After Cercotte it was time to tackle the slow yet fluid crossing of Orléans. It was there that I caught a first glimpse of La Loire after a long, cold, snowy winter in Belgium … 

... at last! It almost felt like coming home!

P.S. I would like to apologize for the poor quality of the photos, which were all shot (except for the breakfast) from the moving car.

I'm back ...

After three weeks of absence I’m re-opening the blog in a slimmed down version.

My faithful readers know the main reason why I closed the blog in the first place and why I’ve decided to start almost from scratch. You won’t be able to see the 800 or so posts I’ve written since May 2009, but my new posts will be visible for all to see.

The second reason why I haven’t posted, is that I’ve spent a week in the Loire Valley with my friends B. and J.L.  We had a great time and the weather gods were on our side. We left on a chilly Saturday, had some rain on the way down, but arrived at our destination under a clear blue sky.

June 1st, speeding down the motorway ...

Over the week the weather got warmer as the days went by and the sun shone down our white skins, turning them red and hot (not to say sunburned). The red gradually turned brown, and I can say that I will be returning to the office on Wednesday with a nice tan!

After a week in France I have enough material and photos (513 of them, but not all of good quality) to entertain you for several weeks … So I’m anxious to get this blog ‘on the road’ again, because I’ve missed writing it and reading your kind comments.