My French Holiday Diary- Day 12

Our last day in Marcilhac. We go up to St Cirq-Lapopie and have a boss lunch.

Thursday 27^th September. 

Determined to be well (did I mention we’re all still sick with our colds?), we had a small breakfast with the hope of having a lunch out. With only one day left at Marchillac before we had to move on to another valley, it was of utmost importance to actually be well enough to eat a meal out together. Cooking’s great, but I want to expand my repertoire and how else can you do that other than eating out?

We had a nice drive through the valley up to the cliff top village of St Cirq-Lapopie. It’s a sleepy little tourist trap, built high up overlooking the valley, studded with cute little buildings and a wonderful little church. Everything’s very medieval round here, lots of Templar places and nooks and crannies to hide in. We would our way through the little place, being total tourists looking in a shop full of metal trinkets like door knockers and signs. That sounds like it was awful but these things were actually really nice; I bought a faux art nouveau door plate as well as a plaque to hang your door keys off. Roger seemed to be feeling broody, as he started picking out things for our imaginary home in the future.

The broodiness continued as we looked around a pottery shop, filled with amazing coloured glazed bowls. Perfect for salads and fruit, the pottery was very lovely and it was with a heavy heart that I resisted buying too much. If we only had a car we could have been filling it up with food and trash we’d bought from local brocantes. Instead I felt I was constantly restraining myself, or limiting my purchases to bowls big enough only to put dipping sauces in. That said, I make a hell of a lot of dipping sauces, so easy come, easy go. And as Roger said, we can come back and buy all the trash we want some day. If that’s not an incentive to go out and get a job, I don’t know what is!

After a tour around the church and a brief spell up the castle walls, we tried to go to lunch, but at quarter to two, the restaurant we’d fancied had stopped taking customers! One annoying thing about this holiday has been the rigorous adherence to timetabling in France. Lunch is served between half twelve and two. That’s it. Come later and you’re screwed. Restaurateurs definitely care more about sticking to the correct lunch hours than the prospect of a family maybe spending an hundred euros on lunch. That price doesn’t seem to be worth paying your staff half an hour of overtime. So we were shoved out of the two restaurants we’d tried and in despair, made our way back home.

The story doesn’t have an unhappy ending however, as we passed through the little town of Cabarets (where a year previously we’d been up to the caves at Pêche-Mèrle) and lo and behold, even though it was two o’ clock on the dot, the restaurant over-looking the river was happy to take us in. Hooray! And it was wonderful! We sat outside by the river, catching a glimpse of lazy fish and lazy ducks mooching about below us, the sun warming our backs.

Amy, Mum-y and Roger all went for different menus, ranging from delicate snapper to a huge rare steak. Dad-y and I however, always conscious of price (though we know we have no need to be) chose the eighteen euro menu and we definitely got the best deal, I can tell you. These menu du jour jobs aren’t trying to screw you over by getting rid of rotting food. Instead, they’re delicate affairs, well-thought out and very delicious.

To start with, we had a freshly prepared artichoke heart surrounded by a halo of thinly sliced cooked beetroot drizzled with a vinaigrette. In the heart of the artichoke, a foamy swirl of cabècous à la Chantilly (cheesy cream to you and me) set the delicate, earthy flavours of the artichoke heart and beetroot off perfectly. Amy struggled across from us with her smoked eel pieces. After a taste, I could see why. I’ve never had eel before and I’m sorry, but don’t much fancy it in the future. There are some things you just have to hold your hands up and say “look, I’m sorry but the idea of eating one of those totally grosses me out”. I managed to get through the squeamishness of going near eel but the taste wasn’t up to much. It was like mackerel times a thousand. Mackerel times one is lovely. Any more though and I’m not sure I’d fancy it.

Amy’s main was better so the grossing out stopped pretty quickly. Dad-y and I had coquelette (I think that’s what it was called), either way, it was half a poussin roasted and smothered in a thick, deliciously rich curry sauce packed to bursting with almonds. So good. I was really up for a curry too, so that menu seemed to be meant for me. I really hate curries that overdose on tomatoes that make the sauce too sloppy and acidic and it looks like the chef thought so too; so creamy, I’m betting the sauce was just almonds, delicate spices and then a tub of cream. But hey, I’m not complaining, it was faboo.

And then to end the meal, we had a choice of nut tart. I was worried that we would be given a dry slab of bitter-tasting nuts but of course, this menu was the lucky menu and my god, it tasted wonderful. Just a regular sweet shortcrust pastry but it was filled with chopped walnuts, obviously local, so fresh and delicate in flavour. I think there may have been a dash of nut liqueur in there too as everything went so well with the cold crème anglaise and bitter toffee sauce we had to accompany.

For me, every element of that meal was perfect. We were in a perfect setting, with a great atmosphere of bonhomie between us all and a tremendous sense of pleasure and wellbeing that we were overcoming our illnesses and beginning our holiday at last. At home that evening we watched the last of The Trip, our best holiday viewing yet and for a bit of campness Phantom of the Opera. We went to bed singing, sad to be leaving tomorrow but looking forward to a new adventure.