Ariège: Another Unexpected Restaurant

We decided to make a pilgrimage from Ercé to Montségur, not realising that with one mountain road 'closed' (late snow apparently, although the natives are outraged and say it is a nonsense), 40 minute detours are obligatory, and the mountain road via Massat must have inspired the Beates 'Long and winding road', and  passed through some of the most beautiful mountain scenery I've seen, including  360 degree circles of peaks.

About halfway we realised we wouldn't make it to Montségur village in time to eat, and there appeared an auberge/restaurant, the sort of venue that would have suited the Made in Chelsea cast had it suffered sufficient investment (which happily it hadn't).  Smoke billowed from the kitchen, the asparagus was tinned,  but the timing, service and view were splendid.

Ariege: Unexpected Restaurant

It was jeudi-saint, a bank holiday, so I rang in advance,

'Is it possible to reserve a table for this evening?"

'Houff, pfff - this evening?" said the restauranteur, audibly put out "What time?"

He must be overbooked,  I thought, but he agreed nonetheless to reserve a table for us at 8pm.

We arrived at a grey building on a grey road with a white plastic table and chairs on the pavement, and entered via the bar.  Cigarette smoke hung in the air from hastily departed smokers, the TV was full-on, an unsociable Pekingese dog regarded us from under the table with a bulging eye, the customer-in-residence regarded us with two.  He called the owners, they showed us to the dining area, which opened onto the bar.  The entire restaurant was empty, it had always been empty and always would be.  A plastic Christmas tree sat atop a pile of papers and bits and pieces littered the shelves. The tablecloths were faux Provençale in yellow and blue polyester with mud coloured paper protectors.

A small waiter moved sideways across the room towards us and said blurrily 'did you reserve?'.

We peruse the menu, not yet reassured we are in a good place...

French Country Restaurants;  appearances can be deceptive
However, I have learned that appearances can be deceptive in French country restaurants.  There was no dust on the cladding ledge, the paper table protectors were new, the floor clean to the edges, this gave me hope.

We chose the mid-range menu at 23 Euros, starter, main, cheese and pudding.  For a starter I chose duck 'ham' with melon, S and JC omellettes aux cèpes, B salad with two livers, and B the childrens' menu (steak and chips as per, thank goodness or there would have been a terrible fuss and the restaurant would have been deemed No Good).

The mum came in with 'amuse-bouches'.  Yes, exclamation mark, amuse-bouches!  Verrines filled with a Roquefort pear and cumin 'crème'.

Tucking in:  omellette aux cèpes for S and JC,   salade 2 foies  for B,  pâté en croute for R

We kept the picture of our English exchange student S deliberately  blurred to preserve his anonymity (he is laughing not screaming...)

My starter was decorated with star fruit and wafer thin slices of blood orange.  B had duck liver, half of it poêlé (seared)  half in a foie gras style, and R had pâté en croute for his childrens' menu starter (9.50 the menu) a sort of up-market pork pie slice.  The roast breast of duck was served with hand-fried potato slices and a 'gallette' of courgette and cheese, followed by a pretty wild raw-hide cows milk cheese (which we wrapped in napkins and took home for cooking)  served with home made apricot jam and isle flotante for pud, even the quarter pitcher of table wine from Corbières was good;  the meal was delicious; presentation attractive; the service attentive (we discussed the rescue of their stray cat, the wild men in the mountains and the introduction of the bear, it turned out the waiter had to cancel his night out with his hippy friends when we booked, so that was why he sounded put out) and we all had a jolly good time, who could ask for more?  (apart from turning down the telly and cutting out the fags).

R on top form, just been given novelty ice cream and plate of sweets;  JC peaking after a day's walk  in the peaks

Le Picou at Ercé, no website available....obviously

Yes, this is enough

Out in the early morning, just before the early sun climbs the mountain and reflects itself on the snow caps opposite, I bring with me a mug of tea.   Despite the panorama almost too beautiful to contemplate, I close my eyes:  the bell call of the great-tit and the soft call of the bullfinch, a hundred points of birdsong like stars all around, a woodpecker to the right and a cuckoo to the left, a cowbell from on high and a cockerel in the valley below, the gargle of crows who come and go, a visiting donkey who revs up his squeeze-organ for a honk and a holler which bridges the mountains.

Life accepts to touch down here.
Breathing returns to base
It is enough.

Old Trees

As I grow, as I grow older, I am drawn to old trees;  trees bent by prevailing winds, whitened with lichen, bits lobbed off and bits dying off, year after year roots expanding deeper, year after year opening new leaves to the sun.

Ariège Mountains; an exchange

Meet my new friends
Here you can exchange your neighbours and your friends (if you have any)  for two sweet-eyed fat brown cows with bells, three fawn furry donkeys, four black Pyrenéen ponies and their newborn foal, a colony of lizards who jump for flies on the veranda windowsill, a host of birds, and a mason bee who stashes pollen balls in the hole in your front door.

You can exchange the distant roar of traffic for the distant roar of the river;  the view over the roofs with wires and satellite dishes for snow peaks and running ragged lines under a wide sky.  At night, swop the orange imposition and sad green of streetlamps for clusters of lights tucked into the mountain face in front of you where houses are hidden, and above it the slightly different dark of the wide sky, where all the stars in the cosmos alighted and hang in juicy drops, and you can go out into the night, and feel the sky fall all around you.

Actual view from our gite

Actual gite, actual weather!

B observing lizards in the panoramic veranda

Fat bottomed cows you make the rocking world go round

Whole cow:  horned and free, when she looks at you, you know you have been looked at

Posing for a still

Free range cow

...three fawn furry donkeys...

Coquette pose, look at the front legs...

...four black Pyrenéen ponies and their newborn foal...the "Cheval de Mérens" is a traditional breed from ancient times in the Ariege Pyrenees, still rare but being reintroduced, known for its hardiness, and its somewhat wild but sweet temperament.    It can be recognised among other things for its 'beard', hair growing behind its cheeks.

The whole extended family checks out the foal situation, mother and foal have been 'helped'  up the mountain to join the others 'chez eux'

I loved watching the group of horses and how they behaved together.  On the day the foal was born, the 3  grown ups  climbed up the steep mountainside and called for the mother, but the foal was too young to manage the climb.  Eventually they abandoned their calling and charged down the hill to join her (R has footage).

The foal ran in the opposite direction, here he is nuzzled back into order

...a colony of lizards who jump for flies on the veranda windowsill...

Ariege Mountain Holiday; St Girons Market

Saturday is market day, we arrive and stock up with food for the holiday, and to buy presents souvenirs and a bit of food to take home (no room in car for more, sadly).  Then on the Saturday we go home, we call in again.  A multinational gathering of ecologists, hippies, artists, musicians and generally all the people I like being with selling the food I like to eat in a town I like the look of...and so drones on about how wonderful it is...in the face of disapproving teenage son who buys pizza, sits on bench, eats pizza, declares the market, the entire region Boring and "full of Old People" and every time I approach the bench asks "When can we go?"

I usually buy one pot, this one from a profound potter with blue eyes, she is part of the souvenir

Organising the mountain flower honey

Garden produce on a plain table

East-West;  Young Lebanese musician selling his organic vegetarian Lebanese sandwiches;   sauce with special thyme from the Lebanese mountains, humous, smoked aubergine pate, salad, yoghurt sauce, goats cheese...au choix

Dutch wildman goatherder, wonderful life, wonderful cheese!

Here we bought particularly aromatic lemon verbena (verveine) for tisane...

JC even found a lovely 2nd hand bookshop run by a Northerner who stocks up in Paris, opens every day it is possible to sell, works hard but loves the work - JC bought Tin-Tin cartoons and book about Eco Houses...

Beatles music...

Bought apple juice here, gathered from hedgerows, (never shake the trees it upsets them and they won't produce next year), dry the apples a little before juicing, makes them sweet... he works as a volunteer for a charity and so has use of their juice-pressing facilities, also turns wood from his garden

R cruises with headphones, to exasperation of parents,but at least he took them off

market by the river

Bought some very good caramel sauce for pancakes, made by Ariege woman who went to Brittany to learn how to cook Brittany food, and sells it to Brittany people in Ariege who complain they can't get their food...that's business!

Orange is my kind of colour

My kind of people...

 

An American grandmother hippy chick, running a portable organic cafe with camping chairs unloaded from her van:  we had perfectly blended chick pea curry and rice and a spicy chai tea with milk, very very excellent

AM I THINKING OF MOVING HERE?   YES I AM.  AM I THINKING OF BUSKING IN RESTAURANTS FOR MY SUPPER GROWING HERBS PLUCKING FRUIT AND HANGING ROUND MARKETS SELLING THINGS FROM MY GARDEN?  YES.  AM I THINKING OF WEARING FLOWERS IN WHAT'S LEFT OF MY HAIR?   YES YES YES