I am discussing here, I am not going to actually describe the stories!), I was also soaking up the gentle shift in the topography as the miles fell away from the Allemagne to Burgundy, and crossing the (unmarked) border in to France I couldn't help but feel I was returning to the familiar embrace of my homeland away from my homeland.
As Otto guided me and my car full of characters into Beaune, I felt such a sense of deja vu. Lyall and I first came here about 30 years ago, and stayed at Le Cep, the hotel I was headed for. But I was also here - sort of- about three or four (?) years ago though it didn't go well, so this was my 'do-over' trip.
I came to France that summer a few years back with Finbar, and it was his last trip. I had arrived in Marseille and drove directly to a small hamlet near Valence, where I stayed at a restaurant hotel I have been to a few times and had looked forward to the meal I would have that first night, for months. It is a 3 star Michelin rest with a few rooms: they offer three tasting menus and I sat down in the dear and familiar surroundings and placed my order for the seafood menu. As I waited for what I knew would be a flight into the most sublimes reaches of culinary dexterity, I realized I didn't feel like I was hungry....that I didn't actually feel I could sit up for very long....and I don't remember how I managed to get through the meal or even if I did. I drove off the next day for Beaune, but had to stop several times just to rest. I was booked into a B & B on the outskirts of the city, and arrived to find the temperatures had soared into the 30's, that my room was at the very top of the 4 story house and that I was clearly very, very unwell. I recall going to a pharmacy in Beaune and asking for throat spray, then returning to lie prostrate for several days, that is expect for walking the dog in the morning and again at night. I locked myself away and did not allow the house keeper in the room, just took the linens, because now, thanks to online diagnosis from by my friend Paula Gordon, I had to agree with her that I had H1N1. It was a brutal and forgettable week, and when it was over I was more or less ready to make my way, slowly toward the South and to Marseille airport where I collected Lyall and gratefully acceded all the driving to him. Thus, Beaune owed me a repeat visit.
And what a great visit it was: I had cut my stay at the V Hammer short by a night (the hotel is on a VERY busy road and there is a train track as well, so the noise was unbelievable: thanks to lack of a/c I had to sleep with the garden door open so was covered in mosquito bites), so three wonderful nights at Le Cep beckoned and I arrived in good time to devote the afternoon to walking the old town. Hot, though! I left my restaurant booking in the very capable hands of the hotel staff, and my first night did not disappoint as I was directed to the casual and elegant 'Restaurant Bistro D'Hotel'. As I walked in I was overwhelmed withe the fragrance coming form the kitchen: poulet de Bresse in lemon and olive oil.....ah, I could not let that go and so following an excellent gazpacho came the chicken and very creamy potatoes......ah, such simple bliss. I had first enjoyed an aperitif accompanied by some thinly sliced and oh-so-tender local ham.....no fish in sight for me tonight! The sommelier recommended an excellent Meurseult, and I am happy to report that the half bottle went down very easily! I small plate of cheese, just a few bites and then a couple of house made sorbets capped off a very happy return to Beaune. The service was friendly, efficient and yet unobtrusive. I walked back to the hotel in a state of pure joy and toddled to bed in a very contended state, looking forward to the day ahead when I would taste my way along the Route des Grand Cru.
Best laid plans: I awoke to thunder and the most impressive rain I have ever seen, which is something coming form a person who lives in a rain forest, for this was no steady day-long drizzle: this was full on thunder, lightening and pounding, punishing rain. The hotel supplied umbrellas but I had not packed a raincoat (nor had the dog), plus I was told some local roads were flooded outside the city, so that put paid to my day tripping. Even taking Hanley on his constitutional that morning was so messy I felt guilty about the number of hotel towels I was suddenly utilizing. I hung around doing some work at the computer, then braved the storm for lunch, returning wet and cold. At the lunch bistro, Hanley was obliged to sit in a puddle created by his own rain drippings, so I took this rather sad photo before my Soupe de Poisson arrived.
Charming, small, with cheerful service staff who decided, for some reason that I, with my large dog, must be seated at a table directly beside their bar, the central source of the kitchen action and a real bottleneck location once you've strewn 80 pounds of dog across the floor. Anyway - they were nonplussed, so I gave myself over to contemplating the menu while nursing my now 'usual' coupe de champagne. Now that I had more or less fallen of the fish wagon as well as the sugar wagon, I let myself be tempted by their home made duck terrine, and then enjoyed the fish f the day, a loup, served fragrant, hot and simple. A delightful strawberry tart followed, and again, the meal was greatly enhanced by some Meursault. I returned to Le Cep replete.
The next day was a great improvement, though cloudy, it was cool and a nice change. I decided to do the touristy thing and got aboard the:
A nice view just outside the Old Town perimeter
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I am not above doing the cheesy, touristic things - I love it!
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| Weeping willows over a stream - is there anythingmore romantic? |
Time for my final night's dinner adventure in Beaune, and therein lies a tale. I will tell it later: for now I have to hit the road again, but I shall be back soon!
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