Tonight, Alice and I had Magret de Canard for dinner. Tender breast of duck served with mashed potatoes and yams. The potatoes were smothered in a delicious sauce and the yams were mixed with a tangy sweet ingredient that made the entire dish a delight. The secret to a great meal in France is to find a great chef. We were lucky in that respect, because on our first trip to Bagnoles, we stayed at the Hotel Gayot. There we became spoiled at every meal. But our night out didn't start out as anything special, in fact it started as another "have to" trip to the grocery store.
"We're out of eggs, we've only got one bowl of oatmeal left, we have to go the store," Alice told me as I took a break from writing on my novel.
"I don't feel like going out. It's rainy, it's cold and it's getting late." I thought I might be able to write another chapter after clearing my head for a while.
"Can't we get something in the morning? A quiche or something?"
"Tomorrow's Sunday, nothing's open in this little town, remember?"
"Is it Saturday already? I thought it was Friday?" That's the problem of working at home, every day's the same. You loose track.
"It's Saturday and the grocery stores are going to close in two hours, it's already five. And we're out of orange juice."
Out of orange juice? Why didn't you say so to start with, Get in the car honey, we've got to get to the store!"
Of course a trip to the grocer isn't just a trip to the grocer. We had to stop and say hello to our friend Laure, it was on the way, and see her newly refinished realty office. We visited, oooed and awed at the new paint and new desks. Said our goodbyes and headed for the grocery in the next town over.
"We should stop in the hardware store and look for a few things we've been needing while we're here close. The wardrobe still needs knobs and we need a rug for inside the back door." So naturally we stop by the hardware store on the way. Fill a basket with knobs, bulbs, extra screws, bolts, a new screw driver and washers that I have been needing. The rugs are ugly, so we pass on those.
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Shopping carts are chained together in the cart bins in the parking lot. |
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A plastic token or coin is required to unchain the shopping cart. |
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The shopping cart is now free for use. In order to get your token or coin back to use next time, you have to return the cart and reinsert the chain. The token or coin will then be released. |
Fortunately the grocery is just across the parking lot. We put a little token in the basket, disconnect the chain that holds them all together and head for the market. (The shopping carts are not just loose in the parking lot. There is a little chain that connects each cart to the cart return area. You have to put a token into the handle of the cart to get the chain loose and get the use of the shopping cart. In order to get your token back you have to return the cart and reattach the chain. It's a different system, but it seems to work well. There are never any unattended carts in the parking lot. At first, I thought you had to insert a coin. I was upset to say the least at the thought of having to pay for the use of a cart to go shopping.)
Now you would think that shopping carts are pretty simple devices and are the same all over the world. Not so, the shopping carts in France have wheels that pivot and steer not only on the front but on the back as well. This causes the cart to fishtail all over the place as you attempt to turn corners. It also has a tendency to crab at an angle as you go in a straight line if you are not careful. It's weird. It's also hard on the knees if you try to hurry around corners.
We zipped through the fresh veggies, going down our list for a couple of recipes we wanted to try on Sunday and Monday, no idea what we're eating on Tuesday. Picked out a nice chicken and some ground beef, and a package of pork chops that looked really good, guess it will be pork chops on Tuesday. Then hit a major slow down, the cheese aisle. There is an endless variety of cheeses. Many of which I never heard of in English or French, but they all look good, mostly.
"Want to try this one, Alice?"
"Is that a goat on the front?"
"Yeah, I think so, hard to tell."
"No, let's try this one. It looks cute."
We narrow the field down to six cheeses and put them in the basket. We leave the cold refrigerated aisle, always uncomfortably cold on wintry days, select a dozen "air fresh" eggs. That's right, the eggs are just on a regular, non-refrigerated aisle, so is the milk. And the milk is marked with an expiration date over two months from today. Weird. I sort through the dozen or so different milks and settle on one that's labeled "entire milk", I think, must be whole milk, right? Right.
Oat meal, hot tea, peas, orange juice, check, check, and check. On to the wine section. Uh-oh, another major slow down. Wine is labeled by region here, not by the type of grape. We sort through the various labels, try to remember the ones we've had that we liked. Try to remember the ones we've had and didn't like. The store music stops. The lights flick once. We're out of time. Grab two whites and two reds, pick up some Perrier on the way to the check out and jump in line quick before the ladies with full baskets get ahead of us. "Bonjour."
We unload the basket onto the conveyor belt and I hustle down to the other end where the groceries are coming off the line after the girl scans them. Yeah, you have to bag your own groceries at all the grocery stores we've been to in France. You also have to bring your own grocery bags. The store does not furnish them, but they will sell them to you. I finish bagging the food and putting the bags back into the cart. Alice pays with plastic, most of the other patrons are writing checks.
We hustle to the car, load the bags, return the cart and we're done. Seven o'clock on the dot. It's only a five or ten minute drive back to our house, but now we're hungry, too tired to cook and eating out sounds good.
"Where do you want to go eat?" I ask Alice.
"How about that little restaurant near the house. We haven't been there yet."
We drive by a totally dark, obviously closed restaurant, turn around and head back toward the center of town.
"Le Rollon is still closed, he won't be open until he finishes some work he's having done."
"The Hotel Bagnole looked empty when we drove by, also." I added. There is not much open in the off season of our little tourist town.
We look at each other and simultaneously say, "Hotel Gayot."
We eat there a lot, because the chef is genuinely gifted, the staff is always pleasant and make us feel like family, and they are usually open, except for Thursdays. I park and check out the blackboard on the sidewalk. The suggested dishes are totally unfamiliar, except for salmon something or other, and I'm not in the mood for salmon, already had it twice this week.
"What do you think? We could just go home and fix something quick. Sardines, tuna, crackers and cheese?"
"No, let's try it. We can just get whatever the Plat du Jour is. I don't want to eat at home tonight." Alice replied.
"OK, let's try it."
We order the Plat du Jour. Its always quick and fresh. We've never gotten a bad meal at the Hotel Gayot. We have gotten some so-so meals, but never a bad experience. The meal comes out and the presentation is beautiful. The meal is great and we can now add Magret de Canard to our new list of favorite meals. One thing I like about ordering the Plat du Jour is it encourages you to try new dishes. You never know what's out there just waiting to surprise you.
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Hotel Gayot Restaurant. |
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