Week 3- Un peu de temps with the French Whanau
Wednesday, July 2nd, 2008
Our third week in France saw us embark on a number of adventures with the frogs and their families as we headed up the western coast from Bordeaux to Brittany.
After the big cities of Toulouse and Bordeaux, we were looking forward to seeing the sea again. Our first stop was the seaside village of Pornic for some R & R. When we finally arrived at Tonito’s family holiday home on the coast of the Atlantic, we were met by his grandfather, André, an utterly serene calm ocean, and a glass of vin (of course!). There’s no quick lunch in France, so we sat down to yet another typically grand French meal, wondering whether we would ever stop eating.
Antoine’s family holiday house in Pornic, looking over the Atlantic where we were to get involved in a bit of local net fishing.
The next day we got the camera out for a spot of fishing- ‘Pêche au Carrelet’- a type of net fishing typical on the French Atlantic coast. Andre himself built the small platform precariously perched metres above the rocks, and was proud to announce it was the only platform that had endured the last storm. This could’ve meant it was on its last legs, but we were reassured that French engineering was the best in the world (who said they were arrogant??). Spirits weren’t high we would be eating fish for dinner, especially when Benji dropped the bucket of bait in the dirt, soiling the golden bait. Justified as the ‘Kiwi Cocktail’ for catching fish, we were soon mucking in together to haul the fish up- a real first for some solid Franco-New Zealand team building. The contraption composed of a winch with a bamboo cross dangling a wide net that was lowered into the rough tide below. With typical Gaullois competitiveness, we were soon challenged to bite the heads off the live fish, and Kiwi’s don’t often back down.
The average catch being 9cm, we were sceptical we could really eat the poor little fellas. But we were soon proved wrong. .. something we’re becoming accustomed to when it comes to comparing what is edible in NZ, and what is edible in France. Crunchy, and if you can take your mind off the fact you have essentially a whole animal in your mouth, quite enjoyable eating.
Our next stop on route was a two hour drive north from Pornic and out to the far western reaches of France to Antione’s parents place in Nevez, Brittany. After teasing the Frogs about their strong link to Britain (not recommended, the coq is a proud creature), we were promised a big French family meal- la grande bouffe!
Our eating experience really showed off the French savoir-faire when it comes to food. Timeliness not a huge theme in France, we started with an aperitif (apéro) around 9pm. We’ve heard this word a lot, and it usually means drinking alcohol (even whisky) to prepare the stomach for the meal and we are starting to like this excuse to drink in the name of ‘good eating’ and culture. So a couple of glasses of champagne later along with some andouille (pig stomach sausage) we were ready for. . .. learning how to dance Breton!
This was one challenge the Kiwis were ready to lose, and it was soon noticeable why New Zealand doesn’t have their own version of Michael Flately. A near Celtic dance where you jump and move your feet while you try to look happy, we were informed this did have some practicality. When moving into a new home in the good ‘ole days, you needed to ‘flatten’ the earth floor of the house. So, you invited all of your friends round to drink and jump around and dance to do a bit of work and help flatten and harden the earth floor.
À table! It was time to start eating. To kick off we had home made Foie Gras with small toasts. The geese must have come back from holiday (last week we couldn’t visit a farm because the geese were on holiday). And you can’t forget the wine! Your glass better not be empty at any time during the meal, and we were generously (probably too generously due to our undeveloped palate according to the Frogs!) treated to some grands vins from Bordeaux. The le plat de résistance: roast beef with sauteed mushrooms and foie gras, wrapped in flaky pastry with a red wine cream sauce. Mouth watering! If only we could go back.
To ‘rinse our palate’ (what was the wine for?) we had a ‘Trou Normand’ with blueberry sorbet and pear liqueur. This was supposed to help digest the food and help ‘freshen the palate’. It must have worked because we were ready for more.
Onto the cheeses- just don’t get too close. In France, the more the cheese smells like feet, the better it is. We gorged ourselves on a pungent melting camembert, a smooth goat’s cheese, and mould infested Roquefort. With the red Bordeaux wine, we thought the Frogs just might be onto something here…
A slice of France we find a bit curious; during the 6 hours at the table 90% of conversation revolved around food and wine. The best vineyards, the best meat from a certain region, or that wine from 6 years ago at your aunt Pricille’s wedding from Bourgogne. Where we have beers on the deck and talk rugby, les francais have meals of 6 hours and talk about food. Simple really.
We dive into a basic salad (just lettuce) covered in a tangy vinaigrette before hitting desert. Already feeling a bit tipsy from the aperitif, wine, and the trou normand, the desert is a fruit salad drenched in more liqueur with home-made toffee.
To be honest we were looking at the clock at 2:30am and getting pretty restless at the table, but we’re not home yet boys! These frogs do this eating thing seriously.
We tasted yet another ‘eau de vie’ (water of life) at about 60% alcohol to really help digest the food. The burning sensation through your nose, throat and chest confirmed this was going to have an effect on digesting this grande bouffe.
So after a couple more small glasses of eau de vie and some jokes at the expense of the Belgians (the butt of all French jokes), it was bed time. And we felt we deserved it after enduring all of that.
Jokes aside, it was the most amazing meal we had ever had, but we weren’t used to the dedication and energy required of eating being the national sport quite yet.
So after the up and coming 350km hitchhike challenge to Saumur with the Frogs, we will be sipping on some of the best champagne in France next week. Backpacking’s tough.
