Brain Overload

Try this. Within one week, we've had to brillo-pad the rust off our french (whatever existed), then cross the border into Spain and be in Catalan country where they not only speak Castellan, but a northern variation where the "s" becomes a "th".

Una Servetha, Grathias! Add to that another language -- Catalan -- which sounds like a garbled french/spanish souffle, and,.... well,,,, the brain is bursting.

Bone in? Bone out?

Port de la Selva, seafood dream town

When you eat a grilled Sardine, do you eat the bones? And what about the head? I'm not talking about the canned variety -- these sardines are fresh off the boat and hot off the grill (with a little garlic/herb sauce too). Fresh Anchovies and Sardines are a local specialty all along the "Costa Brava", but how do you eat them?


Sardine and anchovie fish nets at Port Lligat


On this coast of the Mediterranean, we dropped into one of many seafood cafes serving the local specialty: fresh anchovies and sardines.

They're hand filleted (now, that's a job!) and not overpowering -- fresh, not over-salted, and quite delightful served on a toast with fresh tomato... quite unlike anything we'd ever had before (ie. the canned variety). Next, we ordered a plate of grilled sardines. They arrived and I decided to dig in and eat the whole thing. That didn't go so well. So we ended up digging them apart on the plates and picking out the bones (and leaving the heads behind).


A plate of fresh grilled sardines, with garlic and herbs

In Cadaques, there are a multitude of restaurants serving sea food, but how does one go about picking the right one? We wandered around town the evening before, checking out menus and planning our next day's meal. Luckily, in the morning, we spotted a young gentleman leaving the fresh fish stand with a large bag. He entered the small restaurant we had already spotted as a likely candidate. We enjoyed fresh "Platte", sea bream which appears to be a cousin of snapper. But again, we left the bones and head behind.

DM

Of Dangerous Roads and Donkeys

I've been doing road trips with Dave for 29 years, and if there's one thing I've learned it's this: no matter what the vehicle, no matter what the destination, no matter what the itinerary, we will inevitably end up on a narrow, hairpin-turn-roadway with a mountain on one side and a death defying cliff on the other. So it was no surprise that we were traveling along such a road going from Coullioure France to Cadaques Spain.

Even Dave needs to stop now and then and gather his wits, so a rest stop ahead looked inviting. We pulled in to a large gravel area overlooking a splendid vista, and what do we hear? Ola! A gentleman is beckoning us over. He is offering wine tasting. He has a small cabana with a great selection of wines made within a five mile radius. Wine tasting? BC liquor laws ring in our heads; a wine tasting on a semi remote narrow winding cliffside road? Why not?

Dave the Brave begins a conversation, this fellow is related to most of Quebec, and has lots of advice on where we should eat/stay/visit. We buy a $18 bottle to thank him for his time and continue on our way.


Collioure Appelation wine.


The winding road eventually led to Cadaques, a village right on the shores of the Mediterranean.


Driving down into Cadaques



Our hotel is overlooking the beach where small wooden fishing boats are casually scattered. Cadaques is one of those places one thinks only exists on post cards. Even when you look at it with your own eyes, you still think it might be a movie set and will vanish in morning. But no, it is real, and what's better, it is a town that has some tourists, as opposed to a tourist town. The streets, restaurants and bars are filled with regular townsfolk, and there is not a souvenir shop to be seen.



STONES
OK, picture this. Lots of flat, smooth rocks. And you need to build a road (think five hundred years ago) You would take those rocks and lay them out with some grout of some description, right? Well, yes, that is how the roads in Cadaques are made. But instead of arranging those rocks flat, they chose to put them sideways, as in narrow edge up. This makes for the roughest, bumpiest, most uneven roads I have ever walked on. In the cracks between the rocks are weeds, gravel and the ever present dog poo. Glad I left my heels at home.





Two Cadaques Highlights:
1) While eating breakfast this morning a donkey galloped down the street beside us. Twenty minutes later it came back harnessed to it's owner.
2) Lunch yesterday, on a balcony overlooking the town and the sea. The balcony was 3 feet by 9 feet, two tables, 4 people, and an olive tree in a planter. One of the most delicious meals we've had.


One more highlight: a personal victory. Europeans are on a different time clock than we are. By 8:30pm Dave and I are snackered, and the rest of the continent is just getting going. Our last night in Cadaques we went out for dinner at 9:30!! Left at 11:00 while groups of people were starting their dinner. We felt very continental.

KA

The land of WINE....

We're in the south of France now, just north of Spain, in a region called Langedoc and Roussillon. The Mission: wine tasting.






The vineyards of Roussillon are ancient, pre-dating the birth of Christ. Their origins are lost in history; various sources credit the Greeks, the Romans and even Hannibal. Whichever ancient traveler was responsible, viticulture has come to be the dominant agricultural activity in the region. The soils (if one can call it soil), baked by the hot Mediterranean sun, are fabulously diverse. Unlike North Saanich, there is infrequent rainfall, and what does fall quickly evaporates; the direct effect of the sun and the "Tramontane", the blustery wind that seems to constantly blow from the northwest. In fact the windblown, arid and rocky soils are suitable for little else other than the vine and the olive tree.

Vineyards are terraced with rock walls and vines are ancient. One rarely sees vine supports.




So here it is that we are seeking out the "vin doux naturels" wines produced with predominantly Grenache Noir. Our first destination is at one of the regions most respected producers: MAS AMIEL, of the MAURY appellation. Having spent a few days in Napa during February (including two days with Glen Turnbull) we were expecting large and eloborate tasting venues, much like what you'd expect in Napa, or even the larger producers in the Okanagan Valley. Such was not the case. We find ourselves lost on a single lane bumpy road, poor signage. Finally we spot the working winery. "Where is the tasting room?" i ask a bystander in my broken french. "over there" he says. It's a hut with a handwritten sign "if no one is here, honk your horn".

Production of a true "Maury" vin doux includes halting fermentation by the addition of pure alcohol. Unlike sherry, the sweetness of the wine is created without the addition of any sugar additives. The juice is oxidized in glass demijohns, left outside for over a year. Subsequent aging takes place in oak. We purchased a bottle of 10 year old (like scotch, the minimum age of wine in the blend) to take home... let's see if it makes it!


Demijohns outside for oxidizing wine

The next day we tasted more dessert wines of the Banyuls AOC. These wines can be very dry, or medium, but rarely as sweet as North American dessert wines. Chocolate lovers will note that of all the wines in the world, only two are generally recommended to go with any chocolate dish: Maury and Banyuls.

DM

... and the land of CHEESE

Walking out of the castle from our "chambre jeune", we crossed a bridge to the lower village (the "new town, even though it dates to the 1200s). We're looking for the twice-weekly market in the wonderful town square complete with a gorgeous stone fountain. Finding a local market is just the best: the fresh produce, the little old men shuffling with their wicker baskets. the women with their wheeled carriers, workers standing at the bars having their pastis even though it's only 11 am. A feast for the senses, and great photo opportunities.



But we actually wanted to buy food, and then it all becomes intimidating. What is the etiquette? Do I just pick out a couple of oranges or does the vendor do that? WIll I understand when he tells me how much it costs? Not likely. (That's why I have a pile of change in my wallet, if I give a large bill I never have to try and talk about the amount owed!)

We retreat to the bistro for a cafe creme at the bar with the workers (no stools, standing only) OK, here we go, I'll get some fruit. Whew! Got it without incident. Cheese next. The vendor had tried to give us samples earlier, but courage had failed us. Now we approached him, and tasted what he offered, Brebis, sheep milk cheese... fantastic! Dave engaged in conversation about how the cheese was made, how long it was aged, and asked to buy a piece. The fellow told us the cheese would last for 4 months, but don't wrap it in plastic, just paper. He wrapped it, weighed it, and we paid.

We strolled away, and then both stopped in our tracks. We did the arithmetic, and realized we had paid $20 for a one inch wedge of cheese! Twenty Bucks!! What did the guy feed his sheep, rose petals!
Immediately we headed to the discount grocer across the square and bought another very cheap "brebis" for $6, there was no way we were going to consume all $20 in one lunch, we needed a backup.
Back in our medieval tower room we unwrapped both cheeses and did the blind taste test. Thankfully it was no contest, the $20 stood head and sheep shoulders above. The cheaper Brebis is long gone, but the $20 version is still with us, nibbled little by very little. And it is very, very good.

KA


I can't tell the difference, can you tell the difference?

The Medieval City of Carcassone

March 24th

We woke this morning in a medieval tower, inside a walled citadel built in the middle ages. This area was settled in the 6th century, besieged in the crusades, built up again, abandoned and quarried for the stones, then rebuilt in the 19th century by a duke with a hankering for the medieval period. This guy didn't let historical accuracy get in the way of his imagination, and put arrow slits and pointed roofs where none would have existed. However the effect is still spectacular.
We are in a tiny room, Chambre Jeune, with yellow bedding, yellow cups and bowls, and yellow walls. We heard there was a boulangerie nearby, so off I ventured down the winding narrow streets for our breakfast bread. Naturally I couldn't find it, as really, I can't find my way out of a paper bag. I was looking like a lost tourist when I passed a couple smoking outside a restaurant. She called bonjour to me and asked where I was from, and chatted away merrily with me understanding every 15th word. I asked where the bakery was and she beckoned me inside. I followed thinking maybe there was a bakery hiding there, but she took me upstairs and gave me a tour of her restaurant. It was charming but I did want a bakery and asked again. Ahhh, Boulangerie! She grabbed my arm, and off we went, arm in arm along the cobblestones. She greeted everyone she passed, double kissed most of them, and led me to a tiny bakery. Michelle, (for we were on a first name basis now) introduced me to the bakery owner and I purchased my pain campagne. With the bread under my arm, we stepped outside and double kissed, and I was on my way home to chambre jeune. Dave had the coffee ready which we drank from tiny yellow cups, and we ate the bread with preserves. Sadly the loaf was the worst we've ever had in France, and we had to toss most of it. However the cheese we bought later..now that was good. But that's another story.

They didn't advertise THIS!

Cool. Right across the street is a vacant building. By day, delivery trucks come and go, delivering flowers and cases of french Champagne. And then, by night, it's a fashion studio (rental). Things really start taking off around 9pm. 

Our first viewing (while we enjoy a late dinner) is a fashion show for women's lingerie. There's no window shades here, and less fabric than a penny pouch. Scantily-clad models show more than their undergarments! This was never mentioned when we rented the apartment but Dave is especially happy. Male viewers will want to see Dave's complete photo collection of the entire event.

Our rental agent forgot to mention this, we consider it a bonus.

The Apartment

It's a quiet, out-of-the-way spot here on "Rue des Archives". We've heard no english spoken here in 5 days, which is quite a change from our last "rue Cler" home two years ago, an area very popular with "les americans". Our apartment shows exposed 17th century beams, thankfully renovated! Across the street the views of stonework, masonry, and ironwork, change throughout the sunny days.

DM

Paris in March, and the Artisinale Baguette

"One of the basic rules of French culture is the rigidly applied law which states that any person buying a baguette is obliged to eat the end of the loaf at some point between the boulangerie door and his place of residence. Failure to do so risks serious punishment. Happily, no one has discovered what the punishment is because it is actually impossible to carry a freshly baked baguette for more than seven metres without breaking off the end and eating it. Eating the end of the loaf – le quignon – is so irresistible that, if you are planning to go off on your own to buy the bread every day of your holiday, it is probably a good idea to try and convince your household that the loaves are actually sold by the baker without the ends on them."

I don't know where I picked up this text, but it is appropriate and completely true. This particular baguette is "artisinale", a return to the past methods and materials of creating the perfect baguette... pure ingredients and ideally a wood fired oven. The crust is crisp and slightly tart/burnt. The dough is slightly discoloured (molasses?) 

Here, the river Seine flows gently in the background on a brilliant March day as we enjoy or lunch on the riverside quay. My backpack has a small round of Normandy Camembert whose fumes have unfortunately permeated the bus and metro as we made our way through the city. It is impossible to wrap your cheese enough to keep out the aroma!

Bon appetit!

DM