I've been in Bristol for just over a week now. And I've already made a foray to France.
The H and I went on Friday to see his boys – it was the Easter ‘bank holiday,’ so he had a few days off work. We took the morning ferry over – which takes about six hours and goes from Plymouth to Roscoff – and then stopped in Morlaix for dinner. We ambled about the picturesque French town looking for a spot to eat, but we were slightly too early for a real dinner and in that French way, had hit a ‘shuttered’ time. We finally walked to a square that The H had remembered from his earlier travels to visit The Boys, and found a charming little pizzeria. Of course, it was empty and dead silent, and the patron was in back smoking a cigarette – but it looked promising nonetheless. I had a merguez pizza (because I just can’t get enough of those spicy Moroccan sausages) and the H had an escalope a la Normandie – which turned out to be filet of pork in creamy mushroom sauce. My pizza arrived, wood-fired, thin, and as crispy as a good Delfina pizza, and large enough to cover my large dinner plate twice over – it hung off the edges, like a floppy beret, and I could barely eat half of it – but it did make a nice cold pizza snack the next day, I can assure you. The H’s meal was far better than the dinner we had eaten last time in Morlaix under the recommendation of the Brit expat community. Just goes to show, sometimes the random pizzeria off the hidden square, with the smoking patron ashing on the floor, is the best choice of all.
Two unusual events happened while we were in France. First, we bought 15 cases of methode champagnoise for the wedding, and second, we saw Public Enemy perform.
First -- the wine. As a member of an EU country, the H is allowed to bring in as much wine sans duty as he wants – as long as it’s for “personal use.” This can include parties, dinners, etc. The H’s ex and her husband recommended a local cav that a friend of theirs – a French wine snob – frequented. Sounded like a good bet – and it turned out to be a true winner. The gentleman, with the help of the H’s sons and their French-speaking ability, grocked us very quickly – we wanted good quality, reasonably priced wine, but didn’t care what appellation it was from, as long as it was quaffable – and was under five Euros a bottle. He directed us to a sparkling wine that was perfect – not too dry, not too sweet, but had great body, and beautiful bubbles. He said that for a true champagne, one adds on 10 euros just for the name, but that so many other bubblies were more drinkable, but without the distinction of being from the appropriate region. After a few sips, and a vigorous nodding of our heads that this would do just fine (and at under 5 euro a bottle, or just around three pounds – or about 2.50 U.S., it was magnificent!), the owner of the cav topped us off with a little cassis in our glasses – turning our bubbly into kir royales – mind you, it was only about 1 p.m. and I don’t think any of us had eaten anything aside from cold pizza and yesterday’s hot cross buns (although they were toasted and buttered up). After choosing the bubbly (the first one offered), I had a more difficult time with the roses and the reds. The first rose he offered smelled of peaches and tasted like jammy strawberries – it was as if someone had distilled the wine through a sieve of tante Maries’ strawberry preserves. Colder, it might have been better. The second rose was dry and lacking in body or character – but felt like it would be very drinkable on a hot June day (fingers crossed). Sensing my consternation, The H suggested that I get a case of each – yet, I wanted to try some more (rose wines being my drink of choice in the summer), but I felt that I was pushing the cav owner to his limits (and he said the others that he had on offer fell into similar taste profiles – at least with my limited French skills, I think that’s what he said), so I went with the H and got a case of each. Then I asked for a rouge vin du table, hopefully a cotes du rhone – a syrah or a pinot noir – something that would be good with barbecued lamb. The owner uncorked a bottle of red from some region I’d never heard of, but again it was about three Euros a bottle – and tasted fantastic for that price point. We went with a couple cases of that. For the white, I didn’t even bother trying it – it was a viognier, which would be perfect for the day, and so we got a case of that as well. The cav owner suggested a chardonnay, but frightened away by thoughts of overly-oaked California chardonnays, I didn’t buy a case, but we did buy two individual bottles to go with the Fish and Chips dinner planned for later – and of course, it was great – and I wished that I had gotten a case of it as well (in the least, so that Jessica could have a ready supply of wine while she’s here). We also purchased a cassis to make kir royles, and a framboise for the cake. The owner of the cav totaled everything up (twenty cases of wine!), boxed up all the bottles from which we had sampled for us to take away, and then took another ten percent off the top! It was the deal of a lifetime – 120 bottles of wine for around 200 U.S. Incroyable! We drove back to the ferme, slightly rosy cheeked (me), and happy (all, I believe).
As for Public Enemy – let’s just say it too was incroyable!