Legends from our own lunchtimes

Saturday, April 14, 2012

La Ferté-Saint-Aubin

Eventually it had to happen.

"De gastro food experience" arrived in the wee small hours of the morning, and in this instance I'm not referring to the perhaps unfortunately named restaurant magically photographed in Brugge a few days after posting this.

After almost forty years of travelling with a small kit of emergency medicines which has never been called upon in anger, the opportunity finally arrived for it to provide a little comfort in the wee small hours of the morning.  Sadly when it did, we discovered that the entire kit had been left in the bathroom cabinet in Dicky Beach which is just a bit far to walk to in the middle of the night.

The whole affair was a rather dampening end to a rather brilliant if very late (and I suspect in fairness to the restaurant concerned, unrelated) night of dining, and to make matters worse was of sufficient severity to dampen the entire morning, blank out the afternoon, and threaten to do the same to the evening as well.

But there was this cassoulet on the make in the kitchen, a special blend of duck and beans and sausage and secret herbs and spices traditionally cooked in the south of France for a millennium or so, and yet another date with a bunch of apparently insomniacal friends of Celine and Dume, so a miraculous recovery was ordered, and arrived in the nick of time.

There's just no time for a twenty-four hour bug around here!

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