Darling Dijon... Mostly! Friday 17th July 2009.

Fancy beginning the day with the alarm going off! It had been a while since we had been woken so abruptly. It was entirely worth it though, today we were off to Dijon.

We had planned to visit today as it is market day in Dijon and I had read that the big, Les Halles markets of both Dijon and Beaune were spectacular.

We wandered the aisles surrounded by scrumptiousness on all sides. The range and freshness was eye-popping. Where do I begin? The redcurrants, blackcurrants and summer fruit was so nice to see, we bought a big, brown bag of cherries, they were sweet and juicy and the deepest purple you ever did see.

All the charcuterie merchants sold the speciality of jambon persille, so popular in the Bourgogne region. Fragrant stalls of dried spices were a delight to the senses, their aromas, so heady, wafted about the market aisles. They sold candied fruits too, the angelica was my favourite. I remember making tiny lemon curd tartletts and decorating them with the thinnest slivers of angelica and shimmering gold leaf - they looked good enough to eat, and they were.



Fromageries were filled with cheese from all over France and local cheeses like Epoisses Coupe de Bourgogne which I am yet to taste - shocking I know!

The vegetable stalls had plentiful displays of burned ochre girolle mushrooms, I can feel a mushroom risotto coming on.

A lady selling fresh herbs caught my eye, she called herself a 'productress' which I just adored. Her display was hypnotic and put me in a herby trance. She had bunches of corriander with clusters of seeds on the branches, hysope in vivid purple bloom, and aromatic sarriette.

There was an artisan specialising in all Bourgogne specialities, many things they make themselves including 40 varieties of confiture and jelly and the wonderfully delicious pain d'Epice. She had so many varieties of this cake I just don't have time to name them. The mustards she had on display were droolworthy, varieties of honey, cassis, walnut and taragon just to name a few.



The saucisson specialist had about 30 varieties too. The whole place was amazing, clean, friendly and definitely worthy of more than one visit.

We wandered the Les Halles precinct which is quite a foodie quarter. There was a little tea and coffee merchant, another specialist of all things edible from the region, and a lovely petit confisserie. The streets took us along, passing the oldest house in Dijon which is one of those charming little half timbered houses. It is right beside Hotel des Vogue, showing a quirky independent art exhibition. We visited Eglise Notre-Dame with lovely stained glass windows and a soundtrack supplied by a man asleep and snoring in the front pew.

Place de la Liberation is a vast square in Dijon's city centre. A harmonious mix of old and new as a darling of a square. One side is lined by the Palace des Ducs housing the Hotel de Ville. I like it here.

One of the highlights of the day was the visit to Palace des Ducs - wow. It was filled with light, so elegant and beautiful. One of the rooms had the most lovely herringboned timber floor.

Inside the Palace is the Musee des beaux-arts. We all visited together and it was great to experience something new like that. Some pieces we loved, some pieces made us laugh. I did see a man imitating art which was quite funny!





Back to the streets near Les Halles for lunch, it seemed like a foodie haven. AJ had a hankering for Italian so we returned to Olio and Farin, an Italian Gastro specialist we had browsed in earlier. Our waitress was wonderful and could answer everything we threw at her. She suggested a Sicilian wine to accompany our meal which was right on the money, dark and mysterious and full of red fruit pizzaz. The food was great, jambon, melon and olives to start, drizzled with truffle oil and a frutti di bosco balsamic. Main was a simple pasta with pesto, not too rich, sprinkled with reggiano. No time for dolce, places to go and people to meet. There was a little confusion with the explanation of the formule menu and things ended on a not too happy note. It was merely a language barrier and we had a good chat to our lovely and very competent waitress as we left. She wanted so much to give us a lovely experience and she was terribly disappointed that there had been a misunderstanding. What a sweetie she was.

We visited Moutarde Maille, the Dijon headquarters of mustard...

Those of you who know us and love us, know that quite often we have unusal tales to tell of our adventures, here is the next in the series...

I had organised a Segway tour around Dijon. It was a surprise for AJ, you know boys, anything with wheels and motion and they are happy! For those of you who don't know what a Segway is, the photos will explain adequately.

As we were getting on our Segways and recieving our basic training of how to get on, go forward, reverse, and turn, JR could not find a helmet to fit so was inside the tourist office, thus missing out on his training and practice time, in a quiet little street. AJ and I were off, scooting around and up and down having a ball. Without warning, the heavens opened and before we knew it AJ and I were the only ones left outside, everyone, plus our instructor, had run for cover. We pulled into the curb to dismount, the only problem was, I had not been told quite how to do it. I am not exaggerating when I say that the rain was coming down in buckets, and by this time, I was completely soaked to the bone as if I had showered fully clothed - you are beginning to get the picture. So, I had to dismount, there was no one to ask so I just stepped off. I was holding the handle bars, my Segway got nasty and began to encircle me, butting into my shins as it went. I was holding with all my might yelling, "Someone help me", but with the rain coming down no one could hear. AJ was right beside me, my loyal companion, but completely useless as all he could do was laugh. When I say laugh, I mean doubled over his handlebars having the biggest belly laugh ever seen. I must have looked a sight. I don't really remember how I stopped the damn thing but I did, maybe all I had to do was let go?

So, JR was inside with the others, oblivious to our plight, he managed to sort out his helmet dramas. The rain subsided to a light shower and we all returned to our Segways, JR too, off we went. The rules are follow the leader, we must have looked like mother duck and her ducklings all in a line, but not as cute I bet.

No one mentioned that we had to navigate small curbs on our two wheeled machines, and I must admit I felt a little scared as we approached the first one. I was behind the guide, he encouraged me gently, smelling my fear. Up I went, woo hoo for me! It was just after that it all fell apart. I could see myself approaching the side of a curb and was paralysed to stop myself. I rolled closer and closer until - down I went. The guide was at my side before I knew it so, I was rescued but I gotta tell you, I'm not as young as I used to be and I was beginning to think that what was supposed to be a leisurely Segway tour, had morphed into one hell of a hair raising experience.

After gaining composure and adjusting myself accordingly, the remainder of the group, including my two clever boys, navigated their first curb experience with style and panache, I hung my head in shame. Our Guide stopped briefly at all the major sights, giving us recounts of history and importance, he was great.

We had a few major intersections to cross, you know the ones with an island in the middle for pedestrians, and in this case Segways, to stop on. It was here the next incident occured, this time courtesy of AJ. I didn't se it happen as he was behind me in our little ducky line, but JR saw it and said that when he approached the island, his wheels lost traction and slid on the white line as it was so wet from the rain. No harm done, our guide was at his side in a flash and we were on our way again with no bones broken.

The next stop was the Notre-Dame, the rain stopped enabling JR to get his camera out to capture the fun and drama of our Segway tour. Our guide helped him dismount and propped JR's Segway against a wall while he took us back in time with stories of the Notre-Dame. JR clicked away and hopped back on - this was incident number three! As JR stepped on, his body weight tilted to the rear which automatically propelled the Segway in reverse. And propel it did. I caught a flash in my peripheral vision which I just knew was JR, shooting backwards at lightening speed, being flung towards a parked car. The poor thing was lying on the ground in a crumpled mess. Piles of tourist office brochures spilled everywhere (he had been given a guides Segway to ride so its side baskets had hundreds of flyers inside), my heart just broke for him. As was the pattern by now, the guide rushed to his side and made sure he was ok. Thank goodness he was and no one was behind him when he took off or we would not be laughing about it now.

I am glad to report that we concluded our tour of Dijon without further incident, and with another chapter of hilarious travel stories to tell. I wish you all could have been there, you would have had a ball too.

On our drive back home to Combertault, out little red car was filled with belly laugh after belly laugh as we all disected our Segway experience, the first and last for me!

We had returned from Dijon a little worse for wear, our shins sporting a few new bumps and bruises but with bellies sore from laughter, and grins from ear to ear.

A Snails Tale. Thursday 16th July 2009.

JR had a little oops last night as he was out photographing magic hour. He realised this morning that he had lost his wallet. You know that feeling when you realise what has happened. I really felt for him as he searched high and low. I called Pommard where we were yesterday but they hadn't seen it. JR was pretty sure he lost it later in the day though, when he was out in his own taking pics. Oh well, what is done cannot be undone and it could be worse, there was only €60 inside along with his lisence and one card. No credit cards thank goodness. Merde happens! We had to be on our way as we had a bit of a drive ahead of us to be at our 1pm appointment.

Kate, the satelite navigation lady, began the day well, but somehow she lost her mind during our journey to the Jura region this morning. Look at where she directed us to! In a field amongst the corn, on a dirt road no less. When we turned around she even insisted we do a u-turn - the cheek, she really is a crackpot sometimes.



We got back on track without any trouble and a few laughs at Kate's expense. She behaved herself and delivered us safely to Le Petit Mercey by 1pm as arranged. We were taken to the parc escargot by the delightful Anne-Catherine. There was so much to learn about snails I had no idea. What they eat, how they reproduce, how to keep them from escaping and most interesting was hearing and tasting the delicious escargot creations Anne-Catherine makes in the laboritoire, much lauded by Michelin Star Chefs.

It was hot standing in the sun so we were invited into Anne-Catherine's home where we sat around the kitchen table and nibbled escargot in all guises. All we sampled were so tender, not chewy and nasty at all as I once experienced in a restaurant in Lyon. JR's favourite was escargot fume, while mine was escargot ail des ours, perfumed and flavoured by a flower that grows wild in the forest, that smells and tastes of garlic, it is devine! AJ opted not to eat escargot today but enjoyed the garlicky juice on a piece of baguette. Anne-Catherine cooked us the traditional escargot coquille flavoured with a parsley and garlic butter, the escargot we picked from the shells were juicy and meaty. She also cooked some escargot croquille, slightly different as they are cooked in edible shells, made from a plain savoury biscuit mix and baked in a shell shaped mould, they save prying the meat from the shell and give a wonderful textural difference between the tender meat, the crunch of the shell, and the ooze of the garlicky butter - pretty close to escargot heaven!

The minute we arrived back home, JR took off to retrace his steps to hopefully find the missing wallet but to no avail. While he was out, I made some meatballs flavoured with onion, garlic and curry. JR cooked them on the BBQ and we ate outside by the pool. We had some lovely crunchy roast potatoes. I did JR's favourite rosemary potatoes but added a little curry and tossed them in a little virgin olive oil with Guerande salt and ground pepper, they were the bomb! A new favourite I think!

The Wonderful World of Pommard. Wednesday 15th July 2009.

Inside the walls of Chateau de Pommard is aworld of art, history, fine wines and welcome. We were recieved at the Chateau by the lovely Marie, the Conseillere en Vins. Marie was wonderful, so friendly, and such a wealth of knowledge.

She took us to see the 17th century wine press, almost big enough to fill the room where it was housed surrounded by ancient wine making tools.

Next was the chateau kitchen which has a 17th century tournebroche on the wide hearth. A tournebroche is an old rotisserie, opperated by a pulley system. It has little conical cups that fill with the suculent juices from the meat as it roasts, the cups tip the juice into a tray which has a small gutter to deliver the the juice over the meat, automatically basting it as it cooks. What a wonderful invention, I can see one being installed in the kitchen back home on our return.

We were introduced to the Chateau's Wine Maker, Emmanuel. He rinsed a few glasses while we chatted, and filled them with a taste of a 2007 Chassagne Montrachet straight from the vat. The taste made me wish I could sit amongst the vines and sip his wine in the warmth of the sun, it was light and summery with lemon and grapefruit notes. Marie says it would be great with seafood, especially lobster. Well, if only they would plate me up a lobster, I might be able to give my opinion. Unfortunately , there was not a lobster to be found, so I took Marie's word for it, I'm sure she is right though. Emmanuel is a lovely man and very proud of his wine - rightly so!

Marie left us to our own devices for a while and invited us to make ourselves at home in the grounds of the Chateau, "you can visit the Salvador Dali exhibition if you like" she said - so we did. The exhibition was so beautiful, filled with tiny sculptures, some in elegant poses, some not so. My favourite pieces were 'Alice aux pays des merveilles' and the lovely bronze, in the chateau courtyard, of 'Lady Godiva'. The owner of the chateau has two Dali's in his personal collection housed in an inner courtyard for all to enjoy.

We met up with Marie again for a look inside the 18th century Chateau cellars. It was cool and faintly musty inside the tunels that stretched under the inner courtyard of the property. Tunnel after tunnel was lined with French oak barrels and aging wine bottles, the oldest for sale is from 1977 and is quite a reasonable price at €130 a pop (don't forget to double that for AUD back home).

Marie invited us for a wine tasting and what a delight it was. Pommard wines certainly do deserve the fine reputation they own the world over. My personal favoutite was the 2006 Chateau de Pommard Cuvee Prestige, John's was the 2004 vintage with elegant tannins, and whafts of coffee and spice, mmm.

We wandered the function rooms of pretty frescoed walls, gilded mirrors and chandeliers, before strolling through the gardens. I love to see trees laden with fruit. The garden was planted with apple and pear trees, surrounded by lavender in bold purple and tomato plants heavy with fruit.

AJ had a date to play tennis with Bruno at the local courts at 6, he came home smashed after an hour and a half of chasing tennis balls, 'too many eclair chocolat,' I told him.

Happy Bastille Day France! Tuesday 14th July 2009.

I made a batch of one of my family's favourites - Tomato, Beef Milano. It's a recipe my Mum used to cook but it is my sisterLinny who is the undisputed Milano champion of the family (hi Linny). We enjoyed it for dinner and left to celebrate Bastlle Day with a belly full of protien and carbs.

As far a celebrations go, it was a fizzer. It thundered and rained almost all day but had looked like it was clearing a little before we jumped in the car to head for Gigny where the big Bastille Day celebrations were to be held for the city of Beaune.

What a let down. We arrived at 9pm, a respectable hour to unveil one's self at such an important community function. Firecrackers popped and banged in front and behind us, again, scaring the pants off me and providing AJ with fodder for much laughter.

Inside the parklands there was a food tent, a bar tent, and one ride for the kiddies. The only other thing for the youths to do was to let off the wayward firecrackers that were the source of my fear. AJ had not wanted to go in the first place after seeing how bad last nights celebrations were, but we told him this was an important day for the French, and as we were immersing ourselves in French life in every way possible, he must come. On arriving and seeing how dead the atmosphere was - a crowd of 40 does not make a raging party - he began with the "I told you it would be boring", this turned into rollicking laughter as the three of us stood back and began to take in the sights (or lack of) before us.

Look at the queue for the ride...

The menu was much the lame as last night with the exception of the lard sandwich... what's a party without lard I ask

?

We stayed a grand total of ten minutes at the 'big' Bastille Day celebrations as the rain teamed down, the thunder crashed (its sound almost drowned out by wayward fireworks) and the lightening lit up the night sky. We drove through the centre of Beaune on our way home to see if there was anything worth seeing there, the streets were quiet and deserted, the only sight to see was a family fleeing from the rain, laughing with every step they took, almost as haard as we were laughing at the big Bastille Day celebrations we had been part of... there's always next year!

South of Beaune and the eve of Bastille. Monday 13th July 2009.

Not far into our little journey this morning we spied these guys on the side of the road. They were from a travelling circus troupe and were an utter delight and pretty easy on the eye too. I loved their old bikes, the second one had to be pedaled to start it up, how quirky!

Our first stop was Chagny. We all hated Chagny, not everything about the little town - the lady in the tourist office was delightful, and the townsfolk were out and about sitting in the sidewalk cafes. There was just something about it that was uninspiring, it really didn't have much to offer. The canal areas were most disappointing. We were on the hunt for a nice picnic spot and pulled in to a shady table along side the canals. AJ was well and truly ready for lunch so we unloaded the Parisien and the sesame baguette and tucked in. The longer I sat there the more I hated our choice of venue. A few boats were moored in front of us but just beyond them was a view of the bottle bank and industrial bins. Cyclists passed on their merry way to which we all shouted 'Bonjour'. The replies came through mouths minus teeth, in heads topped with greasy hair. Where had beautiful France gone? We laughed and AJ told me to appreciate the little things in life and to be thankful. Thanks AJ, I'll remember that.

Santenay on the other hand was a delightful, picturesque and interesting village. It's on the cycle route and is a wine village so cyclists came and went from the village square as we sat under the shade of the umbrellas at l'Oulliette Restaurant. We had already picniced, so AJ and I revived ourselves with lemonade with fraise syrup and JR slammed down a few cold beers. It was hot today so we were all a little wilted so it was a welcome break. The cyclists all arrived with the same idea and I am sure felt twice as weary as we.




We arrived at Chateau de Santanay an hour before closing. It's crowning glory, literally, is its beautiful tiled roof. We were welcomed for a wine tasting by the friendly staff. JR enjoyed the reds, they were a little balsy for me though and the whites a little too floral. AJ was resting outside on a bench and when we returned to him he was fast asleep.

A kilometre along a little windy road leading out of Santenay is a church built in 1220, what a lovely sight to see.

As we drove home through the vineyards, every village beconed us with its aged beauty. We had to press on, we have places to be and people to meet tonight. Mental note to self, return to Montrachet...soon.

We all jumped in the pool, me after putting a pasta sauce of garlic, lardons and tomato on to simmer, developing the deep flavours. We ate poolside as the rumbles of a storm growled in the distance. We hoped it would not come to much and spoil the Bastille celebrations planned for tonight.

Bruno had invited us to Nuits-StGeorges for the eve of Bastille Day. They celebrate the night before in the small villages to ensure they have a party to remember, as people tend to flock to the larger towns of Beaune and Dijon on the actual night of Bastille. We were initially a little disappointed at the celebrations - a mere six or so stalls (Bruno was manning the shooting arcade of which AJ scored a mighty three from four shots! We had expected the food to be simple but good - it wasn't; see the extensive menu... We indulged in the frites, they were, we declared - the worst in the world. The frites were cold, the coke was warm, JR's official review of the beer was summed up in one word, "Drinkable". Fancy celebrating Bastille Day in the heart of the Burgundy wine region and there is not even a wine on the menu!





Hmmm, serve me up a plate of lard! Hang on, make it a double, I went easy on the butter with my toast this morning!

Despite all this, it was simple, intimate and endearing. It was funny for us to see small children, some only seven or so, letting off large fire crackers beside the crowd that had arrived to watch the big fireworks. No one batted and eyelid as rockets shot past them, it was all part of the fun. Quite different to back at home where fireworks are illegal (they are aren't they?). I have traumatic memories of the boys at school chasing me with fireworks, it scared the pants off me.

The big fireworks were special, not big in comparison to back home, but big because life is simple here and a night like this is spectacular just because it is. AJ, JR and I huddled under two umbrellas, sheltering us from the rain and we watched the night sky light up with gold dust - a moment that will forever be etched into my memory.

We drove home along the Route des Grand Cru. The vineyards along the way were blackened by night as were the villages. Despite being cloaked in darkness, the villages were marked by explosions of colour shooting high into the sky above them. We knew that below the bursts of glittering colour, communities were coming together for a night of simple pleasure - just as we had done.

Chillin' Sunday 12th July 2009.

Now that AJ has wheels he is out and about and has met up with quite a few different local kids. They all ride thier bikes and stuff not far from home, he is having a ball.

This afternoon's treat - Creme de Cassis in cold lemonade... yum!

AJ and Laura, the girl across the road had a bash of badminton in the street before dinner tonight, he is quite the social butterfly today :-)

And me...today I'm bored :-(

Too Much Beauty In One Day. Saturday 11th July 2009.

Is it possible to see too many beautiful things in one day? Today was one of those days, everywhere I looked I was struck by just how lovely the world is. First, to begin my day with JR and AJ, and then to travel around France to places so beautiful they should come with a warning.

We returned to the Bourgogne Canals, where life trickles along at such a leisurely pace it makes one weary. The first stop was at the village of Bligny-sur-Ouche right near the source of d l'Ouche Canal. The water was lined with apple and cherry trees, laden with fruit.






The loch keeper at Bouhey was awaiting the arrival of a few boats so we waited around to see the process from start to finish. The boats arrived and made their way into the loch, and then meandered slowly downstream. The first boat through was manned by two elderly ladies, one on deck and one in the wheel house - you go girls!




It was already 3pm and on our arrival in La Pont d'Ouche, our canal-side spot for a picnic lunch was settled on in an instant. We laid the table with our saucisson, varieties of cheese, red tomatoes, and crusty baguette. A boat drifted past us as we ate, the English guys on board told us the Aussies were doing us proud in the Ashes match. The boys were happy.

I met two ladies on board a Flemish/Dutch boat moored on the canal, they had set up camp for a few weeks. One of the ladies and her hubby had bought the boat in England, restored it, and brought it over to France via the Channel. It's name is loosely translated to 'Out of the ratrace'. They couldn't be further from the ratrace if they tried. The sisters sat on deck, sipping white wine and smoking like chimneys, a crossword sat on the table in readiness for when there was a lull in conversation. I guessed that would be rare.

Downhill from the village of Chateauneuf, we could see its Chateau high on the hill. Chateauneuf has been awarded the honour of being 'a beautiful village of France'. No wonder, we all agreed it was one of the most beautiful we had visited on our travels so far. Bright, blooms sat atop spindly stalks with busy bees darting in and out of the flowers, on their outward journey they were covered in white specks of pollen. They were industrious and surely the hardest workers in the village today. Can the botanists out there tell me the name of these flowers please? My friend JC says it may be a Hibiscus but he is just as bad with flowers as I am.





The Chateau was beautiful, it was simple in contrast to others we had seen and was beautiful in its simplicity. My favourite thing were the glazed floor tiles. I liked the way the light shone through the windows onto them.







In the centre of the village we sat on an outside table at L'Auberge du Marronier, Alex chased a lemonade flavoured with syrup fraise, with a rich hot chocolat, JR downed a cold beer, and I, a cafe creme. There was a game of Jeux de Palet in play in the village square, in view of our table. It's a simple game. Today's participants used metal discs, rusted with age, and tossed them onto a wooden board, the player landing closest to the jack disc is the winner, kind of like petanque I think, although I am no expert. This was the first time I had seen this game and the information I gleaned was from people that spoke no English, and from watching intently while sipping my cafe.



The road took us back canal-side to Vandenesse-en-Auxois where boats were moored just after the village loch. From here there was a distant view of the Chateau with the glazed tile floor, high on the hill. We knew the canal disappeared through a tunnel to travel underground for about 3km further upstream at Pouilly-ex-Auxois. It took us so long to find the entrance but I'm glad we persevered. Young lovers had set up a picnic just near the entry. Alex and I threw rocks into the water from above, the sound of them breaking the water's surface made the best plopping sound, echoing in the tunnels entrance.



We were home by about 10 and dinner was on the table by 11 - who cares!