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Tues.13.11.07. Honfleur to Sancerre had taken 5 hours across a quite different landscape to that of the coast. The rolling coastal headlands from Calais, Boulogne and Abbeyville of the Seine Maritime had given way to skirting the manmade profiles of Rouen, Evreux, Dreux, Chartres and Orleans. Following the course of the Loire the natural backdrop of the cultivated floodplain gradually bowed to the wooded elevated escarpments emerging in due course, as we began to rise up the vine covered valley sides to the fortified town of Sancerre. The dilapidation of the ‘Hotel du Ramparts’ was immediately apparent as we approached from the lower slopes. Rose tinted, faded memories gave way to stark reality as the hotel was now very much down at heel, grubby in direct opposition to ‘French shabby chic’. We later discovered from the nearby bar that the Madame had become the local lush; the viande was bad the legumes rotten. Consequently we did not eat there but instead we discovered a small, lively bistro, ‘Auberge l’Ecurie’, located just off the square. This little spot turned out to be perfect. Run by an amateur rugby player we were served by smiling efficient young waitresses. Everyone except Kenny who cautiously settled for pizza was more than content. Magret, steak tartare, the by now, ubiquitous entrecote, shellfish and excellent pork chops were heartily consumed. Later, the chef invited the Doc and me into his kitchen to demonstrate how he had cooked the chops. The chef described this cooking process as the ‘in the bag’ method. Firstly, the 4lb piece of meat is sealed by pan frying all of the edges until golden brown, then the piece is placed inside a plastic bag ‘crivacked’ to be simmered in boiling water for 30 minutes. The joint then is taken out of the bag, the 4cm thick chops are cut and flash grilled. The result is superbly tender, succulent dense meat. I would also suspect that this approach could suit other forms of jointed meat, perhaps poultry as well.
Tues.13.11.07. Honfleur to Sancerre had taken 5 hours across a quite different landscape to that of the coast. The rolling coastal headlands from Calais, Boulogne and Abbeyville of the Seine Maritime had given way to skirting the manmade profiles of Rouen, Evreux, Dreux, Chartres and Orleans. Following the course of the Loire the natural backdrop of the cultivated floodplain gradually bowed to the wooded elevated escarpments emerging in due course, as we began to rise up the vine covered valley sides to the fortified town of Sancerre. The dilapidation of the ‘Hotel du Ramparts’ was immediately apparent as we approached from the lower slopes. Rose tinted, faded memories gave way to stark reality as the hotel was now very much down at heel, grubby in direct opposition to ‘French shabby chic’. We later discovered from the nearby bar that the Madame had become the local lush; the viande was bad the legumes rotten. Consequently we did not eat there but instead we discovered a small, lively bistro, ‘Auberge l’Ecurie’, located just off the square. This little spot turned out to be perfect. Run by an amateur rugby player we were served by smiling efficient young waitresses. Everyone except Kenny who cautiously settled for pizza was more than content. Magret, steak tartare, the by now, ubiquitous entrecote, shellfish and excellent pork chops were heartily consumed. Later, the chef invited the Doc and me into his kitchen to demonstrate how he had cooked the chops. The chef described this cooking process as the ‘in the bag’ method. Firstly, the 4lb piece of meat is sealed by pan frying all of the edges until golden brown, then the piece is placed inside a plastic bag ‘crivacked’ to be simmered in boiling water for 30 minutes. The joint then is taken out of the bag, the 4cm thick chops are cut and flash grilled. The result is superbly tender, succulent dense meat. I would also suspect that this approach could suit other forms of jointed meat, perhaps poultry as well.
We left the bistro in high spirits returning to the ‘Ramparts’ for coffee and brandy. The actual bar was open until 2.00am, totally unheard of in France, but we all suspected this was symptomatic of the present demise of this once beautiful hotel. Just as in most civilised places around the world only skankies and ‘ner do wells’ are still drinking after midnight. This observation, more than any where else certainly applies to France. The rest of France normally would close at 9.00pm apart from enclaves such as this, which was well and truly open. Filled with creatures boasting shaven headed high cheek boned, florid complexions, cheap overly large earrings, institutionalised tattoos, we might well have actually been in Westward labour club on a late Saturday night and not a cold November Tuesday in rural France. But, nevertheless because of picturesque journeys, excellent food plus warm welcomes the group was ‘bonding’ especially content, even if only into the second day we already had a number of experiences that we shared later in Docs room over more beer, wine and jokes.
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