So we hit the Petit De Jeuner at the Chateau de Pallane, nodded at our French Friends, murmured bon jour, noshed our cafe au'lait and croissants; packed up -- by humping 4 cases of wine and armagnac back down to the car . . . .
so then we headed out towards condom . . . with the idea I wanted to hit Chateau de Cassaigne . . . they had an interesting web site, their armagnac is alluring, and the old castle is formidable . . .
It was great walking thru the old rooms . . . it's hard to visualize how it would have been before electricity, but you can tell that the old building is like it was centuries ago . . .
I wanted to joke that this the room we staid in . . .
They're awfully proud of their armagnac . . . after reaching into my pocket so often the last few days, I was gun-shy, so to speak . . . so I only bought two bottles of single vintage bottles . . . rather than the hors d'age we were tasting . . . I shoulda bought 4 bottles, at least . . . I can't believe now I wussed out like that . . . in the name of economy & prudence . . . what a dope . . .
we stopped at another place, DeFord . . . along with Millet and Lafontan, this would be one of my favorites . . . this place was awesome . . . we did our normal, tasting from youngest to oldest until we couldn't taste anymore difference . . . we barely made a dent in the first shelf, never mind the 2nd shelf, or OMG, the 3rd shelf . . . the prices down there averaged 250Euros, the age averaged 50 years old . . . the temptation to buy a 1951, the same age as me, was intense, especially since I'd chickened out at Cassaigne. . . but no . . . .dang . . . just a few bottles barely 25 years old . . .
we drove on to condom and checked into our hotel . . . sort of a comedown after the Chateaus we been in, but much cheaper, and in the heart of Condom . . . had a pool too . . . from the hotel we had a recommendation for lunch at the St. Pierre, next to the big church . . . we knew better than to challenge the mores of the region . . . we headed right down there . . .
The St.Pierre brasserie faces the back of the main courtyard of the Hotel de Ville and the front of the Cathedral, a large plaza in its own right. We traipsed upstairs and I saw the seats out on the small terrace? I pointed quizzically. The maitre'd shook his head sorrowfully, but then checked his book, checked his watch, drew a line thru a reservation in the book, gave me a look of cunning appreciation, said "something, something, something bon chance", picked up some menus and led us out to a table on the terrace.
"What did he say?" asked Mrs.
"Something about our lucky day," I replied, "somebody didnt show up, so we can eat out here."
Years ago I had a head=hunter rap to me about how when she was a waitress, she always wondered about the people she was serving, what kind of superior lives they led, and now (she said then) I am living the life of one of those people!
This was one of those moments for me, too . . . we sat up there, sipping wine and eau minerale naturelle, watching the hikers, the bikers, the tourists trudge by below us, while we sat in this prize position admiring the spectacle . . .
the first course was a salad, with melon, endive, avocado and regular stuff . . . Mrs' eyes rolled back in ecstasy . . . wine and vegetables, is all she wants . . .
but then came the money shot: leg of goose, with legumes, mushrooms, and vegetable terrine, I guess you could call it . . . I think it was great, but up on the terrace, in the sunlight under a brolly, with the breeze above the plaza, I think it was ecstatic.
there was some dessert course, natch, but we were so besotted we took no picture, and have no idea what it was . . . I'm sure it was fantastic, and I had coffee with it. . . 8^D . . .
we went back to the motel after lunch, for our siesta . . . we tho't we might swim afterwards, but it was raining, so we just went walkabout back around Condom instead . . .
we found a little store with grocery items, wine, and armagnac . . . I found some bottles of the Pelle Haut we'd had at dinner in Cabuzon and a bottle of armagnac from the same ventre, so I picked those up. They also had those very old and very tempting bottles going back more than 50 years old . . . geez, it was like a sign or something, but I turned away from the madness . . . I mean if you drink a bottle dated by your birth year, and you finish it, aren't you finished ,too? Just asking. . .
we got some more tapenade for our nightly picnic . . . we found the Armagnac museum and bookmarked it, in a manner of speaking for the next day, we walked past a frommage cottage without stopping, but then doubled back . . . I was trying to tell the cheese master I wanted 250 grams (deux cent et canq) but the jolly fellow couldn't understand me, so we just bought the slice of brie he ad in his hand . . . it was 289 grams . . . close enough . . . 8^D . . . we stopped at another shop, a patisserie and bought one baguette . . . that seemed easy in comparison . . .
by the time we got back to the motel, and put away our purchases, and turned around thrice, it was time for our nightly picnic, at a table away from the pool, now crowded by vacationing legionaires.
So we leisurely noshed, then retired to the room to read and listen to music and tipple a little armagnac.
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