Christmas Day in the Haut Doubs at Courvieres

Christmas Eve was a lavish feast with a meal prepared and cooked by Patricia, which included many courses and delights; from baked snails, smoked salmon, caviar blini, foie gras served with with sel guerand and fig jam, baked coquille st jaque tartlets, all served before a main course of kangaroo steak. Just when I thought I might be approaching the final hurdle an extensive cheese board was placed at the table which was finally followed by the traditional desert of buche de noel.

As we chatted over the desert and coffee, it was pointed out to me that in some parts of France it remains a tradition to have thirteen deserts to complete the Christmas meal. This was said to be in honour of the twelve Apostles and Jesus at the last supper. The connection with Christmas was lost on me. However, half way through the story it wasplain to see, that although this was a tradition of the Midi, it was also in practice in Besancon as I was well on my way to completing this most noble and gourmand of traditions.

A view of Courvieres

Christmas Day dawned bright and cheerful and after a light breakfast we made our way up to the Haut Doubs. Most of the heavy snow from the week before had disappeared, but vast patches and fields of snow still lay on the ground where the shallow angle of the sun's rays could not reach. Courvieres was very different in the bright sunlight, and as my body was screaming out for activity, I went for a short walk with Corrine. Despite the bright sunshine it was bitterly cold, but the afternoon sunlight brought a beautiful rich colouring to the high altitude landscape.

Winter landscape around Courvieres

Buzzards glided on the stiff cold breeze allowing them to hold an almost stationary gliding pattern above a small hill crest as they kept a close eye on the fields below them. The fields were bare apart from the obvious activity of the indigenous rodent population whose digging could be seen everywhere. Cattle are indoors in sheds at this time of year and the fields lack their customary presence. A cunning few cows had lured their owner into a false sence of security and mounted a covert operation. From a discreet distance I noticed they had managed to unlock their barn door and were making tentative preparations to make a run for it. I am a fan of these guys and did not interfere with their plans. I have added a photograph below of one of these great gentle Montbeliard cows whose milk is used to produce the famous Comte and Mont D'Or cheese, and which my bag was laden down with a few short days later.

Montbeliard cows and they way they might look at you

The landscape remained silent apart from the freezing wind that hurt my ears, and the idyllic silence was only momentarily broken by the a singular piece of modernity that had managed to gain access this place as the TGV shot across the plateau en route from Paris to a not so distant Lausanne. We slowly made our way back to the farmhouse of Corrine's grandmother, where friends and family had gathered, for a seasonal celebratory splash of a tasty cremant du Jura, and another chance to savour a slice or two of buche de noel, followed by coffee and papillottes (praline chocolates wrapped in bright foil). A sweet end to a refreshing day.