Another weekend trip to France

Last weekend was a long holiday weekend in Ireland and I flew to France to meet Corinne. I did this reluctantly because I was going to miss my annual pilgrimage to the the Pumpkin Festival in Virginia, County Cavan. With tears still in my eyes, I gathered the courage and resolve to ascend the stairs and boarded the plane exposing my eyes to the acidic yellow and blue interior.

Landing somewhere in the north of France, I quickly made my way to Paris on that dark wet morning. The city was robed in a chic damp and misty fog (not to be associated with the drenching a Celtic mist might provide). Once I got my bearings, I made my way to Rue deTermes and the Marche du Termes, awaiting the surprise of what seasonal offerings would be available for purchase in that market. Autumn was in full flight at the market, and my first sight of things to come as I turned the corner were bunches of deep red, and almost black skinned, muscat grapes side by side with their pale opalescent cousins the chasselas.

A selection of meaty ceps

The true motif of October in Europe is the cep mushroom. Plastic imitations sit in most windows from department stores to hairdressers and chemists. The muscular cep mushrooms (boletus edulis) were displayed at a number of stalls. Many of their deep earthy brown caps still had leaves and twigs attached from the forest floor where they were plucked. A number of them were sliced revealing their perfect white flesh and soft golden tubular gills. There were not many for sale and only a few stalls had a scattering of them. The unseasonal warm and dry weather may not have played its part and with frosts not too distant, the season may be a short one.

A table of vibrant girolles

Perfect cauliflowers from Marche de Termes

Morelles and Ceps

The experience was not over and the symphony had only just begun; the mushroom feast continued and a table at the top of the street had a large spread of bright yellow girolles. Small piles of fresh morelles were gathered together in an ostentatious display of luxurious seasonal wealth. On other stalls the hardy and tasty greens and seasonal vegtables were offered for sale.

Sensational scallops

The fish sellers' stalls were equally exuberant with large platters of shelled scallops neatly displayed with their crescents of orange coral adding a vibrant colourful life to the sight. Troughs, basins and indeed baths containing arrangments of large majestic ochre orange and white ridged scallop shells. Great piles of crevettes grises, langoustines of every possible size and sea urchins dominated the displays but what really caught my eye were the very large and very fresh turbot and bass.

Maison Pou

Time was not on my side, and I quickly made my way to Maison Pou to gaze in the windows at what was on offer. The prepared meals always look wonderful and this day featured cailles en jellee (quails in jelly), and poulet en gellee (oddly enough chicken in jelly), artichauts norvegen (Norwegian artichokes), Bavarois de Homard and Saumon farcie among other delightful delicacies.

Detail of a decorated cake for Maison Pou

Meanwhile in the middle of Conor's great escape, Corinne was texting the times of the trains to Besancon. The information soon changed character informing me that tickets for trains were being sold out quite quickly as it was a holiday weekend in France. I made my way to Gare de Lyon with the intention of purchasing a ticket and joining the rush for the East. Having successfully achieved this task, and equally happy that I was not going to walk to Franche Comte, I set out to treat myself to lunch. I had three and half hours to fill so I decided to go across town to the 14th arrondissement to Le Zeyer. I had missed lunch everyday the preceding week and was desperate to redress the balance looking forward to a few hours of dismantling crabs, other crustaceans and a selection of the best oysters France had to offer.

It was two years since I had visited Le Zeyer, and it was all that I remembered it to be. The lush warm decadent art deco interior echoed the weath and style of another era; surfaces veneered with burr walnut, lines of red velvet coated pews topped with polished gleaming brass rails, together with bright lanterns and an abstract art deco leaded glass ceiling contributed to a unique experience of colour and texture. I was always assured the shellfish at Le Zeyer was of a really high standard; I was not disappointed. Three hours was my target to complete the sizeable task of getting to grips with the choix de l'ecaille (or sea food mountain) which I had ordered. As I remained undecided over my choise of wine, I cast my eye about the menu and thoughts wandered to a group of special friends when I spotted a rose wine from Ramatuelle on the south coast of France. For a number of years we had raced a yacht at Les Voiles de St. Tropez together. When the racing was cancelled or postponed due to a warning of a mistral hurtling through the Gulf du Lyons, we would venture out of St Tropez or Grimaud and go to the hilltop village of Ramatuelle in order to pay homage to a great producer of rose wine and typically some fine stuffed ravioli and deep fried courgette flowers.

My three hours passed very quickly dissecting and dismantling the crustaceans, shaking a variety of oysters and other shellfish from their shells, and before long I was on the 15 58 TGV from Gare de Lyon to Besancon. I found Franche Comte as ever singular and different, separate and distinct is nearly every way. From the rich delicate flavours of the mont d'or and comte cheese to the strongly flavoured saucise de morteau, jambon fumee and the chardonnay and savagnin wines of the region. Burgundy which is separated from the Jura and Franche Comte region by the Soane in many places is almost an opposite and very French. My time here was short and I savoured every minute but it was not long before we had to return to Dublin. Incidentally, before I left I managed to see a basket of pumpkins and gourds the like of which I probably would not have seen in Virginia, County Cavan.

A basket of mutant deformed gourds and pumpkins from the market in Beasnacon