Today I am thinking back to a lunch Janice and I had in Quillan, without a doubt the best meal during our week in the south of France. Janice had read just a few sentences in our book which suggested that this quaint little village might be worth a brief stop if one really had the time. Since we will be in cities most of this visit (and in Vancouver afterward), a small village sounded intriguing. The day was rainy and not very promising, but we gave it a try.
After a brisk 15-minute stroll to the train station in Carcassonne, we bought our day return bus tickets from the yellow machine because this bus is part of the rail system and is located in another part of the station complex. The bus itself was virtually empty and seemed rather too large, both for the potential number of passengers and for many of the tight corners in villages we passed through, but the ride was very comfortable and we got to see villages and countryside from our higher perches, in comfort, without a worry about one-way streets, tight roads or unmarked turns.
Quillan (pronounced something like Key-yah) was in fact a joy. It certainly is not large, but is creatively reinventing itself as a hub for hikers, offering numerous well-marked trails through the local hills. Signs gave estimates on how much time hikers should allow themselves and what elevation gains to expect. Even in the rain, people were heading out to hike because it was Ascension Day weekend and schools and families were on holiday. Although the hikes sounded promising, we were not prepared for the eventuality of heavy rain once we were in the hills, so we explored the village instead. I got to shoot in a very dark church, which I will blog later, and explore the ruins of a small castle on the hill directly overlooking the local river and village.
Meanwhile, Janice’s stroll had found a restaurant for us, and I don’t know when I have heard her sound as absolutely convinced about a restaurant as she was that noon. She was right, Contre-courant was a real find, a tiny place which also sold local arts items. Everything they served was produced within a very small radius of perhaps 8 km, and the preparation was excellent. Since the ingredients were truly fresh and local, the cook was free to let the natural tastes come through.
Before we started, they very kindly brought us an appetizer dish of snails. By this time, two gentlemen had entered for their lunch, so, there being but four of us in the dining room, we got to know each other a bit. They both came specifically on Thursday because that is the day one can get snails, and that's what they both ordered, along with the customary bread and local wine. Sean (from Ireland) was visiting Hilary (also from Ireland but now retired and living in the local countryside), and they knew what they were doing. They good-naturedly let me photograph their dishes. Janice's snails were but a mere entrée and therefore much smaller than their plats. Just as I took the picture, Sean turned to look out the window, but you can still see some of his personality shining through. I’ll be sending him this picture, at his request. Sean asked about how one prepares the snails. Goodness, it’s way too much work. First she cleaned them (they are grown on the undersides of wooden shingles which form tepees, with lots of lettuce underneath for feeding), then she cooked them very very gently for several hours (if I understood her correctly). She then removed each from its shell, and there were perhaps several hundred consumed by the four of us that one lunch. They are then prepared delicately in butter, garlic and parsley as I recall, and a bit of white wine, and then returned to the shells.
This gives a glimpse into the living area and toward the kitchen.
The bottles on the mantle were filled with fresh water and ready to be placed on tables. The day was a bit chilly, so the owner kept putting wood on the fire in the fireplace under the bottles. The sound and smells of the real fire in the open fireplace were ever so comforting.
My entrée was a cheese plate. I should have known that it would be far more cheese than even two of us could eat, though they expected one person to consume it. We were able to take the rest home for another meal. The cheeses were all local, giving us a sampling of various goat, cow and sheep cheeses. The little pot in the centre held jam which you spread lightly on the baguette before applying the cheese. It was delicious.
Janice and I had the same main course of excellent pork roast (done but still juicy), cooked potatoes lightly fried (likely in duck fat and butter) and grilled tomatoes, etc., so these were served family style, nicely presented.
Finally, a photo Janice took of me taking photos of the river as it raced down the hill.
Hope you enjoyed yesterday. We are both well and enjoying each day here. All for now, with love from us both, Evan
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