Today was our Cognac adventure day, plus we ate the largest dinner known to man. I feel like Mr. Creosote just before he had the wafer thin mint, and suspect that if I were to have one myself I might end up the same.
After breakfast this morning, we loaded up little Nancy and pointed west, stopping first in Echoisy to see the little water mill at the Domaine d’Echoisy. Not too far out of our way and apparently it’s a good place for a light lunch or a coffee on route. It’s a bit of a mission to find, off the D-road and down a little gravelled path, which is actually quite steep at times. As is our luck lately, it was closed and so all we could do was wander around for a bit taking photos. Having said that, the view is amazing and I would have very happily spent some time there sipping a coffee and listening to the sound of the wind in the trees and the water flowing through the mill race.
At this point, I realized that my decision to wear my shorts and sandals was possibly a mistake. Despite the sun, it was actually quite chilly and I was glad that I’d remembered to bring my sweater this time. I thought that as with other days, the temperature would go up as the afternoon progressed.
We drove back up the little gravel path and back onto the highway, and an hour later we were in Cognac. We actually found a little parking lot and paid our €2.50 for the afternoon. Somewhat unusually for us, the parking lot was right next to the little tourist information office where we got a several maps of the town, including directions to the little pedestrian street where we could get some lunch.
We stopped in at the first place we came to and sat down. Waitresses flew about all around us, taking orders and delivering food. We, however, seemed to be invisible. After taking the opportunity to use the facilities (it had been a long drive) we had finally had enough and left.
It was a bit of a walk before we found the next reasonable looking place that wasn’t a kebab shop. It was actually quite a nice restaurant with a beautiful terrace out the back. We stood in the entranceway again, where the waitresses had the reservations book and were picking up food from the kitchen for delivery. Again, it was like we were invisible; not a single waitress even looked at us, let alone told us she’d be with us in a minute. Eventually we got the attention of one, who told us that they were full.
Next option was a creperie down the pedestrian street that to our amazement seemed quite chuffed to see us and sat us down quickly. We both had quite tasty galettes and then a very nice caramel and salted butter crepe. Hard to go wrong, and I’m actually happy we were so completely ignored at the other two.
Next on the list was a guided tour of the Hennessey distillery down on the Hennessey Quai. We were a bit early, so after buying our tickets we went to the distillery next door, which I’d never heard of – Rouiller-Fransac. Evidently it’s a cognac that doesn’t get exported much, and when it does only to the US really. The old guy at the counter let me try the 15 year old, 30 year old, and then the 50 year old. I could have had more, but was driving so declined. It turned out to be really good cognac, much better than I was expecting. At this point, it was time for the tour next door so we told him we’d be back and walked back to Hennessey.
Unfortunately, a large group of tourists had decided that a cognac distillery tour was a good idea to bring their large brood of small children on. To be fair, they were quite well behaved given the circumstances, but still incredibly annoying for the tour.
I’m not sure what I’d been expecting of the tour, but I hadn’t realized what a massive production Hennessey is. They only grow 2% of their own grapes, and that which they buy isn’t even in grape form – they apparently buy either completed eau-de-vie (the wine which they use to make the cognac) or finished brandy itself. Complete surprise to me.
The cognac warehouses are something else though. Thousands upon thousand upon thousands of huge barrels in their endless rows, all of which are slowly releasing “the angel’s share.” Two to three percent of the volume of a barrel evaporates every year through the wood, and gives the air in the town a very distinctive smell. In the warehouses themselves it’s almost overpowering.
After the tour we got to taste some Hennessey cognac, and this is where I was first entertained and then annoyed. The entertainment came when one of the horde with the kids asked the tour guide if instead of drinking their taster on-site, if they could instead have it to take away. I’m not sure how much he was thinking he was going to get, but the look of confusion and shock on the guide’s face was priceless.
Secondly, we’ve done our fair share of champagne house tours, winery tours, distillery tours etc – basically if it’s alcoholic, we’ve toured it. At Hennessey, I paid €20 for the XO tour ticket, and Jamie paid €6 for the “Harmony” tour (it was half price as the second ticket). Mine included a taste of the XO cognac (extra old), and Jmaie’s was the regular and the VS and VSOP tastes. For the price I paid, I’d expected mine to include those as well, in addition to the XO (for the price of three tickets, I could’ve bought a whole bottle).
As it turned out, I actually preferred the Rouiller-Fransac next door so quite happily went back to buy a bottle of very nice 35 year old grande champagne. Jamie also found one of their liquor products – a mint chocolate concoction that tastes exactly like liquid After Eight mints, possibly her favourite thing ever.
At this point, our parking was almost up so we walked back up through the narrow and winding streets of Cognac. By the time we got to the car, we’d had a long discussion about our thoughts on the town. For all the money that must go through it with the cognac, it’s not the nicest place in the world. There doesn’t seem to be much for tourists there other than the cognac houses – a few restaurants and a few cafes, not many nice places to sit and enjoy a glass of wine and relax. Having said that, we really only spent a few hours there and much of that was on the Hennessey tour.
Given the fiasco of dinner last night, we’d made sure to book in at a nice restaurant for this evening. We’d called La Grange aux Oies in Nieuil to book a table for 7:30 and had left a message. We made sure we got there a bit early to confirm, and it’s a good thing we had – they hadn’t called us back and we were apparently only a tentative booking.
We were 45 minutes early, so we took a walk around the grounds of the stunning chateau which is also a very posh hotel, although they have a large sparrows nest in the giant reception room and while we were poking around, sparrows were flying in and out. A quick look around showed that sparrows had spent quite a bit of time doing what sparrows do – almost everything was splattered in little white sploches, including the chairs and even the large paintings on the walls. Unpleasant.
We were still about 30 minutes ahead of schedule, so got back into the car to both warm up (it was about 14 degrees celcius at this point and the shorts and sandals just weren’t cutting it) and also to drive into St Claud for a quick espresso.
When we got back, we were just in time to be seated for what turned out to be the most indulgent and almost painful meal of my life. For €48 (€44 for me, as I decided not to have any wine, what with the driving and all) we were presented with a delicious five course meal (with an amuse bouche and final desert snack as we paid thrown in for good measure).
I think we would have been okay except for two fatal mistakes. First, I was feeling a bit dehydrated, so ordered an entire litre of Badoit to drink instead of wine. I managed to finish it all by the end of the meal. That’s a lot of Badoit to consume, and it takes up quite a lot of room. Second, when they brought the cheese cart around (this after the amuse bouche, a starter, and a very large main), Jamie asked if we could between us try each of the five cheeses. I guess the language barrier struck, and the waitress carved off five very generous slices of each cheese for each of us. I mean this was a LOT of cheese, and we would have had trouble with it even if we’d not already eaten two large courses.
Next came the dessert cart. I’d gone for the light strawberry tarte, but Jamie’s eyes were much bigger than her stomach and she had a big cup of extraordinary tiramisu plus another generous portion of lemon tarte. I’ve never eaten so much in my life. They brought little chocolate treats and cherries soaked in liquor as we paid, but I couldn’t even look at them.
A side-note about the importance of carefully reading menus in France, or anywhere really. I know the word for lamb in French is agneau. I also know the word for rice is riz. When the menu said something about ris d’agneau, I somewhat naively thought that my starter would be some sort of a rice and lamb dish. This was not the case.
Those paying attention, or who have checked the French-English dictionary will have spotted my error. Ris is sweetbreads, riz is rice. Very different things, despite the similarity in spelling. So yes, I accidentally ordered lamb brains as a starter. This after the disaster with the tete de veau in Champagne. Jamie thought it was odd, but assumed I knew what I was doing so didn’t say anything (she claims that she’d pointed out that it was lamb sweetbreads on the menu, all I heard was her saying something about lamb).
In the end, the ris d’agneau turned out to actually be quite tasty, and with the help of a few gulps of water (for the particularly brainy bits) I managed to eat almost all of it, and enjoyed quite a bit of it (not the particularly brainy bits). I realize that given my history of eating the gibbly bits of many animals (lips, chins, cheeks, stomach, tail, liver, kidney, heart, feet, brains, bone marrow, lower intestine, tongue, skin with hair still in, ears…) you may not believe that this was an accident of translation, but this is my story and I’m sticking to it. (I’ve just read that list, and am both a bit impressed and slightly disgusted, in equal measure).
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