Another restaurant find in Foix,

     The Pyrenees glistened as though their peaks and slopes had been dipped in sugar, and a herd of cows ambled in leisurely fashion ahead of us on the main road as a friend and I headed for Foix in search of mince-pies. The quest was---dreadful pun alert--dried-fruitless (they won't be around for another ten days). Never mind. We did have time for a stationery trawl at Majuscule. Better still, we came on another discovery for the restaurant list, this one focussing on tapas. 

     Even though we're within an olive's throw of the Spanish border, surprisingly few tapas bars have set up shop locally. La Bodequita (25, rue des Marchands) only opened a couple of months ago. What caught our eye initially was the table outside set with a cheery yellow-and-white gingham cloth, with a crate of kakis--bright orange persimmons--set on it, free for the taking.

    

     

    Inside, a large blackboard spelled out so many choices that I envied the party sitting under it who could order with abandon.

      Albondigas, little cod cakes, escalivada-- Catalan grilled vegetables--I wanted the lot. Can you make out the prices? Apart from push-the-boat-out prawns à la plancha at 8.50, most hover around the 4 euro mark....

     While we debated, the server brought us a plate of pan con tomate on the house. Simple as anything, it's foundation is bread rubbed with garlic and tomato.

    Any time I can get my hands on patatas bravas...These were blisteringly hot, with a spicy kick to their sauce.

    Calamar rings almost as big as bracelets, the batter light, the dish straight from the fryer. Our server was surprised we could only handle two tapas between us--most people order four, she said. I will too, next time because everything that was being carted out to neighbouring tables looked awfully good.
  

     So did the plats du jour: salmon with mustard and fried potatoes, and a lasagne of pumpkin and blue cheese with a salad, 8.50 euros including a glass of wine and a coffee.
    Nice people, nice atmosphere. I can't remember the hours it's open--most lunchtimes and some evenings--but here's the phone number if you're in the 'hood and want to call and find out: 05-61-01-83-65.

An unexpectedly good lunch in Foix

   A week or so back, we needed to buy art and crafts supplies in Foix, which called for a trip to Majuscule, my favourite stationery shop in this part of France. We also had to be somewhere near Foix at 2:15 p.m., so doing the math meant there were two hours to occupy in the middle of the day because, around here, almost all shops close at noon.  (On the bright side, parking is almost always free between noon and 2 p.m. and you generally get 15 minutes thrown in free as well.)

   Sooooo.... what you do is have lunch. Not a swift trip into the sandwich shop for a bacon-lettuce-and-tomato on wholewheat but a proper sit-down meal in like-minded company.

   It's a while since we last ate at Le Jeu de l'Oie (named after a kids' game) but I think they've changed ownership. Where meals here were always reliable, they weren't especially surprising. You did sort of know that the entrée would always be pâté or something else, and I could recite the dessert choice from memory.
  When I say this was "unexpectedly good"(see title of this post) I don't just mean for what we paid. Not that entrée and plat du jour or plat du jour and dessert with a glass of wine or a coffee, and the usual basket of bread, all for 9.80 euros isn't a bargain--and that's including taxes and tip.
   What was unusual was the care and thought that had gone into it.

   In the open kitchen, we could see two young guys working seamlessly and at ferocious speed, with the occasional blaze of flame from the stove. It was incredible teamwork that was a joy to watch. 

   Medals all round too for the wisely-chosen menu du jour. They served a single entrée--potage Crécy--vegetable soup, which was clever. You could make it ahead, reheat it, and garnish, as needed.

    Two plats to choose from, one of them tartiflette with a little salad. The ingredients in tartiflette are Reblochon cheese, bacon, potatoes and onions. Does that sound good? It is. Delicious, satisfying, tummy-comforting and available everywhere, including at local markets where you can buy it dolloped into take-away containers. 

   So you could pick familiar comfort food, or...

    I'm a huge fan of squid and its relatives. On the menu today were tiny seiches, cooked for just the right amount of time so that they cut like butter. These were seriously good, and topped with what the menu said was "persillade". Normally this translates as a mixture of garlic, parsley and olive oil. This version was several rungs up the culinary ladder with the addition of tiny cubes of courgette and red pepper. Linguini dressed with pesto on the side. All in all, very satisfying.

 

    For dessert, there was familiar tarte tatin or a milles feuilles, the pastry topped with a commendably crackly caramel, and sandwiching a mousse combining whipped cream and puréed starfruit. We could see the one serveuse pause briefly between kitchen and table to scribble some raspberry coulis on the plate. She was also taking care of tables one floor above too, racing up the stairs with three plates balanced on her arm.
    Meanwhile, the little room hummed happily with people eating, drinking and talking. Judging from all the bisou-ing going on, all are regulars. You can see why.
  
  

Viva La Poste

   What a lovely bit of art deco. Isn't this one of the most handsome post offices you've ever seen? It's in Foix, our departmental capital (aka the place we have to go for any government business). Can't you imagine Fred Astaire in top hat, white tie and tails and Ginger in something floaty and gorgeous dancing down that flight of steps?
    By moonlight.

Once upon a time in Foix...

If I'd written that title in French, it would be "il était un fois à Foix". Other homonyms are "foie"--liver--and "foi"--faith, offering all kinds of opportunities for intellectual French puns. 

Anyway, Foix with an "x" is the capital of our department, the Ariège --the least populated capital in France according to the Internet--and, as we had some business to do, here's where we went. 

Once the home of the counts of Foix, this splendid castle stands on a colossal rock and looms over the town leaving no doubt as to who was in charge.

Enough history for today. Our Ariège business finished  (which took all of 15 minutes including hand-shakes) we sauntered around the narrow streets, ruined our appetites with a late-morning pain sux raisins eaten in the shade of the cathedral. Which is not to say we didn't want lunch an hour later. A sunny day, a great day for hanging washing on the line which means breezy and the temperature was just a few degrees too chilly to eat outside. Peter went for the plat du jour and I had a goat cheese salad, and drank the rosé that came with his duck confit and frites.

The Foix Spectacle

This event didn't start until 10 p.m. It was dark. The action was fast. To be honest, the few shots I took weren't that great. But this (i.e. those three towers) was the backdrop to Foix's annual spectacle. For more, go to www.ariegeaufildutemps.fr and click on the poster. Next, click on the video screen to the right for a small taste of the music, sound, light and excitement.

Using a trio of "time explorers" the two-hour show covered the high spots of Ariège history between 1208 and the present. Cathars, French revolution, the Second World War (complete with a papier mâché airplane strung on wires that "flew" dramatically across the arena from somewhere high above us to crash into a forest in "flames")--all got a look in. Music ranged from Zorba the Greek (complete with Greek dancers) and Ave Maria to (huh?) "Money Makes the World Go Around" from Cabaret. Add in dancing wood sprites, a song by Fauré, who was born locally, and you had something for everyone.

A high spot for me (just call me paysanne) was a bucolic farmyard scene complete with dray horses, yoked oxen, donkeys and a woman the size of a barn shooshing along a flock of geese. 

The stage was several hundred feet wide, long enough for galloping horses and, covered with sand, safe enough when their riders deliberately fell off and were dragged along the ground. 

Lighting transformed the three towers of the chateau into different cities, and wrapped them in psychedelic effects. Fireworks showed it in all its stark beauty. 

Earlier, with friends Bea and David, we'd stoked up on steak-frites but still found it cold as the evening wore on. As we left, the crowd a swarming mass, the cast lined the exit pathway (as they did in Léran last Sunday) to applaud us.