So, last night I had my first ever, ever French fete, at St Clar. We got there at around 7.30pm, and it was starting to get busy with the 2nd wave of festivities, as according to Vikki there was lots of activities at lunchtime when she went to suss the scene. There were about 10 stalls around the central square, selling food and wine, and then lots of tables and benches for the locals. Kuni chose well, with a kind of cassoulet base accompanied by a fried duck breast:
and the rest of us went a bit more basic: sausage and chips!
Needless to say, it was duck sausage, and very tasty. Loads of people were wandering around, and the music kicked off with a man who was 90 (in the shade) doing French renditions of famous songs, and occasional trumpet solos.
We had waffles with chocolate sauce for pudding, and ploughed through many, many bottles of wine and a few rounds of YMCA and the macarena, and midnight rolled around sharpish. It was top fun, and all 6 of us, plus Archie the cocker spaniel, piled into the car to go home rather worse for wear. The stars were out in force again (3rd least light-polluted spot in France), and we looked up, and had another glass or two of local wine before hitting the hay rather late.
Needless to say that I woke up (a) late and (b) feeling like hell. David - the legend - had helped prepare my food for the evenings challenge. I had to feed 4 others a decent meal based on what I'd learnt this week. Bernard popped round to say goodbye, and brought with him 2 types of foie gras for me to serve in the evening. You know what? It's not too challenging arranging a dinner party with 2 professional chefs, and 2 other very keen cooks helping you. It was hard to say goodbye to Vikki, and I could have spent hours catching up on the local gossip with her. Archie gave the extra-sad-eyes when I eventually left.
I set off for Gaillac with a heavy heart and a minging hangover, fueled by pain aux raisins, coffee, and a desire not to bugger up the tarte au citron in the passenger footwell. 3 hours of ridiculously beautiful scenery later, I pulled up at Chateau Morton, for the local wine festival with Iain, Yvonne, Gabi and Dianna.
Tactical snooze and back in the kitchen to get the chicken ballotine in, and to prep "rustic" potato. I remembered to warm the knife when slicing the foie gras (with Muscadet):
I got the 2-pepper sauce pouring technique sussed (not too high!):
And the chicken went down brilliantly, it's hard to carve without it falling apart but after I focussed on proper knife technique it was a winner (with Bergerac red, as advised by Bernard!):
After which the camera went away, but we had a lovely 12 month comte, and the tarte au citron which was a little cracked post-journey, but tasted absolutely lovely. David gave me 2 emtpy pastry cases, and tomorrow we shall be attempting a creme patissier with raspberries.
So. Final verdict: success! I had a cracking week at the Gascony cooking school, so if anyone fancies a proper break, plus learning a good skill, PLUS eating unbelievably well... and feeling part of the family, I definitely rate it.
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