In Laurel Cottage, in the winter, I like to recite the poem “Dust of Snow” by Robert Frost:
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
Well, that was yesterday (Tuesday 7/14). Only it was our dinner that “saved some part of a day I had rued”.
On paper, we had the day free to explore Toulouse in whatever way we were feeling. In truth, the day unfolded as a series of disappointments, mediocre eats, and oppressive heat. We were all a little grouchy by early afternoon.
We did walk along the Garrone River…
…see a pretty park with ducklings…
and I took many photos of charming facades and artists sketching.
But honestly, don’t the pictures look so bright? Can’t you just feel that sun? AND it was a holiday, so many places were closed, and if those open, only a handful had weak AC, and I didn’t enjoy shopping in an oven, trying on clothes sounded awful, so we were bummed.
But the day before I had made us a reservation at Chez Navarre. This was to be a special meal sponsored by the generosity of Storrie and Nate. A place where there is no menu to choose from, rather meals are shared from shared serving platters, family style.
It was the best meal of the trip. When we sat down, we were the only ones there, right when they opened. But we felt a little spirited and waved in two other parties of people standing outside looking in!
There were at least ten different “appetizers” — Bo has photos. The longest loaf of bread we ever saw in the breadboard (think corgi-sized). The best rose wine I ever had. Then toast duck legs and potatoes with the tastiest vegetable gravy of my life. Then to Bo’s bliss, the serve-yourself dessert table, with (to my delight) five types of cheeses, plus the fluffiest chocolate mousse, caramel flan, and rice pudding. And homemade applesauce.
It felt like going to a friend’s house for dinner and the friend is a French country chef.
The other folks who joined also seemed to love it. One small French man ate his own weight in the liverwurst loaf thing, and impressively cleaned many duck legs clean with his fork and knife!
Anyways, that meal saved the day. It was a vision. The kind of thing I’ll dream about in years to come.
And it only added to the fun that the man running the place and the young woman (his daughter?) were so friendly and warm.
We waddled back to our hotel, climbed three flights of stairs, and watched le bleu fall to Spain. But even that couldn’t tarnish the glow of that meal.
Tomorrow I’ll catch you up on our trip into PARIS!
Leave a Reply