THE POTATO BABE
Issigeac: It Depends On How Much Pie We Drink
 Today’s plan was simple. We wanted to get video of our guests buying ingredients for dinner at a nearby market because we thought it would make for good entertainment. Unfortunately, Mother Nature didn’t
get the memo about ideal conditions for carrying a video camera, and
she gave us 12 straight hours of torrential rain. The kind that makes
you decide to call in sick and stay in bed.
We
started out as great sports despite our lack of umbrellas and rain
jackets, and Frank our cheese expert wanted to buy some local cheeses
for our dessert. He happened to choose the only cheese vendor at the
market who only spoke French and clearly had no tolerance for Americans.
Frank wanted to buy a few Euros’ worth to taste, and the guy was trying to sell by the kilo. Being the kind supporter that I am, I watched as the conversation unfolded, knowing they were talking about different things. After
eight years of leaning French, I could have translated – but I didn’t because I knew it would make for great video. In the end, Frank ended up being called a clown three times and told to get lost. The entire fight is narrated by our camera person’s
laughter in the background.
 After
we were thoroughly soaked, we left the market. In the car, our star
Frank decided he wanted to go horseback riding
(which again should make for stellar
video) so Evan and I offer to drive him. We stopped at three equestrian
centers, all of which were closed. At the final one, we’re looking around a corner and were suddenly faced with this ugly little animal coming toward us. It had beady little eyes and a jet-black bearded face. It looked oddly like McCreepy from Provence. It took me a second to realize what it was, and by the time I declared “It’s a goat! It’s a guard goat!” we
were already halfway back to the car.
Mind you, this thing was about as strong
as a toddler and as scary as Baby Spice, but it completely creeped
me out.
For dinner, we started with fresh melon
topped with Muscat (a sweet dessert wine),
which was nice and light and tasted like
summer. The main course was seared lamb
with haricots verts and bacon, which we topped with a nice stock reduction
and leek mashed potatoes. (I may have to rethink my stance on not eating
lamb – because
lamb is good. Who knew?)
During dinner, Sally (the owner of the
chambre d’hote) tells us a story about the butcher who sold us the
lamb. Apparently he has healing powers,
and people line up to have him fix their
aches and pains. I had no pain while eating that lamb, I tell you what.
For dessert, we had an apple tartlet
with cognac, which really was more like
a cognac pie with essence of apple. You
could actually smell the booze, and if
you know me you know that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Evan and I have been talking for two
days about going for a late-night game
of Ghost in the Graveyard at the cemetery
behind Chateau Biron. I asked if he wanted
to go tonight, and he said “that depends on how much pie
we drink.”
Later in the night, Ken and Linda had
mistakenly left a window open and were
awoken by a bat in their room. I assume
he (the bat, not Ken) lives at the chateau
and got lost on the way home from the bars. By the time we heard the
story they were laughing about it, but it’s been two bad days for them – last night they ran over an animal on the way here. (I won’t say what it was, but let’s just say there’s some little kid missing a cat …)
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