24th March 2010. This afternoon we went to Biarritz and while there we trolled down to the Cafe Patisserie Miremont to give Madame a special treat. The Miremont has been an institution in Biarritz since the late 19th century.
It's one of the very last of the cafés in the grand old manner. This is where the great and the good glittered and displayed in the Fin de Siècle and the Golden Age.. The whole swirling social scene of crowned heads, Grand Dukes, soon-to-be-extinct minor European royalty and all the carefully calibrated social distinctions and gradations of old families, assorted aristocracy, nouveau riche industrialists, Brits on the Grand Tour, White Russians, Jazz Age Americans, opportunists, gigolos, "Grandes Horizontales", wide-eyed hopefuls, courtesans, confidence tricksters et al havepassed through its doors and into dusty oblivion. On the evidence of yesterday's visit, the clientele of the present day is drawn more from the ranks of the European mittel-bourgeoisie - discreet, well dressed, comfortable and perhaps more democratic.
There's a sense though that the salon is set in aspic and that nothing has changed. It's a moot point how long it can continue. A glance at the menu shows that the old style carries on regardless. Their display of patisserie is faultless.. It has a picture window at the far end of the mirrored salon that provides a magnificent view of la Grande Plage:
Despite the mirrored walls starting to show signs of their age they still support their original purpose which was, and of course still is, people watching. We ordered two ice creams which, when they arrived, appeared to be about a foot high.. and they were decorated in a lather of freshly whipped cream. Underneath lay chocolate ice cream of a richness I don't think I've ever tasted before, together with some sort of crunchy pistachio flavoured biscuit.. Needless to say, we didn't eat when we arrived home!
Like the café Florian in the Piazza San Marco, Venice, the Miremont is definitely a place to visit at least once in your life.
23rd March 2010. One of the benefits of living down in the extreme south west corner of France is that, apart from being a reassuringly long way from Calais (!), we are close to the border with Spain. Close enough so that we can set off for Spain at short notice (as in 5 minutes) without it becoming a major logistical exercise. Travelling abroad from Britain with a car was, and still is, a pain.. There was always that inescapable feeling that we were being exploited by the cross channel operators whether it was by the ferries, hovercraft or the tunnel - especially during school holidays. I once read somewhere that it's the world's most expensive sea crossing. No surprises there - as I've always suspected that the cross channel companies operate a cartel. The thing that always wound me up was that in spite of a 5 hour journey down to Dover, followed by a rip off channel crossing, we were still only at Calais! Anyway, breathe deeply and relax.. (again!)
Living down here provides us with another welcome string to our bow. If we feel like a good strong Spanish coffee, one of their wonderful hot chocolates or just some casual strolling about window shopping, then from leaving the house to arriving in Irun it's no more than a quick 25 minute zip down the road. Sometimes it's just nice to be able to go and access a different culture.. plus Madame speaks a little Spanish which comes in handy.
On the French side, almost without exception, houses are painted white with the woodwork picked out in Basque Rouge - blood red. However, once over the border, there's a subtle change in building styles. After the all-pervading 'whiteness' of the Pays Basque, there's an indefinable hint of austereness in the style of their brown stone buildings that I find attractive. This aspect of their domestic architecture becomes more pronounced in towns like San Sebastian (Donostia in Basque).
This noble old town (pop: 180,000) is only 60km (37 miles) from Bayonne - 45 mins by car - and it's set on a magnificent circular bay known as La Concha. The development of rail travel in the mid-19th century enabled Napoleon III and the Empress Eugenie to travel in comfort down to Biarritz to set up their summer residence. The Spanish monarchy followed suit and chose San Sebastian as their preferred seaside resort in order to escape the relentless heat of Madrid summers. Subsequently the Spanish nobility and the diplomatic corps opened up residences in the summer capital.
San Sebastian has a real style to it - it's a more formal, more businesslike town than its neighbours across the border in the French Basque country - even Biarritz - with its many offices and shops in addition to the numerous hotels. The arcades, streets and boulevards are lined with heavy brown stone apartment buildings in a rococo style, many with ornate curlicued balconies. Our first visit there was during one of our holidays in the Pays Basque and we were dressed in shorts and t-shirts. Very quickly we realised that the residents were dressed for work rather than the beach and after that, we always spruced ourselves up for a visit there.
The river Urumea has been canalised to flow through the town and it is spanned by some beautiful bridges. After strolling around the sea front and looking in countless shop windows (!) we generally head for the Parte Vieja (Old Quarter)- a fascinating quarter characterised by its narrow streets and an astonishing number of bars and cafes, all of which serve pintxos (or tapas as they're known elsewhere in Spain).
Entering one such, you'll find that every square inch of the bar top will be covered in pintxos dishes.. of all kinds - fish, tortillas, crab, sausage, egg, various hams & salamis.. and the ceiling space is taken up with cured hams - a feast for the eyes. These pintxos are best eased down with a glass or two of Sangria.. followed by one of their trademark black coffees..
Overheard in an English pub (probably apocryphal!):
Customer to waitress – “That was inedible muck, and there wasn't enough of it."
And, coming in from the car park to complain again: "And frankly m’dear, once I've eaten a thing, I don't expect to see it again."
An old favourite of mine - Judi Collins singing "Send in the clowns".. This song could have been written for Madame and I..
I don't think I've ever liked a Sinatra song enough to want to buy a recording - but I think in this case perhaps I should have done. His interpretation of "Send in the clowns" is the definitive one and I'd like to have heard him sing this when he was in his prime.
7th March 2010. In all this talk of the Pays Basque, I have somehow neglected to mention what is probably the most symbolic feature of all the French Basque country and that is - La Rhune.
La Rhune is the distinctively shaped mountain that seems to crouch at the western end of the Pyrenees and its brooding presence and sharp-edged silhouette dominates the Côte Basque. To me, there is something of a headless Sphinx about its form. To put its size into perspective, at 2969' (905m), it's just shy of the qualifying height for a 'Munro' by the length of a domestic ladder.
Access to its summit is from the Col de St. Ignace (169m), which is midway between Ascain and Sare. The road up to the lower station from Ascain is described on a cyclists web site as "a gentle snaking climb (my italics) up to a very popular funicular railway taking tourists to the top of La Rhune for a view of the ocean". Cyclists clearly have a very different view of the world to the one I see!
Once at the Col de St. Ignace station, there are two methods of reaching the summit of La Rhune - there's the Petit train de la Rhune, a rack & pinion metre gauge railway that slowly grinds its way up to the top or - you can walk up. A popular option is "Train up and walk down.." or, if that smacks of being too easy, try it the other way round - aka the Hero option! If you intend taking the train up on a fine summer's day, be advised that it is an incredibly popular attraction and parking will be an issue, as will the queues for a ticket. The trick is to make an early start, looking to be at the Col de St. Ignace station no later than 9am. If you leave arriving there till later in the day, you'll be treated to a Masterclass in the Noble Art of French Queueing - say no more! A return ticket is ~14€ and dogs are charged at 50%.. ouch! There's a vulture towards the end of this clip! And despair ye not.. the accordionist stops at around 4.25..!
Make sure to check the weather forecast before leaving as the conditions can change quite rapidly up there. There is a small Spanish-run restaurant/snack bar at the summit as well as a number of shops selling tourist gizmos, alcoholic drinks and tobacco at Spanish prices. I'd recommend taking a picnic as the food in the cafe could best be described as average, plus why sit indoors when the views outside are so special?
Take a picnic, sit ouside and drink in the views which are really stunning. From the summit on a clear day, you can see waay up the coast north of Bayonne to the start of Les Landes. Saint-Jean-de-Luz lies before you and inland the Pyrenees march away to the south east in a blue haze.Right! Enough sight-seeing.. think it's time to refresh the inner man. Here's a recipe for Les Pommes de Terre Sarladaises (potatoes sauteed in goose fat, garlic & parsley) - the finest recipe for potatoes known to man: Ingredients:
750g (1½lbs) of waxy potatoes
3 tablespoonsful of goose fat (or, if serving with Confit de Canard, use the duck fat from the tin)
1 tablespoon of chopped parsley
2 finely chopped cloves of garlic
Some coarse sea salt, freshly ground black pepper.
Peel and slice the potatoes fairly thinly and dry them in a clean tea towel. Heat the goose fat in a heavy frying pan with a good-fitting lid, and when it starts to smoke, put in the potatoes to colour over a high heat. Keep turning them so that they don't stick and when they start to colour, cover the pan and moderate the heat. Allow them to cook for 30 minutes, turning them every 10 minutes or so to brown in the fat. Add more goose fat as required. Towards the end of the half hour, stir in the chopped parsley and garlic. Turn out on a dish covered in kitchen paper to soak up any excess fat, sprinkle with the salt and serve... Mmmmmm!.
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We ordered two ice creams which, when they arrived, appeared to be about a foot high.. and they were decorated in a lather of freshly whipped cream. Underneath lay chocolate ice cream of a richness I don't think I've ever tasted before, together with some sort of crunchy pistachio flavoured biscuit.. Needless to say, we didn't eat when we arrived home!
Right! Enough sight-seeing.. think it's time to refresh the inner man. Here's a recipe for Les Pommes de Terre Sarladaises (potatoes sauteed in goose fat, garlic & parsley) - the finest recipe for potatoes known to man:
