Thursday, November 7, 2013

Dinner for one

For most of this week I stuck to restaurants that were close by and walkable or ate in my hotel, if only for convenience sake. Dinners in all cases were adequate, but, even in France, nothing I could really get excited about. Tonight I followed the same pattern, walking about 5-7 minutes from my B&B in Eymet, but the result was very different. And "Vive la Difference" as the French are known to say.
I wandered into the nicest restaurant in Eymet: Au Coeur d'Eymet, where I was greeted by the chef and shown to the completely empty dining room, which was elegant and lovely.


Tonight's menu, a three-course affair was explained to me by the chef, all in French, and though I did not catch every word, it all sounded pretty good. For wine, I started with a Bergerac merlot. The appetizer was a small salad, house smoked salmon in a pool of mustard sauce and two large shrimp, wrapped in crepes and quickly deep fried and served with a sauce "pistou." 


Fantastic! Since I was the sole diner, the chef came by frequently. He assumed I was British, like many of the visitors to this area, but once I told him "je suis Americaine," he was sooooo excited to have me in his place. When the entree came: pan seared fois gras atop a pan seared pork chop, topped with a sauce of mushrooms in a Chinese five-spice sauce, he told me I could not have another glass of the merlot, but I must have the Pecharmant rouge, which would  be a better pairing. He insisted. He was spot on as the spicy sauce required an equally spicy wine to seal the deal. We discussed terroir, minerality, spice,oak in both languages. It didn't matter--we both got it.


When I was done, and still the one and only diner, he asked if I'd like dessert. Non, I insisted. Saying that I would actually prefer another glass of the Pecharmant to end the night. The busboy cleared my place and returned shortly with more silverware. Then he returned with a plate of the tiniest bite-sized desserts--9 different tiny things. I happily nibbled at a couple of them until the chef returned and nearly pleaded with me to have dessert. "You must need dessert," he insisted. "I hope you are not worried about your shape," he continued as he worked at all my senses. Finally, "I made all of these myself," he said, and I knew I would be insulting him if I did not try his creation. Well, I made his night and agreed to have dessert. Wow! Fantastic!


It was actually coffee creme brulee, vanilla creme brulee, raspberry coulis topped with whipped cream and almonds, a small fruit salad, two flavors of homemade ice cream, rice pudding in a pool of caramel sauce. I had a few bites of each and that seemed to make him happy. By then we were friends. Comment vous applez vous? I asked him, remembering a little French 101. "Francois." He was checking on me every few minutes and telling me everything he knew about the U.S. He had actually visited New York and Washington DC and worked in Toronto for a bit.
When I was ready to pay my bill, he insisted I come to look at his kitchen. He showed me his smoker where he does his own smoked salmon, he showed me his patisserie station and his sautee station. When I said it was so organized and clean, he beamed from ear to ear. Then he took out his iPhone  and showed me photos of his pride and joy: his backyard beehives. Using our phones and Google translate, we discussed what type of flowers the bees get their nectar from, the different properties of his organic honey. He told me he gets 100 kilos of honey each year from his own hives. Then he ran into the kitchen and came back with a jar and a spoon. "You taste," he insisted. It was delicious. I asked him if he used his own honey in his desserts and he told me that he used no sugar at all. Only his own honey. He was so proud of it and I was so happy to be the one to validate his hard work. Sometimes good thing happen when you are all alone.

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