Pontlevoy

The house is the tall one in the center of the photo with the red brick chimney.

It's pronounced "Pawn-leh-vwah," is what I learned from the charming Madame Frederique Girard, who happily greeted me at the house on Rue de la Cure with an armload of fresh flowers from her garden, which she proceeded to put into two vases as she chattered happily away in French about the house. 

I got a full tour of all 5 levels, including the interesting, but creepy wine cellar or "cave du vin."

Before arriving at the house, I had been driving around the area hoping to find a market, or restaurant, or bakery open, but, alas, on Sunday afternoon these sort of crazy ideas, like commerce, do not happen. So, I asked the affable Mme Girard where I might find some dinner and she got out a pen and drew me a very nice map of the center of Montrichard, about 10 minutes from here. It was only 4:00 and the restaurants do not open till 7, so I went for a walk around this cute, but sleepy little town.

Sleepy is putting it mildly! Comatose is really more descriptive. Too bad, because it's really a very pretty place. Many storefronts are empty, houses for sale. It looks as if everyone has decided to leave all at once. Mme. Girard assured me that the boulangerie would be open in the morning and that they also have very good quiche. Okay, sounds good.

The house is from the 16th century and is a cozy, two-story cottage, stuck to a four-story tower--the tallest house on the block. It has a livingroom, kitchen and dining room on the ground floor, then a very large master suite on the second floor. 

Beyond that, stacked up in the tower, are three more bedrooms, each of which has either a full or half bathroom with it. To get from one floor to the next, one must climb a narrow, ancient, wooden, winding staircase, with treads worn out from many centuries of feet. 

The house is certainly roomy enough, but for outdoor space, it has only a small terrace with rooftop views.

I love the streets in the neighborhood! The limestone facades and colorful shutters are very French and quite attractive. If only this town had a little life . . .

So, for dinner I took Mme Girard's advice and found the Centre Ville of Montrichard, where I found a cute restaurant called Procopio. The staff was friendly, the wine was good and my dinner consisted of a giant salad including duck rillettes, slices of warm ham, crostini with goat cheese and lovely, market-fresh lettuces. That was plenty by itself, but I had the duck confit and it came with some beautiful vegetables including zucchini, a roasted turnip, a piece of vegetable quiche, a roasted whole carrot and the best potato I have ever eaten. Potato? Best? Really? Seriously, this 'tater was peeled, maybe steamed or microwaved to cook the middle, then deep fried to crisp the skin. To serve it, they added a dollop of homemade, very oniony, tartar sauce. You'd have to just taste this to understand what's so good.

So now I am back at the house. It smells like I imagine a 400-year-old house would smell. Musty. Funky. Not bad really, just old. I think the darkness amplifies the mustiness. And the rain too. 

I have a feeling it will be a long night. Hopefully the ghosts have decided to leave town too.