Oingt is dangerous. It's a lovely little village perched on a hilltop, very old and picturesque, and full of twisting hairpin-turning stairs of old worn uneven stone. With no railings.
The stairs were no problem, visually. Or maybe I should say, "blindly." I could find them just fine with my cane. But with no vestibular balance function and no railings to anchor myself, it was deadly dicey navigating those old stone stairs. Then there was a steep incline with no steps, and again no railing, that was the worst. It was a good thing there weren't any more such obstacles to deal with after that slope, because I was absolutely and utterly done after getting down to level ground.
I've never felt so vulnerable, so disabled.
As I write this, I understand now that the vulnerability I felt was simply sheer fear of physical injury, much more intense than anything I've ever felt from not being able to see or hear well. A fall down those steps could -- would -- have caused serious injury.
So. I didn't fall or even twist an ankle, and I lived to tell that tale. Now I get to tell about our lunch at La Table du Donjon. If last night's dinner was the best meal for me so far, this lunch was Andy's.
We started off with a salad of greens and bite-sized pieces of marinated, grilled duck, dressed in a mustard vinaigrette and topped with a puff-pastry biscuit. This was our second encounter with duck and, again, it was deliciously robust and juicy.
Emmanuel said duck is very popular in France, and we can see why. The meat is dark, like beef, but with an inherent juiciness and tenderness that most beef cuts don't have. I'm hoping we'll be working with duck at one of our next cooking lessons.
After the duck salad, we were served a lamb shank braised in red wine and I think garlic and rosemary (maybe a little tomato paste too). The meat was falling cleanly off the bone and so tender it could be cut with a fork. Andy was in heaven. Lamb is not my favorite, but this was so good I have resolved to make braised lamb shanks more often at home.
Along side the lamb was a pasta and cheese dish, but this was no Kraft's Macaroni and Cheese Dinner. For one thing it was real cheese (a hearty-flavor cheese, not a cheddar but something like it, and I thought I tasted some parmigiana too), and it had an interesting curry-type of seasoning I couldn't identify. Whatever it was, it was so intriguing I kept eating small bites to figure it out, until I put my fork down to an empty space on the plate because there were no more bites to figure out. That seasoning remains a mystery.
The dessert was the perfect finale for Andy. It was profiteroles again, three of them, one filled with mango sorbet, another with hazelnut gelato, and the third with vanilla gelato, all sitting together in a pool of darkest chocolate sauce. The flavors were wonderful rogether. The profiteroles were not as big as the one we had last night, but still, three of them made a huge dessert. I ate only a few bites of mine and Andy happily finished it off.
Oingt is so small -- only about 600 permanent residents -- that there's no way the village alone could provide the business to keep La Table du Donjon open. Emmanuel said the restaurant has a stellar reputation far and wide, and a steady stream of patrons regularly drive out from Lyon and the surrounding countryside.
Andy said the countryside below Oingt is beautiful, full of vineyards. If it had not been so very windy and cold, our whole group would have lingered outside to enjoy the views. The views, in fact, are why the Romans built Oingt more than a thousand years ago, as a military outlook and garrison protecting the approach to Lyon, which was a Roman stronghold at the time. The Romans also introduced viticulture to the Beaujolais region. Much of the village is built with a local limestone that has iron oxide in it, which gives the stone (and the village overall) a glowing golden color,
We would love to spend more time there on our next trip (but I'll skip the stone stairs, thank you). The village has several interesting sites, and In addition to the La Table du Donjon restaurant, there is a little art glass shop I'd like to visit again. It had beautiful glass bowls, lamps, bottles, and other objects. The textures and shapes were a feast for my fingers, and Andy and I would have bought something if we'd had more time.
Like I said, next trip.
It was windy before we went inside for lunch, and even windier when we got back outside and walked to our van. Our next stop was the Chateau Montmelas, about a twenty-minute drive from Oingt. It was so windy at the Chateau that our tour guide there took us right inside the castle as soon as possible, saying she was going to skip the outside walk around the castle. We liked this plan -- that wind was wicked. "But the good thing about the wind is that it brings the rain," she said.
That was the farmer in her talking. In addition to the castle, the Montmelas family owns vineyards and makes wines, and it was obvious that as much as she hated the gusty wind, just as we did, she would take the wind to get the rain her crops need.
Chateau Montmelas, like Oingt, is more than a thousand years old, and originally built as a military outpost. Sometime in the 15th century it was converted into a real castle and residence. In the 1800s it was remodeled to look more like a "fairytale castle," our guide said, with towers, crinols and other additions. Members of the Montmelas family still live in the castle, and not all of it is open to public view.
The parts that we did see have been restored to their pre-19th century condition as much as possible. The restoration work is a never-ending task, depending on available funds and expertise. In one room there was an exquisite parquet floor made with oak,mahogany and ash, a unique combination of woods. It needs repair, but the Montmelas family has not been able to find anyone with the expertise to tackle the job. In another room that had been the bedroom of one of the past Montemelas lords, the ceiling was covered with beautiful paintings that had blackened with age. Our guide told us they discovered the blackening was simply cigar smoke, which had actually helped to preserve the paintings, so that when they got all the smoke residue scraped off, the paintings were in excellent condition.
We were not allowed to take any pictures. "We were robbed," our guide explained, "and it was so easy for them, because they had been in before, taken pictures, and they knew exactly where everything was and what they wanted. So, we cannot allow photographs anymore."
Our guide shared stories about some of the family ancestors whose portraits hang in some of the rooms we saw. There were kidnappings, murders, gambling scoundrels and heirs from the wrong side of the sheets, all those scandals and skeletons that every family has (and hides). She also talked about how, during the French Revolution in the late 1700s, when many lords were killed and castles destroyed, the Montmelas castle was spared because its lords had made a point of paying their workers well, and providing them with good medical care. "So the workers and villagers protected the family and the castle," our guide said.
I would have liked a few hours -- a few days, even -- to just wander around and get a feel for the place. Except for the wine-tasting room we visited after seeing the inner castle, everything I saw was dark -- which is understandable, as the walls are very thick stone and even the enlarged windows can't bring in much light. And it smells very old and musty.
The wine-tasting room looked modern, except for the very deep windows. The walls were plastered and painted a soft white, so that it was well-lit. We tasted whites, roses and reds. I was surprised how much I liked the two roses I tasted, but there was a red that I liked best, the Chateau Montmelas Beaujolais Nouveau. It was very reasonably priced so Andy and I bought a bottle to have in our room. I won't have any problem finishing it off before we leave Lyon!
It felt like a long day when we left Chateau Montmelas and headed back for Lyon. Andy's still got his sore throat and sinus headache, and he was so tired and feeling so lousy that he went down for a nap as soon as we got back to our room.
He slept for three hours. I am sure there was some jet lag effect kicking in there along with the sinus cold. I hated to wake him at eight, but he had said he wanted to get some dinner, even after our big lunch in Oingt. We are on our own for dinner tonight and planned to get a light dinner at the hotel restaurant.
But it was closed. Who ever heard of a hotel restaurant not being open for dinner on a weekend night??
There was a little salad and sandwich shop across the street, and we didn't have the energy to go any further than that. It was just a carry-out kind of place that happened to have a few rickety tables and chairs in front of the order counter. I'd give it a negative two for ambiance, but my tuna and olive salad wasn't bad, and Andy said his chicken and pesto panini was good too. He decided to try their tiramisu for dessert. I had said I'd share it with him, but after one bite full of Cool Whip (in France, too! I was appalled), I refused any more. Andy ate the whole thing and regretted it later.
If that travesty of a tiramisu is the only regrettable thing we eat here in France, I guess we'll survive.
On our way back to the hotel we stopped at a little grocery store (here in France, small grocery stores are called "casinos"), and picked up some green tea bags and crackers to snack on in the room. Just as our Chateau Montmelas guide said, the wind brought the rain, and It began sprinkling as we left the store, then started raining hard just before we got back to the hotel.
We will get rain for the next two days. Tomorrow is the French Labor Day holiday. We have a cooking lesson and a walking tour that is supposed to include the Musee des Beaux Arts.
Short shots:
It's Oingt, not Oing:
I left off the T in my previous letter, but I was right about the pronunciation. It's "wen" and both the G and the T are silent. My iPad's annoying auto-correct feature keeps trying to turn "Oingt" into "owning" or "owing to" and once it even came up with "ingot."
Tuna and olive salad:
It was a canned tuna in my salad, but still very good. I couldn't help remembering a cooking demonstration by Biba Caggiano that I'd seen years ago, during which she prepared a classic risotto and also a really good appetizer with tuna. We were surprised to learn that it was canned tuna, and Biba said it was an Italian brand. She also said she would never use American canned tuna, because "it is only good for cat food."
Our cats do like American canned tuna.
Laundry:
I'm nineteen days on the road and getting tired of the same two pairs of pants and three shirts. I wouldn't mind just one more shirt, but I have to admit, I have enough as it is. I've found that washing out whatever needs washing at the end of the day is best. I can always find hanging places for one shirt, one pair of pants, one pair of undies and a pair of socks so that it all can dry out overnight. And I have discovered that the towel warmer racks are absolutely excellent for slow-drying wet clothes overnight.
Our room has a bathtub -- oh joy! -- and my favorite way to wash my clothes is to toss them into the bath with me. It's an efficient use of water and works very nicely, thank you very much.
The stairs were no problem, visually. Or maybe I should say, "blindly." I could find them just fine with my cane. But with no vestibular balance function and no railings to anchor myself, it was deadly dicey navigating those old stone stairs. Then there was a steep incline with no steps, and again no railing, that was the worst. It was a good thing there weren't any more such obstacles to deal with after that slope, because I was absolutely and utterly done after getting down to level ground.
I've never felt so vulnerable, so disabled.
As I write this, I understand now that the vulnerability I felt was simply sheer fear of physical injury, much more intense than anything I've ever felt from not being able to see or hear well. A fall down those steps could -- would -- have caused serious injury.
So. I didn't fall or even twist an ankle, and I lived to tell that tale. Now I get to tell about our lunch at La Table du Donjon. If last night's dinner was the best meal for me so far, this lunch was Andy's.
We started off with a salad of greens and bite-sized pieces of marinated, grilled duck, dressed in a mustard vinaigrette and topped with a puff-pastry biscuit. This was our second encounter with duck and, again, it was deliciously robust and juicy.
Emmanuel said duck is very popular in France, and we can see why. The meat is dark, like beef, but with an inherent juiciness and tenderness that most beef cuts don't have. I'm hoping we'll be working with duck at one of our next cooking lessons.
After the duck salad, we were served a lamb shank braised in red wine and I think garlic and rosemary (maybe a little tomato paste too). The meat was falling cleanly off the bone and so tender it could be cut with a fork. Andy was in heaven. Lamb is not my favorite, but this was so good I have resolved to make braised lamb shanks more often at home.
Along side the lamb was a pasta and cheese dish, but this was no Kraft's Macaroni and Cheese Dinner. For one thing it was real cheese (a hearty-flavor cheese, not a cheddar but something like it, and I thought I tasted some parmigiana too), and it had an interesting curry-type of seasoning I couldn't identify. Whatever it was, it was so intriguing I kept eating small bites to figure it out, until I put my fork down to an empty space on the plate because there were no more bites to figure out. That seasoning remains a mystery.
The dessert was the perfect finale for Andy. It was profiteroles again, three of them, one filled with mango sorbet, another with hazelnut gelato, and the third with vanilla gelato, all sitting together in a pool of darkest chocolate sauce. The flavors were wonderful rogether. The profiteroles were not as big as the one we had last night, but still, three of them made a huge dessert. I ate only a few bites of mine and Andy happily finished it off.
Oingt is so small -- only about 600 permanent residents -- that there's no way the village alone could provide the business to keep La Table du Donjon open. Emmanuel said the restaurant has a stellar reputation far and wide, and a steady stream of patrons regularly drive out from Lyon and the surrounding countryside.
Andy said the countryside below Oingt is beautiful, full of vineyards. If it had not been so very windy and cold, our whole group would have lingered outside to enjoy the views. The views, in fact, are why the Romans built Oingt more than a thousand years ago, as a military outlook and garrison protecting the approach to Lyon, which was a Roman stronghold at the time. The Romans also introduced viticulture to the Beaujolais region. Much of the village is built with a local limestone that has iron oxide in it, which gives the stone (and the village overall) a glowing golden color,
We would love to spend more time there on our next trip (but I'll skip the stone stairs, thank you). The village has several interesting sites, and In addition to the La Table du Donjon restaurant, there is a little art glass shop I'd like to visit again. It had beautiful glass bowls, lamps, bottles, and other objects. The textures and shapes were a feast for my fingers, and Andy and I would have bought something if we'd had more time.
Like I said, next trip.
It was windy before we went inside for lunch, and even windier when we got back outside and walked to our van. Our next stop was the Chateau Montmelas, about a twenty-minute drive from Oingt. It was so windy at the Chateau that our tour guide there took us right inside the castle as soon as possible, saying she was going to skip the outside walk around the castle. We liked this plan -- that wind was wicked. "But the good thing about the wind is that it brings the rain," she said.
That was the farmer in her talking. In addition to the castle, the Montmelas family owns vineyards and makes wines, and it was obvious that as much as she hated the gusty wind, just as we did, she would take the wind to get the rain her crops need.
Chateau Montmelas, like Oingt, is more than a thousand years old, and originally built as a military outpost. Sometime in the 15th century it was converted into a real castle and residence. In the 1800s it was remodeled to look more like a "fairytale castle," our guide said, with towers, crinols and other additions. Members of the Montmelas family still live in the castle, and not all of it is open to public view.
The parts that we did see have been restored to their pre-19th century condition as much as possible. The restoration work is a never-ending task, depending on available funds and expertise. In one room there was an exquisite parquet floor made with oak,mahogany and ash, a unique combination of woods. It needs repair, but the Montmelas family has not been able to find anyone with the expertise to tackle the job. In another room that had been the bedroom of one of the past Montemelas lords, the ceiling was covered with beautiful paintings that had blackened with age. Our guide told us they discovered the blackening was simply cigar smoke, which had actually helped to preserve the paintings, so that when they got all the smoke residue scraped off, the paintings were in excellent condition.
We were not allowed to take any pictures. "We were robbed," our guide explained, "and it was so easy for them, because they had been in before, taken pictures, and they knew exactly where everything was and what they wanted. So, we cannot allow photographs anymore."
Our guide shared stories about some of the family ancestors whose portraits hang in some of the rooms we saw. There were kidnappings, murders, gambling scoundrels and heirs from the wrong side of the sheets, all those scandals and skeletons that every family has (and hides). She also talked about how, during the French Revolution in the late 1700s, when many lords were killed and castles destroyed, the Montmelas castle was spared because its lords had made a point of paying their workers well, and providing them with good medical care. "So the workers and villagers protected the family and the castle," our guide said.
I would have liked a few hours -- a few days, even -- to just wander around and get a feel for the place. Except for the wine-tasting room we visited after seeing the inner castle, everything I saw was dark -- which is understandable, as the walls are very thick stone and even the enlarged windows can't bring in much light. And it smells very old and musty.
The wine-tasting room looked modern, except for the very deep windows. The walls were plastered and painted a soft white, so that it was well-lit. We tasted whites, roses and reds. I was surprised how much I liked the two roses I tasted, but there was a red that I liked best, the Chateau Montmelas Beaujolais Nouveau. It was very reasonably priced so Andy and I bought a bottle to have in our room. I won't have any problem finishing it off before we leave Lyon!
It felt like a long day when we left Chateau Montmelas and headed back for Lyon. Andy's still got his sore throat and sinus headache, and he was so tired and feeling so lousy that he went down for a nap as soon as we got back to our room.
He slept for three hours. I am sure there was some jet lag effect kicking in there along with the sinus cold. I hated to wake him at eight, but he had said he wanted to get some dinner, even after our big lunch in Oingt. We are on our own for dinner tonight and planned to get a light dinner at the hotel restaurant.
But it was closed. Who ever heard of a hotel restaurant not being open for dinner on a weekend night??
There was a little salad and sandwich shop across the street, and we didn't have the energy to go any further than that. It was just a carry-out kind of place that happened to have a few rickety tables and chairs in front of the order counter. I'd give it a negative two for ambiance, but my tuna and olive salad wasn't bad, and Andy said his chicken and pesto panini was good too. He decided to try their tiramisu for dessert. I had said I'd share it with him, but after one bite full of Cool Whip (in France, too! I was appalled), I refused any more. Andy ate the whole thing and regretted it later.
If that travesty of a tiramisu is the only regrettable thing we eat here in France, I guess we'll survive.
On our way back to the hotel we stopped at a little grocery store (here in France, small grocery stores are called "casinos"), and picked up some green tea bags and crackers to snack on in the room. Just as our Chateau Montmelas guide said, the wind brought the rain, and It began sprinkling as we left the store, then started raining hard just before we got back to the hotel.
We will get rain for the next two days. Tomorrow is the French Labor Day holiday. We have a cooking lesson and a walking tour that is supposed to include the Musee des Beaux Arts.
Short shots:
It's Oingt, not Oing:
I left off the T in my previous letter, but I was right about the pronunciation. It's "wen" and both the G and the T are silent. My iPad's annoying auto-correct feature keeps trying to turn "Oingt" into "owning" or "owing to" and once it even came up with "ingot."
Tuna and olive salad:
It was a canned tuna in my salad, but still very good. I couldn't help remembering a cooking demonstration by Biba Caggiano that I'd seen years ago, during which she prepared a classic risotto and also a really good appetizer with tuna. We were surprised to learn that it was canned tuna, and Biba said it was an Italian brand. She also said she would never use American canned tuna, because "it is only good for cat food."
Our cats do like American canned tuna.
Laundry:
I'm nineteen days on the road and getting tired of the same two pairs of pants and three shirts. I wouldn't mind just one more shirt, but I have to admit, I have enough as it is. I've found that washing out whatever needs washing at the end of the day is best. I can always find hanging places for one shirt, one pair of pants, one pair of undies and a pair of socks so that it all can dry out overnight. And I have discovered that the towel warmer racks are absolutely excellent for slow-drying wet clothes overnight.
Our room has a bathtub -- oh joy! -- and my favorite way to wash my clothes is to toss them into the bath with me. It's an efficient use of water and works very nicely, thank you very much.
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