The Lounge 102

I picked up some of this wine recently.  Cahors is an Appelation d'origine controlee (AOC)  in the south west of France.  It lies about 160km east of Bordeaux.  Under the AOC rules the wines are permitted to be a blend of native grapes, Malbec (min 70%) with Tannat and Merlot making up the balance.  The results are big beefy muscular black wines and this is no different, coming in at 14%. The wines are often aged in oak to soften the tannin and give the wines a rounder taste.  The good news continues with the three grape varieties being rich in healthy polyphenols.  On the nose this is a riot of red fruits.  Typical Malbec blackcurrants are dominant here while the Merlot lends it's full juicy character to the wine.  In the background the more austere Tannat brings structure and tannin to the party.  The oak aging has softened the wine and the result is a deep satisfying wine with a hearty warming presence and a long elegant fi...

All good things come to an end, and so it was that we continued north to Brittany for a last night before the ferry back to Ireland.  Our last stand in France was to be in Carnac , signs for which I had passed many times but never visited.  En route to Carnac we stopped in Vannes to stretch the legs and have a nosey.  We arrived after 2pm and many cafes were closed or closing, someone from Bayonne must have rang ahead.  We had missing the national lunch time.  We found a creperie  open and filled the gap.  Of all the foods that France is renown for the crepe must be the most pointless and overrated, still beggars can't be choosers.  A post lunch stroll took us down to the little port area, plenty of people sitting in the September sun enjoying themselves.  The only shops open were the tourist shops selling the same tat.  How many bowls with peoples first names on them do French shops sell in a year?  The central pedestrian...

Leaving Bayonne was like saying goodbye to a seldom seen friend after an awkward situation.  Glad to be going but regretting what happened. Today's trip would take me north through Les Landes , a flat and pretty featureless area, around the city of Bordeaux and on towards La Rochelle . The drive from Bayonne to Bordeaux is about 180km of straight flat motorway and surroundings.  Away to the left is the Atlantic Ocean and the coastline here is home to Europe's longest beach which attracts surfers from all over the world.  Signs for towns with memories of earlier holidays appear and disappear as we travel north.  The flatness doesn't really change until you get to Arcachon,  home to Europe's tallest sand dune and an important area for oyster cultivation. It is also the ancestral home of chef and author Anthony Bourdain (useless fact #1754).   A number of years ago in Arcachon I watched two men play a game of boules in the shade of a tree...

I pointed the car north east and left Pamplona, promising myself I'd return.  Tired of motorway driving I took the back roads and headed for Bayonne in French Basque Country .  The route took me through Roncevalles , long a strategic post for French invaders and famous for the defeat of Charlemagne in 778 but now a quiet hamlet and important stop for pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago who have walked over the Pyrenees.  Spain is the most mountainous country in Europe after Switzerland and the passes and villages of this region are definitely Alpine.  The route climbs steadily with tight switchbacks which certainly worked the cars gearbox.  The roads were busy with pilgrims and you couldn't help being conflicted between admiration for their efforts and doubts about their intelligence.   Suddenly you notice that the road signs have changed from Spanish to French and you realise that you've crossed the border.  The directions showed St...

Pamplona, the capital city of Navarre inextricably linked with bull fighting and Ernest Hemingway.  Hemingway visited every year from 1923 - 1927 for  San Fermin, the annual orgy of bullfighting, blood, booze and ballads when the city bursts at the seams from sheer numbers.  Indeed if it were not for him would Pamplona and its festival have gained the status it enjoys? Hemmingway Kebabs Hemmingway Drank Here Walk the city and cafes, restaurants, shops etc are named in his memory with claims of his patronage, indeed the challenge would be to find a bar where he didn't drink! All this was very appropriate as I was  reading  working my way through  For Whom The Bell Tolls.  Cafe Iruna  on  Plaza del Castillo  is credited with being his regular haunt, and it would have been mine too. A beautifully preserved 19th century building with many original features. The nearby 5 star Hotel la Perla was his hotel of choice whe...

Cider or sidra is the drink of choice for many Asturians.  Situated in the far north of Spain the region gets the full brunt of the Atlantic Ocean and is is too cold and wet for wine production.  So being the resourceful people that they are, they make cider. Sidrerias or cider bars, are common place in the country side and towns and like the Irish pub are a place to gather with family and friends.  The cider is billed as Sidra Natural.   It is made from apples harvested from the Asturian orchards and has no added ingredients.  Just pressed juice, natural yeast and time.  It a perfect accompaniment to the local cheeses and served cold better than any beer for quenching your thirst on a hot day.  The ritual of pouring it from above your head to aerate it is best left to the expert bar staff and waiters.  You're served about an inch of cider in a glass, which you knock back.  You then wait for the waiter to come back and refill your gl...

Close your eyes and think of Spain.  What do you see?  Chances are that you see endless sunshine, paella, bull fighting, flamenco, sangria, a shimmering Mediterranean sea, El Cid and Don Quixote.  That is not Asturias.  Asturias is Espana Verde or Green Spain.  Asturias is mixed weather, fabada, pipe music, cider and a hissing Atlantic ocean.  Asturias is not the Spain that the tourist board have painted but it is the Spain to where I headed. Bilbao from above Crossing the border into Spain is seamless, the road signs become Spanish, that's about the only difference.  Picking up the Autovia del Cantabrico we were soon passing signs for cities familiar from previous trips, San Sebastian, Vitoria Gasteiz, Gernika.  Soon we were driving over Bilbao trying to get an aerial view of  the Guggenheim.  Mountain tunnels This part of northern Spain is hemmed in between soaring mountains and a continuously charging...

And so down the motorway we sped, past Bordeaux. past Biarritz, past Bayonne, down to the Spanish border.  Deep into French Basque Country where sitting in an arching horseshoe bay lies Saint Jean de Luz, our home for the night.  St.Jean de Luz Beach Jai Alai Thanks to the modern wonders (to me at least) of modern SatNav we found our hotel easily. Odalys Erromardie is about 3km from the main town and near the main surfing beach, it provided secure parking and a few other creature comforts.  We checked in and headed for a swim in the hotel pool.  Suitably refreshed we donned the glad rags and headed for town. We decided to walk, there is a bus route which passes the hotel (#3) but we never saw it on either leg.  The evening was warm and humid and Mrs L required refreshments.  We stopped in to a local bar/tabac for a drink.  Behind the counter, past the bottles and shelves was a ball alley or fronton.  Pelota is a catch all ...