Driving in rural France is a lesson in survival. When you're winding through the countryside, the combination of narrow roads and ridiculously fast drivers keeps you on your toes. "What in the world are these huge trucks doing in the middle of nowhere?" is my thought after several close calls — it's not just to see fields of breathtaking sunflowers as far as the eye can see.
Here, we get a wonderful, informative vineyard and distillery tour from master Cognac distiller Etienne Delpech, whose generosity know no bounds.
"Would you like to taste the 1914 Cognac?" he (ridiculously) asks with an impish smile.
"Oui, oui, oui, monsieur," is my rapacious reply before the heavenly aromas fill my head and my palate has a heretofore unknown peak experience.
Down the road at the Vinet-Delpech bottling plant, manager Jean-Baptiste Delannoy guides us past a conveyor belt of expensive decanters squirted full of Napoleon 1789 XO brandy in a flash. As he cracks open a meeting room door to retrieve a Wi-Fi password for my use, I catch a glimpse of his father closing the deal with a cluster of smiling Chinese businessmen and women. Apparently, a large portion of their million-bottle output heads Far East.
In the many years I've traveled around France, I've always said it's almost impossible to find a bad meal. The raw materials are so exquisite, and fine culinary technique is so ingrained in the culture, that it just never happens. Mom-and-pop restaurants from small villages in the middle of nowhere consistently produce excellent results. Dining, of course, is a national pastime.
Today on a visit to Périgueux for market day, however, I have one of the worst meals in my memory. My companions and I talk almost nonstop about its horrors: frozen cardboard quiche crust, dry rubber chicken, forgotten wine and the like.
Little do we know that our host has dinner plans not far from her ancient stone farmhouse. The little commune of Saint-Saud-Lacoussière in the Dordogne is home to the glorious Hostellerie Saint-Jacques. Sandrine Babayou's family has been delighting guests in this brightly colored Alice in Wonderland setting since 1933.
Out of the blue, we have a dinner of gastronomic highs that erases all thoughts of the abysmal lunch. We're able to head off in the morning for a long drive to Paris on an extremely high note.
Editor's note: CL food critic Jon Palmer Claridge is in France doing "research."
This article appears in Jul 9-15, 2015.