Fr’ethnic

Lunch at Chez Nicole,  a delightfully old-fashioned restaurant in Masclat, a nearby town.  These sort of restaurants used to be everywhere in France but there are fewer and fewer.  It had a fixed menu of five courses, a hearty soup followed by ‘crudités’ actually a random tomato salad, melon and pate.  Poulet blanc with macaroni.  A cheese course and then a delicious raspberry cake. with a pitchet of wine and a cup of coffee in sweet old fashioned cups.  The children were indulged and ate melon and pasta. There was a table of bikers outside but we sat inside.  It was a lovely experience.  

In the morning, V and I stayed in the house and I once again wrangled calls and emails before meeting up with the others who had been to a goat farm. In the afternoon we went over to look at Rocamadour, a spectacular hilltop town which was considerably more interesting at a distance.  Close up it was a tourist honeypot with little of interest in the streets except for endless shops selling foie gras and walnut oils.   Drove back a lovely way over what felt like the Massif Central.  We drove in a little sunshine at last but the weather quickly turned cool and showery.  

In the evening we ate a finishing up supper of a frittata and I spent a time on the phone to Noemi.