Tuesday, 1 September 2015

Étupes: Food, glorious food! – Sunday 12 July

This blog is probably going to mention food a lot. One of my earliest literary influences was Enid Blyton, and what I still remember vividly from her books was her descriptions of food – those splendid midnight feasts of condensed milk and sardines – and those lashings of ginger beer and strawberries that Aunt Fanny packed for the Famous Five. Enid ruined me, really; I’ve never been great at restraining myself when food is presented to me in any way, shape or form. I love the stuff – not only the taste and feel of it, but the very idea and description  of anything edible.

I was very impressed with French food in general. The tomatoes actually taste like tomatoes there, you know? I so missed that, living in the UK. I had feared a diet of dry French baguette and coffee would result in a grumpy Lindsey quite quickly, but actually we were very spoilt – every day we had an abundance of fresh fruit and vegetables, lovely just-baked bread and a variety of meals. However, the Alsatian obsession with pork did get a bit much after a while, and also, it must be said that the French can’t – or won’t – do tea. I mean, really, chaps, it should be served at every meal – nay, every given opportunity – and a weak tea bag placed next to a cup of slightly-above-lukewarm water simply doesn’t cut it. Also, one shouldn’t have to ask for milk!


Anyway, I digress. Our next concert was in Étupes, in the Arrondissement of Franche-Comté (I don’t actually know what this means, but it sounds impressive, n’est-ce pas?). An entirely different experience to our Strasbourg perfomance, this one took place in what felt like a small but strong surburban church. The congregation had already attended their morning service, and we played a matinee. It was swelteringly hot, and when we were served luscious grapefruit chunks in our break, we couldn’t have been happier.


Rehearsal and concert ran without hitch. The congregation received the words and music with vigour. But I have to confess, my over-riding memory is of the sumptuous feast the church laid on for us after the concert. The blistering heat of the day had faded, and we were seated on long tables under the trees. Our first course was pea soup – cold, and very green, but surprisingly refreshing and tasty, if a bit salty. Then came the meat – pork and pork and pork and beef, and potatoes, and carrots, and salad, and some variety of black lentils. 



Our bellies were already full, and we were in the process of discovering just how very much fruit flies LOVE pork, when the cheese course was announced. This was accompanied by a lecture – in French, but translated by the unflappable Toby Garfit – on the merits of the local cheese. I admit I don’t remember any of their names, but did you know that back in the day, the farmhands would separate the morning and afternoon milk was with a layer of ash, to keep them fresh? And still today, the local cheese has a thin black layer in the middle (not of ash anymore, but something edible).


The cheeses were yummy, and followed swiftly by melons in delicious colours, and baskets of peaches, and different yoghurts (including one ‘for the ladies,’ which presumably was low-fat – which I strongly disagree with, ahem, and therefore avoided). Everything, of course, was washed down with wine, and as if we hadn’t eaten enough, we were given little chocolate bars to round off the meal.

The sun rose, and the sun set, and it was a glorious day in Étupes.