We headed out on a clean and clear morning, a hard rain during the night having been very welcome after a long stretch of dry days. Chased the evening before by a wall of black, the horizon thick in thunder clouds spitting stripes of lightning, we'd made it home just as large drops began to ping off roof tiles. Upon waking, bowls of coffee, a platter of just picked raspberries, and Katie's buttery croissant were ample breakfast as we had the Côte Sauvage in our sights, oysters in our near future. A "bird" stock of duck and pigeon bones was set on very low heat along with the usual suspects of carrot, onion, celery, and a
bouquet garni, the base of a sauce for a light quail dinner upon our return.
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Katie focused at Bruno's |
La Seudre, the river/estuary capped by Ile d'Orléon on the Atlantic, was our destination. There we would find
les parcs des huîtres, the web of small huts and low pools along with the oysters that they housed. The smell of still warm baguettes we'd picked up coming out of Saint-Jean-d'Angély filled the car, as we eased over the rutted tracks that past for roads, heading out from the village of Chaillevette. It was mid-morning when we found that Madame Rataud, a favorite at the Saturday market in the village of Ruffec, had been called away for a delivery up the coast, north of Marennes. This was the perfect chance to stop in and visit Bruno Gass, whose hut rest's a shell's throw away. With a smile and a hand shake, he climbed up from the deck where he had been sorting the morning's oysters. We happily accepted an offer of #3's (similar to a small Miyagi) and short glasses of his brother-in-law's dry, dry white (grown on the rise we'd past when entering the village), the faint smell of residual wood smoke from the quieted stone hearth set against one wall cutting the sea air. The bread came in handy, the hour not yet 11:00.
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Round 2 set on seaweed |
Leaving Bruno to his work, we cut up further along the water and through Arvert, on whose inlet we found the welcome of the Briant family. Having just unloaded their barge from the seeding place on the mud flats where the mouth of
La Seudre meets the sea, they were cleaning and processing before lunch. Work came quickly to a halt, more oysters and white wine appeared. We never pass through the Friday Jarnac fish market without stopping for the conversation, and invariably a sack or two. All soon became aware why, as these oysters held just a bit more brine on tasting, washed away easily with a Côte de Blaye. Talk was of the season and how the warm weather had them placing the "seeds" in a little deeper water than usual to protect the development, reluctantly pulling ourselves away seeing it nearing noon, and lunchtime for all.
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Low tide in La Tremblade |
We managed somehow to find room for some grilled
bar sauvage (wild sea bass) and bowls of large
crevettes along the banks of the river itself in La Tremblade. It was hot, the sky blue, with the unhindered sun gleaming off the mud of low tide. Despite the earlier oysters, we ate hungrily, again with a crisp Côte de Blaye white. Strong coffee added to our incentive to the ride back, a stop at the old Roman era church just the other side of Rouillac in our plans. A good day not yet done.
http://www.chez-gautier.com
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