To make the rest of the trip really easy we broke the journey
at Chauvigny, supposed to be one of the undiscovered gems of
France, the ancestral home of the bishops of Poitiers.

I got a decent-priced accommodation at Chalet Fleuri just
across the river, which was hard to find because it really
looked like a late-20th century apartment complex, not very
chaletlike at all. The rooms were okay, though, and the patio,
overlooking the Vienne, was actually quite nice and a perfect
place to relax with a glass or bottle of local red plonk.

The staff, all female and apparently from one extended
family, were gruff-friendly in the French style. Though the
restaurant smelled okay, and a couple of the (few) other
guests seemed ready to eat there, we decided to go across
the bridge and check out town, where we found Angelic Le
Gaston, a hippish place that seemed comfortable enough. The
waitress said it was named after her grandfather Gaston who
had been the chef half a century before.

We had a bottle of Paul Mas Viognier for the ladies' meals
with me taking half a glass for aperitif. It was heavily
floral and tropical fruity, quite tasty. With my main course
I got a glass of fairly respectable Morgon from a producer
I'd not heard of - it was meaty and went well.

They got terrine de foie gras and salads of various kinds.
The foie gras was pretty good, the salads perfectly fine.

Not for me, though, so I got the entrecote frites, which was
more a bavette arrangement than a rib steak but pretty good
if not as fatty as I'm inclined to prefer. A little resilient
though rare as ordered. Frites were good and abundant, and
I gave most of them away.

It turns out in the cold light of next day I discovered that
we'd been charged for three full meals instead of the a la
carte prices, which would have been E20 less.

Speaking of next day, we got up early and explored the old
city and its two castles, quite impressive. One of them offers
a birds of prey soaring on the updrafts show, but we passed
and went on to Poitiers, not far - Chauvigny having been the
home of the bishops of that city, it couldn't have been all
that far. Took us nearly an hour in the rain and traffic; in
the olden days, maybe two hours by fast horse, three in
bishoply comfort.
=

At Poitiers we met up with Letitia's parents for lunch. We
tried for the Bistrot du Boucher, one of Bob's go-to places,
but it was closed at noon for holidays, so we wandered the
picturesque town hall square looking for a place to eat. We
ended up at Au Bureau, a couple doors from Boucher, a place
that I'd guess is meant for casual wine-and-snack stops and
serves meals when the more reputable places are closed. I
had advocated for a moules-frites joint, but Bob wanted what
Bob wanted.

There are formules for about 18, and the other four got them.
The set appetizer was tuna and tomato salad, an abomination
which I have encountered at many provincial restaurants and
which almost automatically ensures that I don't get the menu.
The stuff was - rather than the hollowed-out tomato stuffed
with tuna salad - chopped tomatoes and tuna fish bound with a
not too bad mayonnaise; nonetheless I was glad I didn't get it.

Letitia and Bonnie got the paella, while Sue and Bob had the
alternative steak frites. There was actually a vegetarian
choice, pizza margherita, now that I recall.

The paella was dreadful, old seafood, pebbly fishy rice, such
as you'd get at the market for snacks, very French and very
disgusting. The steaks, well, they were close on half a pound
but done several levels rarer than ordered. Bob, being an old
soldier, soldiered on and ate all of his, with all of his
pretty decent frites. Sue, rather delicate but still very
British stiff upper lip, didn't complain but picked at her
food, eating mostly the salad garnish. She wrapped up 90% of
her steak, saying she'd recook it later at home. Bob ate
all her frites.

I had the menu gourmand at E10 more. It was twice as much
food but not twice as good. I started with a slice of torchon
de foie gras, which promised well, followed by the mixed grill,
which consisted of a pork country-style rib, actually very good,
a brochette of beef with green and yellow peppers that would
also have been pretty decent except for the fact that the beef,
from the nicer part of the chuck, had been unnecessarily
marinated and then undercooked almost as severely as Bob and
Sue's had been. Marinade doesn't taste good when it's raw. Then
there was some curried chicken breast that was tasty enough but
hideously dry, at least twice as cooked as it should have been.

They each got a scoop of vanilla with chocolate sauce with their
formule, but my dessert was the extremely fancier frozen tiramisu,
which was also fatally flawed, this time the error being rum
extract instead of real booze - something strange for a bar.

A barely acceptable but we thought sustaining meal.
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