Une Soirée avec La Belle Isabelle
(An evening with beautiful Isabelle)
(An evening with beautiful Isabelle)
Some weeks ago I spent yet another great evening with Kieran and Julia it was a quiet affair by their standards with myself, Trevor, José a former next door neighbour of K&J and his lovely partner Isabelle. It was the first time I had met José, he is in his early 50's, has a long thin piece of platted hair at the back, was a real rebel in his youth and probably still is. He works for France Telecom and speaks pretty good English. His partner Isabelle is simply a delightful lady, she has a shop in Fontenay Le Comte selling ladies clothes, don’t ask me, I know nothing of these things. I do know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and in my eyes Isabelle is a real beauty, apart from her timeless looks she is also a lovely lady calm, serene, kind and thoughtful. If only José hadn't seen her first. José and Isabelle were also at Stephen and Sally's big celebration BBQ and during the course of that evening Isabelle reiterated an invitation to S&S, K&J, Trevor and me to have dinner with her and José at her house in Fontenay Le Comte I was looking forward to it immensely, and at last the night had arrived. I was showered shaved and wearing my best T shirt.Trevor couldn't go because he had visitors arriving, it was possible that they would have arrived by the time we were due at Isabelle's. Unfortunately Trevor was incommunicado having no phone or internet due to a problem while trying to change from France Telecom to SFR, something that I will address in another post. So K&J picked me up and having then picked up S&S we went to rendezvous with José at his house so that he could lead us to Isabelle's. José has a great little house just outside of L'hermenault and from there we went on into Fontenay le Comte. Isabelle's house is right on the river and you truly wouldn't know that you were in a town at all, the downstairs is open plan and the lounge opens onto a kitchen and then there is a terrace with a veranda overlooking the river. We were ushered out to the decked veranda where we sat at a table under a sail watching the river slip by below. It was an almost magical setting that anyone with any soul couldn’t fail to find enchanting.
We had seeds, which were very tasty and salty, for aperitifs along with a variety of drinks which included pinot, a fortified wine favoured in the Vendee and port. I had seen port served as an aperitif before and I commented to Isabelle that in England we drank port with the cheese course she was a little surprised but took it in her stride. The French tend to drink the best Bordeaux they can muster with their cheese; I suppose it’s hardly surprising here, being so close to Bordeaux. I could have stayed on the balcony all night drinking and talking with some of my favourite people in the world, and in the company of the delightful Isabelle, but time stands still for no man and soon enough we were making our way indoors and seating ourselves at the table.
The starter was as brave as it was splendid, it was a tart made of weeds from the garden, Isabelle had never made it before and it was fantastic, the juxtaposition of the cheese on top of the wilted greenery which had a slight taste of iron was perfect, this was all set off by the light pastry case and it was a joy on the palette. We were all delighted with the food, but it wasn’t just the food the house was enthralling, everywhere you looked there was something unique and interesting. On the wall where the stairs rose there were a selection of French words and phrases that were written twice, they were phonetically the same but were spelt differently and had different meanings they were very clever and we spent some time working out the various meanings. There was also a delightful red silhouette, which appeared as if it were a shadow of Isabelle sitting on the stairs. Everywhere one looked there was something original, clever or charming; there was no matching dinner service, no matching glassware everything was unique everything was individual. Jose being a bit of a wine buff only drinks wine that is, in his opinion, old enough so the wine was good.
The conversation was genial and relaxed as we waited for the main course which was chicken and vegetables in a sauce, it was a superb dish but then Isabelle could serve me baked beans on toast and I’d find something to eulogise about. As it was this was lovely and I couldn’t help but have a little bit more, as I think did all of the men. Then there was cheese, a typical French cheeseboard with all of the usual suspects and Isabelle ever attentive and mindful of my earlier comment returned the port to the table. She followed the cheese with plums in eau de vie which were fabulous, then a plum tart and coffee. The conversation was lively and as usual with the aforesaid assembly there were no lack of amusing anecdotes and interesting stories. Kieran told us the tale of one of his sons who is a marine. Following an exercise in the USA he had some well deserved R&R and some of the regiment including his son decided to visit Florida. On arrival at their hotel they went out onto their balcony which overlooked the pool and to their delight it was full of beautiful young women, however having travelled all night immediately following the end of the exercise they were understandably very tired and so decided to have a sleep before attacking the beautiful assembly. After a couple of hours they arose somewhat refreshed only to find that the bevy of young beauties had been replaced by elderly ladies doing aqua aerobics, that was followed by a kids swimming school and though they waited the young ladies never returned. The moral of this story is of course no matter what, strike while the iron is hot.
The evening was long and the ladies were tired so sadly it was time to go, I could have stayed all night in Isabelle’s beguiling company, but we all said our goodbyes promising to get together again soon. To my eternal shame I have not, as promised, visited Isabelle’s shop although I have looked for it unsuccessfully, a couple of times when in Fontenay le Comte. I could have tried harder to get in touch but the weather continues to conspire against me, the sun has shone relentlessly and the winter is long and cold, so I spend as much time in and around the pool as I can, and to that end I have rather slacked in my promise. It is without my loss as if this evening was anything to go on, any time spent with Isabelle promises to be akin to time spent in Shangri La.
We had seeds, which were very tasty and salty, for aperitifs along with a variety of drinks which included pinot, a fortified wine favoured in the Vendee and port. I had seen port served as an aperitif before and I commented to Isabelle that in England we drank port with the cheese course she was a little surprised but took it in her stride. The French tend to drink the best Bordeaux they can muster with their cheese; I suppose it’s hardly surprising here, being so close to Bordeaux. I could have stayed on the balcony all night drinking and talking with some of my favourite people in the world, and in the company of the delightful Isabelle, but time stands still for no man and soon enough we were making our way indoors and seating ourselves at the table.
The starter was as brave as it was splendid, it was a tart made of weeds from the garden, Isabelle had never made it before and it was fantastic, the juxtaposition of the cheese on top of the wilted greenery which had a slight taste of iron was perfect, this was all set off by the light pastry case and it was a joy on the palette. We were all delighted with the food, but it wasn’t just the food the house was enthralling, everywhere you looked there was something unique and interesting. On the wall where the stairs rose there were a selection of French words and phrases that were written twice, they were phonetically the same but were spelt differently and had different meanings they were very clever and we spent some time working out the various meanings. There was also a delightful red silhouette, which appeared as if it were a shadow of Isabelle sitting on the stairs. Everywhere one looked there was something original, clever or charming; there was no matching dinner service, no matching glassware everything was unique everything was individual. Jose being a bit of a wine buff only drinks wine that is, in his opinion, old enough so the wine was good.
The conversation was genial and relaxed as we waited for the main course which was chicken and vegetables in a sauce, it was a superb dish but then Isabelle could serve me baked beans on toast and I’d find something to eulogise about. As it was this was lovely and I couldn’t help but have a little bit more, as I think did all of the men. Then there was cheese, a typical French cheeseboard with all of the usual suspects and Isabelle ever attentive and mindful of my earlier comment returned the port to the table. She followed the cheese with plums in eau de vie which were fabulous, then a plum tart and coffee. The conversation was lively and as usual with the aforesaid assembly there were no lack of amusing anecdotes and interesting stories. Kieran told us the tale of one of his sons who is a marine. Following an exercise in the USA he had some well deserved R&R and some of the regiment including his son decided to visit Florida. On arrival at their hotel they went out onto their balcony which overlooked the pool and to their delight it was full of beautiful young women, however having travelled all night immediately following the end of the exercise they were understandably very tired and so decided to have a sleep before attacking the beautiful assembly. After a couple of hours they arose somewhat refreshed only to find that the bevy of young beauties had been replaced by elderly ladies doing aqua aerobics, that was followed by a kids swimming school and though they waited the young ladies never returned. The moral of this story is of course no matter what, strike while the iron is hot.
The evening was long and the ladies were tired so sadly it was time to go, I could have stayed all night in Isabelle’s beguiling company, but we all said our goodbyes promising to get together again soon. To my eternal shame I have not, as promised, visited Isabelle’s shop although I have looked for it unsuccessfully, a couple of times when in Fontenay le Comte. I could have tried harder to get in touch but the weather continues to conspire against me, the sun has shone relentlessly and the winter is long and cold, so I spend as much time in and around the pool as I can, and to that end I have rather slacked in my promise. It is without my loss as if this evening was anything to go on, any time spent with Isabelle promises to be akin to time spent in Shangri La.
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