English and French

Last night, we went to a quiz night at Domaine de Rambeau. This is a bed and breakfast place just north of Castelmoron, run by an English woman, Kim and her French husband Christian.

It was a great night. Those at our table were witty and knowledgeable. We had a lot of fun.

We met new people and learned of a local English/French association that had more than a hundred members. And there was a waiting list.

The association splits into a number of smaller groups which meet regularly, providing an opportunity for locals to learn English and vice versa.

We also learned of a photography club that meets in Castelmoron every Thursday night.

The guests at these Domaine de Rambeau functions are almost always English or fluent English speakers. Ordering drinks from Christian is the only time you need to speak French.

In contrast, today's repas des chasseurs or hunters' lunch was a French speaking affair.

Some weeks ago, we saw a flier for the lunch and were intrigued. So we rang and booked.

We arrived at Lebretonnerie, a tiny village 20 minutes by car from Castelmoron, at midday. Smoke billowed from the open charcoal fires at the front of the Salle des Fetes (community hall) and men with wide girths and checkered aprons readied racks of brochettes for the grill.

The lunch, which is put on once a year by the local hunters' association, attracts more than a hundred guests. I'm pretty sure Cliona and I were the only English speakers among them.

For pre-lunch drinks at the bar, there was a choice of apero... whisky, ricard or kir.

Chargrilled pieces of wild boar offal, with onion and capsicum, were offered as an opening salvo.

The entrée was a coarse country paté of local pork, served with tomato and cucumber which you dressed from small plastic bowls of vinagrette on the table.

Bottles of red wine were brought out and regularly replaced.

Next came slow-cooked venison in a white wine sauce, flavoured with bouquet garni, carrots, mushrooms and seasoning.

This was followed by a fillet of wild boar, with French fries.

Just when we thought there couldn't possibly be any more food, there was.

Large bowls of dressed salad (lettuce) and platters of soft cheese appeared.

Dessert was tarte aux fraises, sweet, new-season strawberries on a pastry base with custard cream topped with chocolate-flecked whipped cream.  Sparkling apple cider accompanied this course.

By now it was five o'clock. Lunch had been going for five hours.

I never found out when the wild boar was shot, but I did learn the deer had been winter killed and frozen.

Apparently, before boar meat is made available to members,  it is laboratory tested to ensure it is disease-free.

Hunting is a traditional activity in rural France. But the ranks of hunting associations are thinning. Young people are hard to recruit. The man next to me gloomily predicted that hunting may disappear in France in coming decades.

He was adamant hunting helped maintain the ecological balance. Without it, he said, the number of feral animals would increase and cause a lot of damage.

He said feral goats were the animals most frequently hunted, less so boar, deer, pheasants, rabbits etc.

The repas des chasseurs was a great gourmet and learning experience, another noteworthy day in our unfolding French adventure.