I know I should probably be raving about pastries and shoving croissants and tarte tatins down my neck simultaneously (I totally am. I’m spitting buttery flakes as I write) but the fact is, French salads just do it for me.
Today I had a moment – one of many I know.
I’m currently in France in the Pas-de-Calais region, holidaying with my family.
Sat in a cafe with my parents, Mr. GTMHTC and little Maggie, the sun was shining, I was eating (always at my happiest with something in my mouth) and everybody was just happy.
I always look at French women eating and every time it looks like a fabulous activity. Their chatting, sloshing wine back pushing salad around their plate.
I mean, who’s happy from salad?
Well the French are. And I want to look like one of those slim, elegant creatures casually brunching with handsome men and gorgeous girls, probably laughing about last nights sophisticated antics.
So I sat in said cafe, ordered an epic salad fermiére and waited for the magic to happen.
It arrived looking absolutely delicious, oozing that ‘laid back lunch in the sun’ vibe.
What I got was Mr. GTMHTC’s loud booming Northern voice rhyming off inappropriate jokes, Dad went hyper after one beer and Maggie May needed her nappy changing.
But yes, the salad was magic.
I guess you can’t have it all!
I’ve been to Monteuil sur mer more times than I can count, but never have I known about the beautiful walk we stumbled across today. You can potter around the edge of the town and see out to the stunning French countryside for miles.
We lunched at La Paloma situated on the edge of the square.
For me this was quite a typical French restaurant. “Madame” came, Madame went. No hello or smile, just knives and forks and menus and et voila! Ha! But I like that. A good plate of food (served later by a lovely French waitress) and nothing more.