After a few weeks in the city, I was eager to get out and explore the French countryside I've heard so much about. Because I used to work for a wine retailer, I still had connections (albeit friends of friends) to a few vintners in Burgundy, home to fabled producers of fine pinot noir and chardonnay. Abby and I loaded ourselves and our things into a clownishly small Renault and made a beeline for Beaune and further south to Cotes du Rhone.
Beaune has its charms, however the region – much like its wine – is austere, not terribly accessible to neophytes and requires patience to appreciate. After getting a little bored with our options we headed to a more comfortable hotel in Lyon and then to Avignon. The town of Avignon is billed as a must-see attraction. The Palace of the Popes is lovely and we had a fabulous dinner at Numero 75, but we both were longing for examples of the fine living for which Provence is known. Frankly, we weren't terribly interested in seeing another church, palace or plaza ringed by cafés.
The last day of our trip we took the Twingo out for a spin along the wine trail of Cotes du Rhone. At last, we both thought, this is what we were after… postcard views of sun-baked vineyards over rolling hills, ancient wisteria-covered stone homes sporting happy blue shutters and restaurants filled with tanned patrons clad in perfectly-pressed linen outfits in soft shades of beige and gray. After exploring several tidy medieval hilltop villages, we settled into a lunch under dappled sunlight at a charming restaurant in Gigondas. After a vegetable tart with anchovy cream and mesclun, we ate dorade with a beurre blanc over a red-wine risotto. I drank a white from the town of Sablet, Abby sipped a rosé from Gigondas. Perfection.
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