Toulouse

A seminar invitation in Toulouse provided the excuse for an extended weekend's visit to the French southwest, where Airbuses are built and duck reigns supreme.   Toulouse is a city of under a million people, with a smaller (but automated) subway, and far fewer crowds than Rome.   We had fantastic weather for walking about, exploring churches, museums, canals, and a bit of the surrounding region.  Meals, though, were our goal.
Friday night, on the recommendation of R's host, we ate at a small restaurant on Rue des Blanchers, not so far from the Manufacture Nationale de Tabak, today (for awhile longer) the home of the Economics Institute.

(This is the Manufacture, located on the Canal de Brienne, not the restaurant.)  The restaurant, Du Plaisir à la Toque, seemed quite popular on this Friday night. We'd tried to have our hotel book, but nobody answered the phone. Walking by, we made our own reservation, which was a good thing, because as we dined, several groups were turned away.   There was a small menu, plus specials, and we opted mostly for the latter:  we plunged in right away into the duck foie gras, foie gras in sauce for R, and foie gras on a rabbit rillette for me.   For the main, R had lamb shank in Roquefort sauce, and I had aiguillettes of duck (they are called the supreme of chicken, that little bit from the breast that is separate), wrapped around foie gras, surrounded by a circle of lightly sauteed vegetables such as zucchini and red cabbage.  The whole effect was excellent and scrumptious.  The service was casual but attentive; the room lit by sparkling fairy lights, also casual, but an excellent introduction to our Toulouse culinary holiday.

Saturday: there is a farmer's market on the main Place de la Capitole, at the City Hall.  The range of vegetables was a little disappointing -- still featuring winter root vegetables.  This was a harbinger of the realization that the cuisine of Toulouse is heavily based on meat, liver, and protein, not vegetable.

But our real destination was the famous covered market in Place Victor Hugo.  Here on Saturday morning we found in Cartesian rationality stalls for cheese, duck products, offal, the four quarters, and fish, both the finny kind:

And a huge variety of shellfish. (Toulouse claims special status because it is equally accessible to the fisheries of the Atlantic and the Mediterranean.)

There is also a mind-boggling array of cheese from all over France:

And last but not least, the shop of the Samaran firm, recommended to us as the best for duck and duck products.

Those are whole duck livers in the center, and all kinds of other mouth-watering examples of the local cuisine.
After a long and longing circuit of the market, we went upstairs for lunch.  On the second floor there are six restaurants featuring the products of the market.  We opted for one of the fish places, ordering the menu.  R had fish soup and sardines, I had a fish paté and the "duo" (this is a popular item, two things paired) of trout and daurade.  Dessert (memorable because it wasn't so good) was chocolate mousse and cheese.  Most people had selected the tiramisou, which came in a series of shot glasses.  Maybe next time...
We had hoped to do some cycling in Toulouse, particularly along the Canal du Midi.  The friendly Tourist Office behind the Capitole explained that the ubiquitous Toulouse bikes could not be rented by foreigners because of credit card restrictions, but there was a rental office near the train station. It was unfortunately not open on Sundays. This was our only chance.  We ambled over there, only to find that there was only one bike available.  But the mechanic in the back room offered that he was just about ready with another one, so we hired the two bikes for the afternoon (we could have kept them a week, I think, and the basic membership is good for a year), and pedaled off down the Canal du Midi, which is a UNESCO  World Heritage site that continues to the sea.  We took off on heavy city commuter bikes, in the face of a pretty strong wind, but the canal was lovely and peaceful, and in about 40 minutes we had left the city limits behind us.  (Ours are the white Location bikes; the standard city bikes have the red wheel cover.)

The paved part of the canal path crosses the bridges several times, and gave us a chance to contemplate the water. (Note that the trees have not yet leafed out, even in the south of France at the beginning of April.)

Just when we were beginning to tire and think about turning back in order to get the bikes back before the office closed, an inviting canalside cafe appeared.  Many cyclists were already there, finishing their lunches, presumably heavily dependent on duck and duck liver.  We were near the town of Castenet.

We needed only some bottled water and a coffee, but we relaxed along with the other Saturday cyclists, who had arrived on all manner of bikes and in all types of costumes, from Tour de France kit to ordinary jeans like us.

The ride back with the considerable wind was a breeze, as they say. The day was not too hot, but sunny and extremely pleasant. (The bike office clerk apologized for the lack of bikes - it was a rare sunny day and many folks had decided to go out cycling.)  In general, service was very friendly and helpful, whether at the hotel, the tourist bureau, the bike office, in restaurants or in shops.  The atmosphere of the town seemed quite laid back - was it the good weather? No, said Christian, R's host - it's because it is so close to Spain.
The bicycle trip whetted our appetite for more Toulousian food.  Tonight we would dine at a restaurant down the street from our hotel which had seemed quite popular the night before, Bistro du Chevillard, and which advertised its "Plats des canailles," or dishes of stellar offal.   Here R had the classic tete du veau in sauce ravigotte (we had seen tete du veau and pied du veau at the market earlier), and I had a salad of grilled chicken livers.  For the main course, R had casserole of andouillette and I had the special, a broiled veal kidney with bacon and frites.  Quite a lot of food, even with the bike ride.  Like the night before, the place was bustling with ordinary folks and families enjoying a good bouffe.

Sunday was cloudy and cool, and we congratulated ourselves on the good biking weather the day before.  We did some sightseeing, including a visit to the art museum at the Bemberg Foundation in the Assézat Mansion - an amazing number of Bonnards, and a nice collection overall.  Lunch was a little more challenging on a Sunday, but when our first choice place was closed, we stumbled on a mom and pop cafe called, "The Taste of Others," featuring local regional products.  A diner outside assured us the food was great, and so we went in.  It turned out later she was a friend of the owners and stayed outside drinking the whole time we were there, but in fact, the place was indeed excellent.  R had a mixed platter of charcuterie and cheese, and I had a "planchette of foie gras mi-cui on toast with bio salad."  (You have to work hard, actually, to find salad or vegetables here.  But why bother when the meat is so great?)

Sunday was otherwise a pretty slow day in Toulouse.  The streets were closed to most traffic because it was the first Sunday of the month.  There was also a triathlon taking place along the Garonne, with a few highly competitive bicycle racers and lots of others who looked like your mother on a coaster bike.  But one must eat, and we needed to find a place for dinner.  Upon recommendation of R's host, we opted for the Brasserie Capoul in the Place Wilson.  This was a pretty huge place, with a great skinny young jazz piano player performing cabaret favorites by memory and by fake book, including a very jazzed up "Someday My Prince Will Come."  We were a bit foied out, so we opted for the fish menu: mussels and daurade, and local wine.  Nothing fancy, but quite pleasant.

On Monday, we rented a car for a sightseeing trip to Carcassonne, and time permitting, Albi, which boasts a magnificent cathedral and a history of sheltering the Cathar heresy.  We chose well to visit Carcassonne on a cloudy and blustery Monday: we arrived just as the gates opened, and there were few tourists to worship at the shrine of Viollet le Duc, who singlehandedly re-invented medieval France in the mid-19th century.  (I was also similarly saddened to learn that the classic French hotel star system was invented by tourist authorities in the 1950s to encourage Americans to dare to visit France, all courtesy of the CIA who wanted to build up the French economy and keep the Communists at bay.)   So Carcassonne is a world class mass tourist center, but on this Monday, without the crowds, we were impressed with its battlements and the perspective over the countryside, once the border with Spain.  Much was rebuilt, but the cathedral still retained some of the original stained glass windows.

We had thought about picnicking, but the weather was not particularly inviting, so we kept looking for a suitable spot to eat on the very scenic drive from Carcassonne north to Albi.  We drove through Mazamet, which looked totally closed down, but on our second or third circuit through the town we came upon the hotel where all the town's bourgeoisie were having their lunch, and so we did too.

Knowing we were booked for a 2-star meal that evening, we ordered omelettes with foie gras and dried duck breast (a common local specialty), and a salad, and we pushed on to Albi, whose cathedral and old renaissance town were really stunning.  The cathedral is rather spare outside (and of a color like the mosque at Djenne in Mali)  except for the elaborately carved entrance.

The old town is full of life, many fine shops and shoppers, but it was quite a labyrinth.  In London, it is hard to get lost because there are so many markers, maps, and sign posts.  In the French countryside, it is hard to get lost by car because there are so many markers and sign posts (unless you lose the thread to "Centre Ville" as we did for a time returning to Toulouse).  But it seemed easy to get lost and turned around in Albi, even while admiring the old apothecary.

And then back in rush hour traffic, to deposit our Europcar at the train station in time to prepare for the highlight of our trip, dinner at the intimate 2-star restaurant Michel Sarran.  We couldn't pass up the "Menu saveurs occitane," so this is what we had:
Amuse bouche of cigarets of goat cheese, a spoonful of fish mousse
Marinated raw sea bass layered in thin sliced asparagus, with a disk of bass and topping
Rouget (red mullet) between two crackers made of potato, with ultra-creamy mousseline, a baby fennel with anchovie sauce, and a red (pepper?) sauce
Seared duck liver, with polenta crisps, extraordinarily smooth and creamy polenta (a smear on the side), and minced duck with a sauce inside a large pasta tube. (Duo of duck)
Cheese included Roquefort, goat, St. Nectaire
"Exotic fruits" including mango (perfectly ripe), lychee, sorbet of fraises?
Petit fours
The service was attentive and exquisite, we ordered local wines - Fronton Chateau des Plaisance red, and a half bottle of Jurançon white.
On the next day - we worked. R to visit the economics department, and I at the hotel on tourism revisions.  The evening post-seminar dinner with two of the economists took place at La Cindrée, in a picturesque old house near the center.  More duck liver and duck, okay but not magnificent.   The room and the company, though, were excellent.
And then before our flight the next day at noon, another descent on the market at Place Victor Hugo, to the Samaran shop, for some ducky souvenirs to bring home: a mi-cui whole liver, saucisson sec, and a magret, all of which provided our next few meals back in London.  (You can also buy Samaran products at the Toulouse airport -- modern and empty -- for a huge markup.)
The trip was so great we decided to return for a conference in May.