STORIES WORTH REMEMBERING

 

A series of essays....

TYPICAL FARE FOR A PERFECT FRENCH PICNIC FEAST

Courtesy of  Fat Tire Tours

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

The stories in my head take me back to a time when dreams came true. A time when lifelong plans became a reality. A time when the excitement of world travel blossomed like snowdrops in the springtime, fresh and new following winter’s frigid cold.

Set me down at a picnic table right in the heart of Champagne with the sun shining down on the simple luncheon feast spread across the wooden planks and a slight breath of air curling the edges of the colorful scarf used to anchor the edible feast.

The refreshing, mid-August breeze caressed my smiling face as I slipped into the memory of how my husband, daughter, and I arrived at this petite picnic spot in the first place. 

We had recently left Paris after three full days of walking, observing, and listening to the locals sing their beautiful words and watch their melodies float along the air like rows of multi-colored gems. I was pleased to know that many of these gems I could identify and even piece together again in translation understanding that the years of high school and college French classes were paying off.

The last evening spent in the City of Light found us squeezing into a small sweet shop in the Marais and ordering glace à la fraise (strawberry ice cream) with tiny, dark pearls of tart, red current berries topping the frozen creation. We discussed our next night’s stay in the center of Strasbourg (centreville), due east of Paris and nestled along the Rhine River that separates France from Germany. So much history to take in from one picturesque city following the thread to another.

To arrive in Strasbourg by early evening, we decided to travel the Champagne Route and meander through the row upon row of vineyards comprising this beautiful area. Dan drove through the heart of Reims, the unofficial capital of the region, with its many champagne houses headquartered there offering tastings and cellar tours.

WEAVING OUR WAY BETWEEN FORESTS, VINES AND HILLSIDES
DOTTED WITH PICTURESQUE VILLAGES 

Opting out of a tour this time around, we stopped at a marché or French market on the outskirts of Reims in order to purchase luncheon fare for our picnic between the vines and hillsides along the Champagne Route.

We asked Dan to wait in the car while my daughter and I played like the locals and did our shopping. Our plan was to speak only French—and, giggling mercilessly, we succeeded in making that happen! Our eleven-year-old understood the language well enough to make selections and even speak with several people in the store. She proved to be brave and inquisitive. It was quite an adventure for both of us!

Yes, a baguette and creamy butter (a meal in itself), served with a side of ham slices and local cheese (jambon et fromage). There were French radishes, carrots, and celery to add more color and local freshness to our humble meal. Soon, we’d be pouring inexpensive red wine into paper cups. Our daughter chose a carton of fresh juice for herself.

 

We were very proud of ourselves as we hopped back into the car after stashing our armful of goodies in the trunk. All French markets back in 1990 had you pay a few cents extra for a plastic bag for your groceries. Or, you could bring your own bags to be filled. Our outstretched arms served us well for the few purchases we made that day.

Following the Champagne Route out of Reims and heading south towards the town of Epernay, we were seriously looking for the perfect spot to enjoy our meal. Right on cue, under a fluttering green canopy of summer leaves with sunbeams filtering through pointing out the spot, we found our wooden picnic table nestled along a small hillside embankment just off of the narrow road.

We floated in this protective bubble, grape vines encircling us and luxuriating in our heady triumph, for as long as possible. How could this not be the best meal, by far, we had eaten while in France? And, for dessert, we had framboises juteuses (juicy raspberries) purchased at a Paris open market the night before and gently rinsed in the bathroom sink of our hotel room. Their sweetness ran down our throats like liquid candy from the garden and was the perfect ending to our perfect feast.

Feeling energized from the consumption of food, fresh air, and glorious sunshine, it was time to pack-up the small cooler and erase all remnants of our stay in this glorious spot, leaving it as pristine as possible for the next family to visit. We had the hillsides and small villages of Champagne yet to discover with our small hotel near the Cathedral in Strasbourg waiting for us at the end of this particular rainbow.

WHOSE WEDDING, NEW YEAR’S PARTY, GRADUATION,
RETIREMENT, OR BIRTHDAY HAS BEEN 
CELEBRATED WITH THE PRODUCT OF THESE GRAPES?

Riding in the backseat of our rental car, sunroof gaping wide open with the heat of the early afternoon sun settling nicely on the top of our heads, our daughter begs her father to stop and pull over. As she opens the trunk and lifts a bright yellow package from our bag, I take advantage of the opportunity to take several pictures of the clusters of green, unripened grapes clinging to the vines. I can’t help but wonder who’ll be drinking their golden, bubbly nectar, known as the king of wines, in the future. I have captured a moment suspended in time that will keep me speculating for years to come.

I remember now that I spotted LU Petit Beurre emblazoned on the package she held in her hands, eyes begging me to let her open it. Mais bien sûr. This simple, golden butter biscuit is a French classic. It would not be an exaggeration to say that France would not be the same without Petit Beurre! 

MONSIEUR LEFEBVRE, A BAKER, AND MADEMOISELLE UTILE
MARRIED IN 1850 AND BEGAN BAKING BISCUITS
AND LABELED EACH PACKAGE WITH THEIR INITIALS, LU.

Passing the package back and forth, devouring the seemingly burnt cookies while weaving our way between forests, vines, and hillsides dotted with picturesque villages sparkling with charm, we happily polished off the Petit Beurre. There was joy within those golden crumbs swirling around us and clinging to the smiles on our sun kissed faces. 

The Champagne Route was more than a gateway into the world of wine. It was an opportunity to discover the happiness within ourselves. It was our way of enjoying the simplest things this spectacular country had to offer while eating Petit Beurre along the way! It was truly—unforgettable.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

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