Honfleur

The timing of our entry into Honfleur could not have been worse. It was a beautiful Saturday at 11:30 and the weekly market was in full swing.  Cindy’s unerring navigation got us in front of the apartment we were to rent for the week, but because of the market there was no place to park anywhere near the apartment.  We finally found a spot half a mile away, secured the car, had a quick coffee and toilet break, and were standing outside the apartment door at noon.  We were buzzed in and confronted with countless narrow winding stairs up to our apartment.  Since we had no luggage at the time it was okay, but we dreaded the thought of hauling our luggage up those stairs.

Eric our landlord was there to greet us but we had to wait for his wife because he seemed not to know anything about anything.  When she arrived it wasn’t much better, but they gave us the one set of keys, a quick “tour” of the bright and airy apartment, and were on their way.  We retrieved the car and double-parked in order to unload all of our luggage, and then I went off to find another parking place while Cindy bucked all of the luggage up those winding stairs.  What a gal.  Her only question was why my suitcase was so heavy and I reminded her that it contained, in addition to the normal stuff, a bottle of cognac, a bottle of rosé, a bottle of white wine, a bottle of Pastis and a bottle of cassis.  Rather heavy stuff!

We unpacked and did a quick inventory of the apartment, which was very fast due to the fact that the cupboards were bare except for dishes and glassware.  There was no salt, no pepper, no sugar, no coffee or tea – nothing that we have come to expect in a weekly rental.  There was one roll of toilet paper, no tissues, a third of a roll of paper towels, and while each wastebasket had a plastic liner bag, there were no replacement bags to be seen.  We made a mental note of a shopping list, which was “buy everything” and headed out to investigate our new hometown for the next week.

Honfleur is delightful - situated where the Seine empties into the English Channel - and it has been home to painters, writer, and musicians for hundreds of years.  The old port is lined with scores of restaurants, with tables hugging the harbor – we have never seen a town that size with so many restaurants.  Exhausted from our travels, we decided to find a place for lunch and started reading menu and after menu (something we always find to be fun).  After doing due diligence we were close to a decision when a sudden rainsquall hurried us into the closest restaurant that offered affordable oysters on the half shell.  We started with lovely cold Kirs and then Cindy had mussels and frites, and I had my first of dozens of oysters that would be consumed in Honfleur that week.  This was washed down with half a bottle of Muscadet. By then the rain had stopped and we continued touring around the town for an hour before heading home for a much needed nap. 

We shopped for basics – aka everything – but I was not in the mood to cook quite yet so we read menus again and had a late dinner at the Bistro du Port, surprisingly enough directly on the port.  We had a charming and friendly woman waiting on us who humored us with our French and taught us lots of food names we weren’t sure of, including bigorneaux - aka periwinkles - and the fact that amands can be either clams or almonds.  Go figure.  I had cod with a red wine and bone marrow sauce –sounds weird but it was delicious, and Cindy had a scallop salad to start followed by a delicate Rascasse (rockfish).  This was all washed down with the house rose and house white.  Just before we left our charming waitperson gave us a free taste of the Calvados that is so famous in Normandy.  A lovely end to a fun evening.

The rest of the days fell into a familiar pattern of long walks or runs in the morning, followed by breakfast at the house with whatever we had purchased at the bakery, more walking, and lunch and dinner n the apartment.  The kitchen was perhaps the worst I have ever encountered, with a horrible stove (only 2 burners) and the worst pans in the world.  Nevertheless I managed to make an omelet one night, made many salads, and supplemented the meals with wonderful items from the nearby shops such as rabbit in mustard sauce and a rotisserie chicken.  We don’t have a microwave at home but I experimented with this one and found a brilliant way to use it.  Slice a few cloves of garlic, put them in a cup, add salt, pepper and herbs de Provence, cover with olive oil, and zap for 30 seconds.  The garlic softens and gets mild and flavors the oil – and voilá, you have the basis for a delicious salad dressing.  I got more and more frustrated with the limited culinary conditions, but Cindy was always thrilled with my efforts so I guess I did okay.