The 11:27 train to Avignon stopped and we jumped on, taking it just to Séte, a small town on the Mediterranean and the end of the Canal du Midi.
Séte is pronounced “set” and so we decided to séte up here for two days of neglected chores (laundry, groceries) and rest.
Long tree lined streets lead from the train station along a canal, then over bridges to a main canal and the two block deep city center. The main canal is fronted by tall, typically French buildings with iron balcony rails, with some newer buildings in between. The canal is lined both sides with boats that are reflected in the still water.
There is a surprising amount of public art; murals that cover entire building sides and smaller, less obvious paintings. Much of it has a political or social message.
It is a blazing hot, cloudless day. My friend Don texts me a "Fake-News" story from the Washington Post about the supposed record heat wave here in Europe. At 94 plus degrees with high humidity I am sweating out the truth.
Hey, if you are going to lable reliable news sources "Fake News" because you disagree with their political content, then you have to also throw out the weather reports, sports scores and so on. You cannot simply pick and choose to suit your pre-conceived ideas. There is this old fashioned thing called "using your brain" to read and discern the truth.
It is a steep, sweaty climb half way up the big city hill to our very quiet, very private three room guesthouse.
We have a huge bedroom and sitting room here at Rivages. It is very comfortable and airy bright with two big French doors. There is a nice common kitchen area with refrigerator and good coffee. Our hostess, Evelyn, is swimming in the pool when we arrive and after a short introduction we are at the pool as well, cooking off. This is an excellent base to relax for two days.
Back down the hill to an excellent little lunch at Cafe Homard & Dindon on a side street. Gail has a quiche, I had a sandwich; all local, all organic, all excellent. It was later afternoon near closing time, so we’re we’re joined at table by the cook, owner and waitress.
We all munched and drank contentedly.
We took a quick walk through the village, picked up supplies, drinks and snacks at the local SPAR and trudged back up the hill to do laundry.
I HAD to go to the pool while we did laundry as I had no clothes left at all.
Gail has to go to the pool just because.
We were walking the waterfront looking for dinner, figuring seafood, and we had pretty well settled on the place with the elegant green set up, when we stumbled upon Les Dénicheurs.
Outside it said “tapas and wine” but what we really found was a place with a totally different take on the concept of tapas.
And they had excellent wines as well.
I’ll cut to the chase.
It’s a clever concept for a restaurant. Imagine taking something you like, say pork chops. Marinate them in something, slow cook to soft perfection, then shred all the meat while mixing it with whatever herbs and sauces. I suppose you could use a food processor. It is chopped up so it is not runny but not really chunky, kind of a thick chewy paste. It is served in glass jars with a knife to spread on bread.
Fresh warm bread.
Warm bread!
The fresh warm soft crunchy crust bread is a key ingredient.
Add in good wines and you end up with a real different experience.
There are a couple “regular” tapas like oysters or cheese, and these cost a little less. But in the end we ate our fill of six different things, drank four generous glasses of good wine and tasted a half dozen others, and had a great time people watching.
All for €50.
I started with Ricard, the local non-alcoholic aperitif. It has a licorice taste, like a mild version of Ouzo. Mixed with cold water it is refreshing. After I had it I noticed a lot of people drinking Ricard.
I started with three oysters, cooked in butter and garlic, dorado with lemon, and shrimp with grapefruit coriander. I liked all three but the dorado was the standout for me.
I let the owner pair me up, and after a taste test or two settled on a blend of chardonnay, viognier and something, a white wine by la Louviere called The Muse.
Gail started with cod in a traditional aioli, and then goat cheese with thyme. Her favorite was the goat cheese and I agreed it was very good, but I enjoyed the cod as well.
Gail got a Chardonnay to start. It was good and clean and full, not buttery or citrus at all, just the clean taste of Chardonnay.
Later we both tried two rosé, one a traditional (right side in the photo below) and the other an old style, the way it was made before WWII (left side bottle).
I preferred the old style but Gail liked got a glass of the traditional rosé.
The old style has a real cider nose, but not taste. It was a very full wine taste like a red wine, but ended with a very complex mix of flavors. I thought it was interesting.
I tried a couple reds and switched to a Grenache Noir to pair with another tapa, rotisserie chicken.
Later we walked the canal looking at the lights and had gelatos (raspberry and citron for me).
The giant octopus fountain-statue-god in the city square is lit all bright purple-blue and it looks just as weird as it sounds.
It was a long walk back up the hill to our room.
The Food
?? I am totally flummoxed ??
Gail to the rescue. When she wakes up and comes in for a cup, I show her and she grabs some toilet paper.
Duh.
Séte is a nice town but for us it is not a good beach town. The beaches are strung out along the other side of the peninsula, a surprisingly far walk. The waterfront areas here in town are at the working docks, interesting but not the place to hang out.
And it is an interesting town, but not as eye catching as some of the places we have been. Still I am glad we have stopped through, especially since our friends Don and Jyl like it here a lot.
I climbed to the top of the hill, Mont Saint Clair, 175 meters (574 feet) above the town.
You can see the canals, the shipyards and docks, all the red tiled roof tops, over to the Frontignan lagoon with all the mussel and oyster beds. There is the requisite cross on top of the hill, and pay telescopes.
Down on the canals they do boat jousting. There are long ten man rowboats, and one lucky guy sits up on a riser above everyone with a long jousting pole. The two teams row at each other and the jousters try to knock each other off. The loser goes swimming in the green water.
It turns out that Wednesday is market day. Flowers and food, everything from olives to fresh sardines to white asparagus to fresh bread to meat and cheese.
To top it off, there is a huge indoor market hall with permanent food stalls.
Walking around I was tempted by this food and that food. I finally gave in at the Provençal rotisserie chicken stand where I wanted a whole chicken but settled for a chicken brochette that also had sausage, onions and tomatoes.
At a bar I grabbed a table and a beer and enjoyed eating and watching the people.
Gail found a great little dress for €10 at one stall. Many of her favorite dresses we have picked up in the markets here.
Then we sat by the pool enjoying the sun. I blogged some, trying to catch up, with Minus The Bear playing on my iPhone, drinking rosé and reading and napping until it was time for dinner.
I have always said it is near impossible to get a bad meal or bad wine in France. Well for the second time this trip I was proven wrong. We were at a nice place down in the water. I actually abandoned my meal (fish of all things. How do you ruin “fresh fish?” Try serving rubbery, couple day old fish that is over cooked.) halfway through; literally walked away from a half liter of watered down “local wine.” Gail ate one bite of her meal.
One bite.
The. Worst. Food.
Ever.
So we returned to last night’s place for reliable, very good wine, and my favorite tapa to “wash the taste” out of my mouth.
I was just so disgusted, but the good wine and food, along with friendly service and great music, helped.
Seriously, it is stuff like this that makes me appreciate Croatia or Portugal so much more.
And I really like France.
Tomorrow we head to Italy for a couple days at Lake Como.