Postcards From Annecy/The French Lunch

Postcards From Annecy

The old town of Annecy France is yet another of those almost too-cute Alpine resort towns that they do so well in these parts. Situated at the mouth of tres-beautiful Lac Annecy, the lake flows lazily through town via a series of manmade canals. The old mediaeval buildings seem to “grow” right out of the waters edge. Narrow walkways skirt and petite stone bridges cross the canal leading you from one sweet little canal-side café or restaurant to the next. To say that it is picturesque is a cliche.
Yes, we came here for the “cute”, but mostly for the lake. I know that there is a “piste cyclable” bicycle path running the entire length of Lac Annecy and I have heard that it is nothing short of
awesome. Rental bikes, no problem, and we are on our way. It’s a lovely late Summers day, warm, breezy and blue sky with puffy white clouds. My kinda’ day!
The path follows the road and the lakeside for a couple of miles, then shifts away from the road to follow the lakeshore on what would appear to be an abandoned rail road bed.. Mostly flat, incredibably scenic, and most of all, enchanting turquoises Lac Annecy “following” on my left.
12-13 miles of pure riding bliss!! And, most of all, I know that if we should get tired or, heaven forbid we eat or drink too much for lunch, we can just hop on one of the lake steamers and ride back to Annecy. Now, how sweet is that?

The French Lunch

Now, the real “meat” of this story revolves around the classic French version of lunch (dejuner).
It is my intention through this posting and others in this series to give a glimpse into some of the qualities that make the French culture unique. What makes them French if you will.
At the top of the lake, we’re both getting a little hungry and I happen to spy a little restaurant by the trail, in of all places in what appears to be an industrial park. Hummm? I know that these little roadside restaurants or, restaurant de route, are quite popular among truck drivers and workmen and that they are often the source of a not too spectacular but none-the-less very good meal. Bon (good)!
Let me paint a picture. Sandy and I pull up on our bikes, not the only ones at this point. The café appears relatively new and has a grouping of umbrella covered tables out front. We opt for a free table outside. The view? Dramatic stony mountain ridges tower above the green slopes above Lac Annecy. A folding blackboard announces the daily special as is typical. And... the place is busy, yes very busy, way out here.
Now, across from us I immediately notice a table of six men, construction workers I judged by their clothing and well... by those two big white dump trucks parked nearby. Nothing remarkable about this you say? Well... one of the first things I notice is that they are all about the same age, 20's - 30's dressed in clean workmens clothes, not ratty as is often the case back home, no-one is fat or showing “plumbers butt” and most of all no ball caps in sight. They don’t wear them here. Next you notice that their conversation, though convivial , is neither loud nor obnoxious. It is a remarkably well behaved table and everyone seems to be enjoying one-anothers company. On to the next little surprise, everyone of them is enjoying an aperitif (a little before the meal drink to stimulate the appetite) , a Pastis to be exact, the anise flavored liquor native to Marseille. You add cold water to the gold liquor in the glass and it turns milky. It’s yummy, but...can you imagine this scene at the corner diner somewhere back in rural North Carolina?
The chalkboard post today’ special, the plat du jour, blue plate special if you will. A green salad with Roquefort cheese and apple slices, a roast leg of lamb in green peppercorn sauce, a cauliflower gratin and desert of the day, torte myrtille (blueberry tart). Can you just imagine? You know what I had for lunch!
But... so did the guys across from us, all six of them. Me, I’m hot and thirsty, so when the waitress arrives I order a biere pression (draft) , but them... they order two pitchers of local red wine. Again, bubba aint gonna do that at the corner diner. Our waitress, an English lass of, as they say there, “a certain age”, from Plymouth, via Disneyland Paris (seriously I couldn’t make this up) comes by a bit , quite a bit later to take our order in perfect French. Lunch arrives, after theirs of course on real china plates, real knives and forks, no paper or plastic. They wouldn’t have it any other way! Baskets of sliced baguette, quite naturally, appear, the workmen, theirs exhausted go back for more bread.
Now, lunch, as it does here, stretches into an hour, an hour and a half, towards two hours.
It’s all quite normal! It’s just the way things work here.... every day!
Okay. Our and their lunch is winding down. Blueberry tarts appear for all... delicious. Me, by now I’m on my second, no maybe third beer, I don’t remember. But they, by now each of them order a little “pot-of-mud” espresso which of course let’s one know when the meal is complete. Well, how else would you know?
Le addition sil-vous-plaits, the bill please. Each of the workmen pays his bill, in cash of course, small coin left as a tip (it’s the custom) and a couple of them seem to know madame, our waitress. Everyone says merci avoir, thank you good bye, but the two rise to kiss her on both cheeks. Off they go and load up into the two white trucks, just a typical everyday lunch for these guys.
How cool is that?

Now, our lunch complete, the bill paid, are we able to make it back to Annecy? Oh yeah, just about. A leisurely, very leisurely pedal , Lac Annecy now following on my right, all the way back to Annecy. One of those too-cute little canalside cafes awaits, two chairs with our name on them, a chilled carafe of vin blanc and two glasses.
Bon! Tres bon!

Avoir,
KC