I have been a little busy lately with my new position of “travialleur social” - carer- to my wife, Sheila, who, after having spent a lifetime preparing for the big one by breaking various ankles, wrists, suffering severe whiplash and having various other mysterious and complicated illnesess which were a source of great delight and edification at assorted hospitals in both England and France, has now decided to slip a disc in her back and so is incapable of any meaningful movement.  That is with the notable exception of her right hand,  which, with the utmost dedication,  she selflessly continues to use in writing page after page of lists, just in case I forget to do anything. Thus I am now trying to finish the renovations and, at the same time, do all the shopping,driving, cleaning, etc, etc.   A woman’s work is never done! 

I really cannot understand what the problem is with women these days.  In the past they would have a baby in their tea-break and then get back to the fish-gutting, corn threshing or whatever, ignoring any pain.  Now,  a little twinge from a disc pressing on the spinal nerve and that’s it - incapacitated.  I blame Mrs. Panchurst. 

One great problem was that, until recently, not only could Sheila not even stand and cook but, in her more depressed moments seemed quite prepared to put on her hair-shirt and live on stale bread and water.  This does not suit me very well as, of course, what with all the extra duties plus the additional stress, (I mention stress because one feels that these days one must, otherwise it would seem as if I was the only person in the world not suffering from it),  I am normally in a state of ravening hunger which sometimes puts me in danger of eating my own arm!!

However, salvation was on the horizon, when the new restaurant, Le Bouchon Ponot, opened in the village.  After a slightly dodgy start when John-Yves and his team had to overcome major obstacles like how to switch the new cookers on - and I am not joking!! - , all has now settled down and each time we (or I) go it gets better and better.

The restaurant is situated next to the small supermarket and occupies the former bread depot which, in turn, gave way to the artisan bakers just up the road.  The renovations have been tastefully done and feature lots of the local white, “tuffeau”, stone this, together with the tiled floor, gives an impression of space and cleanliness.  They have also managed to make the place look about three times the size it was before, which is a neat trick.

Lunchtime meals are €11 and, like many local restaurants the menu is fixed.  The price is for three courses and, normally, is the sort of simple, well prepared food one expects at Lunchtime in rural France.  The Evening menu is for four courses at €16,50.  The last time we went was last week  and the entrées ranged from paté to frogs legs, (which I love and  were delicious),  whilst the main course choices were monkfish, duck, beef or venison followed by cheese and a selection of desserts.   I am afraid I neglected to ask about veggy options, a subject not dear to my heart, but I will do so tomorrow.  Everything was superbly cooked although our friend though the veg was a little uninspiring.  This is often a complaint about France in general and, given that the region  is a major producer of market-garden produce, of the Loire in particular but, I am afraid, that is the traditional french way with  vegetables being given only a small accompanying role, almost as a garnish.  The french generally supply the “bulk” by eating copious amounts of bread with their meals and quite often have a dish of “crudités”, - raw veg.  as a starter.  And don’t forget that four courses is often the norm. 

The wine-list has only wine from two local producers, one organic,  but it is quality stuff - the 2005 Red from La Domaine du Vieux Tuffeau is particually interesting  - and why not drink the local wine when you are eating in a wine producing village, particually one with its own appellation?

All in all, a very promising start exemplified by the fact that it is getting busier and busier.  The other night, (Thursday), there were just two tables empty, which is not bad for a restaurant in a small village in the middle of January and the talk in the bar on Saturday was that it had been full on Friday night.  I presume that most of the people there could easily have eaten in Doué la Fontaine or Montreuil-Bellay, both five mins. away and with a vast choice of eateries.  My rule of thumb in France is that if the locals use it then give it a try and I have rarely been disappointed.  We are now recommending to our gite accommodation clients that we reserve the restaurant for them if they wish to eat there when they arrive.  It really is a wonderful thing for both residents and holidaymakers to be able to walk to a local restaurant of quality, (or indeed a bar),  given the increasing governmental pressure on drink-driving which, as a result, is becoming more and more risky.  plus, of course, it is not very sensible.  Thus I am sure that Le Bouchon Ponot will become a great asset to the village.

Just one poscript.  The former restaurant, La Colleigialle, which closed two years ago has now been purchased and the rumour in the village, is that it will become a wine and tapas-bar,  if this is the case it will be amazing in a small, traditional village like ours, whatever next - a Lapdancing Club?!  

Finally, I bumped into John-Yves in the bar and asked him about Veggie. options and he is quite happy to discuss various options when the reservation is made

Apparently the Chinese are opening one mammoth, coal-fired power station every month.  Each one of these emits more carbon then the rest of the known universe. And then some. 

Which is why I decided to replace my ancient electric razor with a traditional wet one, thus doing my bit to combat the peril from the east.  All we need to do now is to stop cows farting and we are on a roll. 

So, on one of my rare sorties through SuperU, I purchased something called a Gillette Mach or Macho Razor or some suitably masculine sounding thing.  Surprisingly; it appeared to be the only item in the Men’s Hygiene Department which had no picture of David Beckham or Zinidan Zidaine stuck on it (thankfully), but it did have a futuristic ultimate war machine on the front, or perhaps it was just a razor painted like a futuristic, ultimate war machine.  Anyway, the razor did the job excellently although, the first time, it left my face looking like the back of a self-flagellating Opus Dei monk.

(Incidentally, whilst typing this I missed the k out of Beckham and Microsoft Word told me I had spelt it wrongly. After inserting the “k” it gave me the all clear.  How did it know this?  Is David Beckham now so famous that even a computer software programme knows of his celebrity?  There must be people called Becham, without the “k”. So how did Word know I wasn’t talking about Mr. Becham and was talking about St. David of the Goldenballs himself)?!!!!  Bloody weird if you ask me.

Eventually, of course one has to buy new blades for a razor but it is at this point that one realises that although SuperU sells the razor, by some sort of convoluted logic, they do not actually sell the replacement blades to go with it. Don’t ask me why.  I don’t know.

Now Sheila, on one of her Voyages of Discovery, or ‘shopping trips’, as they are also known, actually found out that the replacement blades were sold in Intermarché, the other large supermarket in Doué la Fontaine.  They do not, of course, seem to sell the razor!! 

But the problem is that I rarely enter through the portals of Intermarché as I find the interior dismal, their foodstuffs lacking in range, not offering the variety of goods that the discerning buyer may expect in the early years of the 21^st Century and the staff/customer ratio seems to be totally out of balance…..Oh, and it hasn’t got a bar either.

I could ask Sheila to buy me a packet but she would bring me a banana.

So I have therefore been reduced to buying packets of disposable razors from our local shop in Le Puy Notre Dame.  These razors are perfectly functional when it comes to shaving the hairs on the front of my face but are about as much use as a chocolate teapot when it comes to tackling  the softer hairs under my chin.  Thus, over a period of a few weeks, I acquired a noticeable layer of thick felt under the jaw, which serves no noticeable purpose whatsoever, except for hiding malignant mosquitos, it also looks decidedly odd. 

So, finally, it  became necessary to either call a carpet layer or to go to the Intermarché to buy replacement blades for my Macho Turbo Thingy.

Well, on arriving on the car park you could have knocked me down with a pain au chocolat.  Not only had the whole store been renovated but someone has bunged a brand new bar/restaurant on the front of it.

I am sure it wasn’t there when I passed it last week.

At this point may I thank all of you ,who actually thought this review was about a restaurant,  for staying with me! We have now actually arrived at the said establishment.  It is called the ‘Le Baccarat’ and is cleverly situated so that you do not actually feel that you are in the supermarket itself.  It is brand, spanking new and has a sun terrace in front, together with tables and sunshades.  Service is pleasant and attentive and the quality/food ratio is superb.

We chose the €11,00 four-course Menu, (€16,00 over the weekend).  This consisted of a self-service salad/entrée bar followed by a “plat principal”, followed by cheese and dessert.  The entrée included things like crevettes, spiced sausages, prawns, boudin noir, fresh salads, dressings, etc., etc. The main courses had about six choices including fish dishes, beef goulash, roast beef and braised ham.  I had the ‘Beef Goulash’ which was subtly spiced and very tender.  Sheila had the ‘Roast Beef’ which was done to perfection; rosy/red in the centre and, again very tender. The round dessert table was groaning, under a very large selection, sitting on a bed of ice.  Sheila chose a huge slice of Lemon Meringue which, Harry Potter like, she magically made invisible.  I, being of much sterner stuff chose to have neither cheese nor dessert.  Thus aquiring a certain feeling of moral superiority.

With a perfectly acceptable half pitcher of Anjou Rouge and Coffee, the total bill was €25,00. I didn’t even bother to negotiate a lower price to acknowledge the fact that I had not had the last two courses from the fixed menu.  I thought it was pretty good value as it was.  

They also do an à la carte which includes grills, (steaks etc.) salads and there is a choice of ten different pizzas.

So, in short, excellent food, incredible prices, pretty good choice and clean, pleasant surroundings. Ideal for a family lunch, without breaking the bank.

You can also do your shopping there.  That is, of course, unless you want to buy a Gillette Mach II Turbo Razor. You can get the replacement blades though