I went looking for a château this afternoon and found one very easily. In the newly Socialist led Republique Francaise it is not difficult to find châteaux with noble French families still ensconced within. France may well be “gauchiste” but there remain at least 3000 noble families with origins dating back to before 1789 when heads were on pikes rather than pikes on hooks. So I parked my tumbril and surreptiously approached through the woods in the hope of vicariously enjoying some indolent aristocratic pleasures in the manner of Watteau, or in a more British vein, What Ho. Disappointingly all was calm, quiet and ordered. The only movement came from a white van, which I have concealed from your view behind the tree on the left of the picture, whose busy occupants, toing and froing from the château, may well have been brazen burglars engaged in daylight robbery, alternatively the noble owners of the chateau moving some priceless paintings to auction to pay for the roof renovation or a relation of Robespierre popping in to mention that his great, great, great bastard of a grandad had forgotten to top the whole family and he and his fellow “sans culottes” were here to finish the job. Then I heard the noise behind me, more felt than heard as it was movement more than sound, that had me nervously looking over my shoulder, fully prepared to tug at my long departed forelock in deference to M. le Comte, whilst my brain was flicking through the files of useful phrases that excuse trespass. In such cases I remember that Woody Allen often used the old Navajo trick of kneeling, begging and pleading. An elderly man in military fatigues, with round silver rimmed spectacles and white hair “en brosse”, was approaching me with a stick in one hand and a bucket with a perforated lid in the other. My rabbit in the headlights pose dissolved into bonhommie as the realisation dawned that this was a meeting of two poachers. Poached fish and poached pictures are similar in that first one has to catch one’s fish/picture, then get it home safely and finally prepare it so that it will taste/look as good as only forbidden fruit can. The shoal of tiny, live fish in his bucket had been retrieved from milord’s lake and were destined to be impaled on fishing hooks to act as live bait to attract the cunning and carnivorous pike that he proposed to fish for later. that day, a death so awful that it would have been heartily approved by Robespierre’s Revolutionary Security Council as a suitable end to anyone who pissed them off that on that particular day. Talk of pike led to talk of cooking which conversation led us from the shelter of the woods, past the memorial to the members of the village who had died in the wars of the last century, which moment included a paean of praise for Monsieur Chercheel and a nod towards De Gaulle if one could forget his politics, and onwards to his home for a taste of home made Pineau. His wife sported the same haircut and interestingly was the member of the partnership that did the drinking. He was teetotal but lovingly created Pineau and Épine, from the forbidden Noa and Othello grapes, whilst she sipped and gave judgement on the results. In this case Eve sipped whilst Adam delved which would have brought a smile even to the glum face of Gloria Steinem. I left with a bottle of his 2010 Épine under my arm and a camera full of pictures. This is Claude with a couple of his “cannes de péche” that will put the pike in the pot to create some wonderful quenelles de brochet. A good afternoon, all in all.
Pike fishing in the Vendee..
This entry was posted in Cooking, Digital photography, Eau de vie, fish cookery, food, Food and Photography, Food photographer, France, French countryside, grapes, Landscapes, Noa grape, Othello grape, Photography, photography course, Photography holiday, pike, Pineau de Charente, Quenelles de brochet, Vendee, Vineyard, Wine, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.
Love it. Beautifully evocative.
Many thanks John. Sorry we missed you this year, but there’s always next year.
What an afternoon you had, as enjoyable as it was unexpected. As a boy, when my family vacationed, I tried pike fishing. Never did catch one large enough to keep. Mom was probably more relieved than the fish. I doubt if her idea of a relaxing vacation included cleaning fish.
They certainly are big fish, that’s for sure:)
Excellent – what a fruitful day and wonderful story!
I’ve yet to pull the cork from the bottle of Epine – I’ll keep you posted:)
I’ll be waiting with bated breath!
What fun and what a great story. Reminds me of my dad pinching some veggies from a field in southern Italy one year, being chased by an angry man with a shotgun and him ending up being a relative and everyone getting roaring drunk together. Vive la Revolution!
On les aura!
This post is full of excellent lines – this made me laugh especially: “.. toing and froing from the château, may well have been brazen burglars engaged in daylight robbery..” I am picturing Woody Allen too. What a chateau – that picture makes me want to travel (again)!
Thanks for the visit and comment. Get travelling:)
seems the next trip will be to Australia…! Maybe I’ll do a RTW ticket….
The RTW sounds fun – particularly for a travel photographer. Have you seen that Leica are producing a digital camera just for B/W – looks great and costs a mere $7000:)
What a great portrait.
He’s a real Vendeen. Family has been here since God was a boy:)
a good afternoon had by all!
Absolutely right – a good way to spend a sunny afternoon in the country:)
A nice place to be!
Not a lot of torn posters in this neck of the woods:)
Yes, you only have to imagine them!
Wonderful post Roger, all of it. The account of your adventures and the photographs. Thanks for sharing my dear poacher 😉
Thanks for that lovely comment:)
Oh, I loved this. Two pike poachers shooting the breeze in that aquatint green afternoon. Your pictures are superlative as always, Roger, and your account gave me machiavellian ideas for my next visit to France. I shall pack a rod and line. Or can you tickle pikes? (I surmise they might bite your arm off if you even try)
Pike tickling only ever ends in tears:)
Your photography is beautiful. Glad to have discovered your blog – I’m always up for a quick escape to France.
That’s very kind of you. France is as good a place to escape to as any that I have found:)
When I read “pike fishing”, I immediately thought of Mr. Darcy offering his fishing holes to Elizabeth Bennet’s uncle in ‘Pride & Prejudice’.
What a nice thought. It was certainly the right pastoral scenery for such a moment:)
Fantastic. I love how you write with no paragraphs, barely any punctuation, no breath, no pauses and PASSION!! In fact you write in country french but in english. I love it. Hurling us (gently) along with you. Plus a wee bit of forelock pulling to keep us grounded! Gorgeous. I would love to be your shadow for a day, you are surrounded by the most interesting characters.. c
That is serious praise from someone who writes so seductively herself. I, like hundreds of others, have been transported to the great plains by your detailed drawing of life on a small farm. Many thanks:)