On burgers…

A very good friend of mine is obsessed by burgers. Whenever we go to a restaurant it’s the first thing he looks out for. Whether it be topped with cheese, bacon, avocado, even pineapple, he can think of nothing better than sinking his gnashers into a patty of ground beef sandwiched between two buns. These days he’s not spoilt for choice with every joint offering a ‘signature’ take on this American classic. Burgers are now as much of a staple on the British menu as ham, egg and chips, steak and ale pie and fish and chips.

Now it seems you can have it any way you want it: with the bun, without the bun, slathered in special mustard, complemented by rosemary-salted fries or topped with a birdseye potato waffle and a fried egg… it’s insane. As Five Guys, Byron and Gourmet Burger Kitchen battle it out on every identikit high-street (sadly becoming the norm in suburbia), hipsters in London’s more fashionable, eastern districts are flipping minced-meat discs in uber-cool, customised vans. They use esoteric ingredients, making baps from ramen noodles, wasabi mayonnaise, kimchi… the mind-boggles when you see some of the creations. 

Then you have the Buzzfeed community, faithfully documenting some of the groaning, gargantuan burgers under such monikers as ‘the most ridiculous…’, ‘you ain’t had a burger, until you’ve had…’,  ‘This burger will make you want a burger now!’. These beasts have more in common with modern sculpture than they do with food. Often these towering infernos are balanced precariously, supported with a skewer just long enough for some beatnik or other to snap it and upload it to Instagram before it topples under the shear weight of onion rings, beetroot, bacon chops, smoked eggs and Domestos-brined pickles! (I kid!). 

Goodness, I’ve got burger ennui just listing the above. It’s all got a little bit silly hasn’t it? Let’s go back to basics, back to reality. Let’s cast-off these over-complicated - and often badly cooked - pretenders to the burger throne and opt for the reliable, the decadent and the downright vulgar…

It was with great relish, last Friday, that I tucked into a McDonalds Quarter Pounder with cheese. I’m almost ashamed to admit that, after polishing off the first, I went straight back in for a second. 

What I love about McDonalds burgers is that there is no pretension, no delusions of grandeur, just a nice thin patty (all burgers should be thin), topped with cheese, pickle, raw onion, ketchup and mustard. All served between two sugary slices of bun, it’s the perfect balance of sweet and savoury  and I would take it any day over some of the ostentatious, over-sized examples you see on menus up and down the land. Let’s not gentrify the humble burger any further.

I’m not talking about quality, I’m talking about tastiness. Whatever you think of McDonalds and its practices, I don’t think you can seriously level a case against how instantly tasty their burgers are, and how guilty/dirty you feel after you’ve had one; as if you had broken a social taboo in eating it! For me that’s how a burger should be eaten and then remembered post-meal! 

So I say this, take your piss-pretentious burger away from my plate! Give me my Quarter Pounder with cheese any day.

Whatever happened to the Lad on Tours?

“You look like Neil Pearson”, my mother said to me the other day. It was true that my haircut rather resembled this comic actor of yesteryear, but what did I care? With my Depardieu-esque locks, I was off to Tours, France for a customary late-spring week of over-indulgence. Think fine food, wonderful wine, cracking culture and of course a cheeky chateau or two to boot!

So on a mizzly Sunday morning, armed with my flowing, mousy brown locks, a trusty duffle bag and a bucket load of coffee I embarked on the plane to Nantes (some readers might remember I went there last year for a night). Leaving the farcical EU Referendum debate behind, I breathed a sigh of relief as a I sank the usual, first G&T of the holiday, looking forward to a week uninterrupted by slippery fish, truffling buffoons and swivel-eyed loons. 

It was all about getting away from it all and immersing myself in something completely different. Perhaps this was he last time I go to could go to Continental Europe without a Visa! Who knows? Indeed who cares? This was my holiday and I wasn’t going to let Cameron, Osborne, Izzard, Gove, Johnson or Farage spoil it for me! 

**************

A little geography first. Tour is roughly equidistant between Nantes and Paris (around 200 kilometres each way). It is situated on the banks of the river Loire and has long had an association with wealth and prosperity alongside its neighbouring region of Anjou. The rich flood plains of the Loire Valley give fertile pastures for growing all manner of crops and vegetables and the surrounding limestone escarpments offer the perfect vehicle for terraces of vines and caves for mushroom growing. It’s a lush area, punctuated by thick woods, medieval towns and of course the world famous Chateaux. 

I visited the area briefly last year and was immediately struck by both the charm of the city and the rich culinary heritage of the surrounding countryside, it was high-time for a return and I want to share the best bits with you from this trip! 

Aside from the restaurants, I have intentionally not included links because I feel you, as the reader, should hopefully be inspired enough by this post investigate details for yourself! 

The Flight

easyjet flights from Gatwick to Nantes go daily so shouldn’t be too hard to track down. My advice is to fly out on Monday and come back on Saturday. For anyone who has ever been to France, Sundays and Mondays are dead days, everything (except for the tourist traps) is shut, a little bit of strategic planning will avoid this.

Transport

A car is recommended as it means you have the freedom to get to some of the harder-to-reach chateau you might have on your itinerary. You’ll just have to sort this out for yourself from the usual suspects of messrs Hertz, Avis or Europcar. It’s an easy, two hour journey from Nantes-Atlantique airport via two motorways to Tours. 

However, you can also do plenty on the very extensive and sophisticated train network operating across France. A short journey from the airport to Nantes’ main station, followed by a 1.5 hour journey by train to Tours is all it takes.

Accommodation

There are a number of options, it’s not a one-horse town so there’s plenty available from the budget chains to something a little more chichi, this can range anywhere from £35-£175 a night (season dependent).

My preference is for Airbnb, I stayed in a lovely apartment this time, right in the heart of town with parquet floors, high ceilings and that 'je ne-c’est quoi' you only find in French flats! 

Water pressure can be an issue as I found out but it’s a small price to pay when everything else is top notch. On this latter option, expect to pay around £70-£110 per night. 

Chateaux

Let’s put it this way, if you’ve read this far then you must have an interest in Renaissance chateau… there are plenty to whet the appetite, in fact, there’s no escaping them. From my last visit there were three which I think are essential:

Amboise - It’s striking position, built up on a promontory overlooking the Loire offers an awe-inspiring approach. Overlooking a pretty, if tourist-spoilt town, this castle is the final resting place of none other than Leonardo Di Vinci who occupies a spot in a very fine late-medieval chapel. The main building itself is sparse in its interior but set within a very tasteful gardens. The view from the top over the surrounding countryside is worth the admission itself. 

Chenonceau - Possibly the most well-known (with Chambord) of all the chateaux in the Loire Valley. Chenonceau is a visual feast for the eyes. Set deep within a wood, the structure straddles the river Cher with great majesty. The interior is not much to shout about, most of these buildings have had their best objects removed and plonked in The Louvre. However, the manicured gardens are elegant and pristine and Chenonceau’s is viewed on a sunny day, from these trained terraces, its beauty takes your breath away!  

Villandry - What a place! Villandry's gardens are, rightly, world famous. In fact, the grounds are some of the most important in the world and have had a staggering influence on modern horticulture. It has to be seen to be believe, especially the vegetable garden which is both ambitious but equally breathtaking, interesting and sophisticating it’s a must see. The chateau is also worth a look but has nothing on its setting.

Other things to do

Unfortunately, I cannot list everything, the chateau section in itself takes up a pretty healthy whack of space, but my way of enjoying a holiday is to live like the local. I don’t tend to go around, glued to the guide book, ticking things off on a list. However, a trip to Tours has a couple of ‘must see’ attractions, so I list them below. 

Tours Cathedral - What a magnificent example of Gothic architecture, this grand building is quite a spectacle. You can spend hours entranced both by the fine, ornate exterior or by the understated interior with its fine stained glass. As a church it’s free to attend however I hope, like me, you will put a donation into the collection box (whatever your religion) to ensure structures like this are preserved for generation to come. 

Les Halles (the market) - This makes Borough Market look pretty paltry. The food market in Tours has a dedicated building (a pretty unattractive one but a dedicated one nonetheless), full of the most wonderful regional treats. Think huge dishes of terrines and salads, all sorts of sausages and hams, the numerous French cuts of meat, fresh vegetables at reasonable prices, river fish… I could go one, but that is for another blog. It was a feast for the eyes, a bountiful forum full of the freshest produce. Alas, if only we had this in every quarter of this Sceptred Isle! Go and see it for yourself. 

Drinking

As a town with a large, thriving student population, there are plenty of places to go and find a tipplee in Tours at any time of the day. The Place Plumereau is as good a place as any to start. It’s a bit touristy but you can get a good glass of the local, very agreeable wines: Touraine, Chinon,  Vouvray Rose d’Anjou. 

By the glass, wine is terrific value and good quality with plenty of variety, I’d recommend exploring source of drinking on your visit. The beer offering is often constricted to the usual, mass-market suspects. A brief mention should be made to Cointreau which is distilled just down the road in Angers, and makes the perfect, appropriate end to a meal in these parts. 

Where to eat

Restaurant Maison Des Halles - I had two, incredible meals at this restaurant. Right next to the market, this establishment has a menu which should appeal to both the most conservative palettes and the more adventurous. For my part, I dined (on both occasions) on calf sweetbreads, sautéed in butter until golden and served with a beautiful macaroni gratin, carrot puree and veal jus. I also sampled delicate bone marrow, a tranche of foie gras, Iles Flotante and the most delicate apple tart. The wine was excellent and of course, like any restaurant worth their salt, they had a cracking selection of eau de vie to round off the meal! 

L’Arome - A lovely little restaurant, perfect for an evening meal. Its small menu is not recommended for the unadventurous but for those who like meaty, offaly dishes, this is a must. I had a bizarre but very tasty warm cep and potato terrine, followed by a thick slice of braised ox cheek with gnocchi and spring vegetables. All this was finished off with a simple poached pear with ginger ganache. Beautifully balance, masterfully executed. 

Bistrot les Tontons - I have a bias to this place, in Saumur, not Tour, but worth the visit (accesible both by car and train). It was the charm of the proprietor which first won me over, with his perfect English, quick wit and knowledge of the menu. A bro-mance was born. Using local produce to the best effect I dined on a perfect mousse of smoked eel, a pleasingly textured steak tartare and a rhum baba. On that hot day, this largely (and I should add, intentionally) cold meal was most pleasing. Gerald, our host, chose the wines and I must say did us very proud. All I can say is please, please visit! 

There, that’s your lot! I hope I’ve given a rounded enough indication of why this part of France demands your attention and, perhaps, requires your visit very soon! 

I’m turned off!

"What the hell is he on about?” I hear you cry, he hasn’t even bothered to give us a new blog in almost six months and now he decides to publish something polemic and incendiary. I’m sure you’re thinking: ‘but I signed-up for food, travelogues and witty banter’, rest assured, there will be more of this to come! However, as a lifelong politico, I feel that I must raise my head above the parapet and indicate how thoroughly cheesed off I am with the current state of affairs. 

More and more, I am becoming disenchanted with the UK Government, opposition and the deeply, deeply unimpressive calibre of a large number of elected politician. As a passionate supporter of the Conservative party, this appalling referendum has brought some of the worst excesses to the surface. 

I’m turning off more and more as I hear ‘the failure’, Iain Duncan Smith, throwing toys out of his metaphorical pram willy-nilly. His arrogant, drawling rhetoric disingenuously claiming he’s acting in the interests of the people when, in actual fact, it’s more a personal crusade. It’s a great way to mask how relatively ineffectual I believe he’s been over the many years I’ve observed him. 

Equally, the gimmicky Queen’s Speech earlier this week shows that this government is stagnating under a powerful group of bloody-minded, self-serving MPs who cannot seem to rationalise and compromise for the greater good. I’d like to see some of the policy I voted for in 2010 and 2015 actually be implemented rather than have this system held to ransom by a tyranny of the minority. 

Many like to talk about principles, well I say sod off, go and work in a different industry. Politics is about pragmatism, adaptation and evolution. Both sides of the house are seeming to suffer from an unhealthy degree of hubris which has consigned them to pointless, bitter in-fighting that impresses neither their supporters or the wider electorate as a whole.

I don’t envy Cameron’s position, but a braver man would seek to drive through unpopular, necessary policies, taking a risk to implement positive change.

The lacklustre performance of the opposition is lamentable and, how they could become embroiled in an anti-Semitism row (much of it whipped-up by the media) demonstrate how it is ever-spiralling out of control into irrelevance. 

For interested parties, the whole thing is a sorry state of affairs! a couple of weeks ago, for the first time in my voting life, I spoiled my ballot paper in the mayoral elections. I thought Zac’s campaign was scurrilous and I cannot vote for Sadiq because I deeply disagree with his political vision. 

Furthermore, both waxed on and on about unity, social concepts and the like. As I sit here now, writing this, delayed on a London Overground, I was gobsmacked at how no candidate wanted to discuss the one and only thing I cared about in this race for mayoralty, transport (in particular trains and tubes). I have no regrets on spoiling the ballot and would do it again at the General Election if there was no choice.

At the end of the day our elected representatives need to get their heads out of their own fundaments and start looking at practicalities and real problems opposed to intellectual dramas cooked up in their ivory towers!

Raiders of the Lost Fromage: Raucousness in Reims

It was time to leave the west of France, the majestic Loire, the charming landscape, delicate foods and gentle wines behind and head east. The robust cuisine, the bold wines and the distinctly northern European feel would be in sharp contrast to my previous destination. Having been to Alsace before, I had an inkling of what to expect, but nothing would prepare me for the welcoming people and, frankly, the pointless hedonism that was to characterise this half of the adventure. 

The sun shone as I left Tour, armed with a good slab of pate, a crusty loaf, some wild strawberries and a half bottle of red. It was a simple lunch but one which suited the long journey I was taking across the breadth of France. As I finished my customary pint of train station beer, I focused my attention on Reims, the legendary capital of Champagne, the next leg of my French tour. 

It was a long journey, with a brief stop in Paris, where I saw the inside of the Metro and Gare L’Est but little else, but I was content having enjoyed that nice, rough and gamey country pate and a light red. An hour later I was in Reims, holding such a significant place in French history, not so much for the famed wine but for its place in confirming the legitimacy of country’s monarch. 

In this relatively, gentle landscape, the cathedral dominated. It’s an imposing structure, more built for pomp and grandeur as opposed to beauty. Whatever your feelings when you see this building, it certainly merit a visit. Who can forget the iconic WW1 image of this bomb battered church, implying as it did a sense of stubborn defiance and fortitude in the midst of the destruction. 

Where the Loire Valley had been sunshine, the weather turned in the north east, shifting to that close, overcast, drizzly sky, unique to the UK, northern France and the low countries. Outside the cathedral it was not a picturesque town, in fact I found it to be quite ordinary and there was a definite malaise in the air, you could see the terrible legacy everywhere of a city which had been at the centre of many of Europe’s most devastating conflicts. 

But enough of bleak history, let’s get down to brass tacks. I got a little diorientated, turning and weaving through these rather uninspiring streets looking for a very unassuming hotel on a very unassuming street.

Hotel Gambetta was finally found after an infuriating series of exchanges with locals who I fear were trying to lead me off on a wild goose chase every step of the way. I arrived, and tried to check in...

“Non monsieur, ne pas le reservation.”

“Excuses moi?!?!”

“Non... desolee’

Fuck that, I’d booked a room at this sodding place and I was tired, it was not a mood to cross me. However, I fixed my most saccharine smile, trying to be civil; there must have been some mistake, an error in the booking?

Apparently not, he said looking through his book of printed off reservations. I was adamant, standing my ground, an angry young man quaking in his little boots (or suede loafers). It’s one of the very few times I have felt confrontational but I had paid for the room so I felt a little aggrieved. 

By this time, knowing he could speak the lingo, I switched back to English. He kept phaffing and then looking through his database for this booking. He was about to cast me out on my arse but, being a nosey bastard, I craned over the desk and there saw my booking which he had overlooked... oh dear. 

There are times to be smug and there are times to think that you might like a room, I chose the latter. Once I had discovered the error it was all smiles and courtesy. I apparently could have the master suite, a privilege, it had just been completed. 

Just completed was an apt description, the paint had barely set on the walls. As the proprietor opened the door to show off this new addition to his portfolio, the smell of freshly laid matt emulsion hit my nostrils. It was quite overpowering, my first impressions were that  I was going to expire this evening in a mixture of paint and alcohol.

“Sir!” he announced in his very good English, “here it is...” 

I surveyed the scene, it was impressive, an eight bedroom apartment, I could’ve had a party in this top-floor cavern. It was not furnished, apart from a single bed and the sockets had not even been adhered to the walls. The paint fumes were almost overwhelming... 

“You could cook in here, have a meal this evening...” Said my landlord, pointing at the Meile unit at one side of the living area, very proud. 

“On what? The floor?!” I retorted, then pointing to the expanse of unfurnished room facing me. 

“Well, it’s yours to do as you like this eve!” He nudged me and gave a disconcerting wink. Creepy as it was, I liked this charlatan who had palmed an unfinished, three room apartment on me to try and make up for an error. I went with it, paint fumes (I soon became accustomed) and all. 

Embracing this rather odd situation, I dumped my bags and headed into Reims. Yes, the Cathedral held a mystical charm as did a neighbouring full of medieval and 19th century artifact, but I was here for the gastronomy and I had been well briefed.

First and foremost, I found a little Champagne bar serving a cheeky Blanc de Blanc, non-descript but gorgeous against some shaved saussicon sec and a few salted almonds. I indulged in my book, occasionally looking up to see couples entwining and businessmen in fervent conversation, a working city. 

Taking my leave of these rather fun people I made my way slowly, stopping at a few watering holes, to another stand out restaurant L’Alembic... I shall cover this in the next post! 

Raiders of the Lost Fromage: Lad on Tours

As I sit writing this post, I am in the thoroughly genteel setting of The Albion in Islington, it’s full of trend-setters, of which I am most definitely not one bedecked in a pink-striped shirt, blue chinos and suede loafers. However, the setting does provide welcome inspiration to chart the next step of my French adventure.

Leaving Angers by train, I enjoyed a crusty baguette filled with cold butter, Rosette (a type of saucisson from Lyon) and cornichon with a couple of cold bottles of lager as the hilly countryside around my previous destination gave way to lush, verdant fields implying that this was an area which prided itself on a rich agricultural heritage. I was not wrong, The Touraine (of which Tours is the capital) is one of the most fertile areas of France, famed for  its rich bounty of produce from fine wines to vegetables and livestock. 

It was boiling hot when we pulled into the city and, huffing and puffing, I attempted to locate my apartment. I had intentionally opted for a self-catering option in Tours as I was determined to head to the city’s renowned covered market in search of my dinner. As I searched for my accommodation I came across the one frustrating stumbling block of Tours, its non-linear layout. It seemed that, unlike so many French settlements which generated outwards from a main square, Tour was pockets of activity within sleepy residential spaces. 

I got to the apartment, it was 13:50, I found everything firmly shut, ‘back at 14:30’... merde! It was sweltering and the stupid trundle suitcase I had brought on the trip had a distinct allergy to cobbles. It had taken me a little while to find this place, unmarked as it was on any map and I was a hot and bothered little fellow. I rang the bell, they were going to let me in... not they weren’t. A grumpy looking woman came to the locked door and aggressively hammered on the sign with a digit, ‘Non!’ she exclaimed ‘retournee a 2:30’. Well, I felt well and truly beaten... wiping my brow under the sun I pondered what to do before I returned. 

Luckily, as in most of these situation, a bar magically appeared. One which coincidentally enough closed at 14:30 on a Monday (for any layman, France is a commercial ghost town on Mondays), I was parched and the rather unrefreshing brown Belgian beer the proprietor pour me - assuring me that this is what the ‘Englishman’ was partial to - I suppose it was better than nothing. Perhaps I might have preferred a Pelforth from the condensing tap at the bar than a luke-warm Leffe. However, the chap had seen my predicament and gave me the beer on the house, I could not complain and found myself in that awkward situation where I had to respond to his hospitality by drinking with gusto. 

With a brown beer weighing heavy on my ever expanding belly, I went back to the apartment. It was rather spare but perfect for what I needed, a base from which I could gorge myself on charcuterie whilst I quaffed deep on the local tipple. 

Dumping my bags I set out to Tours famous covered market, Les Halles, to purchase my dinner, the most important consideration of the day. Nothing beats great charcuterie and after ten minutes of walking to the west of the city centre I was greeted with the Mecca of porky products (probably not the most appropriate metaphor). There was everything one could imagine, from fifteen different types of cooked ham and almost as many dried, stacks and stacks of salamis, tantalising terrines, quivering jellied meats, smoked sausages, bowls and bowls of prepared salads... I was in heaven! 

I left the charcuterie with mountains of salami, head cheeses, pates and various salad. I then dipped into a marvellous bakery and purchased two warm, crusty ficelles (a thin, crispy type of baguette). Now that I had the basics, it was time to tackle the fruit seller, purchasing wild strawberries, luscious white peaches and plumptious grapes. I was nearly there, all that was needed now was some excellent local wine to pair with this beautiful food. 

Tipping into a little independent wine shop, it was just a lucky coincidence that there was one in close proximity to the market. I thought to myself, let’s not go crazy, let’s get a few half bottles, some gems from the area, a little tour through the vintages of the Loire Valley, of which there are many. I plumped for a Muscadet (produced just south of Nantes), a Sancerre (a gentle, sophisticated white from further into the French interior) and a Chinon (a light to medium-bodied red from a picturesque area just to the North of Tours). I was all set for dinner in my little ‘studio’; a rather generous word for the student accommodation I was staying in, which had a vending machine dispensing microwaveable blanquette de veau. 

Depositing my spoils, I decided to take in one of the main sites of the city, the cathedral. A most wonderful medieval structure, it was magnificent, easily one of the best that I saw on the trip. It was elegant and exuded sophisticated grandeur, hinting at the wealth of the region in years gone by. it struck an imposing gaze over a settlement which has not been blighted by sky scrapers and still retains some old world charm. Being off-season it was relatively quiet and as such offered a tranquil sanctuary in what was otherwise quite a bustling city, teeming with students. 

Following a few late afternoon/early evening pints of nondescript, papery pints of Stella Artois and a shot of Kraken rum at a ‘trendy’ bar which verged a little too much on the Goth side for my liking (perhaps not such a good recommendation from the guidebook) I headed back to the apartment for a self prepared feast of charcuterie and cheese in the company of some very fine drink. 

Plating the first course I enjoyed some exquisite Rillette de Tours, the local delicacy. It was unctuous, fatty, strands of soft pork suspended in a savoury mix of spice, lard, herbs and salt. The bone dry Muscadet cut through the grease... a pleasing combination, whetting my  appetite for an array of tasty charcuterie. 

The ‘Rosette‘ saucisson was robust as I moved onto the light Chinon, pairing well with the goaty, farmyardy Crotin de Chavignol, a small local cheese from the area. The jambon blanc was moist and tender, subtly flavoured and well paired against the stronger flavours of the fromage du tete and monceau (two types of terrine made from pigs head). It was a firework display of flavour, complemented by some cracking bread and a little bit of cold butter, it made the wine slip down a treat. 

I could feel my belly expanding as I cast my eyes to the ripe fruit. The Sancerre worked its magic as I tucked in, veritably gorging myself on this excellent produce... what a treat and what a pig I felt. Truly a spectacular meal, I was glad I had resisted the temptation to buy some sausages from the butcher to augment this feast! 

With a stomach full and a slightly self-satisfied smile on my face I decided that, rather than try my luck on the Tours bar scene, I would call it an early night and limber up for the next, exciting leg of the trip, which would see me hop over Paris to the very different, North Eastern side of the country. As I drifted off into a food induced slumber, I thought of the delights that would await me when I got to Reims.

Next time: I head to the capital of Champagne where hotel problems, fine wine, exceptional food, Irish pubs and some rather exuberant expats awaited...

Bloody Good Chap goes to France: Dinner with the Baron [Restaurant Review]

Le restaurant Baron-Lefèvre

33 Rue de Rieux, 44000 Nantes, France

+33 2 40 89 20 20

As promised, I am producing a few extra posts which are designed to dwell on a few of the exceptional meals I had on my French adventure. 

I chose Le restaurant Baron-Lefèvre having read some very glittering reviews of the establishment on Trip Advisor and, having taken a look at the website, I was captivated by the modern, airy look of the restaurant. Plenty of exposed brickwork, steel railings, a playful green house on one wall and an open kitchen on the other, it looked inviting and contemporary. I then read their philosophy of staying true to local Nantaise cuisine, taking advantage home grown vegetables (for which the area is renowned), the abundance of the  sea and river, lamb reared on the salty marshes and time-honoured techniques of classical French cuisine. I made an advance booking. 

I arrived at Le restaurant Baron-Lefèvre and was ushered to my table for one. The nice thing about France is there were a couple of other lone diners and I was not made to feel unwelcome or a spectacle as so often happens in UK restaurants. Nor was I given a reduced level of service which also seems to typify dining solo. 

The menu was full of interesting preparations, a few classics, a couple twists on classics and some house originals. What I immediately noticed was the simplicity of the preparations and an emphasis on 2-3 core ingredients, proudly stamped with local provenance. There were plenty of mouth watering plates from a simple platter of langoustine (Dublin Bay Prawns) served on crushed ice to a traditional salt marsh rack of lamb with spring vegetables. However, there were a few things that leaped out at me. Here’s what I went for: 

White Asparagus with Sauce Mousseline 

Loire Valley Cremant (sparkling wine) 

White asparagus is not nearly as popular in the UK as it is on the continent where it takes precedence over the green variety. It has a subtler flavour, with a faint taste of oysters. Perfectly cooked, each part of the vegetables was tender and accompanied by a foaming, decadent sauce Mousseline, which is essentially a Hollandaise with the addition of whipped cream. Deliciously decadent, but judiciously portioned, it whetted my appetite for my main course. The dry, sparkling cremant was a light counterpoint which worked well. 

*

Eels in a parsley and garlic butter sauce with Nantes spring vegetables

A Carafe of Muscadet

Eels and apprehension go hand in hand in the mind of the Englishman and I do think this a sad state of affairs, as there are few greater pleasures that the taste of eel flesh with its tender, oily flesh offset by a reassuringly organic earthiness found in river fish. The Loire abounds with Eels so this really is the place to eat it. This time, I had it prepared in a very classic style in a parsley, garlic and butter sauce surrounded by tiny new potatoes. It’s a winning combination and made even more special with a small cocotte of turned carrots, fresh peas and green asparagus tips. Wanting to drink the local tipple, I went for a carafe of Muscadet, where its fresh, slightly acidic taste worked well with rich food. A truly stunning dish. 

*

Rum Baba with Tropical Fruits

Cafe Noir

Given the richness of the main course, I was tempted to pass on pudding until I saw that one of the specials for the evening was a traditionally made Rum Baba. Although a speciality of Lorraine (where I visit later in the trip) I could not resist - it’s one of my favourite puddings, a sure way to my heart. I was presented with a  light doughnut type pastry on a bed of pineapple carpaccio and raspberries, topped with a generous portion of Chantilly cream then liberally doused with white rum (which soaked into the pastry). With each mouthful I felt my stomach agreeably expanding! It’s highly alcoholic so there was no need for a digestif but I a well made black coffee cut through the richness! 

The total bill was €57, which, given the amount I had consumed was not to bad at all. It was a superb meal, if you are in Nantes, I thoroughly recommend making the time to visit. 

Coming Up: I head to Angers to explore the seat of the Dukes of Anjou, sip on Cointreau and enjoy an andouilette. 

Notes from a blue corner: The illiberal left

When I was but a mere student of politics, studying for my A Levels back in 2005/2006 we were introduced to the heady world of ideology, the very building blocks of modern political thought. Sat in the hot, stuffy classroom on a Monday evening we listened as our teacher attempted to dazzle us with the significance of Edmund Burke, the controversy of Michael Oakeshott (the Conservative thinker, not the former Lib Dem peer), different disciplines of Socialism, Eli Kedourie and Nationalism and of course the schism in Liberalism between the Classical and the Modern, or more appropriately the nightwatchman and the interventionist. Exciting concepts indeed! 

The reason that I raise this split in the first instance is that I think it importantly qualifies the silent battle that is currently being waged across the country, the struggle for survival of freedom of thought and expression, between those who believe that, however distasteful a free democracy and media means total freedom (Classical Liberals) and those who would seek to have state and legislature control what people have access to and effectively govern our moral compass (Modern Liberals). It is the latter that I want to focus on as it is a likely possibility that it is this bunch who will come to power in May.

The squeeze on freedom has crept up on us, over the last 20 years, disguised beneath words such as ‘fairness’, ‘equality’, ‘parity’ and ‘inoffensive’; stemming primarily from the principles of social democracy laid down by the Wilson Government in 60‘s, refined by Giddens’ ‘Third Way’ and put into practice by the Blair and Brown governments. I think the first inklings of the new system of being offended, on other peoples’ behalf, was the quiet death of political satire during Tony’s first two terms (except Private Eye and latterly Armando Iannucci’s Friday Night Armistice and The Thick of It) where it had run rampant during theThatcher and Major years. It’s gradually returning but perhaps that’s because Cameron has a strong enough constitution to grin and bear it, and the Tories have long been an easy target. 

Of course, the liberal left notoriously have an incredibly thin skin and little sense of the ridiculous, afraid of the media they have sought over the years to impose restrictions, campaign to ban sections regarded as ‘exploitative’, censor contrarian commentators and the like. They are so quick to get offended. Look at how uncomfortable most of their front bench are with the media, look how their various interviews are so devoid of humour. Read some of their statements out aloud in the comfort of your own home (which I have done) and listen to how unhinged they sound - especially those of Harriet Harman! What’s so scary is that, in seeking to control media output they believe they are doing the nation a great service... oh dear. 

The ‘Brave New World’ we entered in 1997 - and still haven’t left behind - was one which both had a (wrongly) positive view of human nature and one which sought to engineer the state to level competition, stifle aspiration and lazily churn out lowest common denominator policies, which looked good on the surface but were deeply flawed beneath the surface (like American cars). It preached the message of freedom of equality but the freedom to succeed was unattractive and should be frowned upon, even now the British public are wrongly sniffy of those who do  well in life. Indeed, it would seem that to the ‘modern’ liberals who dominate the Labour Party and the Liberal Democrats  ‘success’ is a dirty word, never mind that it’s these ‘successful people’ who drive the economy.

It seems that we now like nothing better than seeing prosperous people dragged through the mud, or to point out the privileged background some of our stars have had, as if it were some social faux pas. The Labour Party have based the last five years of their rhetoric trying to create a culture of social envy, you only have to look at the cringeworthy Chris Bryant’s exchange with affable singer James Blunt (Hugo Rifkind writes a good analysis of this spat), but also statements made by Ed Miliband and co at the dispatch box. Impressive Conservative minister, Esther McVey, summarised it so very well in a Yorkshire Post article towards the end of last year that I don’t think I need to add to much more! 

Lastly comes the unpleasant arrogance the liberal left seem to have when it comes to political parties with contrarian messages. I’m no fan of UKIP but I am sure there are plenty of level-headed, socially aware people who vote for them and I don’t think it serves any good purpose to level insults at them. However it seems to be open season and the Labour Party have branded them as ‘neanderthals’, ‘sexists’ and ‘chauvinist pigs’, stuck in the mould of 1950s small ‘c’ conservatism. For them these people are unacceptable and must be censored, insulted and put in the stocks to have rotten cabbages thrown at them. Rather than try and beat them on policies, which would be tricky for them as their’s are almost as ludicrous and UKIP’s are non-existent, they turn to the politics of the playground and seek to insight anger and outrage through insults and questions of the party membership’s moral integrity. 

Perhaps its a sign of where we are going though, with more and more people ‘deeply upset’ and ‘mortally offended’ by the smallest remark, news story or criticism. It seems as the liberal left bandwagon marches on, that more and more freedom of expression disappears, avenues to success are bricked off and 

I don’t think that Cameron has all the answers, no-one ever does, but he’s a far more human character. Despite holding to some of the principles of a social democracy, he places far more value in a smaller, less intrusive state in which we are able to enjoy a higher-degree of personal and collective freedom than we ever could experience under a Labour government. 

It deeply worries me that come May 6th we might have a Labour government, and one which will seek to govern every aspect of our life, manage British business and make offending people (especially them) a political offence. Of course, this is a slight exaggeration, but I hope that this short article with make you take a careful look at this current opposition which seeks to govern us for the next five years.