My parents are in Burgundy now, staying at La Maison de la Vieille Vigne and I am feeling very jealous delighted for them. Two nights ago they had a lovely cheese fondue dinner at Martial and Isabelle’s with Charlotte and Marco and all the gang of kids while I stomped around an articifical turf here in Victoria at my Charlotte’s Saturday morning soccer game (something I promised myself I would never agree too, but as Franck always says, Ne dis jamais “Fontaine, je ne boirai pas de ton eau“) trying very hard not to think of all the fun and delicious food that was going on without me.
Luckily they were eating cheese fondue, which I made myself so completely sick on when I was in my mid-20s (not the fault of a bad gallbladder at that point, but rather of sheer gluttony) that I still cannot stomach it even to this day. Still, that wasn’t enough to make me not long to be there with them.
Anyway, the next morning Le Monstre Vert (our ancient Ford Mondeo) that my parents are borrowing died in Beaune and my Dad had the smart idea of Martial. Within minutes Martial came roaring up in his impeccable black sedan and whipped out his toolkit. As I said to my dad on the phone, I have never met anyone as well equipped as Martial in every occasion. Anyway, out came Martial’s roadside emergency kit. My Dad eyed it, impressed. Martial unzipped it and pulled out the first item on top which was…a corkscrew.
Ahhhhhh Burgundy. Vous me manquez.