Rural France - Cantal - Part 2
Auberge de Concasty
First day out of the second British pandemic lockdown - and nothing’s changed much. It’s cold, grey and raining - and we’re not allowed to go to the pub for a pint. So I am. continuing my memories of travelling around rural France instead…
At Auberge de Concasty, Martine Causse’s family have converted a large old farm in to what we’d describe as a boutique hotel. I know the French like to have their own terms – but somehow “auberge” doesn’t do justice to the luxury of the place.
Martine uses words like “harmony, serenity and charm” to describe her establishment – but somehow the mix is more than that. There’s a swimming pool, there’s quality linen sheets, and so on – and there’s a restaurant and terrace where her own cookery is served – but somehow this place is rural France at its very best.
Martine Causse
We stayed for two nights while exploring the area. And our first full day included what, for me, was the biggest treat of all. We were to spend the morning at a country market in the town of Maurs in the company of a brilliant young chef called Renaud Darmarin.
I can’t think of a better way of wiling away a few hours. The beauty of going around a proper country market with a good chef is that they will know all the very many things that you don’t – like which trader is best for cheeses and why they are best, who sells the finest ripe apricots, where to buy superior fish, snails, meat and wine, and so on…
Chef Renaud Darmarin shopping for his morning veg in Maurs
Best of all, they will cook all this stuff for you. I loved the entire experience so much Renaud gave me an open invitation to spend time at his restaurant being a general dogs-body on work-experience – and who knows, I might just take him up on the offer.
Here’s an example of how a chef can introduce you to the wonders of an area in a way that no one else can. Announcing he now wanted to buy cheese, Renaud set off down the busy sunlit Maurs main-street passing endless classy looking stalls selling assorted dairy products.
Eventually, right down at the end of the street where the shoppers were thinning out, we came across a shabby looking van where a young woman was selling her own homemade cheese.
“She might be young,” Renaud whispered to me. “But she has won every award going. Her cheeses are brilliant.”
And they were. I imagine it won’t be long before she is able to claim a better pitch at the market.
Anyway, after a couple of hours of Renaud explaining why this product was better than that, etc – we headed off to his restaurant in a neighbouring village. Which, of course, meant a 25 minute drive.
Marcolès is a famous medieval village (think: Dunster in the middle of nowhere) and to be honest the Auberge de la Tour where Renaud cooks looks just like any other inn that you can find in the main square of any French community.
I won’t go on about the three hour lunch that we somehow put down after a morning of sampling everything at the market – suffice to say it was one of the three best meals I’ve had in 2012.
After the giant repast we travelled just a few miles from Marcolès to call on an Italian couple who run an extraordinary bed and breakfast establishment called La Clairiere. I say extraordinary because I have rarely visited a B&B which makes you feel quite so much at home. Surgeon Alessandro - who lives there with his wife Camilla, and their children Blu and Lupo - told me why his family has left Milan for the French good life. They’ve certainly found it.
La Clairiere
They even have a separate garden flat in their big country house which they rent out at special low rates to anyone who has some artistic project - literary or otherwise – which perhaps I’ll take for a week when I do my week’s work experience with Renaud.
In my dreams. Le Grand Meaulnes style dreams, I’m afraid…
