Beating the blues

It took a meal out last Sunday to lift a touch of the blues.

We could not really put our fingers on why we had the blues; perhaps it was because of a spat with the landlords over flowerpots and ceiling tiles; or maybe because for the first time in 26 years, I was not near enough to celebrate Catherine and Oliver’s birthdays; or because our holiday the week before did not quite provide the rest and relaxation we were expecting; or maybe it was because after the first excitement of being abroad and the adrenalin rush of moving in, things have started to become ordinary. Then again, it's February.

We headed south to Metz. But road works sent us out of our way, and, for once the sat-nav could not cope with the diversion. “Just keep driving,” I said “and take the next left.” How fortuitous. Just ten minutes from home we found ourselves in an ancient village, Cons-la-Grandville, complete with Renaissance period chateau, priory, river walk and, of course, a listed 19^th century blast-furnace. Many of the buildings were built in the local butter-yellow sandstone, (pierre de Jaumont) and in the pale sunshine, it was glowed gently. Being Sunday, everywhere was shut, with no evidence of an open restaurant. But it whispered of the promise of future excursions, to walk round the parks and gardens of the castle to faire le picnic, when the weather improves.

Our drive continued through farmland back on to the motorway, happily taking in towns whose names we would have loved to have on our address cards, such as Ugny and Woippy. By the time we got to Metz, we were famished, and so, ignoring signs to the Centre Pompidou de Metz, we headed straight to the centre of town.

I was more than agreeably surprised at its charm.  Imagine a French Oxford, in that same sandstone, with covered walkways round cobbled market squares. We dallied with the opportunity to eat in a couscousserie, and hastily walked past three pizzeria (the pizzeria in this area are, however, generally authentic and pretty good, tending to be independently owned, due to the huge influx of Italians ove the last 100 or so years to work in the steel industry) heading on under the colonnades to Place St Louis. A small restaurant, “La Marmite”, offered a Menu de Decouverts at 24,90 euros which we thought was stunning value, as were its two other set menus at a similar price for three courses, all promising local food (it was a restaurant du terroir).  In the spirit of Winners Dinners, my charming companion chose a biere piquante and I had a white wine flavoured with a sirop de mirabelles (a Lorraine speciality), while we drooled over the menu. After much discussion, we chose from the Menu “La Marmite”. I had a local pate de foie gras with quince jam, to be followed by saumon en champagne, while my charming companion chose potage de coquilles St Jaques and maigret de canard. My dear friend, every mouthful was meltingly heavenly; cooked to perfection and portions were just right, leaving us wishing for just a teency weency little bit more. And the pudding, the “Assiettes de Gourmandes”, included profiteroles filled with ice cream topped with a rich chocolate sauce, a chocolate mousse and a blackcurrant sorbet – the latter was the best I have ever had, fruity without the bitterness. I felt at last that we had found a touch of the real France. The service was friendly yet discreet, the meal was beautifully presented and the atmosphere was that of a roomful of contented diners. It seems daft that a meal should make one feel at home, but there we are. We felt better. And next time I shall consider telling you about our holiday in VulcanEifel which we took the week before.

Elizabeth David Dish of the Week: Saumon poele au vin blanc. On a Friday evening after a hefty week, fry  seasoned salmon steaks on both sides briefly in butter over a high heat, add a wine glass full of Muscadet, simmer for seven minutes only; serve with potatoes au choix and the rest of the bottle of Muscadet. Relax on the sofa in front of the fire with a dvd. Do not rise on Saturday morning until at least ten o'clock.