Game

It was another foie gras sort of day.

Enough meat for awhile, I told myself after the walk down the hill from the restaurant to our house. But les chasseurs were having a party.

This past month in Auvillar, my housemate and I have had the opportunity for a few brief conversations with the hunters who have a lodge next door.

"Good luck with your hunting," we told them if they were still gathered out front when we unlocked our studio in the mornings and climbed up the stairs for a day of writing. And if we crossed paths in the afternoon, we politely asked if they'd gotten anything.

Things began to get interesting a couple of weeks ago when they returned from the hunt with five wild boar. We'd didn't see the carcasses unloaded ourselves, but we heard the clinking of glasses and dishes and conversation after they made themselves dinner.

Today they got deer and the carcasses were strung up just inside their door. Their meal was pretty much over, but the men and a couple of their young sons and even a girlfriend were still gathered around the table when we walked by this afternoon.

"Sit," they said. "Try some boar." So we did. And deer sausage. And homemade prunes in Armagnac. And 2 kinds of homemade wine, and finally, coffee. The food was delicious. The hunters were very nice. In fact, marriage was proposed.

I declined.

I did, however, get the instructions for making prunes in Armagnac.

Drink Local

Eating local has become a big thing where I live in Southern California. Conscientious shoppers peruse their local farmer's markets and eschew bags of Trader Joe's frozen veggies that have been flown in from China. They read the labels in Vons and Safeway to see if the produce is from California or Chile. Luckily, we have great wine in California. I've visited the famous wine regions of Napa and Sonoma, and not too long ago, I filled up my trunk in the somewhat lesser known area of Paso Robles. UPS brings me regular shipments of wine from 2 of my favorite vineyards there--Justin & Tables Creek-- but that's an embarrassingly big carbon footprint for a good glass of red.

Here in Auvillar, you could ride your bike over the hill and fill up your bike basket. Or pile 5 wine lovers into the VCCA van--which is what we did on Saturday.

The folks at Domaine de Thermes gave us a private tour and tasting. "Ça pique," we were warned when the winemaker used the hose right from the barrel and shot it into our glasses so we could taste some wine that was nowhere near finished.

Then we sipped sweet grape juice that hadn't yet begun to transform itself into wine and asked a lot of questions as we walked from barrel to barrel and then to the tasting room all the while breathing in air that should be captured and used for scented candles or air freshener.

My favorite wine bears the name of one of the owners.

Voila, c'est Monsieur Dolthi, le vin, & moi!