Our early exit from Collonges-la-Rouges sees us head deeper into southwest France, through the Dordogne. We’re still meandering somewhat rudderless without a plan, although today’s focus is to stock up and catch up on house elf duties.
It’s this frame of mind that sees us stop at Martel, a surprise Les Plus Beaux Village which doesn’t appear in our book. The list is a little fluid it seems – the Association’s website confirms its status. Martel is very pretty indeed with beautiful limestone buildings shuttered in lavender blues, greens and red tones. Tres bon. It has a newly finished Aire, just metres from the village centre. Perfect.
Himself, naturally, is starving and plumps for the first restaurant he sees. It’s ok, but not one of our better lunches. There’s some pressure to order quickly and once I’ve ruled out the things I won’t eat, it’s a limited choice. Himself’s veal in mushroom cream sauce with dauphinous potatoes is lovely but I’m full after my salad entree and can only pick at the main. Unusually, the serves are overly generous. I’m reminded that while Himself can knock off two or three courses without blinking, I’m always better off with just one – lesson learnt. Meanwhile, there’ll be a steak sandwich in our future.
Later we explore. There’s an excellent butcher and boulanger. French butchers are always a revelation. Far from a place to just buy meat, they usually feature locally made charcuterie, pates, terrines, salads, ready made pasta and vegetable slices. This one has rotisserie chicken under which tiny spring potatoes roast. A veritable feast for the senses. We walk away with some of the best ham I’ve tasted, celeriac remoulade and the potatoes. Sadly, the roast chicken had sold out. It you ever get the opportunity to taste chicken and potatoes roasted in a vertical French rotisserie, do not pass it up. Heavenly. The local Intermarche completes our restock. As usual, I’m powerless to resist many types of cheese. One of the nice things about going out for lunch is that dinner is happily a baguette with a platter of cheese and other nibbles. Wine, naturally.
Martel’s nickname is ‘seven towers’ presumably so named for the many towers that dot its skyline. Its inception is an unusual one given that it doesn’t have a military, judiciary or religious start. Martel emerged and prospered from the confluence of both the North/South and East/West 12th century salt and wine trade routes through the Dordogne Valley.
Later, we find the historic Central Market Hall around which a series of restaurants are dotted. We frequently spot Martel’s coat of arms, a series of three hammers, said to represent it’s many artesian residents.
The 19th century saw Martel reinvent itself as a center for truffles, complete within truffle steam train. Once used to bring the earthy black nuggets to market, it’s now reserved for tourists. Sadly it’s not truffle season.
Martel explored, the rest of the day is spent being a house elf, catching up on laundry and cleaning. By day’s end we’ve regained our equilibrium and once again ready to set off on our adventures. Apart from that divine ham, treat of the day goes to the early harvest cherries found in a small grocer. Huge and blissfully delicious.
Miss Baci Travels 