For all you lovers of France and French eating habits but have recently endured a dire firm’s ‘do’, this is for you.
On Saturday I was invited, as an honoured retiree, to Gauthier’s annual repas in the prestigious Hotel de France locally.
I always arrive too early, worried I might miss the first course, and so turned up at 7.30 to find only 2 former workmates and 1 wife at the bar. Got it wrong again. A couple of kirs later and the place had started to fill up with lots of hand shaking and cheek kissing (with the ladies of course!) and naturally the diesel started to flow.
We sat down, two tables routier fashion the full length of the room, at 8.45 and I suppose there were about 50 of us in attendance.
- everyone was served with a kir in a chilled glass, much clinking and ‘bon appetiting.’
- fruit cocktail
- delicious paté with strawberries and cherries, during which chilled bottles of white wine were placed at intervals, ready for the next course.
- white fish in appropriate sauce and a scoop of pommes purée (mash)
- bottles of 1997 Chateau Panisseau Bergerac rouge heralded the arrival of médaillon de boeuf with carottes, peas and sauté potatoes.
- 3 cheeses, blue, hard and soft with lettuce (for the digestion) laced with dressing.
- sweet, consisting of a plate on which was a sundae glass of chocolate cream confection, a small glass of kiwi fruit, a hot crèpe enclosing apple and with traces of red and yellow sweet sauces trailed across it.
- chilled champagne flute then provided followed by the real stuff in order that everyone could again toast each other.
- coffee.
As if that wasn’t enough, le patron didn’t make a speech. Last year he droned on for 20 minutes about how hard done by French hauliers were compared to the rest of Europe, including the English. Seems I’d heard that one before in a different country. Not this year though, somebody must have told him.
I left ‘early’ at half past midnight. I gave up on English events long ago. I’ll never turn down these invites 
Salut, David.