Cold wind, warm lunch... but where is everyone?

DATELINE: Monday, Oct. 23.Vaison to Grignan and back.

Cold this morning as we walked together to the bakery for pastries. Roz and I planned an early 3o kilometer drive to Grignan, where a chateau to visit and a lunch to eat would be waiting.

The autumn countryside was gorgeous in the slanting sunlight as we drove westward. But the wind was rising fast. By the time we got out of the car at the base of Grignan's hill it was a fight to keep the car doors from slamming. The narrow sloped streets seemed to funnel the wind in our faces no matter what direction we walked. Is this the infamous Mediterranean mistral? We think so.

Topping Grignan's steep hill sprawls a chateau made famous by witty 17th century society woman, Madame de Sévigné. I've never read any of her famous letters, but Roz was interested in her.

But another woman was the driving force behind the chateau's restoration from post-revolution damage and two following centuries of neglect. Marie Fontaine was a very wealthy woman who spent a fortune rebuilding the chateau as the 19th century became the 20th. The restoration is not historically precise, but plays variations on French history from as far back as the early 16th century well into the 18th. Now Madame Fontaine's portrait hangs on walls where many noble faces once did before noble heads rolled. Though the chateau's fame began with Mme. Sévigné, its current style is Fontaine's creation.

After taking pictures in and around the windblown edifice, we were in need of warmth before the usual French lunch-serving hour (12:30 or later). Fighting our way down the town streets, we spotted the restaurant where Roz had made the reservation. As we stood shivering outside, pretending to read the day's menu, the hostess discreetly unlocked the front door. Next to it, we were surprised to see a small card lettered (in French, of course) "The restaurant is full". It looked like we'd be the first of a large crowd.

When we finally went in (about 12:15) the staff were seated eating their lunch. They tided us over with aperitifs until they were ready to begin serving.

Amuse-bouche: a tiny glass full of great flavors

The meal was generally good, especially the tiny but mighty good amuse-bouche, meant to tickle one's tongue and rev up the taste buds. I loved it, and only as I downed the last wee spoonful did I hear the answer to Roz's question to the waitress, "What was that made of?" The answer: mostly a puree of green peas and lentils -- two vegetables I have feared eating for more than 50 years, after scary allergic reactions to them. Thank heavens, no trouble today.

Otherwise, the meal followed a profile that we've noticed this trip: a great start, with top-notch appetizer (often after an amuse-bouche), but then a disappointing main course, following which dessert comes to the rescue with a delicious finish. That describes today, when we both found the codfish oversalted, though the pilaf-like rice was good. Dessert was fine.

Oh, and that crowd the restaurant's outdoor note seemed to expect? It never showed up. We have lunched yet another day in solitary spendor. Is it something about us?

Then out into the cold gusts, down the hill to the parking lot, and home by about 3:00PM. Later, after some preliminary chores to prep for tomorrow's big pack-a-thon, we had prosecco and cheese.

For more pictures, see Roz's photo album, Day 20.