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| I mean, really. |
First I wandered around the little outdoor market, trying to decide if I was brave enough to buy mussels or mystery fish (not this week, but stay tuned). There were several stalls selling cheese, and I chose the little stall advertising Poitou-Charentes region goat cheese, the cheese I fell in love with 5 years ago on my last visit here (we've maintained a long-distance relationship ever since). There were four or five different choices, and I was trying to decide which one I wanted. The lady pointed at a cheese labled "dry cheese", and looked at me. "This cheese is dry," she said helpfully. I hesitated for a second to see if she was going to expound more, offer me a taste, or maybe describe the other cheeses, but all she did was look at me with a look that clearly said, Alors? I selected a semi-soft cheese (despite that scintillating dissertation about the dry one), and that was the end of things. I think I love this lady. I plan to visit her stall on a weekly basis to see what other kind of cheese wisdom I can glean.
Even in this tiny town there are two bakeries (plus the one in Auchan, but I'm not sure that counts by foodie French standards). I went to the one that Marie said was pas mal, partially based on her recommendation and partially based on the fact that it had the longest line, actually snaking out the door onto the street. According to Rick Steves, my travel guru, you should always pick the bakery (patisserie, etc) with the longest line because the locals know where to go. I got a croissant and a chocolate eclair (hey, I walked like 3km today!). I haven't eaten the eclair yet but the croissant was definitely pas mal. And, I didn't have to sneak Daphne in! I did pick her up, because I don't entirely trust her around food, but nobody blinked an eye. Daphne thinks this is as it should be.
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