Bordeaux, France
It's raining cats and dogs outside our bedroom window with huge puddles forming on the chateau's lawns, meaning our plan to walk off the excesses of dinner are replaced by a taxi to our first destination of the day; Chateau Villemaurine.
A vineyard in the very heart of Saint-Émilion, it was bought by a new family five years ago and given a thorough overhaul, taking a dilapidated concern that had lost its appellation and transforming it into one of the most successful vineyards producing Grand Cru wines in the region.
We learn all this from the very knowledgeable Pierre who is our guide for the tour. The heavy rains mean we are the only people to show up, but after a quick peek at the vines the rest of our journey is inside, ensuring our brollies can be stowed away.
After being shown the huge and glitteringly new vats where the grapes, which were harvested just last week, are currently fermenting, we are taken deep underground into a vast network of limestone tunnels which stretch for 200km over six levels underneath the whole of the town and its multiple chateaux.
First constructed as a limestone quarry dating back to750AD it was from here that all the stone that built the grand city of Bordeaux was dug and transported down the Dordogne. Work finally stopped in 1871 whenlocal dignitaries feared the vineyards and town itself would collapse into theearth if further excavations continued. But as a storage cellar for thousandsupon thousands of barrels of wine it can't be beaten.
It was also here that the ninth century monk Émilion sought shelter and established his hermitage, away from the authorities who feared his huge popularity gained from miracles such as turning bread (which was heavily taxed at the time) into firewood to prevent detection and also walking into burning hot ovens and emerging unscathed with more bread in his hands.
All this is revealed through a quite charming son et lumiere show in the deep caverns and commemorated in the monolithic church carved from the limestone rock itself which dominates the town that now bears his name.
Finally we are shown a vast painting by Pierre Lacour, entitled Vue d'une Partie du Port et des Quais de Bordeaux, which in great details illustrates the building of Bordeaux using stone from the very caves we're stood in. It's all pretty fascinating but the main event is to come; the wine tasting.
First we taste a wine from 15 year old vines and then wine from 30 year old vines. They're both delicious but after working out that their cheapest case of wine with shipping comes to over €450 we decide that a solitary bottle will be the extent of our purchasing power.
By now we're starving having foregone breakfast so after a walk around Saint-Émilion (hailed as one of the prettiest towns in France) we stop for lunch in a cute restaurant called Amelia Canta by the church.
With a menu priced at €16 a head our wallets thank us as heartily as our stomachs as we tuck into a starter of Andouillete (essentially a tripe sausage), a main of Toulouse sausage and mustard mash for me and slow-cooked beef for Coman and rounded off with a dessert of berry soup with pineapple sorbet (me) and orange carpaccio (him). It's a pretty good feast at bargain basement prices.
The rain is pelting down harder than ever as we meet our taxi driver on the steps of the tourist office who then speeds along the rainswept motorway to Bordeaux, great sheets of water falling from the sky and huge puddles rising over the roof of the car as we crash through them. And after about thirty minutes we pull up outside our hostelry for the next two nights.
The Regent Grand Hotel de Bordeaux comes highly recommended by our friend Stuart who stayed here this summer, and we can see why. Situated in the Place de la Comedie, right in the heart of the city, and with a grand facade directly opposite the similarly beautiful Opera House, its plush interior instantly transports you into the highest echelons of tourist travel. It's so posh we feel somewhat under-dressed!
After checking into our little but luxuriously romantic room we are given a tour of the hotel including the very swish Romanesque spa. We debate plunging straight in but outside the window it seems the rain is lifting a little so we decide to go for a walk around the city while we have the chance.
Sadly our optimism is ill-founded as within minutes the heavens start sprinkling again, but wrapped up in raincoats and carrying umbrellas we're well prepared for whatever Bordeaux wants to throw at us and set off for an amble through its beautiful streets.
Within moments we're at the Palais de la Boursie, the staggeringly beautiful semi-circular colonnade of buildings on the riverfront, in front of which sits a fountain whose statues are draped in big pink ribbons and whose water is flowing red. We presume this is to celebrate breast cancer awareness, but only because we can't think of any other reason. It's tres jolie whatever the reason.
But the real tourist draw for the Palais de la Boursie is meant to be the mirroir de l'ea on the ground, in which a vast reflection of the buildings is meant to shimmer. Sadly with the raindrops rippling across the surface the effect is rather diminished but we get the general idea, if not the commemorative photo I'd wished for.
From there we wander through the district of St Pierre, which houses the old, medieval districts of Bordeaux, all narrow streets and close-set buildings many of which house cute little restaurants, reminding us that the city has more restaurants per capita than any other French town, including 13 separate Michelin-starred establishments. From there it's a meander up the Rue Ste Catherine, Bordeaux's main shopping street, and a welcome return to our hotel.
By now it's 6pm and with torrential rain now hammering down Coman opts for a snooze before dinner. We've not booked anywhere and with the soaking conditions outside feel no urge to dress up, so we decide to head to a little restaurant I'd seen recommended on Trip Advisor called Restaurant de la Loup. Sadly, even though we arrive moments after it opens we're turned away as it's full. The hostess recommends we book for tomorrow if we'd like a table, and it looks quaint and quirky so we do just that.
Thankfully though another restaurant a few doors down named Le Croc Loup finds a table for us, saving us from an aimless schlep through the rain-sodden streets. It also has a four-course set menu Gastronmique for just €29. Result!
Within moments we're served a glorious amuse bouche of tomato mousse with prawn and caviar, and choose a fabulously inexpensive bottle of white, a Graves Clos Lamothes. But while we wait for our starters Coman's mischievous devil comes out to play and he makes hand puppets out of the napkins and proceeds to sing the song from South Park, 'Mr Hanky, the Christmas Poo', in a high-pitched voice just that litle bit too loudly.
Fortunately the diners at the next table don't notice, engrossed as they are in looking at each other. To be honest, if I'd been sat opposite the woman I'd have been fascinated too - her glasses are modelled on a Mondrian painting and she has one of the worst helmet perms known to man. Quite amazing.
The restaurant is by now full, with a table of six in front of a large mirror including a woman far too old to be wearing her leather mini skirt and a man with a moustache so hirsute it's a wonder he can get food past it and into his mouth.
Directy behind us sits a woman wearing a white, satin off-the-shoulder number that looks like she's still wearing half her wedding dress while other tables include a careworn mother and shrew-like daughter, a battleaxe mother and a put-upon son, and a young couple in their early twenties where the man is so flamboyantly camp that we presume he's soon to come out until Coman notices his eyebrows and realises no self-respecting homosexual would leave the house w ithout plucking the bushy monstrosities.
Coman starts with foie gras accompanied by a Sauternes jelly, then has John Dory in a beurre blanc for his main. I opt for parma ham salad with parmesan and confit of tomato, followed by a steamed chicken leg stuffed with mushroom and foie gras. The chicken is one of the finest dishes I've ever eaten, truly succulent and bursting with flavour, accompanied by a fabulous potato gratin and a rich gravy.
Our cheese course is rather basic but the desserts are superb; tarte tatin with vanilla ice cream for Coman, meringue with raspberry sorbet and raspberry coulis, topped with chantilly cream. All in all it's a magnificent meal, at a knockdown price, made even more entertaining by Coman's continued puppetry at inopportune moments.
By the time we leave the rain is starting to abate so we decide to go for a walk and check out the Esplanade de Quincoces, France's biggest civic open space, housing statues and the Monument aux Girondins fountain. But instead of a grand plaza we find a giant funfair taking up all the space with its garish neon. Not quite the elegant views we were expecting, but an entertaining wander ensues past the waltzers, ferris wheel and candy floss stalls.
We walk back along the riverfront, past the Place de la Boursie, reflecting prettily, but not perfectly, in its water mirror before hitting the sack and dreaming more vivid, cheese-induced visions.
