Day 173: Live the Dream.

If you are planning a little trip to the countryside of France and are not sure where to go, think of this blog post and go! go! go! consider going to Langeais for a truly magical experience. Having done my share of traveling around the country and have enjoyed all of the places I have gone to (even Nice), I have never been as enchanted as I was this weekend in a small village just outside of Tours. Perhaps my stellar company had something to do with facilitating this fairy tale weekend but I couldn't have asked for anything more to celebrate my belated 30th birthday. It's a new decade, a new beginning and certainly new adventures.
From Fountainbleau to Langeais was about a 4 hour drive through the French countryside. The slightly overcast day didn't take away from the beauty as we passed vineyards, farms and small towns on this crisp autumn afternoon in late October. We arrived at Bed and Breakfast 'L'Ange est rêveur' (The Angel is a Dreamer. I know, amazing.) where check-in and access to the three rooms the B&B offered was accessible through the boutique of trinkets and tchotchkes for the house and garden. Think Anthropologie Home but less expensive and more authentic.
The quaint boutique and B&B that is clearly maintained with love is owned by the fabulous Fabrice (and Stéphane, who we didn't meet because he was away.) who showed Sébastien our suite as I watched guard over the boutique. "Do you speak French well?" Fabrice asked me. "Well enough to watch the shop for a few minutes and even make light conversation." I responded with a friendly shrug. "Bien! Well then sell lots of things, my beautiful!" he said with smile as he lead Séb past a shelve of antique looking soap dishes and up the spiral staircase to the sleeping quarters.
Our spacious two-room suite that came complete with a large American-style bathtub, a dressing room and a scrumptious quilted bed was called "Cendres de Lune" (Moon Ashes). We quickly settled in, took a quick shower before hitting the town for a snack. We stopped at a brasserie and for two entrees, a pichet of local wine, a dessert and 2 coffees, the check came to 14€ and the server was nice to us. Why do we live in Paris again?

The dressing room.

The second bedroom.

 Au Coin des Halles

For my official birthday dinner, we went to what we assumed was the only restaurant in town open where we were lucky to snag the last reservation. By 8pm, the village was a ghost town and the only lights coming from a local business was from Au Coin des Halles, an upscale dining experience in the center of town.  We don't make much money, so our dinners in Paris are usually spent at home or if we want to splurge, we'll go to a hip café in Oberkampf but never a starkly decorated gastronomique restaurant with a dégustation menu. We looked at each other with a giggle when we were being treated like serious clients at this upscale establishment. Dinner started off with a coup of champagne that came with a complimentary apéro snack of whipped corn mousse sprinkled with popcorn, a slab of foie gras and raisin toast. Dinner was exceptional, a crescendo of flavors with each dish out doing the last. The finale was my cheese plate dessert that came with....wait for it: Goat cheese ice cream. Seriously? I thought the disco shower rocked my world? No, goat cheese ice cream rocks my world. As a New Yorker, I thought I've seen it all. Apparently I haven't. I'll never be the same after this weekend.

After our four course dinner, we walked around the town and found that we were the only people on the street. The only sound that could be heard were my heels against the cobblestone. Not one person was out on this raging Saturday night. I felt like I was in the France that I always imagined it would be; quaint, rustic and homey with the smell of the smoke from the fireplaces scenting the cool air. There were no gypsy bands playing 'The Chicken Dance', no flashy take-out restaurants, no deafening sounds of scooter engines and definitely no Saturday night tradition of a drunken "Bad Romance" sing-along (I live in The Marais remember?) although, I do think Fabrice would have appreciated it.
Communal Dining Room

The following morning, we woke up to the smell of croissants baking in the oven and walked down to the communal kitchen like cashmere clad zombies to find a hardworking yet chipper Fabrice coming out with plates that he had just 'whipped' up. You know normal things that you make from scratch on a Sunday morning; homemade yogurt, butter and sugared crêpes, flakey croissants, orange juice, three different kinds of breakfast cakes, homemade jams and whipped salted butter, coffee, tea and hot chocolate. 
After going to the open air market to get a pumpkin, local farmer's cheese and wine, we picked up some goodies for Mother Coquine from the boutique that she is going to love (!!), bid farewell to Fabrice and spent the day stopping in small villages basking in each other's company. 
This trip was a turning point in our relationship. I have never been with someone who brings out all of my good qualities. I don't recognize myself in this relationship, I'm what I have always wanted to be but never could because I was with the wrong guys. Guys who would challenge me by contesting everything I say or do, guys who would ignore me to flirt with the cute server for 10 minutes, guys who would take the food off my plate and place next to my thigh to show me where it will go next. I can't even make this shit up! I feel free to be me and the real me is an easy-going, fun and food-loving, wine-sipping, sarcastic, sharp-tongued, sometimes-snippy, royal-pain-in-the-ass. God, it's good to be back.
L'Ange est Rêveur5, place Pierre de Brosse37130 Langeais
Au Coin Les Halles9, rue Gambetta37130 Langeais