Food on the Canal du Midi

Well, when one finds oneself in France, one wishes of course to eat well.  And so we did.  Whether we dined on our own little boat or beneath an arbor or in a restaurant, we ate well.  And not knowing what lay ahead, we began by visiting a Carcassonne supermarche for staples (e.g., coffee, breakfast cereal, yogurt, fruit, sugar).  We estimated that our day would be short.  After all we picked up the boat in early afternoon, and headed toward Castelnaudary, which we reached about 18:00.  Fortunately for that evening's meal we were directed to Cassoulet, a cafe close to the port where we had (naturally) cassoulet (pictured), with ice cream for dessert. 

In the morning, we walked up a different street in search of a cafe with coffee or chocolat and croissants.  Then we searched for cheese and pate, bread and pastries, milk and juice, and wine to stock our tiny galley kitchen.  On the way back to the port, a patisserie reminded me that we needed a birthday cake for my 69th birthday.  Nothing presented itself except a lovely apple tart. 

Helen stored everything away in the galley as Pat took us through a lock into the large basin.  She mistook the exit and was about to run us into a quai when she realized her error and quickly spun the wheel to the starboard.   The food that we purchased would support us if, during the midday hours when locks were closed, we were not near a bistro or cafe. 

One noon time found us on the wrong side of a lock; we tied off on the right bank, sat on the upper deck and lunched on cheese, pate and baguettes, and local apples and pears, with local wine to wash it all down.   On at least two other occasions we were fortunate to let others prepare our midday meals.

In Ventenac-sur-Minervois, a busy cafe beneath an arbor was very appealing.  The rose wine was chilled, and the salade compose had delicious anchovies. 

In La Redorte my friends and I were charmed by a cat sleeping in the windowbox at the end of our outdoor table, where we again had local Minervois wine and salad and fruit.  

One evening we walked a kilometer or so into and around Bram and dined at ?Le Petit Gourmand, en plein air on the fixed price menu with duck for some, veal for others, and tuna for at least one of us.  Several days later,  at the village of Argens-Minervois we tied up at the boat basin after the portmaster's office had closed and  followed some signs that led us uphill round a chateau toward a restaurant.  It was not open, but the hour was early, so we waited.  And we waited.  And waited even more.  Eventually we stopped the only car that approached and learned that the restaurant was closed on Tuesdays.  Down the hill we went.  The cafe by the port basin was closed.  The restaurant down the canal and across the bridge was closed.  There was nothing for us to do but go back to the boat and scrounge up what remained in the galley.  I will always have a hard place in my heart for that town, for we spoke with several people, none of whom told us that the local dineries were closed on Tuesdays.