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We were recently fortunate enough to stay in a valley of the French Alps in a small tucked away town called St. Avre which is only about 50km from Italy.
We couch-surfed with a young French couple who were utterly delightful and generous beyond anything we expected. Gwen, our hostess, cooked an authentic French meal for us every night, and refused to ever let us help her with anything. Our only consolation had been the fact that because she was pregnant it hurt her to stand for too long, so she conceded to at least let us do the dishes every morning. My Diray:
On our first day here, Gwen took the two of us on a walking tour of her little town as well as the neighbouring one, called 'La Chambre'. There was snow EVERYWHERE! Apparently it had snowed just for us the night before we'd arrived and we were treated to soft, dry, beautiful carpets of it everywhere. The valley had 360 degree views of gigantic mountains, all snowcapped, and the beautiful fur pines and old mediveal stone houses with a icy frosting literally took our breath away. In fact we were just so purely happy that we burst into laughter at the sighst in front of our eyes. On our walk we had an ongoing snow ball fight, of which we think Gwen utterly cheated on becase she kept pelting with abandon and then at the slightst retaliation she would look up in mock shock and exclaim "how could you do that to me, I'm pregnant!". She's lovely. We also stopped in a field and made our first snow(wo)man. Gwen insisted on adding boobies so it was either a woman, or a snowman with man-boobs! We were thrilled when we realised that we were able to roll the snow balls just like in the movies untill they got so big hey couldnt be lifted by two people. That rolling this was so awesome, but I wish we'd headed Gwens warning that the field was sometimes used to feed cows, as every now and then our snowball would pick up a piece of cow dung and we'd be treated to it's ripe smell!
On the second day Gwen took us to the local cheese makers who produce authentic 'Beaufort' cheese which can only be called such if it's made locally with a specific breed of cow (called 'Tarine') fed on locally grown fodder. She picked out a handful of different cheeses for us to eat with dinner that night (thankfully we beat her to the cash register, but she did call us annoying in her cute French accent) and then we went off to the butchers. There wwe witnesses possibly the freshest meat we've ever seen, and clean to boot. There were all kinds of French favourites there, including escargot, which Gwen pointedly informed us that we would buy on Saturday at the Christmas markets. Along with froglegs. We picked up a nice variety of cured meats to taste, and the woman at the counter was so amused at our English that she threw in a lovely sausage made of pork mixed with walnuts, which I just adored. We also tried our first donkey meat from this shop, in the form of another sausage Gwen picked up for us. It was quite nice actually, and kind of smoky and rich.
We also got to visit her uncle and aunt's studio where they carve wood and paint respectively. The art on display there was just stunning. For dinner Guallime, Gwen's boyfriend who only speaks French, prepared us a dish called 'Raclette' which consists of a gas burner on the table on which everyone melts cheese in their own individual little saucepans. The cheese is then dribbled onto cured meats and ham as well as boiled potatoes, making one of the richest (and saltiest, and fattiest!) dishes we've eaten here to date. Oh and they also fed us froie gras on bread - another first for us both - which Ro loved and I didnt.
On our third day we visited Gwen's dad's house, in the neighbouring town of Epire in which she grew up, after which we headed off to the Xmas markets and bought escargot, white sausage and frog legs to eat with garlic butter. To say I ate the sausage would be a lie - I swallowed it just to say I'd done it and gotten it out of the way in terms of my 'list-of-things-to-do-beofre-I-die'. The snail I barely even swallowed... there is quite a funny video Ro kindly ook of my attempt of eating the disgusting thing, with two visible times in which I almost choke while trying to force it down. Shudder. The frog legs I quite liked though. Imagine a taste quite similar to chicken with a trxture closer to fish... On our last day Guallime's dad drove Gwen and the two of us up to a ski resort called st françois de longchamp (the second day of the season) and though we did not actually ski there, the views were breathtaking and the pizza devine.
It was incredibly sad to leave this beautiful region and our wonderful hosts. We will certainly keep in touch with our new found friends and they are welcome to my home whenever they like.
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