The city of Tours

It was St. Anne’s day and being raised in a good Catholic family, I have no idea what on earth that means. Except that in Tours, a lovely medieval city in the Loire Valley, an annual garlic and basil festival is held.



At the festival, aside from a few stalls with women’s clothing, there was (of course) mainly food. The kids were complaining until they realized they could taste all kinds of fabulous jams, breads, honey, cheeses and even some fish food made from rapeseed. The red and black currant stains on the children’s clothing is proof that they did, in the end approve of the whole event. Unfortunately I caught Deva sticking the same spoon into every jam jar and licking it rather than putting it on the provided fresh bread! That was a serious guilty mom purchase. I, myself was thrilled because I could taste red wine. Often. We bought this funny little sweet cheesecake that is made in a special oven. It’s black on the top, looks burnt but doesn’t taste it and is particular to this region of France. It’s nothing like the cheesecakes we know and love as it’s more of a cake-cake.

Tours is a beautiful city with all sorts of buildings leaning sideways like they may fall down on you at any given moment. If I was to jump off the wagon, (or is it on?) it would have been at this festival where these beret-wearing men were cooking a mushroom and creamy ham dish that smelled just like every American home on Thanksgiving Day. It was the sweet smell of sage and I was so disappointed they wouldn’t make my Whopper my way! I mean how difficult would it have been for them to make one without the ham?? But you know they’re not accustomed to these requests, so I had to settle for cheese on toast without the magic sage sauce. Whatever. They don’t even know they could be making a few Euros extra by selling cranberry sauce on the side. Let ‘em get a load of that combo on their French palettes! ( not that they’d admit it was good!) I will say that the food here rocks, but other stuff is good too. Like pesto. I mean what else would you make after a garlic and basil festival? It’s not like you’re in the mood for a quiche Lorraine after that! And can you believe that NO ONE was selling pesto, not even homemade sauce? Not traditional, not French. Maybe I’ll clean up next year with “the” secret recipe. Sssssshhhh!

Cheers & Ciao—-Gina