It's Me, Sara Louise

There’s this restaurant not too far from Le Petit Village called Lupin Blanc. We used to go there all the time (like this time, and this one, oh, and don’t forget this one), but then the couple that owned it sold it and it changed a bit. Not loads, the food was still good but they messed with the simple, rustic decor and it lost its charmed (if it’s not broke don’t fix it… wise words to live by) so we stopped going and I didn’t think much about it.

Then something magical happened a couple of weeks back (magical might be a bit strong but hey, I like the word), when a frown got turned right upside down thanks to Lupin Blanc.

January is a dull, dull, dull month anyway, but in the small villages of Provence, it’s extra dull. As soon as the sparkle of New Year’s is over, all of the restaurants here (well most of them anyway) shut down for the month. They’re all closed, for pretty much the entire month of January. It’s bubkis.

But on this one Saturday, when I really didn’t want to cook, and we were aching to go out just for a little something special, I got an inkling. I said, “lets call Lupin Blanc and see if they’re open“. Gregory eyed me suspiciously (as he does) but grabbed the phone anyway and lo and behold, they were open! But get this, they were closing for a month the very next day… FATE!

We were shown to our table in front of the roaring fire fueled by old copies of La Provence and set upon the business of ordering. First up, the ever important apéro which usually means a Ricard for Gregory and a Kir Royale for me. I’ve been known to take a Martini Blanc in summertime or a glass of Champagne if I’m feeling extra fancy, but normally, I’m a Kir Royale kind of girl.