Wined, dined and rested.

On our wine travels we came across a little part of Beaujolais called “les Pierres Dorées” ; this means the Golden Stones and is part of what is apparently an extremely varied geological area, in fact UNESCO has given the title “Geo Park” to the whole Beaujolais area because of its interesting  geology.

Really though I just want to talk about OINGT – what a wonderful name! I had to ask a local how to pronounce it – she smiled in a way that told me “if I have to answer this question one more time I am going to slit someone’s throat” but in a controlled and friendly way gave me the answer that is something like “wung” ( to rhyme with “flung” when spoken in south-eastern English!). My hand fluttered nervously to my throat as I thanked her and moved on.

The village is up on a ridge with lovely views over the Beaujolais countryside, with the 18 metre high round tower all that remains of the 12^th century fortifications.

Although the village has been there since the 12^th century, apparently it’s only been restored in the last 50 years or so. The restoration has been a huge success, with the ochre-tinted stone houses and cobbled streets; it’s a pleasure to wander around, even in August’s blazing heat.

That said, we quickly overheated and since it was lunchtime we decided to try the pretty “Petite Auberge” in the middle of the village.

This was really only meant to be a ‘fuel’ stop, so we were pleasantly surprised to read the menu that although simple emphasised local produce, and Madame assured us that everything was prepared in the auberge’s kitchen.

So with only a passing sympathetic thought for the actual shopping having to be dragged up the hill and into a pedestrian area, Julia chose the home-made terrine which was delicious. It had just the right combinaton of textures, including at least two different meats, and was savoury without being salty. I know terrine is terrine, yeah right, but this really did hit the spot ….

Then I had the assiette fraîcheur, simple but bursting with flavour, with really young cheese and cured ham – again, look at the picture and you’ll think “So?” but then think of a small English inn durng the height of summer in a tourist area, look again at the freshness of everything in my photo and ask yourself if you could be confident of being given something similar.

Next one of us had the long and slow cooked veal which again was simple, cooked with care and had kept melt-in-the-mouth texture and full flavour.

The other main dish was the magret de canard, duck beautifully cooked – how many tourist cafés in the UK would produce this simply but carefully presented dish? Oh and note the casual jug of Beaujolais next to it!

The point of describing our food here is not to make your mouths water because of our intensely ‘fine dining’ experience, because it wasn’t that exactly; it was normal food prepared for normal people, and presented with pride. Oingt (like flung) is extremely pretty, a cynic might say that a local hostelry doesn’t really have to try very hard in a place like this, just churn out something with chips for the streams of tourists. And yet we had the kind of meal you have to look very hard for in the UK. Sigh.

So next time you are passing Oingt (like flung), drop in to the Petite Auberge and show off that you know how to pronounce the name of the village while enjoying an excellent fuel stop.