Under grey skies we rolled through tiny French villages surrounded by the green of pastureland and immaculate wheat fields. Past Bouillonville ("broth town"), Montauville (which I enthusiastically and incorrectly translated as "overcoat town" which is understandable with its similar spelling of "manteauville"), Regnieville and eventually we arrived at Thiaucourt where the St. Mihiel American Cemetery lies just outside the village. Each American war cemetery has a staffed reception desk (guaranteed English speaking!) and we inquired as where we might find quiche lorraine. The receptionist suggested a small boulangerie back in Thiaucourt, but the time was just after 1PM on a Sunday and it had closed. In our conversation with the receptionist, we had discussed a monument we had noticed off in the distance while walking through the cemetery. It turned out to be the Montsec American Monument from WWI just outside the tiny town of Montsec and we decided to make that our next destination.
Again into the rolling hills of French farming villages, the roads lined with trees and marked by the occasional stone obelisk recording the achievements of Allied troops in one or both of the world wars. At one point a dilapidated, crumbling pillbox startled us from its roadside perch beside a field of vegetables, a grim reminder of less happy times. At each town, we would stop at any noticeable restaurants and took turns jumping out of the car to read the menu posted outside the door. No quiche lorraine, but we noticed that each local restaurant was crowded with lively diners.
We pressed onward toward the American memorial along single-lane country roads and the grey skies began to clear, revealing glorious sunshine, blue skies and fluffy clouds floating silently above. The memorial was on the top of a hill in the middle of miles of low, flat farmland and provided a spectacular view of the sky and the surrounding countryside laid out below us. Originally built after WWI when over 500,000 Allied troops fought to gain control of the strategic hill, the memorial was damaged in the second war by fighting on the hill and has since been restored.
Though the view was beautiful, there was no quiche to be found so we drove north into low, wooded mountains toward the French Douaumont Ossuary near Verdun and the Meuse-Argonne American Cemetery, the largest in Europe. As we drove the day was fading into late afternoon and we had stopped at several additional restaurants with no sign of quiche. I was told to brace myself for the possibility of failure in our culinary quest but ever optimistic, we prayed for quiche and continued onward.
And then it happened: we came upon a pocket of modern civilization within the bucolic surroundings and a local eatery right by the side of the road. It was the passenger's turn to check the menu, so she skeptically tromped up to the menu, turned around and gave two thumbs up! We had struck eggy gold. Ahh, but it was not to be so easy. We entered and like all other restaurants we had seen it was full of families. The waitstaff quickly turned the Americans over to a nice English-speaking Frenchman who turned out to be the owner. He explained that this day was "all mothers' birthday" which we figured out meant it was Mother's Day in France and all restaurants including his were booked full making our dining impossible. J explained our plight, how we had searched high and low for quiche lorraine and his was the first restaurant we had found serving the local specialty.
"You just want the quiche lorraine?" he asked. "Wait here", and he charged into the kitchen. Returning few minutes later, he smiled saying they would be able to accommodate, ushering us over to a table for two alongside long tables full of boisterous French families.
After our slices of quiche with small salads and a pair of cappuccinos served like ice cream sundays, and with profuse thanks to the proprietor (and a generous American-style tip) we returned to the relaxing task of locating the cemeteries nestled in the hills of northern France. Afterward in the low evening light, I pointed the car northwest and back home toward Mons.
On the way, I even stopped for gas when the tank was only half empty.
1 comment:
Most excellent. Was it worth the work? It makes for a good story. The pictures are beautiful along the way. Wishing I could see the WWII monuments, cemeteries.
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