Here we are in old Quebec City celebrating New Year`s eve. It is so wonderful here, in Quebec
If you have never been here, last night would have romanced you and you would be struck with a French passion. Just after sunset, we all piled in to the car and drove into the old town. You have to picture it here now, the rolling, rough hills covered in mounds of snow, the mighty St Lawrence River slowly flowing to the sea, its surface jagged with floating ice, its waters steely grey, a white smear of freezing mist, rolling a foot above its surface, like a fast swipe of white stark against the grey waters and the rolling dark clouds speeding across the sky. Ahead the looming chateau Frontenac dominates the skyline, the pines across the river, the old city ahead of us. We drove along the river, then descended and suddenly we are in the old city, parking along side the river. We had decided to wander the old cobblestone streets to see the Christmas lights.
The four of us climbed up the long sweeping stairs into the old city. Quebec City remains the only completely walled city in North America and it is truly is magical to enter its charms. The old shops, houses and inns, leaning topsy turvy against each other, sudden little lanes leading off sideways, lit with gas lights, promising adventure, sudden flashes of light as the doors of centuries old churches open and spill people into the snow covered streets, the smells of chocolate and chesnuts in the air, the light snow flakes falling on our scene, it was truly wonderful last night. We ambled along, talking, drinking it in, admiring the white lights nestled in great bows of spruce and pine, tucked against paned windows, resting on great slabs of stone sills. Warm in our coats, scarves and gloves, the city opened up to us and remarkably, you felt like you had stepped back in time, expecting French sailors to appear around the corner, drunk on mulled wine, arms slung around each other`s shoulders, or expecting stout French matrons to be rushing their cold children along ahead of them like a child driving fat piglets before them. An hour of wandering left us chilled but warmed with memories, with charm, with grace.
This morning we had galettes for breakfast, triangles of left over pie pastry rolled out and baked and served at breakfast. You toast these flaky morsels and eat them hot smothered in butter and jam or as I like them covered in slowly melting Nutella. We have a day ahead of us of shopping for artisan cheeses, perhaps some Cariboo, a fortified red wine commonly enjoyed here, tourtiere, a French pork pie and I always head back home with a car stuffed with pastries, breads and other goodies. It is a foodie`s paradise here and for certain the car will have a couple of new bottles of red wine to enjoy once we return. Tonight, we are heading to a traditional French New Year`s Eve party, complete with games, singing, probably the playing of spoons on the knees of somehow who has had way too much to drink, and after the countdown and giving of good wishes for the new year, a groaning buffet meal served to satisfy late night hunger and likely soak up some drink soaked bodies. It is going to be a great time! I love French culture with its dedication to good food, good wine and good company. A perfect place to revel and to ring in a new year filled with thoughts of cooking, food and sharing laughter. I hope you are enjoying wherever you are and wish you a new year filled with prosperity, promise and much love. More on the revels tomorrow!!!
