the minging food people eat

I like to consider myself a relatively adventurous chap when it comes to eating. You don't get to be my size if you turn your nose up at food too often. I've eaten almost every mammal in Europe; I've tried as many fish as I've had chance and I've even had a kebab on Caroline Street in Cardiff and lived to tell the tale.

However, my tastebuds were completely sickened the other day as I walked down a side street in Beijing. A myriad of startlingly interesting products were being offered up on sticks.

First up there were mice and rat parts; nothing too scary there, dormouse is not bad eaten with the right sauce. Further along came bats and marmotte. I was beginning to lose my appetite here. Venturing further into the masticating throng I saw a host of horrendous appetisers, including: starfish, sauteed dog, giant spiders, spiced cats chunks and to top it all 'live' scorpion kebabs.

If you don't believe the scorpions were alive click on the link here - truly minging.

Mongolian of the day:- food :: khool

stuff what I have eaten

During my time in Mongolia I have eaten a vast variety of food. Before coming here I had presumed that Mongolia would serve up the same food as you find in Mongolian restaurants throughout the world - how very wrong to presume anything. The staple fare in Mongolia is almost entirely based around mutton, dumplings and fat. Don't let this put you off though, the local dishes are truly delicious. Amongst my favourites so far are buuz (steamed dumplings filled with mutton, photo), bansh (boiled dumplings with mutton), khuushuur (deep fried mutton - this appeals to my Scottish taste buds - think juicy Cornish pastie). Other dishes include noodles and rice dishes; almost all containing mutton. The diet here is all about using what's readily available and preparing the body for harsh weather.

In and around Ulaanbaatar there are a ridiculous number of eateries (some fine, some less so). Eating out is almost the same price as cooking for yourself so it really is a no-brainer. Besides the usual selection of Thai, Korean, Indian and Chinese menus available there are some foods you would be hard pushed to find in Europe. Imagine yourself cooking up your own table stew of bulls penis and spring onions. Wonder at the taste of fried chicken heads (surprisingly sweet). Marvel at the aroma of sheeps head stew with vegetables. Gorge yourself on fattened duck hearts. Pig out on cockroaches on sticks.

I can safely say that they are all particularly yummy and know that there is one special friend in the Basque country who would happily have eaten everything I did with as much gusto!

Mongolian of the day:- to cook :: khool khiikh

eating in Ulaanbaatar

When I told people I was moving to Ulaanbaatar they suggested I wasn't moving for the food; that every dish was mutton with mutton; that I would finally shed those extra pounds I've been carrying. How wrong everybody was. Contrary to popular belief the Mongolian capital has an exceedingly fine selection of fantastic eating places. So far my top 5 off-the-tourist-trail favourite haunts are:

1. Veranda: Overlooking the Choijin Lama temple be sure to reserve a table outside. The restaurant specialises in Italian-Mongolian fusion which is healthy, hearty and hedonistic. A great atmosphere and mixed clientele. The story goes that Veranda and the restaurant below were once the same run by husband and wife. They divorced, she took upstairs and is now kicking her husband's derriere. Tourists downstairs, locals upstairs.

2. Millie's: I thought I wouldn't like this place. How wrong I was. Millie has been in Ulaanbaatar for years and set up her cafe to cater for foreigners living here. It has none of the expat feel you get in other countries and there are rarely any tourists. It is for locals, Mongolian and otherwise. A fabulous selection of food given a Cuban twist by her excellent head Daniel. Millie herself is a delightful legend.

3. Sexy Jazz Lounge: I had to visit given its excellent name. It is a dark and moody place that serves up a suprisingly excellent burger and milkshake. A favourite haunt of office workers. I saw nothing particularly sexy other than the melted cheese and bacon topping and double-thick chocolate shake after which all sexy thoughts dissipated.

4. Hazara: A wonderful northern Indian restaurant situated behind the wrestling arena. My favourite restaurant decor in town, very zen inside your own tent. Too many fantastical spicy dishes to list; a great place to gorge over a number of hours if you have an afternoon or evening to spare. The best naans and saffron rice I have ever tasted.

5. Sakura: Masticatingly good Japanese cuisine at the Kempinski. A hefty menu served by lovely lasses. I ate the soba everyday while I stayed at the Kempinski. They also serve Chinggis in litre glasses; probably the most refreshing beer in the world.

I haven't included any overtly 'Mongolian' restaurants in the list, that's not to say the traditional, local food is not good, it is. Given the weather we have experienced thus far, Mongolian food is aimed at more wintery clientele, we will return when the ice comes. However, for the ultimate in snacking everybody should try huushuur, bansh, buuz and mantuu...

Mongolian of the day:- food :: khool

Fete de St Jean de Luz

This weekend St Jean de Luz enjoyed its wonderful annual festival. The normally brightly coloured town turns black and red for four days as people, houses and shops adorn the traditional Basque colours. Starting on Friday hundreds of children parade through the streets playing drums en route to see the mayor who officially welcomes them and proclaims the festival open. The music continues in many guises for four days. The streets are permanently filled with people enjoying themselves, moving from one group of friends to another, filling one anothers glasses with wine, cider and sangria (though not at the same time).

A myriad of events take place to ensure there are no dull moments: bull running, concerts, beach volleyball (a personal favourite), dancing, fireworks, boat racing. Everything is built around the traditions embedded within the culture and folklore of St Jean de Luz. For four days the sound of laughter fills the air and all is even more fantastical in St Jean de Luz. The weather favoured us with a radiant weekend ensuring that even more liquids were consumed than normal.

There is no doubting the festival is madness. It is a whirlwhind of a weekend with little sleep and a lot of socialising. Marking progress I was amazed at how many people I knew as I walked amongst friends over the weekend. Last year's festival was excellent but I had been an outsider. This year I most definitely felt a part of it.

The festival marks the end of the quieter period. It is the last chance before summer for all locals to enjoy themselves as a group. From next week until the start of September the main tourist season is upon us. St Jean de Luz remains wonderful, as does its ambience, but it has a different more party like feel. From next week onwards most people will be here with the sole purpose of enjoying themselves (god forbid) and the locals will largely be working hard to ensure that everybody does just that. They never fail.

Basque of the day:- party :: besta

keeping slim in St Jean de Luz

People in St Jean de Luz eat and drink more than I think fair given how slim and healthy the majority are. Meals often contain fattier foods (such as hams, fois gras or duck), rarely include much by way of vegetable or salad and are always washed down with wine.

Baffled by how they manage to retain their happy, svelte glow I have uncovered a secret. This secret also serves to explain something that has annoyed and confused us Anglo Saxons for decades. Lunch is the main meal and is enjoyed slowly over several hours. This gives the body plenty of time before bedtime to fully digest the meal and detoxify the alcohol. It also serves to relax the mind and provoke social behaviour. Supper is often little more than a small morsel.

Breakfast like a king; lunch like a prince; supper like a pauper. Perhaps the adage should read: 'missing' lunch is for wimps.

Basque of the day:- food :: jaki

Louis XIV returns to St Jean de Luz

On this day 350 years ago St Jean de Luz was waking up with its biggest ever hangover. Yesterday in 1660 Louis XIV married Marie Theresa Infanta of Spain (daughter of Philip IV). This concluded the Treaty of the Pyrenees and finally brought peace between France and Spain.

The wedding took place in Eglise Saint-Jean-Baptiste and being who he was Louis XIV insisted that the door he and his wife exited by was immediately bricked up so that noone else could have a marriage like his; so pedantic.

To celebrate the anniversary St Jean de Luz has held events all week culminating in a ceremonial mass at church followed by a re-enactment of the wedding festivities. Baroque music filled the air as revellers in large hats danced around merrily. Macarons also had their first airing for the wedding 350 years ago and as such the town's principal macaron maker, Maison Adam, was offering its delicious fare to hungry onlookers.

St Jean de Luz was chosen for the wedding not simply because the weather here is so good. Louis XIV was also known as the Sun King but had more political motivation behind his choice of venue. St Jean de Luz is the exact midpoint between Paris and Madrid.

Basque of the day:- wedding :: ezkontza

bringing chocolate to St Jean de Luz

Over the last year I have had a few heated debates in St Jean de Luz. Often they are about chocolate. Parisians and Belgians insist that all British chocolate is rubbish and that only Continental European chocolate is real chocolate. Other than remind them that the European variety uses powdered milk (rather than real milk) and other chemicals (rather than natural products) I don't rise to the bait. Comparing chocolate from different countries is like comparing girlfriends and boyfriends. Beauty and taste are in the eye of the beholder.

I visited Cadbury's flagship centre of excellence in Bournville yesterday. Here chocolate is not about quick fixes and profit, it genuinely is a way of life. You only need to walk around the vast village to realise that John Cadbury tried and succeeded in creating a workplace that was ethical, effective, happy and still largely unparalleled: lovely houses for workers, village greens, football pitches, swimming pools (one for boys, one for girls), schools, colleges, etc etc. Head chocolate boffin Tony told us about the company's quaker roots, the chocolate making process and his passion for Cadbury. I have never met a more loyal and dedicated staff. Everything is beautifully manicured and everything has a hint of purple (including Bournville train station). It really is a marvel and makes the acquisition by the plastic cheese eaters even more depressing. I don't think the Cadbury culture will sit easily with American efficiency drives, I see a lot of 'streamlining' and 'synergising'.

Factories are wonderful magical places at the best of times. A factory that makes chocolate is simply amazing. The Cadbury factory at Bournville forbids photography which is why they made the documentary film 'Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory' starring Gene Wilder (and later Johnny Depp) - fact; the film is based on this factory. Bournville is named after the little river Bourn that runs through it and a desire to be fashionably French. Man and robot dance forever in enormous rooms that smell of the finest chocolate. Conveyor belts carry millions and millions of chocolates miles and miles around innumerable bulidings. It is an awesome place (in the true sense, not as in 'this is an awesome hotdog').

Victorian architecture houses cutting edge technology and the staff, very few of whom were three feet tall and yellow, are all happy. Who couldn't be happy working in a wonderful place like this. They also have the staff shop (I bought 30 Creme Eggs, 4 Easter Eggs, 20 Buttons, 2kg Dairy Milk, 20 Fingers (for 2 regular readers!) all for under a tenner - marvellous!). As we were leaving I noted a particular favourite, the Cadbury Club complete with its own beer festival. Words can't do Bournville justice, it is unique. It won't disappear because of the sale but I fear some of the magic will be lost forever.

Basque of the day:- badger :: azkonar

Sunday lunch in St Jean de Luz

A friend from St Jean de Luz invited me for Sunday lunch yesterday. When I accepted I hadn't appreciated lunch would last almost ten hours. They never seem to do things as you'd expect in these parts.

We gathered for an aperitif or two in a wee bar in Ciboure, across the port from St Jean de Luz. We were twelve strong and readily became friends, once again the Basque stereotype for frostiness was shattered. Heading towards lunch I had no idea what to expect. More and more people began walking in the same direction. By the time we arrived at the town square there were several hundred people, four bands (ranging from traditional Basque pipes to funky-brass), a twenty strong male choir and most importantly a huge bar. Sunday lunch was clearly going to be a lot more than the roast beef I had imagined.

To celebrate the end of its week-long annual festival Ciboure held a lunch for the town. A huge tent was erected in the square with everyone seated at four immensely long trestle tables. At one end the bar area, at the other a dance-floor and stage for music. No sign of any Yorkshire pudding. Our group sat in the middle of the throng, who had clearly been enjoying a glass or two more than was customary for this hour but being Scottish I felt the least I could do was throw myself into things wholeheartedly, I succeeded.

By the time the first course arrived we had sung loudly whilst swaying rhythmically. There was a Bavarian beer-cellar feel to the place and I wasn't complaining. I also prefer sangria and red wine over warm, flat beer. We ate for several hours breaking only to pour another glass of wine or break into song. I was grateful for having joined a Basque choir and proudly demonstrated to my new friends that I knew the words to their songs. At the time I felt I sang well but this morning I fear not.

Before long it was seven in the evening and the Patxaran was pouring plentifully. We had been dancing and drinking, singing and eating for over six hours and there was little sign of it stopping. There was also no sign of sticky toffee pudding and custard, this was no normal Sunday lunch. I'm not quite sure when I got home but I'm finding today more of a struggle than normal for Monday. The next time a friend asks me for lunch, rather than asking what time we're to meet, I should really ask what time it's likely to end.

Basque of the day:- time :: denbora

drinking and singing all night in St Jean de Luz

This weekend St Jean de Luz started to fill up with Christmas spirit. My choir were on duty. Meeting mid afternoon at our clubhouse in the port we crammed into the back of a transit van and headed for Biarritz. Assembling outside Maison Adam, the owner sings tenor with us, we broke into a variety of traditional Basque Christmas songs. Far from being carols the songs are upbeat and more folksy than religious. All very rousing, we attracted a significant crowd. Between songs the lovely girls that work in the shop ensured we were fueled by wine, chocolates and macarons. By the time it started getting dark we headed back to St Jean de Luz and the main event.

Gathering in one of the trinquets (a very Basque place where pelota is played) we enjoyed more wine before heading into the centre of town. Walking en masse with two of our more seasoned campaigners leading the way with large wooden sticks (our costume is that of the mountains) we were immediately the centre of attention. First we sang at a tapas bar, then outside another chocolatier on Rue Gambetta before moving to Place Louis XIV where we set up outside the main Maison Adam. Wearing Basque costume, including large floppy berets, we sang loudly and well. By the time we had finished our set in the Place the shops had closed. I had also sussed that the singing was centred around food and drink. Unbeknown to me the main event was about to start. A traditional event dating back decades and longer, a very Basque event that I was to feel exceedingly fortunate to be part of.

To kick-start the evening we had been invited to sing at the opening party of a new gallery by a famous local painter. He had painted our accordianist as the centrepiece of one of his favourite works. After canapes and wine we moved to Le Petite Grill Basque for more singing, wine, piquillos, crevettes and oysters. Next up one of the main bars in town where the local celebrity group Arin Luzien was practicing, complete with mandolins and other assorted Basque instruments. We combined and sang more, accompanied by a myriad of locals and several bottles of wine. Moving on we arrived at another restaurant where the local fire brigade were holding their Christmas party. Again more singing and more beer. From here, across the river into Ciboure and to Chez Mattin where we set up camp beside the bar. As the evening drew on more and more Basque was spoken, songs became increasingly passionate and the brethren ever more close. It was about midnight when we finished at Chez Mattin. The snow was falling heavily outside so we took a break to enjoy a snowball fight before moving on.

Heading back towards the port in Ciboure we descended upon a bar next to the fronton. Despite the hour, weather and quiet streets the bar was mobbed. We heightened the revelries into the small hours as the barmen kept the flow of beer moving in our direction. I was quite bewildered. I had expected a sedate rendition or two in town, not twelve hours of drinking, singing and socialising. In St Jean de Luz everybody knows everybody else. To have been at the heart of such a local group and embraced by the throng was a delight, something I dare say few other 'outsiders' can lay claim to. Around half two we left the bar, I presumed for home, not so. We still had our own private party to contend with. Back at our clubhouse we set about a feast of marinated veal, song and more wine.

I have no idea when we finished or how I got home but I did wake the following morning feeling exceedingly satisfied at having been part of something quite special. I also seem to recognise many more faces as I walk around town. Slowly, slowly, I think I am being accepted. Before arriving in these parts I had been warned that the Basques are notoriously unfriendly and that it's difficult to get on with them unless your family has lived here for generations. I am yet to experience this and think it's just an image they convey in order to keep unwanted visitors at bay.

Basque of the day:- thank you :: eskerrik asko

executive stress in St Jean de Luz

Another particularly difficult day in St Jean de Luz. After being rudely awakened by the sunshine flooding through my bedroom window I looked out towards the mountains in search of clouds. There were none. Taking advantage of such a day I called my good friend Michelle who I assumed would be finding today equally difficult.

Driving up the coast some six kilometres we settled at a little table next to the beach in Ilbarritz at the wonderful La Plancha restaurant. A starter of crevettes and guacamole was followed by sea bream in garlic before a large chocolate brownie with ice cream arrived at our table. Between mouthfuls and conversation we watched as intrepid surfers braved the Atlantic's swell. By the time coffee arrived we had been there three hours, certainly too late to begin any real work.

Heading in land we travelled behind La Rhune passing through a host of delightful Basque villages. The sun warmed us as the wind swept away any remnants of weekend cobwebs. We ventured on through the Spanish village of Vera de Bidasoa before arriving at the port town of Hondarribia, some ten kilometres south of St Jean de Luz. In search of a digestif we had forgotten it was Monday and finding an establishment open was an almost impossible challenge. We settled for a seat on the promenade and imagined the many battles that had been fought here since the C14th. Fishing boats glided past, brave swimmers swam the currents and an elderly gent took a shower using a tap and plastic bottle. Home, exhausted, we parted company and agreed that Tuesday is a far better day to start the working week.

Basque of the day:- tomorrow :: bihar

comparisons in St Jean de Luz

St Jean de Luz basked in wonderful sunshine today. It really was the perfect late summer's day.

Apparently, in St Jean de Luz some 70% of bread bought in shops is made on site, in the UK it is reportedly nearer 3%. Everybody seems to eat a lot of white bread in these parts but they appear considerably slimmer than people in the UK. Everybody in these parts seems to drink continuously and more than half smoke yet the average person seems to live a lot longer than in the UK (for a small town there seems to be a lot of people living beyond 100). Any thoughts why? Aliens?

Basque of the day:- question :: galde

Friday lunchtime in St Jean de Luz

It being the fin de semaine I took myself out for lunch today in St Jean de Luz. I have read a lot in the international press in recent years about the decline of French cooking, that the country has lost it's culinary way, that Tokyo/New York/London are the new Paris. Possibly at the top-zillion-Michelin-star-end there are discrepencies but when it comes to straight, no-nonsense working lunch tucker there is no comparison. Well there is, but it is not favourable to the UK.

On a given Friday in London I may have taken my team for lunch, but where to eat? Three choices: top end pricey, pizza or gastropub. The top end is just silly for a quick bite to eat, pizza is rather staid and though tasty, gastropubs are hardly healthy and tended to be filled with inebriated office workers.

On this given Friday in St Jean de Luz I asked myself the same question. This time only two choices: top end pricey or straightforward. Being a Scot I am always going to opt for the latter option. I am then given 62 possibilities to choose from in terms of venue, bear in mind that St Jean de Luz is not a big town. I have six preferred eateries and selected my option 2: Txantxangorri (granted, you have to know where to eat). For the same price as two pints of beer and a vodka lemonade I had a delicious three course meal plus coffee: vegetarian couscous, roast pork with haricots verts and salad, skimmed rice pudding with ginger.

No comparison. Excellent food at an affordable price, the professional waiters are jolly and friendly so there is much banter once you get to know them and the restaurant is clean. Moreover, in France you get to eat all the best (more interesting) bits of animals that the PC Police have banned in the UK. Next week: tete de veau (check out photo!).

Basque of the day:- offal :: tripotxak

St Jean de Luz lite

Another tough day in St Jean de Luz. After a lie-in, I felt I had earned it, I went for a run along the beach and a quick dip before the tourists arrived en masse. The beach is comfortably busy till lunchtime, thereafter it's a no-go zone for locals. At lunchtime I caught up with Pascale and Bruno. Opting for a delicious breast of duck it was only once I'd finished it that I remembered I have a dinner party this evening. To make amends we went for an ice cream. The five day festival in Bayonne starts tonight, I aim to pay a visit tomorrow.I do find it strange when people ask if you are 'off anywhere nice', especially with regards to holidays. One has to assume that the average person prefers to go somewhere that is not a nightmarish disease ridden manifestation of hell. Of course they are going somewhere nice, or at least somewhere they want to go. It is a little like signing off an email saying 'many thanks'. How many thanks is that? You have to assume it's more than two or you would have said 'a couple of thanks' and probably more than three else you would have said 'a few thanks'. Both of these sound weaker than simply saying 'thanks' so are we to assume that 'many thanks' is a huge number? Bear in mind that if it were too many it might sound like you were being disingenuous. It's tricky.

Basque of the day:- language :: hizkuntza

St Jean de Luz saved

Well the mega storm forecast for St Jean de Luz was a bit of a damp squib, especially after the hurricane in January. That storm was going to take some beating.


Market day today so I stocked up on several wicker baskets full of vegetables and fruit. I also stopped for a bite of lunch at a lovely wee fish restaurant adjacent to the main market in St Jean de Luz. Started with green salad, followed with grilled gambas and finished with gateau Basque. Washed down with a glass of Basque cider. Delightful.


It is still extremely busy around town which is good news for commerce. The difference between June and July is dramatic. I think I prefer the former.


Basque of the day:- crowd :: jendetza

fishy goings on in St Jean de Luz

With my wife back in St Jean de Luz this weekend was far from quiet. Our good friend Clare was also visiting again (see first ever blog entry) and we used this as an excuse to maximise every moment. The weather smiled upon us allowing a weekend largely spent outdoors.

Saturday saw a day on the beach. It is Bastille Day on Tuesday and so town was full to overflowing with second homeowners from Paris and tourists from further afield. As usual they were taking a (very) long weekend, using Monday as another 'pont' day bridging the weekend and public holiday. Our usually quiet beach was crammed with barely enough space to lay down a towel. As such we three decided it was more spacious in the sea and spent several hours swimming leisurely up and down the bay. It didn't cross our minds to worry about the security of our belongings, such is the feel good factor in St Jean de Luz. In the evening the annual Tuna Festival took place. Our friends Pascale and Bruno (together with aforementioned delightful children) kindly agreed to show us the ropes.

For the event town is wholly pedestrianised. Every available space is bedecked in long tables (each sitting around sixty). Adjacent to each set of tables, usually three or four, is a cooking area. Each of the associations from St Jean de Luz takes an area and serves up a set menu which unsurprisingly is centred around tuna, in our case with a lovely piperade Basquaise. The rugby club is next to the literary association which is next to the bakers association and so forth. Bruno selected one of his friends' areas and we were not disappointed.

There were four or five larger such areas in town; the main square, the quayside and two car parks. Each had its own stage and we were entertained by a host of Basque music while we ate. Afterwards we joined in with some Basque dancing stopping only to partake in a glass or two of patxaran or manzana. By eleven o'clock the crest of the evening's wave had passed and the erstwhile wonderfully behaved hoards of children who had helped generate a familial feel were beginning to tire. Pascale and Bruno made their exit and we three headed to a cocktail bar and managed to lose several hours deep in gossip and idle banter.

Sunday again rose with the sun high in the sky (well it was by the time we finally awoke, somewhat dehydrated). Heading to the beach we caught up with friends and I whiled away the day building sand castles and gigantic sand volcanoes - fabulous. In the evening Pascale and Bruno hosted a soiree at their lovely home in the foothills of La Rhune. We met a variety of interesting, intriguing and very pleasant people but more importantly enjoyed an opportunity to sample Pascale's amazing culinary skills. Crab breads, tuna wraps, marinated prawns, freshly baked macarons, chocolate gateau Basque to name but some. It had been another wonderous weekend in the Basque country filled with new experiences, tastes and acquaintances. Clare in particular was overjoyed at being able to live a local life in an amazing corner of the world that differs ever so slightly from central London. We even managed to avoid sunburn.

Basque of the day:- local :: bertako

St Jean de Luz lunch break

The weather in St Jean de Luz continues to be unabashedly warm. Being a Scot I am utterly not used to living in this kind of climate, but I am relishing it. No cat call this morning but we were in the sea and back again in good time to hear the end of the Today programme (one of our few hangovers from Britain). Rushing to get our chores completed we managed to escape early this afternoon for a long walk. By the time we had walked for an hour, as well as visiting the very sweet local library, we were ravenous. Our outing drew to a close over a healthy portion of salmon tarte and frites followed by the obligatory chocolate crepes, it makes the daily jog so much more meaningful. Cafe Vauban is a truly French cafe: relaxed, unconfused, tasty and with enough pretension to help you enjoy yourself. It's one of our favoured haunts in St Jean de Luz.There is some cloud cover at the moment though I can see La Rhune quite clearly and off into the Pyrenees. It really is a wonderful view from my office, slightly different to my previous internal open plan set-up on London Wall. Humidity levels have risen during the past hour and I feel a storm brewing out over the ocean so I had best get outside before the rains come for an hour or so of well deserved relaxation.

Basque of the day:- storm :: ekaitz

La Plancha, Ilbarritz

Mother and father have arrived in St Jean de Luz for a wee break and a spot of cat sitting while we head back to the UK this weekend. The weather has held up nicely for them. After an exhausting morning of reading on the front terrace we decided upon lunch. To be fair mother had had a tougher morning, she had received a pummeling at the hands of the Amatsu queen, Caroline. Given the weather and warmth we took them to our current favourite lunchtime haunt, La Plancha in Ilbarritz.

It is nestled in a stunning wee cove looking out across the Atlantic. On days like today it is perfect. The smell of warm air mixing with the waves as they crash on the beach exhausted after their trip from New York is enough to make even the grumpiest of bears smile. We had a fab table on the beach and ordered with gusto. Maria: gambas in garlic cream & dourade; Mother: house salad & steak; Father: anchovies & dourade; me: mixed salad & gambas. The desserts here are truly to die for. Although we were more than replete after our ever stunning main course we shared four between us: tirimasu (which we declared the best ever), chocolate brownie in chocolate sauce with chocolate ice cream, raspberry creme tart, brebis with a fruit coulis. We ended lunch seven hours ago and are yet to eat another thing.

Given our departure for a few days Mother Bear has agreed to take over writing the blog in our absence. I apologise in advance for any cussing, crassness or generally untowards language.

Basque of the day:- meal :: otordu

Flamenco premiere

Saturday night saw us attend our first Flamenco soiree. We had practiced hard under the tutelage of the ever patient Fabienne and felt quietly confident as we arrived, despite being the only beginners in attendance. A lovely evening set in an old tower upon the crest of a hill in neighbouring Ciboure. An abundance of brightly dressed beautiful women, passionate paella, plentiful wine, masterful music and even other men to share the dance floor set the scene for a splendid evening. It all started with so much promise.

The more expert ladies from our class took to the floor, we watched clapping rythmically and walking through the steps of each sevillana in our head. Their long dresses glided, circling effortlessly around the room, arms twisting, interlocking in unison with the music, feet stamping purposefully to the hasty beat. We had been successul in the training room, time to take it to the floor.

My wife was beckoned to dance by the teacher. Despite being shy she managed favourably. Then it was my turn. As I walked into position I secretly thought, 'I am going to show these guys, I've had six lessons, this is easy'. 30 seconds later I was in a sweat filled panic. It wasn't that I couldn't remember some of the steps, I remembered none, zilch, zero, nada. To make matters worse Fabienne congratulated me on my first dance but I knew I had let her down.

Maria insists I looked like the constipated love-child of Mick Jagger and a pigeon. There is another soiree in March, if I don't want to look like John Sargent there are a lot of hours to be spent practicing. To compound matters, after struggling in vain to talk all night in French with my delightful dinner companions, about five minutes before we departed I realised that at least two spoke perfect English and must have been cringeing at my massacring their language. So, a truly great party: fabulous dancing, delightful people, excellent music, pretty ladies, lots and lots of homework to be done. Another wonderful night in the Basque country.

Basque of the day:- shy :: lotsati

paella pick-me-up

The rain has poured incessantly today. It doesn't matter where in the world you are, if it rains for a few days in succession it starts to get to you.

To cheer myself up I jumped in the car, turned on some very loud Flamenco music (Paco Peña) and headed for lunch across the Spanish border in San Sebastian.

Being able to make a simple journey to another country for lunch never ceases to amuse me. After enjoying a delicious helping of mixed paella - the sofrito sauce was wonderful - I strolled through the bustling streets. I made the return trip a far happier, if slightly fuller, person. Life is really not so bad after all!

Basque of the day:- lunch :: bazkari

winning chocolate, losing match

Eglise St Jean-Baptiste was busy today. The service was themed around help and recovery for those ill or disabled. Very lovely as always. Being the birthday of our friend Jane, she, Maria and I ventured out of St Jean de Luz for lunch. She took us to her favourite Basque restaurant, La Plancha in Ilbarritz, some 5 kilometres up the coast towards Biarritz. The delightful eatery is located right on the beach and we sat in full view of the splendidly aggressive ocean. After an ever delicious platter of Bayonne hams I opted for gambas while the girls chose sea bream. We washed this down with a bottle of local vin blanc in anticipation of the famous desserts La Plancha offers. Jane had a strawberry flan, Maria brebis cheese with a cherry coulis and I had a magnificent chocolate brownie complete with chocolate sauce, ice-cream and chantilly - marvellous!La Plancha has been around for some twenty years and the owners also run a very Gucci nightclub next door. Given its position in a wee cove the club can safely party in splendid isolation and attracts the cream of local and visiting society, particularly during the summer months. We look forward to some late nights dancing by the sea when the nights become shorter.

Scotland play Wales at rugby in the 6 Nations this afternoon so I have sent the girls out shopping whilst I enjoy the match. Bad move, it is currently Sco 13 - 26 Wales with 10 minutes remaining. I did note my friend Grant in the Edinburgh crowd celebrating Wales' first try.

Basque of the day:- lose :: erotu