There was nowhere near enough seating for our party but we all got into the room with the mairie. It was so lovely that he had learnt some English for the vows, and we had decided to make our vows in French as well to ensure it was legally binding in France. The ceremony felt as perfect as anyone could hope for. Our parents witnessed our formal joining and I have to say I couldn’t imagine a better way for us to start married life. The ceremony ended with lots of cheering and congratulations and we savoured several minutes of love-infused chaos before we got into our wedding limousine 2CV for the journey back to the château. The quiet of us being alone in the back of the car was a bit surreal as it was the first time we had been together with nothing for us to actually do. Everything was under control. So I did what any sensible man would do: I kissed my very beautiful wife.
Back at the château the smiling continued and the service was conducted by the Vintage Patisserie girls, who looked stunning and oozed elegance. Glasses were kept topped up and the chatter grew more and more lively. Then we headed over to the orangery.
After lots of trial and error we had found that the only way to seat eighty people in the orangery was to have five tables, each of sixteen, equally spaced. There was just enough room for service and everyone had sufficient space to be comfortable. Each table was overflowing with vintage ‘stuff’ and flowers. I had used all my favourite props that had been with me ever since I started the Vintage Patisserie. All the tables had vintage games and memorabilia that dated back to before the Second World War and each place setting had vintage china, cutlery and a vintage French napkin. To me, it looked wonderful.
We were the last to enter and were met by a sea of smiling faces, all standing, cheering and waving their vintage napkins above their heads; it’s something we will never forget. The napkin waving is something the French do and was orchestrated by Jacques. Neither of us had ever seen it before and it was so moving that no wedding has taken place at the château since without it happening. The orangery was packed – eighty really is capacity for the room – and the next five hours were spent eating and drinking. We had written up the menu but everyone was just happy to sit and see what was put in front of them.
We had grown to take gizzards for granted and even Dorothy at the ripe old age of eighteen months would try them, though that could have been the rose jelly. Even the faint-hearted gave them a go and there were many converts who got excited to find out that they would be served again the following night for those who missed out on day one.
We had thought long and hard about what soup to serve and had decided on a ‘white soup’. It is a favourite of mine and is a variation on onion soup. It is an aromatic creamy soup of slowly cooked onions and garlic that we serve with an egg yolk, or a softly poached egg, and herbes de Provence croutons. The aromatic element comes from a handful of bay leaves that are whipped out just before the soup is blended. Even served without soup spoons it was wonderful. And the budget had been well spent as the wine teacups were never empty.
After a pause we followed with the fish course: salmon three ways. I had been curing and preserving seriously for years, and we both love the vibrant colour and earthy taste of the cured beetroot. It went extremely well with the sharpness and sweetness of a honey mustard dressing, served with a salmon tartare made with fresh lime juice and zest, dill and finely diced cucumber. Salt and white pepper seasoned it to ensure it stood alone as well as part of the trio. The final element was a salmon fusion fishcake. We often cooked them as a lunch with salad, but the delicate fish cakes that were coated in crunchy panko breadcrumbs added texture as well as the surprising mix of spring onions, olives, coriander, chilli and lime. We didn’t see anything left, so our party of food-loving friends seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Serving food in waves allows for a very social wedding. I loved spending time with every group of family and friends, having real time in that moment with them … and as the wedding breakfast continued and the drinks flowed everyone got louder and more in love!
After the fish came a palate-cleansing sorbet of blackberries that had been picked by the children and grandmothers. As I watched them harvesting from our abundant brambles, I couldn’t help remembering all those years that I had collected blackberries with my mum. Now she was out here laughing and joking with her youngest and oldest grandchildren. The sorbet was not too sweet and another precious gift from the château.
It is far from usual to serve rabbit at a wedding celebration but, on what was a beautiful November day, our tried and tested rabbit stew was an absolute success. With so many courses we were all mobile throughout the afternoon. People were swapping seats and moving around to try to chat with everyone. There were many friends and family we had not spent time with and hugs and catching up filled all the time we were not eating.
Next we served a salad of orange and very thinly sliced fennel with sesame and soy sauce. It was to help digestion as well as setting us up for the cheeses, all of which were local, some of which we had smoked ourselves. It was controversial but we served the cheese before the pudding with our château quince. Even though we are living in France both of us love grazing on the cheese course at the end of a meal. However, with so much to eat, we made our wedding the exception.
We had tried not to make the service too difficult when we had devised the menu. After all, the orangery is a couple of hundred metres from the main kitchen, but Alan, those in the kitchen and the Vintage Patisserie girls could probably have handled anything. They were true professionals and lovely to have around us.
It has been proven, in lots of scientific tests, that no matter how full you are there is an empty pudding-hole to be filled. Poached apples, French mess (a bit Eton-like, but with blackberries as we had lots of them) and a small glass of dessert wine brought the meal to an end, and, boy, did we all do it justice. It was hard to move but we did manage to get back to château for coffee, whiskey and digestifs. A lovely day came to an end with everyone leaving by about 7pm. We think our château guests retired quite early too but to be honest we didn’t know as on our honeymoon night we crashed out with the children who had been spoiled with attention and so well behaved.
We both agreed that the day could not have been more perfect.
On Saturday morning we were up bright and early. It was party day with 200 guests due to arrive at 3pm. There was lots to do. The orangery had been cleared and cleaned after the wedding breakfast and was being set up for high tea. That involved setting the scene with all the props that had been in constant use in the days of the Vintage Tea parties in London. There were to be 120 new guests arriving who had not yet been to the château and so first impressions had to be right. The honeymoon suite was transformed into vintage hair salon for any of the girls who wanted their hair or make-up done.
Angela was in her element rearranging the château and the orangery. Meanwhile, the kitchen and utility/cold room at the back of the basement were a hive of activity. I found it amusing that, despite having been on Masterchef and run restaurants, I was making the sandwiches and scones for high tea exactly the way Angela had shown me the first time I’d helped her in London nearly five years earlier. Who could have foreseen where we were now? But as my folks would say, ‘The harder you work, the luckier you get.’
With the party starting at 3pm, we’d decided food had better start early and keep going in waves all day and evening. There was a cheese table with cold meats in the dining room that was kept topped up and refreshed at all times, but a number of small plates or bowls would also keep coming at intervals to ensure no one got hungry
The first wave was at 3.30pm and consisted of a couple of starters. There was a glazed confit chicken liver salad and a ‘light’ mushroom and red wine stew. Most people were taken by surprise, even though the menu for the day and the timetable of what would happen when had been put up in several places. These first options were distributed by the Vintage Patisserie girls and everyone was encouraged to try something. Even while the f
irst dishes were being savoured, the tea party started in the orangery for a couple of hours with alcoholic tea cocktails, refined sandwiches, cakes, scones and jam and clotted cream and lots of games to play. People were moving around and enjoying a wonderful day and we couldn’t have been luckier with the weather.
As it got a bit darker and people moved back towards the château, the outside games room and the children’s playroom was heaving. Food and drink kept coming and, in the early evening, waves of smoked-fish pasties and stew and dumplings were hearty enough to satisfy anyone who still had a hunger. As the evening wore on, we felt the world was ready to try some of the spicy fish soup, made with Val’s secret chilli sauce. Turkey burgers appeared to help soak up any excess alcohol. The soup was about a ten on the spicy scale, but that seemed to encourage people to try it even more, so we ordered half a dozen loo rolls to be put in the freezer.
You can tell a party is going well when it is self-sustaining. Just before Emilio got on stage, we decided to do a little thank-you. We knew it was the last time we would have everyone’s attention. Standing on the stairs seeing our friends and family all looking up and drunk was the moment! And when the music started it moved to another level. The Vintage Patisserie girls were no longer on duty, they had proven their skills and did us proud and handed over to a team of locals to continue service. My old team were now part of our wedding celebration. There were nearly three times as many of the smartly dressed waiters and waitresses who all got into the spirit of keeping everyone topped up!
The band had set up on the landing of the staircase and our first dance was announced. There was some confusion as the promised number didn’t materialise but it just didn’t matter. Instead of Dick and I having a romantic dance, our family danced together, Dick with Dorothy and me with Arthur, then all of us together. It was perfect. After a couple of moments, the wider family joined us, then friends, and soon everyone was in and around the entrance hall dancing, singing and laughing.
Our first dance was lovely and I could tell Angela was as happy as I was. However, it wasn’t long before the beat of the music stepped up and we had masses, and I mean masses, of people dancing and bouncing on the entrance hall’s ornate floor. I looked around but I was the only one who was shitting himself. It didn’t even occur to them that they might end up in the basement. There was a definite movement in the ornate planks but it wasn’t that terrible. What’s the worst thing that could happen? I asked myself. I’d seen the beams that supported the joists and I concluded that, at the most, we’d probably have a catastrophic sag. No one should end up falling too far. A cone and bit of hazard tape and we’d be able to continue.
We were testing the château and it was performing exactly as we had hoped. The waiting staff were tidying and mopping up behind us all and the singing, dancing and eating continued. Eventually our wonderful band gave way to a playlist that had everyone dancing again. In no time at all it was past midnight. Some of the children were sleeping in beds around the château and some of the more sensible guests, as well as some of the less coherent ones, started thinking about their beauty sleep.
Our evening ended at late o’clock but we were mellow and so very happy. We had said our goodbyes to lots of special people who had literally come for the day and those staying a little longer would all be turning up for coffee, orange juice, croissants and jam sometime the next day. We made our way back to our suite after making sure everything was off and safe, full of the feeling of a job well done.
It is so rare that families and friends get together and spend quality time. We had had a very silly, busy year and it was only on the morning after our wedding party that we could actually breathe for the first time. The house was full of people, special people, but there was no urgency and no need to rush. We were saying hello to some, goodbye to others, and there was food and drink on the go all the time. But it just happened; there was nothing to worry about.
Everyone was so helpful that the château seemed to tidy itself, though we did keep finding areas and little packages that needed to be tidied away for weeks to come. Our newly decorated rooms were showing the signs of a good party, but that was only surface issues. The house had well and truly come back to life. It was so sad saying goodbye to everyone. Luckily my mum and sisters were going to stay for a couple of extra days so we had the opportunity to go out for a meal and show them our new home properly. Farewells are sad but it was also wonderful that a couple of days later there were just the four of us, with Jenny and Steve in their gîte at Jacques and Isabelle’s next door. We were all but broke but we lived in a beautiful château that made us smile every day. We were happy, we were married, and we were in love.
* * *
* Offal.
* Calf’s head.
* A witness.
chapter twelve
DECEMBER
The weather had been so kind to us. In fact, everything had been perfect. The build-up to our wedding, the day itself and the wind-down afterwards. Even the humps had all been part of our journey. It had been physically tiring for the weeks building up to our wedding and we had learnt just how little sleep we actually could survive on. But we had been driven by our desire to give each other everything we could possibly want in our celebration and, because of our bloody-mindedness, neither of us would accept anything but success.
It is probably an understatement to say we were rather tired. The short days and colder weather of early December meant we nested, lit log fires and focused our energy on little tasks rather than big projects.
Going out to our chickens on a crisp morning to open their door and give them access to the walled garden was a pleasure. The weeds had died back for the winter and the garden’s potential was apparent. Looking to the future, we began to think maybe we would start work in the gardens in the spring.
In December, we took stock of the château, produced lists and prioritised the work. There was a fair bit of touching up and minor repairs as a result of our celebrations, so firstly we started to recover and then to go forward.
I was completely surprised by Angela’s list of tasks for the honeymoon suite. I thought it was done but was told, in no uncertain terms, that it was not yet at the standard we needed for our flagship suite and the list grew. Painting, pictures, decorations, skirting boards, boxed-in pipes, better bathroom lighting … It was a decent-sized list and I’d never in a million years have spotted that we needed open parasols hanging up over the archway between the rooms but apparently we did! All these tasks would have to be done slowly as we had spent just about every penny we had budgeted for the year.
Shortly after the wedding, Jenny and Steve headed back to see family and were to return, with Nan and Paul, for Christmas. But our first Christmas would have to be quiet and frugal. That was OK as Arthur and Dorothy were just a little too young to understand the excitement of Christmas. Having said that, we did still get into the spirit and took them to several Christmas fêtes in villages around us. Each was different but in them all the feeling of community shone through. In addition to the stalls of crafts and seasonal goodies, there was always a bar serving vin chaud *, cider and beer, and an abundance of sausage and chips. We browsed and chatted and got into the Christmas spirit.
Arthur and Dorothy were introduced to a number of Père Noëls * and in those meetings their characters immediately shone through. Dorothy was having none of it; she saw no reason to talk to a stranger in a red suit, no matter if she was being bribed with a pressie. Arthur, on the other hand, met smiles with smiles and won over all the elves in the queues while we waited to meet the main man.
It was so refreshing, and a surprise, that Christmas didn’t really appear in the shops until the beginning of December, but then it was full-on. The range and quantity of lovely food and drink on offer at the supermarkets was mouth-watering and we are so rubbish at resisting temptation. We had to be strong. It appeared that foie gras was compulsory and, partly because the French turkeys appeared to be so small and
partly because we’d never cooked it before, we decided that capon was to appear on our menu and it has remained there ever since. When we discovered the French did not know what Christmas pudding was, we steadfastly refused to have Christmas lunch without it and arranged for Paul and Nan to bring us one (or two) as we were out of time to make our own.
From the very first moment we had walked into Château-de-la-Motte Husson and seen the beautiful entrance hall, I had been debating with myself where to put the Christmas tree. Indeed, I do believe that thinking about it may have kept me sane in the months when the whole château was a building site, or maybe that’s just me being fanciful. I hadn’t reached a conclusion when we were doing the renovations, so we had strategically placed sockets to allow us to put our Christmas tree in the hall or in the salon. Since this year was to be a quiet and more intimate gathering, we decided we would go all out decorating the salon. I wanted everything to be perfect. It was nice to hear from Jacques that he remembered the Christmas tree in many locations.
It is only when you look up and remember that your ceilings are nearly five metres high that you realise a six-foot-tall tree just won’t cut it. The reality of the high-status rooms had their first disadvantage: we needed to find a tree that was three metres plus but didn’t shed any needles and it needed to be at a reasonable price. I sent Dick out to find the one – no pressure.
The choice of tall Christmas trees was limited. So first I methodically went around the garden centres and then the supermarkets. It was still only early December so there were more coming in daily. Tape measure in hand, I held up every likely contender. In the third garden centre there was a lovely Nordmann fir but at €120 it was not quite what I wanted. Eventually, outside a large Carrefour supermarket, I found our first château Christmas tree. It was in the 2.5–3m section but I measured it at 3.2m and at €45 it was great value compared to anything else I’d found. Having checked it a couple of times – it was balanced, the top looked elegant, it was not too thin at the bottom – I guarded it with the tenacity of a terrier until the gentleman came over to serve me.
A Year at the Chateau Page 26
