Long Live the Revolution

It’s Bastille Day; in Melbourne I would celebrate this day by eating at a French restaurant or café.

 

No such things exist here in the Capital of the High Country; we have to be innovative and make up our own events and activities for Bastille Day. 

The café was the easiest part; here at Somerset Rise Palace it is usually known as the dining room table.  The MahJong Queen donned her imaginary chef’s hat, peered inside the fridge and opened and closed kitchen cupboard doors looking for ingredients to make up a quiche. French Onion Soup had been suggested and the idea quashed immediately.   So quiche it was tonight and a damned good one too, I might say.  Not the regular round variety but a rectangular flan, proving a flan by any other shape would taste as good. 

The before photo - there is no after photo.  It was too late, the quiche had been eaten.

Finding French wine anywhere in the Capital of the High Country, to accompany the quiche, was akin to searching for the proverbial aguille dans meul de foin.  I set out in high hopes, combed through the offerings in the supermarkets, tried two pubs and in the second one, out of desperation, settled for a bottle of wine with one French word on the label.  Yes, I was dredging the depths at this point.  The word?  Rosé. One word on a bottle of Wild Fox organic wine.

The final challenge was to find a French film on DVD at the local DVD rental shop; Netflix is an unknown at SR Palace.  The man behind the counter at the DVD hire shop had never heard of Bastille Day; I’m sure he’s heard of France but a revolution over two hundred years ago drew a blank stare.  

In spite of these small hurdles he did have the movie I wanted, Folies Bergere.    We watched it after demolishing the quiche and dropping the level in the wine bottle.  It was voted as a good film choice for the day.

Long live the Revolution.