The Chinese ladies, who were everywhere, interfered with
Swisher finding us and then with my checkout, but eventually
we got to the terminal shuttle, running yet another gauntlet,
this time of their similarly but more fashionably clad
guides-managers.

Swisher arranged for the rental pickup at Terminal 1, avoiding
the massive cluster that is Terminal 2. After a tiny confusion
as to which car company, we were shown to a tiny thing that
might have worked if I could put Lilli and a suitcase on my lap.
Luckily the car next to us was a 4-door Renault I think, not
grossly uncomfortable, and off we went.

Swisher had added L'Auberge de la Refuge in Orcay as a waypoint,
but guess what, it being after season, it was closed for lunch
on weekends. So we just headed southward to Vierzon (site of
a Lilli adventure in years previous, where we ended up coasting
into a gas station with just a fraction of a liter in the tank),
where my sharp eyes detected a bistro (closed), but Lilli's
spied L'Atelier Gourmand, an aspiring joint on a major corner
in town. The largish proprietress (you could tell, she did
actual physical labor only when things threatened to get out of
hand) welcomed us and gave us a plain round table, which turned
out to be the best one in the house, for old people anyway.

We proved our worth by ordering a bottle of the local Loire red,
Reully (Guillemain) 16, an overripe Pinot Noir that had
disconcerting notes of stone and tropical fruit and spices, all
out of balance, a little too sweet, so the overall effect was
of a dessert gone slightly awry.

Lilli's steak frites minimized the problems, the meat being a
sizable chunk of an unknown cut - I thought that the triangular
chunk of yellow fat suggested the bottom round from a dairy cow,
as did the flavor, which was good, but the meat was too tender
for that, so I just gave up analyzing. It was done nicely
medium-rare, with the frites limp but acceptable. She gave me
the triangular prism of fat, of which I could not eat all.

Swisher had the special of the day blanquette de veau, which I'd
explained to him as a creamy white stew with root vegetables;
this was pretty standard but with a good helping of nutmeg,
which made me glad not to have ordered it.

I got the formule of the day.

Terrine de canard was homemade and not so good as what comes out
of a factory. The duck was well flavored but quite resilient,
with bits of liver and all suspended in a jelly of great
fortitude. This was served with concentrated cherry juice,
extremely sour pickles (not cornichons), and a little beet green
salad with mustard dressing.

Followed by a casserole of warm brandade de morue, which was
actually quite fine, sided by another salad and decent bread.
They didn't have any incentive to skimp on the ingredients as
they were cheap cheap - salt cod, potatoes, greens, bread. The
other choice was the aforesaid blanquette, which I was happy
not to have gotten on account of the eccentric seasoning.

The chocolate dessert was a multilayer thing with mousse, crunchy
nougatine, light chocolate cream, and whipped cream. It was at a
muchness but pretty tasty.

We made pretty decent time, despite the GPS telling us to go the
wrong way into traffic at one point, but Ian and Jacquie had
already left for the annual Anysetiers banquet, which I'd
regretfully turned down an advance invitation to, citing potential
jet lag and travel tiredness. Lucky us - word came back next day
that the event was a bore and the food and wine not so good as it
should have been.
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