I have my favourite places to see, people to watch and shops to visit in St Trop, as I affectionately call her. A little routine guides my visit and ensures that I cover all bases before coming back to my quiet life in the country. I leave home very early as it is a two and a bit hour drive even with our 'secret squirrel' way of winding in - traffic into and out of this sea side village can be diabolical in summer. Arriving early to the sounds of the street sweepers and the last revellers leaving VIP (the club of choice) gets you an assured spot at Senequier for breakfast. This distinctly red cafe on the port side of St Trop is definitely the place for a morning coffee and croissant....it is not necessarily the best coffee, but that's not the point of St Tropez....it is the first point of call for some eye catching people watching and serious yacht envy.
The coffee might be too weak and over priced but the Patisserie Senequier in the back of the cafe can do no wrong. The pastries are light and flaky, just how I shouldn't like them and their fruits confits, marrons glace and Tarte Tropezienne are altogether too perfect. If the bakery delights are perfect then the white nougat, fabricated there since forever, is sublime. I am not an expert on nougat, but if the quantities that I have consumed over the years are anything to go by, then I must almost qualify. The right amount of sweetness, the crunchiness of the almonds and most of all...the chew factor makes this nougat my all time winner. The way 'to do' Senequier is to find your table of choice, mark your spot and then head to the patisserie out the back for some serious carbohydrate shopping. At the same time I buy as much nougat as is decently possible...assuring Madame, behind the counter, that all of these bars are for gifts....After le petit dejeurner is finished I like to make a quick whirl around the shops before leaving the port for lunch at Club 55. On Tuesday and Saturday it is market day in the Place des Lices and that is well worth a look if you have the courage and patience to deal with the crowds and you can deal with a little claustrophobia...
Club 55, on the beach at Ramatuelle, is still one of 'the' places to lunch. In the fifteen years or so that I have been eating there it hasn't changed much. The decor is the same, beach shabby chic in blue and white and the menu no different. Salade Pampelone, a tomato and mint salad with a mouth watering dressing that I can't quite put my finger on (something to do with the mustard... but as many times as I have tried to re-produce it, I can't) and the barbecued Seabass are what I order every time. The lunch is a long affair with lots of laying on the beach before and after the meal, a few little trips in and out to the 55 beach side boutique and a glass or two of rosé (usually Chateau Minuty) thrown in for good measure before, during and after. All in all one of my best ever days out.....
So as I was saying....Thursday morning, bright and early...off to St Trop...full of excitement, sun screen and enthusiasm for the day ahead. Mr FF had us in the car and on our way with plenty of time to make our little tour in the port before meeting our friends at Club 55. It takes about fifteen minutes to reach the autoroute from the farm and then it is fast driving all the way for about an hour and a half. Five minutes on to the autoroute and the traffic ahead is at a stop...a complete stop...a dead stop.... hardly even a jump forward in first gear. We are the eternal optimists and pat ourselves on the back that we have plenty of time and surely this snaking queue will start moving....What we didn't know (it's always what you don't know or don't expect that causes all the trouble...) was that the bouchon was for many, many kilometres and on both sides of the autoroute..... We were stuck in the literal sense, we couldn't get off and we couldn't pull over....we sat there for five hours inching our way forwards from time to time. We could only imagine that an horrific accident had blocked the autoroute and that at any time we would hear the emergency rescue sirens arriving to sort out the carnage.....There were no sounds...no emergency rescue...just many tired and impatient drivers...frustrated with the slow pace at which we were moving. As the hours rolled by, we of course abandoned any idea of making St Tropez and agreed that we should exit at the next available sortie, and try and find a back way to St Remy. We had taken five hours to drive a distance that would normally take us fifteen minutes...
This is where I mention the escargots and not the food or garden variety. Operation Escargot was our problem....we had innocently (some might say stupidly) picked the moment to enter the autoroute when a 'strike' was in progress. The strikers, called Operation Escargot have been blocking autoroutes around the country for some time in the pursuit of their cause. In order to gain attention for their grievances, trucks had clogged both sides of the motorway since 6 am that morning. A motor cavalcade, spewed across the autoroute at strategic points, had successfully backed up traffic for more than fifteen kilometres and created havoc for all of those who dared to pass. Attention they gained....sympathy, I suspect not.
As I sat patiently in the car I closed my eyes from time to time and had to content myself with memories of cafe Senequier, I imagined white nougat with almonds and lamented the lack of it. I sipped my bottle of water and thought about an ice cold glass of Chateau Minuty.....I made myself hungry with thoughts of the lunch I would be missing and as for my dip in the sea....that would have to wait. On the bright side, St Tropez will always be there and Operation Escargot will have moved on....xv
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