As we packed into the claustrophobia-inducing van wearing our second to last pair of underwear for the week, we set off into the sunset, and quite frankly, we weren’t sure what exactly we would find. 

We only knew it involved cuisine of the French variety. We were in the center of France after all, an hour Southeast of Paris, well within the kilometer circumference to acquire “actual” champagne. So we “smuggled some” on board for those of us that weren’t driving, or those keen on escaping the cramped feeling of breathlessness. It was a quiet ride. Through the dried rain streaks we sipped our glasses and gazed with curiosity at the unfamiliar territory we passed by. It had been so long since we were able to be out in the world. Let alone, out on an adventure. Grocery stores and morning commutes had become adventurous for a time, remember.

Baseball adventures, aka “Road Trips” always present opportunities to dive into new cities, cultures, and of course restaurants hidden in villages outside town. I was reminded of my hometown as we exited the highway. A bigger than usual farmhouse came into view on my right side. It’s been a while since I have been back. Driving up and down I-69 alongside nothing but corn and soybeans. A landscape that lasts for hours upon end, swallowing the sun to reveal an unpolluted, Swarvowski clear, night sky. Out here has more hills, greener constituents and a different color palette is reserved for the sunset. It’s a little darker, more sepia toned given the surroundings. Or maybe that’s just the tint of these sunglasses. 

As the streets began to show more cobblestone a shot of excitement began to make its way through the blanket of tiredness that one acquires after a couple hours of walking around eating crepes at the outlets. 

I tuck my sunnies into my interior pocket as we walk in and admire the cute, quaint space. A thick line of rope lighting lent itself to creating the perfect ambiance to complement the sunset. The gravel, outdoor seating area was surrounded by white and slender wooden overhangs, and the surrounding stone wall provided a rustic overtone with French nonchalance. Through the gravel approached a tall slender young lady, probably working a summer job, who’s dark red hair fit the ambiance. We were seated, but only after a brief exchange of French, German, and English gibberish that prompted someone from the kitchen to appear for translation help. The menu was preset for us, and consisted of the following…

Of course a splash of red wine preciously graced our beef, as did an after meal espresso. 

As we sat satisfied with our decision to venture off the beaten path, a mother Cat and her kittens began to parade around the area with curiosity. The other restaurant guests sat ideally by while the adventurous kittens roamed the area, stopping to paw at one another, or getting nudged back into the corner by their mother if they ventured too far out her sights. We weren’t encouraging them or anything. Their playful attitude put the finishing touches on our last bottle of wine, and our night.

The moon shone bright  in the sky further delighting our peaceful, emphasis on “full” mood as we squeezed back into the vehicle and started toward the hotel. Another quiet ride, yet this time a looseness, a breath of fresh air accompanied us. We not only found a lovely restaurant, tucked into the landscape of the French countryside, that delivered a once in a lifetime experience with close friends. We found a breath of life, unexpected, unscripted, un-instagrammable. Just the way we like it.