eatDordogne: The diary of a summer, week 3

The wages clerk at the Town Hall has run away with a long-distance truck driver.  She took the camper van she had won in a national lottery not some weeks before and headed south. The town is agog, not least because only she knew who on the public payroll is to be paid what.

Of course, they could ask the bank manager. But he has his own battle with the Town Hall because of its refusal to bring the public sewer system up to his house on a minor road far from town. It is a hot summer. So you can tell he doesn't have a sewer but has to depend on a septic tank because it's obviously somewhere very close to the road where eatDordogne buzzes by on the 50cc mobylette motorized bicycle. Understandably, he is not well disposed towards opening what he says are confidential files. Unless, one supposes, the Town Hall can see its own way to its opening discussions about the sewers. For the present, the town worthies have decided the only way to find a solution is the usual one - have a feast in the Town Hall square to talk it through. Everyone, as always, to bring a dish.

There was a profusion of slow-cooked beans in pork-rind sauce, fresh tomato salads with shredded lovage in place of basil, rough pates, rounds of country bread, cheeses -- and duck confit. Someone contributed the duck salami of Monsieur Avocet who has the duck charcuterie van at the Tuesday market. It's a magnificent thing that also has the advantage of being zero in cholesterol, so he says. There's certainly no discernible fat.

Let's hope the bank manager carries on sulking and solutions continue to be sought at public feasts.

Ducks consumed so far: 2 pots of duck rillettes; 5 portions of duck confit;1 helping duck cassoulet; 2 home-made terrines of foie gras; 2 servings of foie gras brulee from Le Vieux Logis; copious slices duck salami.