It's the week of the Tennis Club 'Mechoui'. This is an excuse for the eaters and drinkers of the area to hunker down in the newly refurbished (courtesy of EU donations) metal hut that constitutes the Tennis Club and tuck into a roast wild boar with copious amounts of Percharmant wine. It's all cooked by the village men of the club who rarely wield a tennis racket but can always raise a glass of whisky. Which they do ceremoniously at around 6 a.m. on the morning of the Mechoui to toast the boar as they set fire to the pyre of logs beneath it.

The day before they show up in our garden to hack at the bay tree and rosemary bushes. First they lard the beast with handfuls of the leaves, then turn the branches into a large flavored paintbrush to baste its flesh. All this must be acknowledged with another glass of whisky. And since the boar is kept moist by the slapping on of whatever secret potion has been concocted to soak its burning flesh, so must the throats of the several men it takes to keep the annointing regular.

Trestle tables are set up under the lime trees. Whole families show up for the feast, from grandparents to small fry in prams parked in the lengthening shade of the evening. We begin with plates of rough country patés and celérie remoulade and carrottes rappées. Then vast platters of the boar are passed down the length of the tables with mountains of French beans picked very slender and cooked almost to a pulp with more butter than should be discussed. Not the least bit like those overlarge beans served still chewy, so beloved of American chefs and home cooks.There are discs of potato stewed till gold in duck fat with garlic. Next come trays of local cheeses, eaten with th knife and fork and a few chews of baguette. Finally the tennis club wives and girlfriends bring out their fruit tartes pilled high with strawberries, apricots or plums, their creme caramels and their chocolate éclairs before everyone rises to push back the tables and dance to the kind of music that hasn't been heard since the Bee Gees, Abba and Little Eva...

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 brulée from Le Vieux Logis; copious slices duck salami; 1 large Quiche au Confit; 2 more portions of duck confit; 3 plates of duck gésiers (confited gizzards - no, they're very nice indeed); copious spoonfuls of duck fat in the Pommes Sarladaises. Another foie gras brulée from Le Vieux Logis as part of yet another spectacular 'tapas' luncheon.